The Omen 0: Birthday (Story about Delia Yonce)

The next morning, before the sun was high in the sky, Jo gently woke Delia, touching her shoulder lightly. His voice was warm, but with a hint of impatience.

"Delia, wake up," he said, leaning over to wake her. "It's the last day of rehearsals, tomorrow is the premiere. We need to make it, if you want to play, we need to hurry."

Delia lay in bed with her eyes closed, feeling the heaviness in her body and the pains that seemed to pierce her. She didn't want to wake up. She didn't want to get up. The whole night, as if it had pulled her into quicksand of fear and doubt, had left her soul dark. Everything that had seemed so important now lost its meaning. Jo was near, but thoughts like dark clouds prevented her from concentrating.

"Jo, I can't," her voice was quiet, almost a whisper. "I feel sick... I don't know how I can..." She fell silent, unable to express everything she felt. Her body didn't have the strength to stand up, and her head was in chaos.

He noticed that her voice sounded different than usual and slowed down. Jo sat on the edge of the bed and looked at her carefully. His face looked worried and he took her hand in his.

"What's wrong with you? You look... wrong. You need to get up, you need to be at rehearsal. You're ready, you can't miss this premiere, we've been working towards this for so long."

But Delia turned away, feeling fear tighten in her chest. Her eyes were full of longing and pain, and she couldn't explain why she couldn't get up, why she couldn't cope with this. All she wanted was to stay in bed and forget for a little while, not to think about how her life depended so much on this premiere, on how her future in the orchestra would turn out.

"I can't, Jo," she said again, a little more confidently. "I can't go to rehearsal. Not now."

His face immediately darkened with worry, but he still tried to be gentle. He leaned down and stroked her hair.

"Delia, stop being a wimp," he said, trying to cheer her up. "You can't give up like this! You need to get up and go to rehearsal. You're strong, you can do this. Don't be like that."

These words, though spoken with care, did not anger Delia, but rather an unexpected relief. Somehow, strangely and absurdly, these simple phrases awakened her, made her feel that there was room in her life for strength, for courage, that she could still cope.

At one point, unable to contain her laughter, she looked at Jo and said:

"A weakling"? Are you serious? I didn't think you'd call me that," she said with a slight smile, despite the tiredness in her eyes. "Do you even realize who you called that? And if I decide that it's actually a compliment, what will you do?"

Jo, realizing that she was starting to tease, pretended to be deep in thought.

"Well, you know, it's better for you to be a weakling than a withdrawn bore who sits in the corner and complains about life," he said with a smile, leaning on the doorframe.

"Oh, so I have to be a bore, too, huh? You don't mean to say I'm a boring wimp?" Delia replied, giving him a sarcastic look.

"If you continue to lie in bed and whine, I might even say something!" Jo summed up, getting up from his seat and coming over to help her get dressed. "So, you wimp, are you getting ready or should I go to work without you?"

"Okay, wait, wait," Delia said, buttoning her jacket. "You really call me that again, and I'll give you such a circus that you'll never want to wake me up in the morning."

Jo feigned fear and stepped back.

"Oh, what kind of threats are these? I'd better take my words back before it's too late! You're not going to be a wimp, are you, miss Independence?"

"You'd better say I'm great, or I might think you don't appreciate me at all!" Delia replied, still laughing.

"You're looking great as always," Jo said with a wink, "but if you get up again and start pretending you want to stay in bed, I'll be sure to call you a "wimp" one more time to make sure you get up."

Delia shook her head, but couldn't help but smile.

"Okay, okay, you win," she said, finally getting up. "But next time you wake me up, you're going to be the sweetest person in the world. And no more 'wimps,' okay?"

"Agreed," Jo chuckled, happily watching as her mood began to improve.

After a quick tidying up, Delia and Jo found themselves in the kitchen, where breakfast was almost automatic: they were so used to these morning rituals that it seemed as if every gesture had been learned in advance. Jo winked at Delia as he put eggs on his plate, and she silently reached for a cup of coffee, unable to hide her fatigue from the coming day.

"Are you ready for the last rehearsal?" Jo asked, trying to cheer her up a little. He knew she was a little tense, but he wanted to lift her spirits.

"I'm ready, of course." Delia tried to smile, but her gaze remained distant. "Even if I'm not sure what I need right now."

"Hmm, well then," Jo said, rising from his chair and with a slight challenge in his voice. "Let's shake things up a bit before that. We're not too late yet, so..."

Suddenly he took a step towards the door, turned sharply, and said with a playful gleam in his eyes:

"Catch up!"

With these words, as if on cue, he rushed out of the kitchen into the hallway. Delia only had time to grin in surprise, but literally a second later she was already racing after him, as if she were a teenager again. She felt how energy, albeit temporarily, was returning, and suddenly this carefree moment became necessary for her to forget about the tension and fears that had gripped her the day before.

