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They all looked at the place Ivyne showed them.

“You saw him too, didn’t you? Did you all see him kneeling there?”

But her friends only looked at each other without understanding and replied kindly.

“There was no boy Ivyne. There were only you, far away, standing in the middle of the road, visualizing something, with a deadly pallor.”

“And you still are.”

Ivyne shook her head. She didn’t want to believe in a vision. More like a dream, no doubt. A very clear dream, swept away by a pathetic man’s car.

“But he was there!” she still insisted, her throat sore, tightened by emotion.

“You only dreamt about, Ivyne. Probably sleepwalking.”

“You should really consult,” exclaimed one of her friends, joking happily. It’s very dangerous.”

“Not as much as you,” replied the young girl, indignant, behaving in such a way as to make the problem disappear. “That’s why I had this “seizure”.”

Then the friends continued on their way, chatting like a broken music box, the incident already forgotten, except for Ivyne of course. But she kept her secret. A secret that seemed to be understood only by her.

And since that day, the boy has never left her again.

***

The next morning, the morning before her birthday, tired after another night when the boy almost tore off her skin, as his embrace was so intense, Ivyne smoothed her silky hair, looking up to let the morning rays of light caress her face and skin, then decided to leave the bed no longer knowing what to do.

She felt so wearied because of the dreams, so incomprehensible and heartbreaking, which continued unceasingly to suffocate her and invade her entire existence, even to kill her internally. Openly mocking her powerlessness, they tirelessly poured from obscure and inexhaustible sources. They had appeared without reason and without any certainty only to destroy her person. Ivyne’s optimism had first led her to believe that this “phenomenon” would only last for a breath, that it was only the result of her imagination too rich in tales and fantasy stories, her fault for loving them so much. But now, knowing that it had nothing to do with her overly fertile dream mind, the girl had gradually lost her mind. Thus, countless questions began to haunt her, and to blacken her existence, slowly extinguishing her cheerfulness. But who wouldn’t have asked these questions she noted? Always wondering what one really was? A normal being or a person destined for great things that should be revealed to you at some point, and probably in a very hurtful way. This frightened her greatly.

Nothing but questions, so annoying and completely ridiculous that would sound as false to other people’s ears as they did to her own. And the answers were inconceivable. Besides, who should Ivyne ask them to ? And how should she do it? She thought ironically, completely lost.

She didn’t even dare to imagine how her mother and her friends would react if she finally decided to talk to them about it. In fact, she didn’t know how to approach the problem, And finally, she doubted that any one of them, no matter how clairvoyant or open-minded, could ever help her discover the truth. At worst, they will believe that she had lost her way and pretended to draw attention to herself.

A deep and unknown place somewhere in Ivyne’s soul was painful and the suffering spread slowly, mercilessly. But that wasn't all, there was also fear. Fear of the unknown and of the total lack of control over something's existence. And whether it’s a good thing or not, it will be unstoppable.”

And the girl was right. Over time, the boy’s presence intensified and deepened. It had even become so strong that the girl finally forgot about life as she understood it. These fantastic visions had totally invaded her life, to the point of taking everything away from her even her smile. From that moment on, she could neither escape nor forget herself. It was impossible from the beginning. And one evening, her visions so harassing began to take shape in her body and became a curse.

This night was different from all the others. It was the night of Ivyne's eighteenth birthday. It waas special. She felt special. The smell of the night was incredible.

Ivyne had decided to spend this evening with her beloved mother. She loved her friends, but she'd seen them during the day. The evening was for Lyre Raot.

She'd changed from her short candy-pink veil dress to a jumpsuit that left her back bare. She'd pulled her hair up into a sophisticated bun on her head then picked up the bag her friends gave her, and she was ready.

"Are you ready, darling?"

"Yes, I'm coming, Mom!"

After one last look in her mirror, which took up half the bathroom wall, the young woman left her room and went downstairs to join her mother in the living room.

She felt agitated, because a few seconds earlier, she had seen him reflected in the mirror for a brief moment through the mists he seemed so fond of, then whispered to her how beautiful she looked, just like the last time.

What last time, Ivyne wondered as she walked towards her mother, who had opted for a denim ensemble that looked good on her. She had decided to let her hair down.

The two women looked at each other and admired each other, a tender smile on their lips.

"Beautiful, darling!"

"You don't look bad yourself, Mom!"

Ivyne looked around and exclaimed in astonishment.

"And Dad, he told me this morning that he was finally going to go out with us!"

"And finally, he decided to stay home and fix the circuit breaker. Anyway, he understood perfectly well that he understood nothing about women and therefore nothing about what we desire for tonight."

"Poor Daddy," was the only remark the young girl made with an adorable little grimace. "Well, if we're ready, then let's go, dear Mom."

"No, wait." said her mother, picking up two tiaras from the table that her daughter hadn't noticed.

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