Mila
After my divorce, I realized one thing: it was time for a change. A big one. Or at least to pretend I was changing—sometimes that’s enough to get unstuck. Because I was stuck. Like gum on the sole of a shoe: not a crisis, but annoying as heck. I wanted to breathe fresh air, repaint my soul in a new color, and hit the “refresh life” button. New city, new experiences, new me. And for some reason, I just knew it had to be Bern.
Although... I’d never been there. But my gut, you know, was pulling me in that direction. Plus, Lia lived in Bern. My friend. Well, not exactly a friend in the classic sense, since we met in some random online chat, but after a few hours of messaging, it was clear we had a lot in common. She’s a girl with personality, heart, and, most importantly, a sense of humor. A triple threat, like the coffee I’d chug when I didn’t have time for a proper breakfast (which was always).
We’d met in person a few times when I was still married and vacationing in the Alps. Those meetups left a mixed bag of emotions, and not all of them were great. But whatever. The important thing is we talk like sisters who never fought over dolls.
So, without wasting any time, I called Lia. At the very least, to find out where I could rent a decent place for a reasonable price. Because what I’d found online, to put it mildly, wasn’t exactly inspiring.
“Hey, girl! I’ve decided to shake up my life a bit. Well, not just a bit... completely. I’m moving to Bern. Got any tips on finding a decent place to live? The stuff I’ve seen online feels lifeless, cold.”
“Hey! Renting? Forget it. You’re staying with me. Or rather, at my place with my brother. I’m moving in with Finn, so my room’s freeing up. Perfect timing, right?”
“And your brother won’t mind me just showing up and moving into his apartment?”
“Are you kidding? Lucas is a gem: loves quiet, doesn’t bring girls home, and cooks better than a Michelin-starred chef. You’ll be lucky to have him. No wild parties, though—think tea and a book at most. The ideal roommate, I’m telling you.”
“Hmm... Tea and a book sounds boring,” I couldn’t hold back a grin. Not that I’m a huge party animal, but I definitely wasn’t looking to live like I’m in a monastery.
“Well, then you can show him what real fun looks like.”
“Alright, now I’m intrigued. What does he cook? I hope it’s not just pasta with ketchup?”
“Pasta? Ha! He can whip up something so good you’ll forget pasta with ketchup even exists,” Lia laughed into the phone. “He’s into Swiss, Italian, French, and he’s even obsessed with Ukrainian cuisine.”
“That sounds almost too good to be true. Because, to be honest, I hate cooking,” I smiled, picturing how easy it’d be with him handling the kitchen.
“Even better! He loves the process, and you’ll love the results. Plus, you won’t have to do dishes—he cleans everything right away.”
“A magician, no doubt. I’ll probably just stand off to the side with a coffee mug, looking like a grateful muse.”
“But if you keep quiet as a mouse, you’ll fit right into his world...” Lia added, laughing. “He’s got everything organized down to the last detail... But who says a splash or two of color would hurt?”
Meanwhile, a thought spun in my head: How am I supposed to fit into his calm, quiet life when I’m used to adventure, emotions, and a little chaos? But then another thought popped up: “Why not? Maybe I can brighten up his gray days. Just not with wall paint.”
“Alright, I’m in. When are you moving in with Finn?”
“In a few days. You’ll get here just in time to claim my space before the vibe fades.”
“Cool. But be real with me: Lucas definitely won’t mind?”
“He’s... well, unique. Loves silence, hates change, kind of a loner. But I think you’ll get along.”
“A loner? With my personality... In his sacred silence, I’ll either combust or set off fireworks right in the hallway—and let’s see him keep a straight face then.”
“Or maybe your energy is exactly what he’s missing. He just doesn’t know what a blessing is coming his way. You know, opposites either explode or fall for each other.”
“Hmm... interesting. We’ll see. But if he smashes my favorite mug one morning because I played music a little louder than ‘breathing into a pillow,’ I’m warning you now.”
“Fair enough. But if he teaches you how to make real fondue, just hush and enjoy your luck.”
***
A few days later, I stepped onto the platform—lightly, without doubts, without fear. I knew where I was headed. Bern’s train station didn’t overwhelm or intimidate; instead, it welcomed me with clarity and order, like a well-organized space for new beginnings. The evening sunlight streamed through the glass walls, reflecting off metal surfaces, and everything around seemed to say: there’s no chaos here, only direction. My direction.