"You can't run away from me!" cried Delia, out of breath and looking back at Jo, who was dodging her with agility, demonstrating his superior physical fitness.

He laughed without turning around and picked up his pace slightly, which made Delia even more determined to catch up with him. She knew she would win - her legs were longer, and she wasn't going to stop.

"Do you even know that you're like a fox in the forest?" she commented jokingly as Jo suddenly ran around the corner, and she barely managed to follow.

But he didn't expect her to follow him so quickly and made something like "O-o-o!" in an attempt to hide, but the next moment he found himself in her arms.

They both stopped, laughing, struggling to recover from their little madness. As Delia doubled over with laughter, she realized that this moment was more than just fun. It was a connection, alive and easy, in which all the worries and heavy thoughts had no place.

"Well, you weakling, have you caught up?" Jo said with a smile.

Delia looked at him with a teasing expression in response, and suddenly noticed that they were standing in front of a candy store window. Behind the glass, all sorts of pastries, cakes, chocolates, and cookies were displayed in bright colors. The display was full of sweet temptations, and Delia couldn't help but notice the beautiful cream pies that looked like they were straight out of a fairy tale. Her tummy growled in displeasure, reminding her that breakfast had been a bit modest this morning.

"Oh, how I want something sweet," she muttered, moving closer to the display case and inhaling the smell of freshly baked goods with pleasure.

Jo, however, looked at her with a grin, noticing her gaze at the cakes, and decided to remind her that not everything is so simple.

"You know," he began with a sly smile, "let's do it this way: we have a rehearsal now, and you know how important all this is. We're already a little late. But when this day is over, after all this, we'll come in here, and you'll take something of your choice. How do you like that plan?"

Delia looked at him with a smile, thinking for a moment. She wanted to now, but she knew that in such situations it was always worth waiting - Jo was right, the rehearsal was more important, and besides, they could enjoy this sweet moment later.

"Okay, you're right," she answered with a smile. "After the rehearsal, we'll enjoy ourselves. Just don't forget! I'm looking forward to this moment now!"

Jo nodded, smiling as he pushed her forward.

"I promise! The main thing is that music awaits us now. Everything else will come later."

They continued on towards the orchestra building, leaving the candy store behind them, but thoughts of pies and chocolates did not leave Delia, despite the fact that she was pleased to feel confident that the day would definitely end exactly as she wanted.

But when they finally arrived at the orchestra building, the atmosphere immediately became tense. Delia noticed how several musicians who had previously ignored her were now watching her every move with suspicion and even hatred. There was hostility in the air, and she couldn't help but notice how her colleagues - Emily, Carlton, and Ryan - did not hide their disdain.

Emily stood at the tool rack, arms crossed over her chest, glaring coldly at Delia. Carlton and Ryan stood nearby, whispering and discussing something, but every now and then they would glare at her. Their faces were full of dislike, and Delia could feel their anger hanging in the air.

"What do they want from me?" Delia thought, catching Emily's gaze, who was clearly trying to demonstrate her displeasure.

Carlton watched her with a smirk, and her discomfort grew. He repeatedly said something to his neighbor, Ryan, without hiding the irony in his voice. Ryan, in turn, could hardly hide his contempt, and it seemed that every glance from him was saturated with condemnation. Delia felt how these three people, obviously united in their hatred for her, were trying to find a moment to strike her.

The thought crept into her head that all this was connected with Jerome's absence. He had been missing for two days, and the musicians had apparently decided to take revenge for his disappearance. She couldn't help but think about it, because her colleagues clearly could not forget what happened that day when Jerome disappeared. For them, it was not just an inexplicable incident - it became a reason for anger and discontent.

Jerome had been the one who had always instigated the taunts and conflicts, and now that he was gone, his absence had become a source of suspicion and resentment among the musicians. Delia knew they were looking for someone to blame, and in their eyes she was that "someone." She couldn't explain what had happened to Jerome. No one knew where he was, and he might not be coming back at all.

Every glance thrown her way made her feel even more vulnerable. Emily, Carlton, and Ryan seemed to be growing more and more displeased with her presence with each passing day. They didn't say anything outright, but their silent disdain was far more painful than any words could have been. Delia knew that if they continued to treat her like this, her position in the orchestra would become even more precarious.

"They want me to leave, don't they?" she thought, trying not to show her anxiety.

But when her eyes met Emily's again, she felt something inside her clench. Emily was looking at her as if she wanted to see her fall, and seemed willing to do anything to set her up.

Delia swallowed involuntarily, her heart beating faster. She tried to remain calm, but her anxiety was growing. Accusations were already piling up against her, even if they weren't verbalized. Emily, Carlton, and Ryan seemed to have long ago decided that she was to blame. And if Jerome didn't return, she would have to pay for his disappearance.

