Főnix

Phoenix

Part 73: Secret Moments

LATE EVENING – EMPTY OFFICE BUILDING

The lights are already off. Phoenix locks the door, her thoughts still tangled from the day.

PHOENIX – INNER VOICE:
What a day… drama, jealousy, confessions… I’m like a shaken bottle of champagne.

As she steps out of the building, Albatross’s car is waiting. He gets out as if this were the most natural thing in the world.

ALBATROSS (smiling):
“Ready?”

PHOENIX (surprised):
“For what?”

ALBATROSS:
“I’ll take you home. Or… to my place. A professional decision.”

PHOENIX – INNER VOICE:
Professional? Sure. And my zodiac sign is donut sponge.

PHOENIX:
“We can’t go to my place—Zeynep’s home.”

ALBATROSS:
“Alright. Then we’re going to mine.”

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ALBATROSS’S APARTMENT – LATE EVENING LIGHTS

The apartment is warm, softly lit, nothing flashy—yet unmistakably him.

Phoenix pauses at the door, a little tense.

PHOENIX:
“So… you live here?”

ALBATROSS (hanging up his coat):
“No. This is just decoration. Of course I live here.”

PHOENIX – INNER VOICE:
You’re kind, you’re funny, you make me flustered. Congratulations. It’s working.

Albatross heads to the kitchen.

ALBATROSS:
“Will you stay for dinner?”

PHOENIX (muttering):
“I… I don’t know…”

ALBATROSS (glancing back, playful):
“You’re already here. Should I decide for you?”

PHOENIX – INNER VOICE:
Please do. My brain is offline and my heart can’t think.

Albatross makes pasta. Phoenix chops vegetables—well, tries to.

ALBATROSS (laughing):
“Careful. Your fingers aren’t ingredients.”

PHOENIX (grumpy):
“Maybe my style is avant-garde.”

PHOENIX – INNER VOICE:
Look at him, looking like that, and this is what I say when I’m nervous. Great. Now he definitely thinks I’m weird.

Albatross steps behind her, gently taking her hand to guide the motion.

ALBATROSS (hurried, gentle murmur):
“Slowly. Let me lead.”

Phoenix almost freezes from the closeness.

PHOENIX – INNER VOICE:
This is too close. Too… good. This is more dangerous than office politics.

They eat, they laugh. Albatross brings a blanket. A movie plays, but neither of them watches.

PHOENIX (sipping her drink):
“This movie is boring.”

ALBATROSS:
“The movie isn’t the point.”

PHOENIX – INNER VOICE:
Oh God. What does he mean? That the movie isn’t the point, but… me?

Albatross sits closer, shifts nearer.

ALBATROSS:
“Are you tired?”

PHOENIX:
“No… just—”
(Phoenix yawns.)

PHOENIX – INNER VOICE:
Perfect. Now I look like a sleepy puppy.

Albatross smiles, gently pulls the blanket over her shoulders.

ALBATROSS:
“Stay. Sleep here.”

PHOENIX (startled):
“Here?”

ALBATROSS (very softly):
“Yes. Here. With you, the world feels safe.”

Phoenix’s eyes widen.

PHOENIX – INNER VOICE:
That’s… something I should be saying to him, not the other way around.

Albatross leans closer, resting his forehead against hers—not a kiss, just closeness.

ALBATROSS:
“Close your eyes.”

Phoenix obeys. Her body relaxes, her head tilts onto his shoulder.

PHOENIX – INNER VOICE:
This isn’t like in the movies. It’s much more real. And… terrifyingly good.

Half-awake, Phoenix feels Albatross’s arm wrap around her.

PHOENIX – INNER VOICE:
Nooo. This is too much. Stop. Stay like this. Never let go.

Half-asleep, Albatross murmurs:

ALBATROSS:
“Don’t leave tomorrow morning either…”

Phoenix smiles as her eyes slowly close.

PHOENIX – INNER VOICE:
If this is a dream, I don’t want to wake up.