Between Time and Answers

Today was the happiest day.

Her middle school team, the Wildcats, had finally won the city volleyball championship.

The last game was brutal, stretching to 26–24, but they made it.

Yes.

"Oh, we-e-e a-a-re the cha-a-ampions!"

Tess was on cloud nine.

After the congratulations, the team celebration, and a quiet family dinner with Grandpa, who had deliberately driven hundreds of miles to watch her game, she went to bed early—tired, full, and happy.

She smiled at herself, remembering how upset she had been just a few days earlier, when a teacher humiliated her in front of the class for bringing a homeless dog into school.

It meant nothing now.

And the dog…

She had left it at the shelter.

Why did so many animals suffer because of humans?

She sighed.

The dream veiled her gently

and warmly.

Tess woke

in the middle of the night,

as if someone had touched her shoulder.

The room felt unfamiliar for a second.

Then she understood.

Tomorrow was her high school graduation, and her dress still wasn’t ready.

She should look good.

Preston would notice.

Thinking of him steadied her.

They had grown close almost by accident.

A few conversations.

A shared silence.

Something that had not existed before.

She smiled.

With him, the pain of the past year finally eased.

He arrived in her class before Christmas, right when she was barely holding on.

Because of Zak.

His constant harassment had pushed her to the edge.

She clenched her fists.

Tess remembered the trouble that followed after she refused to be his girlfriend.

She could almost feel his hand on her shoulder again.

The pull.

The way she resisted.

The scandal.

The humiliation.

The rumors.

Nothing had ever hurt like that.

But then Preston stepped in.

Tess smiled.

After that, Zak never touched her again.

And the rumors seemed to disappear on their own.

It was over.

Still, she felt relieved knowing she would never have to see Zak again.

And Preston…

Sometimes she thought he was as strange as she was.

Tess hoped he was her real soulmate.

But was he?

She felt the whisper again.

Friendly. Supportive. Almost tender.

She knew this voice.

It came to her rarely, but it had never left.

She didn’t quite understand what it meant.

But she always felt nostalgia while listening, as if she were from somewhere else.

She didn’t know where.

While her family was sleeping deeply, she prepared everything for the party quickly, as usual, and then slid under the blanket.

She blinked, half-dreaming.

The car door shut with a soft thud.

Tess waved goodbye to her dad after he gave her a lift to school.

As his car pulled away, she headed toward the entrance, lost in her thoughts.

She liked getting to class early.

Miss Lindsay was her favorite teacher, and she might already be waiting.

Tess had her homework ready, imagining herself surprising Miss Lindsay with her answers.

Suddenly, she heard the whisper again.

Faint this time.

Worried.

She tried to listen.

“Hey, scarecrow! Watch out. People are moving here!”

Samantha shoved Tess aside and moved on with her friends, hanging on her every word.

Tess could never understand why Samantha was so nasty—not only to her, but to many others.

The eighth grade was challenging.

She had changed schools, and the long-forgotten feeling that the world was hostile came back stronger than ever.

Of course, there were some good people here—her parents, Miss Lindsay, Tim Walker, and a few teammates.

But she sensed hostility as if it had some unseen odor or undiscovered vibration.

All good people suffered, more or less, because of the mean majority.

Tess decided not to say anything to Samantha this time.

But the plan came back to her again—to add martial arts to her practice.

She knew she wouldn’t.

But she still kept hope.

Who knows?

Tess pulled the entrance door.

She couldn’t remember how she had gotten there, standing in the rain that evening, soaked through.

As if she had blacked out for a second from fear.

Yes.

She had sensed it coming for a while.

Tim Walker was standing in front of her.

Pale.

Distant.

Serious.

He said the words she had hoped never to hear.

Had the love been fake?

Had their friendship meant nothing?

How was that possible?

He had seemed so sincere.

So happy.

Tears rolled down her cheeks.

She refused to believe he was just playing with her.

Or was it all some cruel trick of adolescence?

Tess turned her face away.

Beep! Beep!

A cyclist was approaching.

She and Tim were standing right in the middle of the bike lane.

The signal sounded strange.

Beep! Beep! Beep!

White ceiling.

Her alarm clock was merciless.

She turned it off.

It took a while to distinguish dreaming from reality.