I confidently rode up the escalator, suitcase in hand. Passing bright shop windows and hurried passersby, I made my way to the exit. There, beyond the large automatic doors, Lia and Finn were waiting for me. And oddly enough, there was no “what if I’m making a mistake” nagging at me. Just a feeling that everything was right.
I spotted them right away. Lia—in her lavender dress with a ponytail that seemed to have a mind of its own about how it wanted to sit. And next to her, Finn—in a light shirt with rolled-up sleeves and sunglasses perched on his head. They waved at me, and in that moment, it felt like I was home. Almost.
I hurried toward them faster than I’d planned—almost bouncing a little. My suitcase rolled obediently behind me, its wheels clicking against the tiles, but instead of annoying me, the sound somehow made me happy. Maybe because everything else at the station faded away. I only saw them—like in a movie where the focus is solely on what matters.
Lia rushed to hug me, warm and genuine, like she was embracing someone she hadn’t seen in forever.
“We’re so glad you’re here,” she whispered. And I believed her, because I knew she couldn’t fake it.
Finn smiled. A brief but sincere smile. He took my suitcase, and we headed to the car.
Lia chatted away on the way, waving her hands as she always did. I nodded, smiled, and... barely heard a word. The city was calling to me. I took in everything: the trees, the shop windows, the sky, the people, the architecture.
The car was parked under a plane tree, its leaves lazily drifting down—like drops of a summer that hadn’t quite given up but was getting a little tired. Finn opened the trunk, loaded my suitcase, and we were off.
The car’s interior was cool. Soft jazz played in the background, the window cracked open just enough—and for the first time in a long while, I truly exhaled. Bern floated by outside the window, calm and unhurried, as if it, too, wasn’t in a rush to get anywhere. This city didn’t try to charm you—it just was. Reserved, orderly, almost intimate in its familiarity. And I liked that.
Lia was telling me something about the neighborhood, the supermarket around the corner, and the café with the best latte in town—at least according to her. She spoke so easily, as if we really were home, on our streets, where every sidewalk crack was familiar. I listened—or rather, caught her tone, not the words. And that was enough. Just being near them, just riding along, I didn’t need anything more.
When we turned onto a side street, I saw the building—tall, about five stories, with a gray facade and balconies. It was one of those buildings that didn’t stand out but stuck in your memory—simple, sturdy, a little worn by time, but well-kept. In front of the entrance, hydrangeas sat in large clay pots, leaning slightly toward the ground.
“Well, here you are. Hope you find the apartment without any trouble. If not, text Lucas—he’ll help. Not for nothing I gave you his contact,” Lia smiled. “Finn and I will swing by tomorrow morning to grab some stuff, but we’ve got a few things to take care of now. Have a great evening!”
Finn set my suitcase by the entrance and gave a short, not indifferent nod. Lia hugged me—genuine and warm, the way only she could. I just smiled and watched them until the car disappeared around the corner.
Then—a deep breath. Suitcase in one hand, I punched in the code with the other. The lobby, the elevator, a few seconds—and I was standing in front of the door. My heart gave a little traitorously excited thump. I pressed the doorbell.
The door opened.
There he was. Lucas.
“Hi, I’m Mila,” I introduced myself. “And you’re Lia’s brother, Lucas?”
But instead of a simple “hi” in return, just a slight nod and a quick glance up and down. Like he was assessing whether I’d brought some kind of trouble along with me. He looked to be in his early thirties, with dark hair and a beard, wearing black-framed glasses through which I could see tired, wary green eyes. He had on a gray T-shirt under an unbuttoned blue denim shirt, paired with jeans and gray slippers. Nothing fancy—but there was something effortlessly homey in that simplicity.
“Come in,” he said curtly, done sizing me up.
Well, that’s warm. Real cozy. Like a hug from a refrigerator.
I wheeled my suitcase in behind me and took a look around the apartment, which was surprisingly bright—basil and lavender on the windowsill, some books with bookmarks sticking out, a soft throw blanket on the couch. But the main thing was the smell. Not just coffee or food. The smell of home. And it had been a long time since I’d felt what it’s like to be home.
“Hope you don’t mind that I’m... loud. Sometimes. Often. Pretty much always,” I tossed out, dropping my backpack onto the couch.
“We’ll see,” Lucas replied in an even tone before heading to the kitchen.
I rolled my eyes. Great. Just great. Well, fine, I’m not exactly a pushover either.