Mere Words?

Vanessa's heart, blinded by her own mind, propelled her forward without a clear destination or purpose for fleeing the brothel. Fear was absent; then from whom?

Was she attempting to escape from herself? In this harshly judgmental world, she sought refuge from self-condemnation.

The world may be cruel, but she couldn't bear to be cruel to herself, couldn't betray her own essence.

In the dead of night in Amsterdam, after two years of absence, she emerged. The city remained unchanged, but her inner landscape had shifted.

A cold wind, slow and freezing, traced her spine—a calming yet insufficient balm against the tempest raging within, ignited by the words of Oddeliah, a mere twenty-year-old girl.

Amid deserted streets, where sleep had claimed its dominion, Vanessa's heart fractured with each passing minute.

Flashbacks of her life replayed relentlessly behind her eyes, an unwelcome and uncontrollable flood.

A gust of wind swept through, lifting her hair in a breathtaking display. Her beauty defied description; any attempt to capture it in words would be a disservice.

But beauty paled against the backdrop of toxicity and false personas that surrounded her. She was the architect of her own undoing. Vanessa pressed on, her pace deliberate yet hesitant.

Who knew that Oddeliah's few words could embitter her heart further against herself?

Did she not already harbor self-loathing? She murmured to herself, a whispered mantra, a plea to reconnect with the true Vanessa amidst the turmoil.

Vanessa stood in the aftermath of Oddeliah's words, grappling with a torrent of questions that echoed through her mind like thunder.

"What had happened to me? Can mere words truly break me apart like this?"

Her inner turmoil intensified as she questioned whether she herself was the barrier to her own freedom.

Had Oddeliah spoken a painful truth—that Vanessa had never truly possessed the "moon" of her dreams, but had only imagined its light?

The proverb "actions speak louder than words" rang hollow in the face of this emotional onslaught.

Vanessa realized that while actions could inflict wounds, it was the words that cut deepest, leaving scars that refused to fade.

Oddeliah's words had overwhelmed her, plunging Vanessa into a maelstrom of confusion and disorientation reminiscent of a past she had sought to escape.

Despite the pain raging within, Vanessa did not shed tears. She believed that when pain reached a certain intensity, tears evaporated under the weight of a heavy heart.

Tears, she mused bitterly, were just another form of betrayal—like the untrustworthiness of the world around her.

In a world devoid of trust, Vanessa pondered, could she even rely on her own emotions, her own pain, her own happiness?

Why were tears uncontrollable when she desperately wanted to stopped them? Why did witnessing her beloved with another cast a shadow over her happiness? Why did she struggle to voice her deepest hurts to those nearest to her?

The "whys" echoed endlessly, devoid of resolution. Vanessa found herself adrift in a sea of unanswered questions, her sense of self tangled in the enigma of human emotion and vulnerability.

Vanessa carried the weight of her untold story, longing to unload the burden of her past onto someone willing to listen.

As she strolled through the transformed streets of Amsterdam, she noticed the city's metamorphosis over the past two years—more unique, more beautiful.

However, her path led her towards HJ Street, bustling even in the dead of night with its renowned cafes. Instinctively, Vanessa quickened her pace, avoiding eye contact with anyone.

She yearned to escape, to evade every gaze fixed upon her, yet her striking beauty continued to draw unwarranted attention, unbeknownst to her.

Pushing through the crowd, she finally found solace on a peaceful, albeit lengthy street.

Her feet slowed, her black kitten heels causing a slight ache in her ankle—a discomfort overshadowed by the ache in her heart.

Amid her thoughts, Vanessa's gaze fell upon a cafe, its sign gleaming with the intriguing name "Cafe Wabi-Sabi: Start From The End."

Odd as it was, she was captivated by the name's allure. Human nature, she mused, was a tapestry of confusion and fleeting emotions. Vanessa hesitated at the threshold, her identity a source of insecurity.

Despite her reservations, she craved connection with someone unaware of her past. As she approached, her inner turmoil waged a silent battle.

It was easier to confront external adversaries, but facing oneself—both victim and perpetrator—proved to be her most daunting challenge.

With trembling resolve, Vanessa contemplated entering the cafe. Its vibrant exterior, a mosaic of colors, juxtaposed against her monochrome existence, reminded her of the stark contrast between purity and her tainted reality.

Her body bore the scars of countless encounters, a truth she had accepted. Yet, the fear of judgment lingered.