Yesterday they had celebrated Christmas for the first time together with Lewis as a family.

The night dream was still so real.

As usual.

As if she were a time traveler, programmed to keep records of everything that had ever happened to her.

Lewis was always an early bird.

She heard the sound of the coffee machine in the kitchen.

She smiled—happy, warm.

The world wasn’t as hostile as it had once seemed.

Tess remembered how desperately she had searched for answers before.

About the whisper.

About her strangeness.

About good and evil in this world.

Which outweighed the other?

Or were people supposed to “create a balance”?

That idea of balance had always felt obscene to her.

Didn’t people see how empty it was?

Years of meditation, churches, trainings, and psychological practices—none of it helped. Or only partially.

Talking to pastors and gurus only made her feel more distant, as if she stood opposite to everything, both material and spiritual.

She had faith.

She respected teachers of today.

She had learned a lot from their love, sincerity, and wisdom.

But she could never fully agree.

She had dreamed of visiting India.

It had never worked out.

Tess had felt lost.

Frustrated.

Then she met Lewis.

They fell in love slowly,

quietly,

and unstoppably,

as if it were a destiny neither of them wanted to resist.

They were very different.

She was full of mystery, yet worked as a software engineer.

He was a stage technician at the Guthrie Theater, close to art by profession, but firmly grounded in life—the kind of man who could fix faulty wiring, replace a broken switch, or stop a leaking toilet without making a fuss.

This contrast made her feel that she could still fit in this world, even though she couldn’t fully accept it.

He was her bridge, her anchor, her comfort.

When she came down the stairs, Lewis was putting toast on a plate.

He smiled warmly at her.

“Have you made a decision?”

“Why?” she asked.

“Well,” he said, “you were talking in your sleep.”

He straightened up slightly and put on an exaggeratedly serious face.

“Did I get it right, Mr. Turner? New mission?”

He gestured with his hands.

“Oh, I understand… Yes. I have… to decide. Do I have time?”

Tess laughed, shaking her head.

“Oh, stop it,” she said. “You’re impossible.”

“So?” he grinned.

“Not yet. If I agree, I’ll have to move to India.”

“Right. Your company is expanding. Because of you,” he smiled playfully. “That’s a big promotion.”

“We’ve just gotten married,” she shrugged. “How can I?”

“I’ll follow you, my Princess,” Lewis said lightly, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

Tess looked at him for a long moment. “Really?”

“Why not? I can find a good job there. If you like the place.”

She hesitated.

“You love the Guthrie.”

“Sure,” he replied. “And we’ve talked about Atlanta Studios. Even Hollywood. If I could move there, why not a bit farther?”

Tess rolled her eyes slightly, smiling.

“You had a contract,” she said slowly, carefully.

“A two-year contract.”

She paused, then deliberately enunciated every word:

“With the Royal National Theatre.”

Another pause.

“In London.”

She looked at him softly.

“You liked it there. You really did. And still—you came back. After just one year.”

She reached across the table and took his hand.

“I don’t want to push you into a decision that might be too hard for you.”

Lewis smiled, thoughtful.

“Maybe it’s providence,” he said.

“India might give you answers you’ve been looking for. It’s worth trying. And who knows—maybe it’ll finally cure me of my strange love for Minneapolis.”

She smiled.

“You’re so cute.”

“Am I?” he snorted.

Lewis left after breakfast.

The holiday season was the busiest time at the theater.

She remembered praying on Christmas about her promotion.

It wasn’t that she was a deep believer, but she had experienced answers before—ones that had worked.

And this time, an answer had come again.

Only it felt weak.

Uncertain.

And the whisper?

It hadn’t visited her at all.

She found herself dreaming of India.

She should have been happy, especially after Lewis’s reassuring words.

But somehow, she felt even more puzzled.

The best solution would’ve been to split herself into two Tesses—

one here,

one there.

That would’ve been ideal.

She let out a quiet chuckle at the thought.

After taking care of a few small things around the house, Tess checked the mailbox by the road and carried the letters inside.

Coming back from the freezing cold and snow felt cozy.

It brought back memories of Annie, her teammate and best friend, long ago.

Tess remembered winter evenings and skating rinks, their laughter echoing over the ice, the feeling of coming home frozen, tired, and happy, and her mother calling them into the kitchen for warm tea and chocolates.

