1. A Morning That Is No Longer New
She woke up in the morning. It was 7:10. She picked up her phone: a few work messages, an email, the calendar. The same life. The same rhythm.
She got out of bed, pulled the curtain aside. The gray morning light entered the room. She looked at the street for a few seconds. Cars, pedestrians, trees whose leaves had turned yellow.
She went to the kitchen. She turned on the kettle. The same kettle, the same tea, the same cup. She sat by the window. She looked at the small photo she had printed from the trip and placed on the table. A photo of a small café by the sea.
She gave a small smile. Then she picked up the cup and took a sip.
The trip was over. A few weeks had passed. Its memory was still there, but she no longer looked at it every day.
She got up from the desk. She picked up the laptop. She had to go to the university.
2. Life Has Found Its Rhythm Again
Negar stood at the podium. She talked about quality of life. About satisfaction. About structures. The students took notes. One asked a question. Negar answered. The class ended.
In the afternoon, she went to a photo exhibition with Maryam. A small gallery in the city center. Black-and-white photos of empty streets.
Maryam stood beside her: “Which one do you like more?”
Negar looked at a photo showing an old man on the sidewalk: “This one.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know. Maybe because it looks like a memory.”
Maryam laughed: “You always have a reason.”
Negar laughed too: “It’s my job.”
After the gallery, they had coffee. They talked about photography. About the trip. About simple things. Negar laughed. She really laughed.
3. The Moment She Realizes
Thursday night. Negar was at home. A book on the table. Tea. The window.
The same scene that had been pleasurable for her a few weeks ago. The same tea, the same cup, the same chair.
But this time nothing special happened.
She wasn’t sad. She wasn’t happy. Just ordinary.
She opened the book. She read a few pages. She picked up her phone. A few messages. She replied. Then the book again. A few more pages.
Her eye fell on the trip photo. She looked at it for a few seconds. She remembered that morning, that café, that sea, those laughs.
She smiled. But then she put the photo back in its place.
She looked at the window. Outside was dark. Streetlights on. A few cars passing.
Negar picked up the cup of tea. It had gone cold. She looked at the cup for a few seconds. Then she put it on the table.
She muttered: “Back then I thought everything had changed.”
She paused.
“What had changed?”
No answer came.
4. A Very Ordinary Conversation
Friday morning, Maryam called.
Negar picked up the phone: “What’s up?”
“Nothing. I’m busy.”
“Are you coming to the exhibition on Friday?”
“Yeah, why not.”
Maryam laughed: “So you haven’t become the same old person!”
Negar laughed: “No. I don’t think so.”
Maryam paused: “By the way, what happened with your trip? Still playing with the camera?”
“Sometimes.”
“It was good, right?”
“Very.”
“So why don’t you talk about it anymore?”
Negar was silent for a few seconds. Then she said: “I don’t know. Maybe because it’s over.”
Maryam said: “Everything ends.”
Negar said: “Yeah. But some things remain even after they end.”
Maryam asked: “Like what?”
Negar paused.
Then she said: “I don’t know.”
Maryam laughed: “Well, that’s good.”
Negar said: “Yeah. It’s good.”
And it really was good.
5. The Return of the Question
Night. Negar was sitting in the car. She had parked by the street. She turned off the engine. She stayed there for a few seconds.
She looked at the sky. It was cloudy. A few stars were visible through the clouds.
Her life wasn’t bad. It was even better than a few months ago. She laughed more. She went out more. She talked to more people. She had traveled. She had learned photography. She had become friends with Maryam.
But the same old question, which had been pushed to the margins for a long time, came back.
Not with tears. Not with a crisis. Just a thought. A word.
“So why?”
Negar looked at the steering wheel. She put her hands on it. It was cold. She had turned off the car, but it was still cold.
She rolled the window down a little. Cool air entered. She breathed for a few seconds.
Then she closed the window.
The question remained.
**6. A Newer Question**
Negar returned home. She opened the laptop. She found the old file.
The same two questions:
“Why might a person not have a bad life, but still not enjoy it?”
And:
“What does a good life even mean?”
She looked at them for a few seconds.
Now she knew at least one thing. She knew she could enjoy. The trip had proven it. Maryam had proven it. Photography had proven it. Real laughs had proven it.
She looked at the trip photo. She still loved it. She still remembered how much she had laughed that day.
She looked at the photo for a few moments. Then she said softly: “So why?”
And this time, the question had a different shape for her.
The question wasn’t “Why don’t I enjoy?”
The question was “If I can enjoy, why doesn’t this enjoyment last?”
She put her hand on the keyboard. She thought for a few seconds. Then she typed: “If enjoyment lasted, what would happen?”
She looked at the sentence for a few seconds. Then she deleted it.
The question was simpler. The question was more real.
“Why doesn’t enjoyment last?”
She closed the laptop. She looked at the window. Outside was dark. The same usual darkness. The same house. The same cold tea.
