The Omen 0: Birthday (Story about Delia Yonce)

Delia woke up feeling a little dizzy, not immediately aware of where she was. Outside, the day was just beginning to dawn, and a warm light was filtering through the curtains. She stretched, but noticed that Jo was not there. He usually woke up a little later, but this morning there was no breathing near her, no usual noise when he rose.

A feeling of emptiness ran through her body, and with each passing second it became more obvious. Jo had obviously left early. Delia sat up and looked around the room, but there was no sign of him. Some kind of anxiety appeared in her soul. She quickly dressed and went to the bathroom, trying to get rid of the strange feeling that had crept into her soul.

Standing in front of the mirror, she mechanically turned on the water, looking at her reflection. Her thoughts were confused. Suddenly she remembered the conversation with Emily yesterday. What if she told Jo everything that happened? Maybe she had already managed to tell him how she was accused, how she almost broke down, how she was perceived in the orchestra? After all, Jo and Emily communicated somehow strangely, and Emily herself never hid her anger towards Delia.

"Did he really believe her?" These words, like the tip of a knife, pierced her thoughts.

At that moment, Delia felt a chill run down her spine. She bit her lip, but she knew it was possible. Maybe he, hearing her story from the outside, was starting to think she was just a broken part of some strange game?

Delia closed her eyes, trying to concentrate and calm down. But her inner voice no longer allowed her to be sure of their relationship. Jo was there, but where was he now, and what had happened to him? Why had he left without leaving a note or words?

When she returned to the room to collect herself, she suddenly stopped at the threshold of the bedroom, when her gaze slid around the room and froze for a moment. On the bed, in the very place where just now there was no one, sat a person exactly like her. Just her copy - her double. The woman sat, motionless, like a stone statue, and silently looked at Delia. There were tears in her eyes, but her face remained emotionless, as if in a hypnotic trance.

Delia felt her heart clench and a cold sweat break out on her forehead. Fear washed over her. She froze, unable to move. A storm of thoughts raced through her mind: How? Why? It was impossible. She couldn't believe her eyes. The double was sitting there, not speaking, not moving. He was an exact copy of Delia - same clothes, same hair, same features, even expression.

Her chest began to pound. Delia couldn't get the words out. Every cell in her body screamed to run, but her feet were rooted to the floor. She couldn't look away from this mirror that was piercing her mind, reflecting her fear and unbearable anxiety.

The double continued to stare at her, not moving, not twitching. His eyes were full of tears, but there was no pain in them. It was something else, something sinister and alien. Delia took a step forward, and her double suddenly moved slightly and silently held out a hand, as if stopping her, not allowing her to come closer, and then quietly threw something in her direction. The paper rustled softly, landing right at her feet. Delia, despite her internal struggle, bent down and picked it up.

Her heart continued to beat faster as she unfolded the paper. The handwriting was familiar. Her mother's handwriting. The lines of familiar letters, the words that could not leave her indifferent.

"I love you, my daughter, but I can't live anymore..."

Delia felt as if her breath had been caught. The words seemed to come from the very depths of her past, from a time when everything was different, when her life had not yet been saturated with this painful reality. A mother's love... But there was something wrong with this message. These words sounded as if they were her last words, her dying words. And she couldn't understand why they were at her feet now.

Delia's eyes darted over the paper, and one thought rang shrilly in her head: What was this message? Why was it appearing now?

She looked back at her copy, the double sitting on the bed. It was still staring at her with empty eyes, the tears still flowing, but now there was a desperate edge to them that Delia couldn't ignore.

"Why are you showing me this?" she asked, barely audible, unable to hide the panic in her voice. "Are you trying to tell me something?"

Delia stood there, unable to move, as her double silently rose from the bed. Her insides clenched in terror, and she stepped back, unable to comprehend what was happening. The double passed her, ignoring her terrified gaze as if she were invisible. Her heart was pounding loudly in her chest, and despite her best efforts to remain calm, panic had already taken hold of her completely.

Delia staggered back, catching her breath. Every step the doppelganger took seemed like an echo that thundered in her ears, and she couldn't tear her eyes away from this invisible being beyond the reality that was walking straight toward the bathroom. At that moment, she felt a cold shiver run through her body. What was he going to do? Why did she have to see this?

When the doppelganger reached the bathroom door, he didn't look back, and without saying a word, he simply closed the door behind him. The dull sound of it slamming shut shook Delia's entire world. It was as if a final chord had sounded in her head, merging with the restless thoughts and feelings that were haunting her.

She stood in the hallway, still unable to take her eyes off the door through which her double had disappeared. Inside her mind, everything was torn apart. Why couldn't she understand what was happening? Why was her world falling further into chaos? This man, this double... it was as if he was part of her deepest fears, her doubts and unresolved experiences.

