Chapter 2. Alone with Her Thoughts

The nurse quietly administered a sedative, and the world slowly folded into darkness.

When Irene woke for the second time, the walls of the ward felt чужими — alien, cold. The first face that emerged from the fog of her consciousness was painfully familiar — her mother.

“Oh, my girl… you’re awake…” the woman’s voice trembled. “I was so afraid. I believed so much that you would come back to us. That you wouldn’t leave your father and me…”

Irene felt her eyes fill with tears. She gave a faint smile — more out of politeness than joy.

“Mom…” her voice broke. “I don’t remember anything. The detective is accusing me of murdering a man I… don’t know. Or don’t remember knowing. Do you know anything? Please, tell me the truth.”

Her mother looked away. In that brief pause, there was more fear than in any words.

“My dear… you never told me anything,” she finally said. “I was shocked myself when the detective told me you were in Berlin. We were talking like always. That evening, I couldn’t reach you… and then they called me.

I was sure you were in Warsaw. I thought — filming, you turned your phone off so you wouldn’t be distracted… If only that had been true.”

The woman let out a heavy sigh, as if releasing pain along with the breath.

“But listen to me,” she took Irene’s hand. “You’re not guilty of anything. The police found no evidence. Rain, poor visibility… it could have happened to anyone. It was an accident, sweetheart.

And your memory… the doctor said it will come back in a month or two. It was shock. Just shock. We’ll find a good psychologist, you’ll recover.”

Irene nodded. For a moment, it became easier to breathe. In her mind, the detective now seemed like a broken man who couldn’t survive his loss and was searching for someone to blame.

So I’m not guilty, she repeated to herself.

But the moment that thought formed, something inside her trembled.

Like a puzzle assembled the wrong way.

Like a word that sounds familiar but means something entirely different.

Guilt? Doubt? Fear?

She couldn’t tell.

“Mom… I’m a little tired,” Irene whispered. “Can I be alone for a while? It’s too much for one day.”

“Of course, darling. Rest,” her mother replied softly. “When you feel better, we’ll go back to Kraków. I won’t leave you alone.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too, sunshine.”

When the door closed behind her, silence fell like a heavy blanket.

Irene stared at the ceiling and suddenly realized: there was no escape anymore.

She would have to remember everything.

Whether she wanted to or not.

Because the truth was the only thing that could still save her.

Or break her completely.

So many empty spaces. So many broken riddles.

And all of them — inside her mind.