He watched Elena laugh with her friends. They had been "just friends" for three years—the kind of friends who shared late-night coffees and secrets, yet Andrei had kept his biggest secret locked away. Every time he was about to tell her how he felt, the fear of losing her friendship acted like a gag.
The neon lights of the club blurred into streaks of gold and purple, but for Andrei, the world had narrowed down to a single person across the room. He leaned against the bar, the cold condensation of his glass numbing his hand, while the familiar, soulful accordion intro of began to pulse through the speakers. vali_vijelie_habar_n_are_ea_ce_simt_eu_oficial_...
"Elena," he said, his voice steady for the first time. "The song is wrong. You’re going to have an idea of exactly what I feel." He watched Elena laugh with her friends
He walked toward her, the beat of "Habar n-are ea" thumping in his chest like a second heart. As he reached her, he didn't join the dance. He leaned into her ear, cutting through the music. The neon lights of the club blurred into
The lyrics hit him like a physical weight: "Habar n-are ea, ce simt eu..." (She has no idea what I feel). The Unspoken Distance