"I can't live like this," Delia thought.

The thought had flashed through her mind more than once that if this continued, she would simply be kicked out. And then she would lose everything: the orchestra, Jo, and herself.

Rehearsal began, and Delia tried to focus on her cymbal part. She knew that the moment she had to come in was critical. Mahler's Sixth Symphony is a work of emotion and drama, and it was here that the cymbal part had to be crisp and expressive. She was well aware of all this, but when the moment came to play, her hands were shaking slightly. She swung, but the strike was not as crisp as she needed. The cymbals did not ring as loudly, as brightly, as they should have, creating the wrong effect that should have filled the room at that moment.

And that's when she noticed it-the smirk in her bandmates' eyes. Their gazes were full of contempt and satisfaction. Carlton, Emily, and Ryan sat next to her, their smiles barely visible, but she wasn't fooled. They had been waiting for this mistake. They had been waiting for her to fall. But the worst thing was that there was no support-in the eyes of the other musicians, even if they didn't express their opinions explicitly, there was the same cold fire that had burned with her from the very beginning. The only one who wasn't against her was Jo. He sat behind her, his gaze full of concern, but still loving and supportive. But it wasn't enough to not feel surrounded by enemies.

The conductor, standing on the podium, could not contain himself. His face contorted with irritation as he stopped the orchestra.

"What was that, Delia?! You didn't understand the character of the part at all! It's not just a mistake - you went out of tune! Where is the precision, where is the harmony? The cymbals are the moment that requires precision and power, not this... out-of-tune sound! You don't even keep the tempo! You just "perform" the part, and don't feel it!"

Delia stood silently, not responding, her eyes darting over the musicians. Emily, Carlton, and Ryan were all looking at her with obvious glee, their expressions full of mockery and contempt. Delia felt their gaze like a heavy burden, and every glance told her that this was exactly what they were waiting for-her mistakes, her failures.

The conductor continued:

"You must play with soul, with feeling! You cannot continue like this, otherwise it will be a disaster at the premiere. We cannot afford such falseness!"

She didn't say a word, she just looked down in silence, feeling the tension and alienation building inside her. The conductor, pursing his lips, said with cold severity:

"This is my last warning, Delia! If you make such a mistake again, I will fire you immediately. We cannot work with a musician who is not able to perform his part on time."

He paused to let his words sink in, then abruptly resumed the rehearsal, slamming his baton down on the console and turning his attention back to the orchestra.

Delia sat with her head down, her hand holding the cymbal baton shaking slightly. Her insides were clenched, and even though the orchestra had resumed its work, her thoughts were far from the music. She tried to concentrate, but in the eyes of the other musicians, especially Emily, Carlton, and Ryan, she read something indescribable-gloating, impatience, contempt. These looks haunted her, and each strike of the baton echoed in her chest.

A sense of despair grew in her soul, and she could not shake off the thought that her mistake could not be erased. The cymbal part, which had seemed so insignificant, was now a stain in her mind that could not be erased. The rest of the orchestra seemed to be waiting for her next mistake.

When the rehearsal was over, Delia didn't protest when Jo gently took her arm. She didn't resist, didn't have the strength to try to explain or justify herself. Her soul was empty and hurting, as if there was no more room for hope.

They walked out into the hallway, and Ryan, Emily, and Carlton were in their way. The three, who were always close to Jerome, couldn't pass by without teasing her.

"So, where's Jerome?" Carlton asked mockingly, raising an eyebrow. "Did he dump you? Or are you not his girlfriend anymore?"

"Why isn't he at rehearsal?" Emily continued, her voice full of malice.

Delia stood still for a moment, unsure of what to say. But before she could think, Jo, noticing their mood, intervened with restraint but firmness.

"You can't speak to my fiancee like that," he said, his voice cold and determined. "Go away. Now."

He pulled Delia along with him, not giving her time for further bickering. Delia felt her hand tighten in his, supporting and protecting her. Emily, Carlton, and Ryan froze, their malicious gazes following them, full of hatred and contempt.

But Jo didn't look back, confidently leading her towards the exit. However, when they were almost out of the corridor, Emily's furious scream suddenly rang out from behind them:

"You're a witch!" the girl screamed. "You and your assistant!"

Carlton took up her words, and there was malice in his voice.

"You seduced him, didn't you? Jo is your toy now! We know everything!"

Ryan added without holding back:

"He himself doesn't understand what he's doing! But you're manipulating him! Witch!"

As if in unison, they began to shout more and more insults. Their voices were filled with hatred, and this stream of evil was directed straight at the backs of Delia and Jo. Delia felt her heart squeeze, but she, trying not to show weakness, continued to walk forward, holding Jo's hand, feeling in his palm the very support that she so lacked.