Delia took a step toward the bathroom, but then stopped abruptly. All her thoughts, all her desires to get out and face what was inside, were met with an insurmountable barrier of fear and uncertainty. She hadn't felt so vulnerable in a long time.

Delia stood rooted to the spot, staring at the closed bathroom door, unable to bring herself to approach. Every cell in her body screamed in fear, and she was terrified that she would see something there that she couldn't explain. Her lips trembled slightly, and her heart pounded. Clenching her fists, she took a painful step forward, and finally opened the door.

But the bathroom was empty. Silent. Nothing but the dim light from the window and the blank white walls. The double was gone. Everything she had seen seemed unreal now, as if her mind had played a cruel joke on her. She stood in the doorway, not believing her eyes, trying to understand what had happened. Was it just her imagination? Was she imagining it all?

Before she could come to her senses, the door to the apartment suddenly swung open and Jo walked in, carrying bags full of groceries. He was relaxed, in his sports clothes, his face lit up with a smile, and he was holding a bag of groceries in his hands.

"Hello," he said when he spotted her standing in the bathroom doorway, looking confused. "Is something wrong? You look kind of... weird."

Delia felt her legs buckle, and she forced herself to turn her attention back to Jo. There was nothing in his eyes that reminded her of what she had just been through. He couldn't know what had happened, because it hadn't happened.

"No, I'm fine," she answered quickly, trying to hide her shock. Her voice was a little tense, but she tried to give herself an appearance of calm. "I was just… thinking about something."

Jo, not noticing anything strange, walked past her and put the bags on the kitchen table.

"I bought something for breakfast," he said with a smile. "You can cook if you want."

Delia stood there, her thoughts in a whirlwind. She was grateful that Jo had come and not noticed her agitation, but deep down she felt that all was not as it should be. This moment, his calm and concern, felt like it belonged to someone else, not hers.

Jo began to arrange the food in the kitchen, opening packages of eggs and vegetables. He was focused, but every now and then he would glance quickly at Delia, noticing that she seemed a little distant. Her face was darkened by some invisible shadow, and this could not help but alarm him.

"You're not yourself today," he said, taking a frying pan from the shelf and starting to heat it on the stove. "Did something happen?"

Delia tried to hide her confusion, but inside she was raging with questions and doubts. She couldn't shake the feeling that all this strange behavior, her double, and the whole situation with the orchestra, was some kind of trap. Jo was there, but he didn't know everything that was happening, and she was tormented by the thought that he might not be aware of some events that seemed important to her.

She could not remain silent any longer, and gradually, not knowing how to begin, she asked:

"Jo, have you by any chance spoken to any of my colleagues? From the orchestra?"

He glanced at her, but without looking up from his cooking, he calmly replied:

"With whom from the orchestra? You know that I want nothing to do with what happens in the dorm. I live separately, and I don't care about all this talk. And you always decide for yourself what to do with those who are there. - He took a knife and began to cut tomatoes, his voice was even, without a trace of excitement."

Delia sensed the slight tension in his answer, but she didn't know what to think. He couldn't know how her position in the orchestra had changed, how her colleagues had begun to look at her. It all seemed like some kind of murky nightmare from which she could not escape.

"I... I just thought that maybe someone... was talking about something. What they thought of me," she continued, still deciding to ask one more question.

Jo just shook his head briefly and wiped his hands on a towel.

"So what if someone talks? You don't have to listen to them. What matters is that you and I are here together now. Leave everything else." He walked up to her, put his hands on her shoulders, his gaze soft, but there was an insistence in it that Delia couldn't help but notice.

She met his gaze, but her thoughts were still in a tangle. All this worry, all this fear that was rolling in waves, did not give her peace. She wanted to believe that everything would be fine with her and Jo, but something in her soul was still trembling restlessly.

Delia stood there, unsure of how to respond. The question that had been plaguing her had slipped out despite her attempts to hide her concern:

"So what should we do now? What should we do?"

Jo froze for a second, but his face immediately broke into a smile. As if he didn't notice her hesitation, he came closer and closer, his eyes sparkling with delight, and his voice sounded with such confidence that Delia almost felt how this energy was transmitted to her.

"My plans are very simple," he said, his voice full of determination. "When Mahler's sixth symphony premieres in a few days, you and I will leave right afterward and go and get married. That would be the right thing to do. I want to be with you. It doesn't matter what's going on around us, it doesn't matter what other people think. We'll be together, and nothing else matters."

His words hung in the air, and Delia felt her heart beat nervously. Jo was full of enthusiasm and sincerity, and in that moment she felt his words wrap around her like a promise of a new life, where there was no place for doubts and fears.

She looked at him, feeling some kind of hope flutter in her chest, but at the same time she couldn't get rid of the thought that it was too fast. Expectations, pressure, what had been happening to her lately... It all merged into one tangle of feelings and thoughts, and she still couldn't decide what to do.

