My purpose in this world was to know life. On that path, Anzhelica appeared, and everything turned upside down. Her purity inspired love and reverence within me, especially when I saw her so pale, transparent, and chaste, sitting on the edge of the sofa.

  A meeting with Alexander took place not far from my house, on the picturesque Terrenkur path by the river. Walking along the river, we talked. Both of us were obsessed with the desire to understand Anzhelica and her actions.

  The sky was gloomy; it felt as if thunder would strike at any moment and the rain would begin to fall.

  The incident at the train station with the young clerk remained unmentioned; it felt unnecessary, like adding fuel to a fire. Alexander’s trust was palpable, as were my doubts regarding Anzhelica’s claims of his jealousy. Yet I did not dare to ask.

  “It’s strange, but after her meetings with you,” Alexander began, “Anzhelica seems like a different person. She has grown calm and restrained. Once, she even said: ‘One must think about the future too.’”

  He seemed to hope that I could somehow influence her life. Once he saw that I understood her deeply and intended to be sincere, our conversation began to flow freely.

  “Anzhelica doesn't need reality,” Alexander continued. “Her inventions aren’t lies; they are roles she wants to inhabit. I know of no one else who lives within fiction so passionately. When she told you her mother had died or that she never knew her father, it was simply a desire to start from scratch—to dive into illusions. She loves the mystery. Her paleness, her trinkets—they are the marks of a rebel.”

  “No one has ever told her: ‘Listen! Listen deeply!’ I managed to force her sometimes. But you... how did you stop the torrent of her chatter? When she speaks of you, she seems entirely humble. How did you influence her?”

  “I didn't,” I replied. “A look was enough. A sense of sympathy grew for her search for the miraculous, for a chaos that I never tried to squeeze into the mold of male logic.”

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  “I understand all of this,” Alexander replied, his voice heavy with disappointment. “Indeed, next to Anzhelica, other women hold no interest for me. Но ты... She kept saying: ‘Dilyara is more than a woman—much more than a woman.’”

  “She humiliates you, starves you, and exhausts you. She teases you and then abandons you, yet you are perfectly fine with it? It is simply surprising.”

  “And... what about the lesbianism?”

  “I have no answer for that. I don't know,” I replied. “Nothing of the sort happened between us.”

  Alexander seemed to believe me. “She is... my fear,” he whispered.

  “It means that was her will,” I said. “Why should Anzhelica live by your choice? Or by mine? What is it you are constantly trying to convince her of?”

  “She once told me she’d had pneumonia,” the young man interrupted, “but there was not a word about how she survived it.”

  “What is it you want, Sasha? What will you gain from knowing that Anzhelica can love more than one person? It is often said that when multiple selves exist within a person, it is a sign of madness, a fractured personality. Well then, how many Alexanders live inside you? And yet, you still consider yourself the most normal person!”

  A slight breeze rose, and soon a drizzle began to fall.

  “I simply need a solution to this whole mystery!” he flared up, then immediately grew calm.

  “The rain is starting, isn't it?” I muttered, stretching out a hand. “It is time to end our walk before the downpour begins.” We hurried off the Terrenkur as the rain began to fall.

  “Intense pressure and passion will never force a person to open up,” I added.

  “Then what will?” he asked.

  “Sympathy.”

  A burst of laughter escaped Alexander.

  “Sympathy and Anzhelica? I ask you! That is complete nonsense. One might as well expect sympathy from the river flowing beside us…”

  “You know, ‘to sympathize’ in Spanish means ‘to feel with passion.’ Only your passion lacks the one key that fits all locks.”

  “Fine. What is it about her that you sympathize with?”

  “Her desire to be loved…”

  “Her fickleness, you mean…”

  “But you still need the key, don't you?”

  He began to speak, but a heavy downpour cut him off, ending our walk.

  Once we left the Terrenkur, Alexander quickly hailed a taxi, while I made a run for home. Despite the rush, the rain soaked me from head to toe.

  “It's a pity I didn't bring shower gel and shampoo!” The thought struck me, and a smile followed at the cheerful idea.