Chapter 139: Leyla

The interior of the small restaurant was warm, bathed in soft light. Candles flickered on the tables, creating discreet halos around faces. The muffled murmur of conversations, the clinking of dishes, and gentle jazz music gave the place an almost overly romantic atmosphere… which, ironically, only worsened the latent awkwardness.

Leyla and Sakolomé sat facing each other at a table near the window.

Menus lay before them, but neither seemed to really read them.

Leyla stared intently at her glass of water, her cheeks still a little pink.

Sakolomé tapped his fingers on the tablecloth, searching for a topic of conversation.

Silence.

Awkward. Long.

Leyla occasionally opened her mouth as if to say something, then immediately closed it.

Then Sakolomé took a gentle breath and decided to break the ice in his own way:

— "You know… I still remember Mrs. Alia's class in middle school."

Leyla raised her head slightly, surprised.

— "M-Mrs. Alia?"

— "Yeah. The one who yelled whenever we forgot a capital letter in our essays.

— Don't you remember? Once she threw a student's pencil case out the window because he wrote 'les gens' instead of 'les individus.'"

Leyla couldn't help but chuckle quietly, though she quickly covered her mouth.

— "Ah… now that you mention it… I think it was Victor, right?"

— "Yes! Victor Desormaux, poor guy. He spent the rest of the class looking for his pencil case in the bushes.

— She told him: 'You want to write like a savage? Then go back to the jungle.'"

They exchanged a glance, and this time, the laughter was shared, even if Leyla quickly looked away.

— "Those were weird times anyway," added Sakolomé with a smile.

— "We stressed over dictations while living in a world already strange enough."

— "…And you were always late," muttered Leyla.

— "Oi!" protested Sakolomé, laughing.

— "True… but I had my reasons! It wasn't laziness. It was strategic."

— "Oh yeah? And what strategy involves arriving in pajamas on a Tuesday morning?"

Leyla found herself answering with a bit more ease. She straightened slightly, cheeks still red, but her eyes brightened.

— "It was obviously a diversion strategy. That way, Mrs. Alia forgot the homework she had assigned."

Leyla laughed openly this time, her face more relaxed.

But the moment passed quickly, and the awkwardness returned, like a cool breeze between two silences.

Leyla dropped her eyes back to the menu, and Sakolomé followed suit, sneaking a discreet glance at her.

Something was slowly building… very slowly.

Not yet complicity.

But maybe, finally, neutral ground where they could be themselves—even awkward, even nervous.

Leyla laughed softly, eyes lowered.

Leyla (timidly, with a small smile):

— "Ah… Mrs. Alia… Her surprise tests on thermal energy… What a pain…"

Sakolomé smirked, eyes sparkling.

Sakolomé:

— "You always did better than me though. Even when you said you failed, you still had like a 16."

Leyla (playing with her fork):

— "You're exaggerating… Okay, maybe a little. But you were always there saving everyone in group assessments… even those we would have let fail."

She briefly looked up at him, then quickly looked away. A gentle silence settled, not awkward, but… fragile. Leyla took a discreet breath. Her heart quickened slightly.

She gently gripped her napkin, hesitant. An obsessive thought floated in her mind since she saw him arrive earlier.

Leyla (thought):

"What if it was him that night?… That night when I was… dead… I saw a silhouette… I heard his voice… It wasn't a dream."

She raised her eyes a little, fixing him for a moment. But she immediately retreated inwardly.

Leyla (thought):

"But what if I'm wrong… He'll think I'm crazy. Who tells someone 'I'm dead, you brought me back to life'? And if he doesn't understand… if he rejects me…"

Sakolomé noticed she had stopped speaking. He stared at her, curious.

Sakolomé:

— "Are you okay? You suddenly look pale."

Leyla (with a small nervous laugh, regaining composure):

— "Huh? Ah… yes, yes! I was just thinking about something silly. Nothing important…"

Sakolomé:

— "If it's silly, it's probably interesting. Go on."

She shook her head, a somewhat forced smile on her lips, her heart beating too fast to form the question.

Leyla (softly):

— "Maybe… another time."

Sakolomé, noticing her hesitation and silence:

— "Well… as you wish."

He straightened a bit in his chair, looking a little embarrassed by the awkwardness.

— "So, how are you doing at university? You're still in… zoology, right? That's what you're studying, isn't it?"

Leyla (head lowered, almost whispering):

— "It's… biology."

Sakolomé (jumping slightly, a bit dramatic):

— "Ah! Sorry! Really, I mix everything up…"

Leyla (offering a small, sincere smile this time):

— "It's okay… Zoology is a branch of biology after all. Not completely wrong."

She raised her eyes, and their gazes met for a moment. Sakolomé, relieved she hadn't taken offense, smiled at her more relaxed.

Sakolomé:

— "So, what are you studying right now? Genes? Evolution? Or disgusting stuff like parasites?"

Leyla (making a small amused grimace):

— "Right now… we're on behavioral biology, and a bit of ecology. We try to understand why some species adopt weird strategies: like birds pretending to be injured to distract predators, or insects sacrificing themselves for the colony."

Sakolomé (intrigued, frowning):

— "Wait, they purposely sacrifice themselves? Like, they throw themselves at the enemy on purpose to die?"

