CAUGHT BETWEEN

light for once. He hadn't imagined their exchange. Her name-Alina-had echoed in his head all weekend. Two syllables that sounded like something rare. Something worth waiting

first time she had walked with someone and not felt the urge to build a wall with every step. --- "So," he finally said, "what do you listen to all the time?" She glanced at him. "Music. Instrumentals mostly." "No lyrics?" She shook her head. "Lyrics complicate things. I like music that just... floats." He nodded thoughtfully. "Makes sense." "You?" she asked, surprising herself. He grinned. "I like all kinds. Afrobeats. Old-school. Sometimes gospel when things feel too heavy." "Gospel?" "Yeah. Not because I'm a saint. Just... sometimes I need to believe there's still light somewhere." Alina looked at him longer than she meant to. "Do you always talk like that?" she asked. "Like what?" "Like... like you've been through stuff." He smiled. It didn't reach his eyes. "Because I have." She looked away. "Me too," she said quietly. They walked the next few steps in silence. --- A generator roared nearby, and a group of boys played football with a half-flattened bottle. Alina watched them kick and stumble. One of them fell. They all laughed. "I used to play with guys like that," Jude said. "What happened?" He gestured around. "Life." "Did you stop dreaming?" He looked at her. That question-it felt too close. "Maybe not stopped," he said. "Just... pressed pause." She nodded. They reached the corner of her street. "This is me," she said. He stopped. "Thanks for the walk," she added. He nodded. "Anytime." She turned, took a few steps, then turned back. "Jude?" "Yeah?" "I... I don't usually do this." He tilted his head. "Do what?" "Talk. Let people walk with me." "I figured." A small smile ghosted her lips. "Goodnight." "Goodnight, Alina." --- Later that night, Alina opened her journal. > "He asked if I stopped dreaming. I didn't answer. I don't know the answer." --- That week, something changed. The