Nikola looked exactly like his photographs. That was the hardest thing for Lana to explain when her sister later asked what had been wrong. He had not lied about his age, talked over her, or treated the waiter badly. He brought her a book she had searched for in vain. For three months they had exchanged messages about work, poor sleep, and films they watched simultaneously from their separate apartments.
At the table she felt the warmth of familiarity, but no desire to touch him. She told herself she was tired, that the feeling would appear after a second coffee. Nikola noticed her silence and began talking more than usual. He produced two tickets to an exhibition the following Saturday. He had bought them because they had discussed it. Lana said she was looking forward to it, afraid of ruining his evening.
When they parted, he leaned in to kiss her. She turned her cheek, awkwardly and too late for the movement to seem accidental. Nikola drew back and asked whether he was rushing things. She replied that she just needed time. At home she put the book on the table and realized how much she had already committed herself to something she did not want. His gift did not create a debt between them. But now she owed him a more accurate answer.
She called him the next day. She did not mention tiredness or a difficult period, although those sentences offered themselves as a comfortable exit. She said she cared about him and that their conversations had been real, but she felt no romantic attraction. Nikola was silent for a long time. "Then why did you say you were looking forward to Saturday?" he asked. She could not erase that question by listing his good qualities. She admitted that she had said what she thought would hurt him less.
She offered to return the book and pay for her ticket. He did not want the book back, and he would take his brother to the exhibition. When she suggested they keep talking as before, he said he could not do that at present. She felt the sting of rejection, then immediately felt ashamed for seeking comfort from him that she could not give him herself. They agreed not to contact each other for a while. He did not specify how long.
She spent Saturday at her sister's, helping assemble shelves. Her phone stayed in her bag. That evening she began reading his gift and found a receipt between the pages. It showed a morning time, before their date. She cried for something that had mattered, although it had not become love. She did not send him a photograph of the book. She left his silence to him.