Leyla (nodding, a bit more comfortable talking about her field):

— "Yes. Sometimes it's genetic. They're programmed for it. Kind of like they're 'coded' for it in their DNA. And from an evolutionary point of view, it makes sense. Even if you, as an individual, die, you help your siblings, so your genetic heritage continues to survive."

Sakolomé (suddenly serious):

— "So… dying to protect your own isn't so dumb?"

Leyla (looking at him for a few seconds, touched by his serious tone):

— "…No. In some cases, it's even proof of a form of collective intelligence."

A slight silence settled. This time, less awkward, softer. The two seemed to have found neutral ground, a conversation that connected them without either having to expose too much emotionally.

Sakolomé (smiling softly):

— "I never thought you'd manage to captivate me talking about kamikaze insects. Well done."

Leyla (blushing slightly, avoiding his gaze):

— "I… thanks."

The city's street lamps began casting their soft light on the cobblestones as Sakolomé and Leyla left the restaurant. The night was mild, a light breeze swept the streets, and the urban bustle seemed to have calmed to make way for a more peaceful atmosphere.

— "Want to walk a bit?" Sakolomé offered, putting his hands in his jacket pockets.

Leyla timidly nodded, but her smile was more relaxed. They began walking side by side, not talking much at first. The silence was no longer awkward: it had become a soft, suspended cocoon, nourished by this soothing dinner.

They passed an ice cream vendor still open despite the hour. Sakolomé stopped, amused:

— "Want some ice cream?"

Leyla blinked, surprised:

— "Huh? But it's cold…"

— "So what? Cold is in the head."

He shrugged, turned to the stand, and ordered a double scoop chocolate-raspberry. He took a bite, grimaced slightly at the icy bite, then pointed the ice cream toward her.

— "Taste."

Leyla blushed, hesitated, then leaned to timidly nibble a tiny portion on the side.

— "Not bad," she admitted in a small voice.

— "See! Want yours?"

She shook her head, a small laugh escaping her, which slightly surprised Sakolomé. She suddenly seemed lighter, less frozen in her usual doubts and nervousness.

They resumed walking, passing a small park lined with trees whose leaves rustled softly. A few passersby strolled as well: couples, late families, a solitary jogger.

— "You know," Leyla said after a while, "it's weird to have you in front of me like this… without us arguing or throwing jabs."

Sakolomé smiled without looking at her.

— "That's because you haven't told me anything about my origins tonight yet. Holding up?"

— "Haha, stop… I think I was really stupid back then."

She stopped abruptly. So did he. She stared at her feet.

— "I said those things because I was scared… Scared of you, your reputation, what others would think if I talked to you. You understand?"

He looked at her silently for a moment, then shrugged.

— "Yeah. And I never really cared. You were never the worst, Leyla. Even when you looked at me like I was a wild beast, you were… always there, actually."

She raised her eyes, and their gazes met. Something passed between them. Not an immediate romantic spark, but a sincere, raw sharing.

They resumed walking.

— "Want to see the heights?" Sakolomé asked. "There's a nice little spot on the roof of an old building nearby. You can see the whole city."

Leyla hesitated, then replied with shy enthusiasm:

— "Yeah, I'd like that."

They climbed the few steep alleys leading to the building in question. Sakolomé knew a discreet passage between two old houses, then a rusty staircase that climbed onto the flat roofs of the neighborhood. Once up there, the view opened onto a calm and magnificent panorama: the city lights shone like earthly stars, and in the distance, the hills formed a peaceful horizon line.

— "Wow…" Leyla breathed. "I didn't know you could see all this from here."

— "It's my little secret spot. I used to come here sometimes when I needed to breathe."

She sat on the concrete ledge, legs crossed, while Sakolomé settled beside her. For a moment, they just stayed there, simply watching the city.

— "You know…" she began more softly. "Earlier, I almost asked you a question. But I was afraid."

He turned his head slightly toward her, saying nothing, silently inviting her to continue.

— "That night… the monster attack, five years ago…"

She wrapped her arms around herself, as if to protect herself from the memory.

— "I know I was attacked. I remember the shock, the pain… then nothing. But then… I heard voices. And I thought… no, I saw someone. You."

Sakolomé didn't answer right away. He looked straight ahead, his face more serious.

— "What if I told you it wasn't me?" he said softly.

Leyla stared at him, eyes shining.

— "Then I'd think I'm crazy. But if it was you… I'd want to know… how you saved me. And why."

A silence. The wind passed over the roofs, carrying away their thoughts. Sakolomé finally murmured:

— "Maybe one day, I'll answer you. But not tonight."

Leyla lowered her eyes, understanding she wouldn't get more. But she didn't seem angry.

— "Okay. Not tonight."

Another silence. Then Leyla laughed softly, breaking the tension:

— "So, what's your favorite ice cream?"

Sakolomé answered immediately, with a small mock-serious pout:

— "Pistachio. Unjustly underrated."

— "You're a taste criminal," she murmured, teasing.

They both laughed, and this time, the laughter was light, sincere, shared.

For the first time in a long time, Leyla was no longer afraid of him. And Sakolomé no longer felt looked at like a monster.

And under the city stars, two souls once opposed learned to walk side by side.