1. A High-Rise Building in the North of the City
The party was on the seventh floor of a high-rise building in the north of the city. Large windows faced a sky tinted orange by the city lights, with tiny lights glinting in the distance like staring eyes. Until half an hour ago, Negar had been sitting on a velvet sofa, listening to a famous writer speak about “modern isolation.” Then it was her turn: a few sentences about the sociology of emotions, a well-timed joke, a laugh that seemed genuine. Everything was in its place. Her dress had been tailored by a French woman a year ago, her hair had been done that very day, and the ring her mother had given her glinted on her finger.
A middle-aged man in a grey suit had told her: “Truly, lucky is the person who can speak so well about people.” Negar had smiled, thanked him, and then mentally noted that the man was probably looking for a casual relationship. Analyzing people had become as natural to her as breathing.
Now, on the quiet street, with the sound of her footsteps on the cold asphalt, all those moments were retreating. Like water leaking from a cracked jug. Negar took her phone out of her bag. The screen was full of notifications. One of her friends, Mina, had written: “Tonight was great, thanks for coming ❤️”. Negar stared at the small red heart for a few seconds. As if it expected her to confirm something. But she didn’t know what. She just typed “Thanks,” without an emoji, and turned off her phone.
All around her, sleeping buildings had taken over. A light was on on the third floor, a shadow passed behind the curtain. Negar stared at it and for a moment thought about that person’s life: who were they? What were they doing? Were they satisfied with their night? Then she felt embarrassed. What kind of thought was this, spending time on a nameless shadow?
2. The Dark Hallway
She put the key in the lock. The heavy apartment door opened with a slight push. The hallway was dark. Negar placed the key on the shelf, kicked off her shoes with her toes, and dropped her heavy bag on a chair. She stood there for a moment.
The house was silent. Quieter than ever. The hum of the refrigerator turning on and off, the ticking of the wall clock, even the sound of her own breathing. Nothing else. No music, no TV, no neighbors’ voices. Negar remained in the darkness for a few seconds. She didn’t turn on the light. Her eyes adjusted to the large window of the living room, which let in the orange glow of the city. She could make out the outlines of the furniture: the white sofa, the wooden table, a potted plant that hadn’t been watered in a week. Everything was in its place. Everything was tidy.
3. The Sound of Mina’s Laughter
Involuntarily, her mind went back. The party. The sound of laughter. Mina, who had taken her hand and said: “Negar, tonight is so much fun.” Negar had replied: “Yeah, really.” And truth be told, at that moment, she really was having fun. Good music, warm food, people having interesting conversations. Even a PhD student who had just published his paper in a famous journal, talking excitedly about the future. Negar had listened to him and mentally congratulated him on his success. Out of genuine empathy. Later, that same student had told her: “You’re truly inspiring.” Negar had laughed.
So why, just a few hours later, was there no trace of that feeling left?
4. The Thick Books on the Shelf
She reached for the wall and turned on the living room light. The cold white light suddenly revealed everything: the thick books on the shelf, the laptop still on with its screen locked, a few dirty glasses left over from the morning. Negar looked at the glasses. She could stand up and wash them. But she couldn’t. As if her hands had become heavy. She just went to the kitchen and took a glass of water from the fridge. She took a sip. The water was cold and tickled her throat.
Her bag was still on the chair. Negar went back and unzipped it. She found a piece of dessert from the party, wrapped in greaseproof paper. Her friends had insisted she take it: “You love chocolate, don’t you?” Yes, she loved it. She used to love it. Now she took the chocolate and put it between her teeth. The sweet and bitter taste coated her tongue. She felt its texture.
5. Another Woman
And suddenly, the same question welled up from within her:
“So why don’t I enjoy these things?”
It was as if a stranger inside her was asking herself a question. Another woman. For the first time, Negar herself was taking this question seriously. Before, whenever such a feeling came over her, she would find a convincing explanation: I’m tired, I’ve worked too much this week, my period is coming, the weather is gloomy, that colleague was rude to me. But tonight, none of these excuses worked. The party was great. Her work was going well. The weather was nice too. Everything was in place. So why?
6. Maybe Too Demanding
For a moment, she doubted herself. Maybe she was too demanding. Maybe she didn’t appreciate what she had. Maybe she should travel more. Maybe she should change houses. Maybe she didn’t like her job. Maybe she should change her relationship. Maybe… maybe none of it. Maybe this string of “maybes” was exactly the problem. Like a sociologist who explains every problem with a series of variables, but gets lost among those variables herself.
She forced herself to go to the bedroom, but before that, she opened her laptop. The screen lit up. She opened a search engine and started typing: “Why don’t I enjoy life?” Before hitting enter, her finger paused on the key. What was she doing? Was Google supposed to solve her problems? Who does that? A forty-year-old woman with a PhD, who talks about social structures, is asking Google why she isn’t happy?
She closed the page. Turned off the laptop.
7. How Good You Look
The bedroom was dark, but Negar didn’t turn on the bedside lamp. A semi-darkness came through the window, barely outlining the furniture. She was still wearing her party dress. The soft velvet fabric that smelled of perfume, her own perfume, but nothing of that night remained in her. She stood in front of the mirror. The large wall mirror, in the dim light, showed her reflection blurrily. But clearly enough to see a woman whom, just a few hours ago, several people had told: “How good you look.” A successful woman. A well-dressed woman. A smart woman. A classy woman. All these adjectives could be stuck to the image in the mirror.
Negar raised her hand and gently brushed her fingertips across her cheek. Her skin was warm. Beneath her fingers, there was life, blood flow, vessels, living tissue. But her soul, the part that should have enjoyed all of this, seemed to lag behind her body. Like a weightless shadow that always walked one step behind her.
8. Will Tomorrow Be Better?
For the first time in her life, a completely unfamiliar thought came to her: “If my life is good, then why am I not happy?” A personal question. A question that seemed to come from the bottom of a well she had never seen before.
She pulled her hand away from her face. Took a deep breath. She could suppress this feeling with another explanation: “I’m tired, go to sleep, everything will be better tomorrow.” But she knew it was a lie. Or maybe she didn’t know. She just no longer had the patience to lie to herself.
She turned off the bedside lamp. It didn’t get completely dark; the city light still filtered through the curtains. Negar lay down on the bed and stared at the ceiling. A white, smooth ceiling that offered no answers. No emotion. It just existed.
A few minutes later, the refrigerator hummed on and off again. A car passed by on the street, its sound fading in the distance. Negar was still awake. She thought about the message she hadn’t replied to, about the chocolate dessert whose taste she’d forgotten, about the party that felt like it had never happened, about the man who had said “lucky you” and had no idea what her “state” was like.
And amid all this silence, a sentence repeated in her mind. Not with sound, not with words. Just a feeling:
“What was supposed to make life good, hadn’t.”
But she still didn’t know what that “thing” was. Perhaps she would never know. Perhaps she first had to understand that there was a “thing” worth searching for.