Could she confront her insecurities, converse with a stranger, and reveal the fractured pieces of herself?

Fighting one's own demons is a formidable task—especially when the greatest adversary is the self. Vanessa grappled with this inner conflict, poised on the precipice of vulnerability and potential liberation.

Vanessa couldn't deny that she had been the one to break her own heart the most. But today, she resolved not to let her heart win. Taking a brief breath, she stood before the cafe door.

She noticed some writing on the door, but being uneducated, she felt a pang of inadequacy.

Lost in contemplation, Vanessa's gaze shifted to a lady seated inside the cafe. Gathering her courage, Vanessa pushed the door softly. If the exterior of the cafe was beautiful, its interior was even more so.

Stepping inside, Vanessa felt a sense of wonder. The cafe was exquisite, its beauty radiating a profound peace.

Vanessa admired the meticulously arranged tables and wondered if she should ask the lady for permission to sit.

Approaching the counter, Vanessa bowed politely before the lady and spoke in a soft voice,

— "Happy Midnight! May I have a seat here?"

Lady Bellaruby responded with a shrug and a smile, initially appearing a bit aloof to Vanessa. However, her warm smile quickly put Vanessa at ease. Lady Bellaruby introduced herself,

— "Happy Midnight to you too! I'm Bellaruby, but you can call me Lady Bellaruby. You're in luck; there's only one seat left. Please, take it."

Vanessa smiled, though the pain in her heart remained evident. She replied,

— "Thank you, Lady Bellaruby."

Lady Bellaruby then inquired,

— "Would you like to order something, Miss...?"

Pausing expectantly, Lady Bellaruby prompted Vanessa to share her name. Vanessa responded,

— "I'm Vanessa. Actually, no thank you for asking. But why does every table have a partition?"

Lady Bellaruby's smile widened as she explained,

— "On the other side of each partition, there's a man sitting. Once you take a seat, you'll have a conversation with him. I know it's strange to converse with a stranger, but sometimes, unusual encounters can be more meaningful than ordinary interactions!"

Lady Bellaruby's heartfelt explanation resonated with Vanessa, dispelling some of her initial discomfort. Passing a smile to Lady Bellaruby, Vanessa made her way to the designated table.

She couldn't see the person across from her, heightening her sense of intrigue.

Sitting down, Vanessa greeted the unseen presence with a slightly shaky yet friendly "hello." Vincent's voice, equally uncertain, hinted at a shared sense of disarray in their lives.

They engaged in a tentative conversation until an abrupt shift in Vanessa's tone made her sound rude—a habitual demeanor from her upbringing that she momentarily forgot wasn't appropriate for this unfamiliar setting.

Unaware that she was unknowingly projecting her pent-up emotions onto an innocent stranger, Vanessa felt a twinge of guilt.

As a Madam of a brothel, she was accustomed to speaking with authority and assertiveness, traits that now seemed out of place.

The ambiance of the cafe, resembling a romantic date setup, added to the surreal nature of their encounter.

Soft music played in the background, and a wide window beside Vanessa offered a view of the outside world, creating an intimate atmosphere while maintaining the anonymity between Vincent and herself.

Vanessa found herself unexpectedly immersed in the peaceful ambiance of the cafe, an experience she had either forgotten or ceased to appreciate many years ago.

The soft lighting, gentle music, and quiet breeze mingled with the presence of a stranger—creating a peculiar yet not uninteresting combination.

As their conversation continued, Vanessa's demeanor remained brusque, while Vincent maintained a remarkably polite tone.

Curious, Vanessa couldn't help but wonder: how could someone maintain such politeness in the midst of life's chaos? Her musings were interrupted when Vincent unexpectedly addressed her,

— "Rude people aren't born but they are made by someone. I heard that quote and believe in it. Perhaps you also had someone who made you like this."

Vanessa was momentarily taken aback by Vincent's astute observation. His words struck a chord, prompting her to reflect on the influences that had shaped her disposition over the years.

Could it be true? Had someone or something molded her into the person she had become?

In that moment, Vanessa felt a flicker of vulnerability amidst the cafe's romantic backdrop.

Vincent's insight challenged her perception of herself, inviting her to confront the origins of her guarded demeanor.

As the music played softly in the background and the evening unfolded around them, Vanessa contemplated Vincent's words, recognizing a glimmer of connection in an otherwise anonymous encounter.