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Don’t Fall in Love with an Aquarius: Saint Petersburg. Volume 2
Anastasiia Deniz Mitchell
Everything turns out not to be as I have imagined before. I came to the place where Emre studies, but… My God!Emre isn’t the person I have known so far, for the years of chatting to him.
Don’t Fall in Love with an Aquarius: Saint Petersburg
Volume 2
Anastasiia Deniz Mitchell
All the characters of this book and the correspondence included in the plot are fictional.
Any resemblance to a coincidence is accidental.
© Anastasiia Deniz Mitchell, 2022
ISBN 978-5-0059-4139-8
Created with Ridero smart publishing system
30 June 2021
Emre! He was so unpredictable!
I’d been trying to persuade him to… Well…
It turned out I didn’t know him at all. For how many times did he ask me to come and see him when he just arrived at Russia? And for how many times did he refuse to meet me now, when I had finally agreed to do it? For many more times!
Tomorrow, I must set off for Saint Petersburg. “And I’ll do it,” I promised myself.
I sent the man the pictures of my train ticket to the city.
“Good luck with your job interview,” there was the answer. “You’re coming there for the interview, right?”
“Right,” I wrote. “And thank you very much, Emre! Good luck to you too!”
Such an intractable lad! Such an obstinate one!
2 July 2021
Emre! How I wanted to meet you! I still hoped you’d meet me!
These were my thoughts. I was on the train to Saint Petersburg!
But… “What if he wouldn’t meet me?” I thought. “What if everything he told me was true?”
Those were his words. “You’re nobody to me,” he wrote once. Why did he do it? Did he want to have a row with me?
Everything was too strange. Frankly speaking, I didn’t know what was going on.
My family let me go on this trip. “You’ll meet, and only then will you find out if he’s your match or not,” Mum was saying.
Well, now, I wasn’t even sure if this “match’ would meet me or not. I wasn’t sure what would happen next.
A butterfly sat on the window pane. It started rubbing its legs together. Just like any insect. But there was something special about it. What exactly? I myself couldn’t tell. Perhaps, its big yellow wings. What else…?
Perhaps, something different from the other insects, including bugs and ladybugs. I admire both butterflies and ladybugs. They’re cute.
Station after station, I got closer and closer to the city I’d been looking forward to step foot in. What would it be like? I myself didn’t know. It was a mystery. Everything needed to be experienced live.
Five hours or so passed.
I stepped out of the train. Saint Petersburg!
Saint Petersburg! I’d fallen in love with it as soon as I saw its beauty – its magnificent buildings, splendid architecture, and green vibrant gardens. I didn’t have the same feeling for Emre. It was deeper. Much deeper.
When would I come across him? Would I anyway…?
At the hotel, I typed a message to the man.
Me: Emre?
Emre: What? Don’t message me!
Me: Emre…
Emre: Shall I block you?
What? Block? Me? What for?
Me: Emre, I’m in Saint Petersburg!
Emre: So what? What do you want from me?
So what? What did he mean to say?
Me: Emre… I’ve come here for you! I’ve come here to see you!
Emre: I don’t care. Do your things and don’t bother me. Bye!
I didn’t get it. How come? What did he mean to say?
Me: Emre! Please!
No answer. “What’s the matter?” I thought. Was the man okay?
That was quite a question. What the matter really was?
Something strange was going on. Something inexplainable. Something no one (perhaps, including Emre) couldn’t interpret.
Emre: Aziza. What’re you hoping for? What’re you waiting for? I won’t meet you in Saint Petersburg. You’re not my friend anymore. Got it?
I was lost for words.
Emre: What’re you expecting, Aziza?
Me: Emre, please, let’s talk. I don’t want to lose you. I want us to be friends. Very good friends. Very close ones.
Emre: Yeah, but you forgot a simple thing. When the window’s broken, you can trust neither the window nor the people living behind it.
Me: Emre, it’s you that forgot another simple thing. We’re humans, not windows. So…
Emre: Aziza, I don’t care. I don’t want to hear anything from you. Bye!
I burst into tears.
I didn’t come to the city for my job interview. I simply wanted to see Emre.
…At the reception desk, I tried to ask the hotel workers about the landmarks of Saint Petersburg, sobbing.
“What’s the matter with you, Miss? How can we help you? Please, don’t cry!”
The lady passed me over a napkin. I took it.
“Don’t cry,” she smiled and took my hand. “What’s up with you? Just tell me!”
“No, no, thank you, I’m fine,” I could hardly say a word. “I wanted you to tell me about the must-visits of Saint Petersburg.”
“Yeah, but, perhaps, you’d like a cup of tea first?” the woman asked.
Having mopped the tears from my face, I headed towards the dining room and poured myself some tea. The day and (my life in general) seemed to swim to the bottom, but what did I have to do in the end…?
I went out of the hotel to see the Kazan Cathedral. Well, it took me half an hour to get there. The Kazan Cathedral… The name itself reminded me of my home.
Such a beautiful cathedral it was!
However, I had no energy to go inside. I sank onto a bench by the cathedral and burst into tears again.
The man with pigeons
Words couldn’t describe my state and feelings at the time. I was sitting on the bench, watching the passers-by. And trying to call Emre.
No answer.
I hung up.
And then, I tried to call another time.
“Aziza,” there was his voice, shaking. “Don’t message me…”
“I’m standing by the Kazan Cathedral…”
“I see. Have fun.”
Full stop.
What was it all for? I didn’t know. Did he disregard me that much?
Tears streamed down my face. It was simply unfair! I came to see Emre – and got this!!!
What was it all for?
I started crying loudly. So loudly that… a man who carried pigeons on his shoulders and calling the passers-by to come up and take a photo or two with these splendid snow-white birds ran up to me and asked me:
“My dear lady, what’s up?”
“Emre hasn’t met me!”
“Who?” he raised his eyebrow. “Emre? Who’s he?”
“The boy I love!” I cried.
“Oh, my God! Again your love stories!”
The man was probably in his thirties. He was thin and wore a blue jacket and blue jeans.
“Listen to me,” he said, winking, “you can tell me anything you want. So, what’s your story?”
The man’s friend look standing nearby caught up:
“Do you want me to buy an ice-cream for you, Miss?”
The second man looked practically the same.
“An ice-cream?” I mopped the tears away from my face. Well, actually, I needed anything to distract myself from what I’d just got over.
“Did he betray you?” the man with pigeons asked.
“Emre didn’t meet me!” I cried again.
“Oh, my God!” the man rolled his eyes at me. “Is he local?”
“N-n-n-o-o-o-!” I gave out a shriek. “He’s from Turkey!”
The two friends looked at each other. The man with pigeons’ friend burst into laughter.
“You know what’s Turks’ opinion of beautiful Russian girls?” he asked. “They think you’re all silly dolls!”
“Not at all!” I protested. “They’re cool!”
