Luka & Izzy

Twenty - seven: Bloodstains

The next morning is Monday, and with it a new working day.

The alarm clock on the bedside table rings and its sound wakes me from my dreams.

I realise that I am alone in the flat.

The empty bed is particularly lonely and cold, as if it were reflecting every particle of my inner feelings.

With each moment of silence, I become more aware of the emptiness it leaves behind.

I miss Luke - his warm body that always brought a sense of security, a closeness that went beyond mere physical presence.

I miss our cuddles, those moments when we would curl up in each other's arms, without words but completely connected.

The apartment is silent. Only the sound of my breathing and the distant hum of the city outside gently breaks the stillness. I feel my thoughts begin to swirl, but I quickly push them away. There is no time for that.

I quickly get ready for work. In the bathroom I part my long hair, which falls softly over my shoulders. As I brush my teeth, my mind wanders to the challenges that await me at the hospital today - the patients, the long days, the constant battles that sometimes leave me exhausted.

As I leave the bathroom and make my way to my room, my gaze involuntarily stops at Noah's door.

So much time has passed, yet I am still haunted by the feeling that one day he will walk through that door.

That I will hear his laughter filling the room, filling the apartment with an immense warmth that is now missing.

I reach for the necklace, my finger finds the heart on the pendant, I squeeze it gently between my fingers. I take a deep breath, slowly.

I know this will not happen. Noah will not come back. And yet... there is always this small glimmer of hope. For they say that hope dies last.

I dress and wrap myself in my favourite coat.

Then I wrap a warm scarf around my neck to protect me from the cold morning air.

I tie a hat on my head and pull on the boots that have so often saved me from wet feet in the autumn showers.

As I pick up my bag, I feel a sense of urgency, almost of desperation, as if I can already feel the weight of the day ahead.

Everything is ready, but there's still that tiny bit of anxiety I can't quite suppress.

I head for the exit, take one last look around the flat and lock the door.

I hurry.

I walk briskly towards the hospital where I work.

The streets are still somewhat empty and the light of the morning sun is slowly starting to illuminate the city.

My mind is preparing for the day ahead, full of challenges and opportunities that my career will bring.

I rush to the cloakroom to change into my work uniform.

I have a long day ahead of me, full of tasks and responsibilities, but I feel I have another important commitment - psychotherapy with Tina.

This session offers me the opportunity to look inward, face my emotions and gain more clarity in my life.

As I tie my shoes, my thoughts race with excitement.

Today I am going to share my worries and dilemmas, which is always a challenge but also a relief.

There is a feeling of nervousness, but at the same time I feel that this process is empowering.