Back then, everything had felt simple.

Sweet.

But Annie’s story ended differently.

After a training injury, she had been traumatized and had to end her sports career too early.

Tess remembered how coldness had crept into their relationship.

First, the coach had been too hard on Annie for being careless. Then came emotional frustration, quarrels, distancing from teammates.

Tess had tried to help.

But they had parted badly.

Annie had said many rude and painful things.

Tess didn’t blame her.

Annie had been training since she was five.

All her hopes had collapsed in an instant.

Yet Tess couldn’t change things, no matter how hard she tried.

If only the coach had been softer.

If only the teammates had been kinder.

Sad memories followed one another easily, as if they were waiting in line to be acknowledged.

People often said you had to stay positive.

But what if such a mindset weakened compassion—your sense of being real?

And now Tess had another puzzle to solve.

She had been promoted to head a large new department in India.

Her company said they would wait for her answer, but she had to decide right after the New Year.

Why not say yes right away?

Well… there was something else.

Yes, she loved her job.

But did it really matter?

And if it didn’t, why should she force Lewis to go to India with her for several years?

So many other things demanded attention.

Brutal wars.

Starving people.

An endangered planet.

Wasn’t it time to change something for the better?

To apply real effort for the sake of Earth and humanity?

Maybe engineering had been the wrong choice from the beginning.

She had enough money to start something else.

But would it be worth trying again?

Among all the people she knew, how many were truly sincere and kind?

Maybe humanity deserved all these troubles.

Rude slang.

Offensive behavior.

Aggression.

Humiliation.

She winced.

That childhood feeling returned—the sense that she was an alien on this planet.

Or was it just her imagination?

And if she didn’t belong here, where was her place?

Tess remembered strange dreams.

Futuristic cities in the sky.

Impossible wars.

Deaths and resurrections.

As if they had taken place in other worlds.

Maybe her subconscious was just processing information this way.

Again it came.

The whisper.

Soft and tender.

And faint notes of a simple melody.

Or was it just a hallucination?

“Let…” something seemed to repeat.

Was it “letter”?

She looked at the stack of letters on the kitchen table.

The whisper fell silent.

Tess began sorting through the envelopes.

Headhunters with unfamiliar offers.

Bills.

A Christmas card from Aunt Emma.

Linda—her old school friend.

Then one more.

Plain white.

Only her name and address, written neatly.

No return address.

She turned it over.

The stamp looked unusual—not from any country she could immediately place.

Simple. Almost old-fashioned.

She opened the envelope.

Inside was a Christmas card.

“Merry Christmas, Tess.

I was thinking of you.

Do you remember how you once said that answers rarely come directly?

I’m sending you a small puzzle.

See if you can at least recognise the language.

It’s an old saying. A wise one.

Mira.”

Tess exhaled slowly.

Mira.

From years ago.

From that time when Tess had tried meditation courses and long conversations that promised clarity and delivered mostly questions.

Something small slipped out of the envelope and landed softly on the table.

A plastic card.

Thin. Matte.

On one side—a simple image of a sunrise. Muted colours. Light breaking through mist.

She turned it over.

A short inscription. Carefully arranged symbols, not decorative, not random.

Tess frowned and took out her phone.

She tried an online translator.

One part suggested Tibetan.

Another— “Tamazight.” She paused. She hadn’t even known such a language existed.

No translation made sense as a whole.

Still, the puzzle caught her attention.

For a moment, the tight knot inside her loosened.

The urgency softened.

She felt… engaged.

But not resolved.

She placed the card back into the envelope and set it aside.

The silence felt different now.

Could she find answers in India?

She wanted to believe so.

Yet she wasn’t sure.

Instinctively, she leaned toward one thought:

the answer might grow within.

Somehow, Tess felt she hadn’t come to this city by chance.

She had lived in this world—beautiful and hostile—for twenty-five years.

She had not only survived.

She had found people worth keeping close.

She had found love.

And for now, that felt like the most important thing.

But one thought kept troubling her.

What if she found the answers—and they turned out to be too much?

Still, she couldn’t hide from herself forever.

Or could she?

Tess knew she didn’t have much time.

The deadline was approaching.

She felt it.

But perhaps she would change her mind a few more times

before making the final decision.