"But are you sure?" she asked quietly, almost not believing her own words. "It's so fast... We don't even know what will happen after I leave the orchestra. Everything is so... unexpected."

Jo laughed, as if he didn't notice her doubts.

"It doesn't matter what happens. I'm confident in us, that we can handle any difficulties. I want us to start a new life, and every day I understand more and more that this is the only thing that matters. You, me, and no one else. This will be our moment."

When breakfast was ready, Delia couldn't bring herself to eat. Jo, with a clear expression on his face, enjoyed his food, as if he didn't notice that she was sitting opposite him and not touching her plate. He ate greedily, smiling all the time, his eyes shining with joy.

"It's really good," he said with his mouth full, "you should eat, you're not going to sit here like a shadow, are you? You don't want to miss this moment. You know how much I love you, right?"

Delia nodded, unable to answer. All her attention was focused on Jo wolfing down his food, while her plate remained almost untouched. Doubt and anxiety were still churning inside her, trying to figure out what to do. Jo's plans seemed so wonderful, but she couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong. Something was unclear and uncertain.

Her gaze darted to him again and she noticed him smiling, oblivious to her silence.

"You don't believe me, do you?" he asked, suddenly noticing her thoughtfulness. "You think I can't make you happy, can't give you everything you dream of?"

Delia reached for her coffee cup but didn't pick it up. She tried to focus on his words, but the question kept running through her head: What if it wasn't like he thought it was? What if her place in life was somewhere else, not with him? And what if Jo found out about what had happened to her in the orchestra, or about the past she'd kept hidden?

She looked at him, feeling her nerves begin to stretch, how hard it was to be around him, when every step she took caused internal dissonance. Jo continued to eat, not noticing her internal struggle.

"Jo," she said finally, her voice quiet and slightly shaky. "Are you... sure this is all right? We don't know what's coming. Are you sure you don't want to back out?"

He raised his head and looked at her, his eyes still shining with confidence.

"No," he replied, "I'm sure, Delia. We'll do this together, no matter what. All we need is each other."

Delia took a deep breath, but her chest still felt heavy. After breakfast was over, Delia and Jo stood up, cleared the table, and went their separate ways. Delia dressed in a simple but elegant dress, feeling her heart clench with uncertainty. She had chosen this outfit because she wanted to feel confident and beautiful, but she still couldn't shake off the heavy thoughts. Jo, meanwhile, quickly tidied himself up, his usual confidence and ease of movement seemed to calm her.

The morning air was crisp as they stepped outside, and despite her inner turmoil, Delia felt herself relax in Jo's presence. He extended his hand to her, and though she wasn't entirely sure what lay ahead, she took it anyway, feeling him tense up in the gesture.

As they walked through the yard, they noticed Mollie playing in the sandbox. The little girl was building a castle, and her laughter filled the air with lightness and joy. Delia couldn't help but smile, waved at her, and Mollie, noticing them, happily responded in kind.

"Bye, Mollie!" Jo called, waving his hand.

Mollie waved back, her laughter continuing to ring in their ears like an innocent melody from childhood, urging them on to the next step.

They headed toward the orchestra building. Although Delia felt a little tense inside, she still walked with Jo, holding his hand, and somehow it gave her strength. The orchestra building was already in sight, and there was a rehearsal ahead, which again brought both anxiety and doubt. But now, as she walked with Jo, it seemed to her that everything would be different somehow, that she would be able to survive this, even if her place here would soon end.

As they approached the entrance, Jo huddled close to her once more, his eyes shining with confidence.

"Don't worry," he said with a slight smile, "I'll be with you."

Delia merely nodded, squeezed his hand lightly in response, and together they entered the orchestra building. Several musicians, noticing them, exchanged meaningful glances. Some were whispering quietly, while others, louder and with excessive glee, were egging them on:

"Oh, look, the bride and groom are here!" Ryan commented, glancing at Delia and Jo with a grin.

"Oh, how sweet!" Emily added mockingly. "It's a pity the wedding is at the Mahler premiere and not at our rehearsal."

Delia felt her cheeks heat up. She squeezed Jo's hand, and in response he shifted slightly, trying to ignore his colleagues but clearly not expecting this reception.

"Didn't I tell you that these are all excuses?" Ryan continued with a smile. "Oh well, we'll be invited to a wedding soon, probably with an orchestra as guests."

The jokes continued, making the atmosphere even more tense. Delia tried to ignore their words, but inside she was clenching. It seemed like she had Jo, but a strange weight began to press on her shoulders again.

But Jo, despite the bullying, remained calm. He put his arm around Delia's shoulder, as if to let everyone know that he didn't care what anyone else said.

"When is my turn to play at the wedding?" he asked the musicians with a smile. "I'll let you know when the invitation is ready."

The colleagues instantly fell silent, but their gaze remained the same, full of bewilderment and malice.