Clara E-Book

Licia Hansen

• Herausgeber: novum publishing
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 446

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2025

Beschreibung

Louise's life is actually very tranquil: her studies are going well, her father Stefan takes care of the household and her regular ballet training is a welcome counterbalance. She has no memories of her mother, who died young, but the dreams in which she appears to her help Louise fill this void. When fate brings her together with Clara, a charismatic musical performer, Luise's life takes a sudden turn: "It was as if this woman had made her a different person..." But suddenly truths become lies, trust is abused, and goals are lost sight of. What is really behind Clara's flawless façade and why is Stefan suddenly acting so strangely?

Leseprobe

Chapter 1

The shadow man

The air was suffocating in thick clouds of mist. You could barely see your own hand in front of your eyes. Although it wasn't cold, Luise cuddled her neck into the collar of her jacket as much as she could and shoved her hands deep into her pockets. The smoke from her breath floated over her head as she locked the car and set off. She bought a few yellow tulips from the cemetery nursery and paid without saying a word. Then she strolled along the pebbled path, the flowers pressed gently against her chest. It was not yet late, but the dense cloud cover blocked the shy sun's path. It was almost dark already. It hadn't really been light all day. But Luise didn't care about the gloomy weather. She didn't care about anything. For her, it was a day of mourning and longing, of pain and loneliness. She was on her way to the grave of her mother, who had been born on this day 47 years ago. She stared fixedly and blankly at the ground, which she left a little further behind her with every step. As she passed pebble after pebble through the fog, it looked as if she formed a congregation of mourners, all alone. If she wanted to put into words how she felt at that moment, when the chirping of a fleeing blackbird distracted her for a brief moment, she would not have been able to express it. Someone was coming towards her. The person was humming a melody to herself, a melancholy and dramatic melody at the same time. It had to be a woman. The sounds impressed her. They took her out of her equilibrium. They sounded crystal clear. They swung around her like an invisible band that forced her to make herself small. Involuntarily, she ducked her head and hunched her shoulders. She looked up. At that moment, the song stopped and no one was there. That was strange. Was she hearing ghosts singing now? She shook herself and pushed the thought away.

She felt nothing. Nothing but incomprehension and the deep longing of a daughter for her dearest mother. As she slowly walked to the grave, she again wished for nothing more than to have at least met her. They say a child never forgets her mother's voice, but for her it was as if she had never spoken to her. She simply knew nothing of her. While other girls could borrow their mother's blouse or perfume, she had no scent in her nose that she associated with her, no item of clothing in front of her that she envied. She had nothing. Nothing she could draw on, no happy memory that she shared only with her, no secret that only she knew about, not even a habit that she had inherited from her, let alone a faint glimmer of what it must have been like to lie happily in her arms or grieving on her shoulder. Nothing that reminded her of her, unless she was confronted by her friends, who only had to use the word "mom" to put her in a bad mood. She had left her nothing, not even a piece of jewelry, like a ring or a necklace, no possessions that she might have been attached to, like a cuddly toy that she had given her when she was a baby. Nothing. All traces had been erased. All that remained were a few blurred photos in which she was barely recognizable. But she imagined her, every night and also during the day, when her gaze sometimes wandered dreamily around the lecture hall and she imagined that she was waiting for her outside. Then she saw a lovely woman, as beautiful as a queen, tall, elegant and slender as a willow, with the magnificent hair of an opera singer and lips painted red. The photos did not show this image. It only existed in her imagination. And once again she smiled at the thought that she was appearing at her own grave at this very moment to finally clear up the misconception that she was dead. With her departure, a piece of the puzzle had broken out of Luise's world that had always remained missing.

But then she suddenly stopped. She hid her breath for fear of being discovered. The outline of a sinister figure had torn her from her reverie. She hastily hid behind a damp tree trunk covered in moss and cautiously peeked out, but she couldn't see the man's face. She was excited. Who was that? She had never seen anyone lingering in this place before. Was it a stranger who was walking through the cemetery and just thought the grave was pretty? Had he brought something with him? Flowers? The view was too restricted for her to make out anything apart from the hooded figure's fully hooded backside. Suddenly he looked around. Luise jerked her head back behind the safety of the tree. It was beginning to drizzle. The magpies in the treetops were in an uproar. When she dared to look again, there was no one there. She looked around hastily. There was no one there. She was all alone with her. Unsure, she placed the yellow flowers on the gray gravestone. Half hidden by the fallen magnolia leaves, the letters of her first name flickered in the gentle fire of the cemetery candle: Marie. She knew that her father had only ordered a large flower arrangement for her birthday. But there was something else: a wreath that the shadow man must have brought. But how did he know her? As she slowly stood up again and gently ran the tulips through her fingers, she whispered: "Happy birthday, mom."

She stayed there for a few more minutes, but was no longer able to dream about it with her. The encounter had thrown her completely off course, so she felt much more of an urge to tell her father about it immediately. Did he know the man? She couldn't imaginethat he would hide a relative from her. All the way back to the car, she kept looking around to see if she could spot him again, but the man disappeared. She didn't see a soul at all. Completely confused, she got into her red speedster and sped along the highway through the tunnel, just in time before it was closed due to a fire alarm. A thick cloud of black smoke sent panic coursing through her limbs.

But when she arrived in the hallway, the life-threatening incident was no longer important. Still wrapped in her soaked jacket and with wet shoes, she got straight to the point.

"Hello Dad, I saw a man ... in the cemetery ... at Mom's," she stuttered. The smoke had strained her throat.

Luise's father abruptly stopped folding sweaters on the kitchen table.

"Dad, who was that I saw there?" she urged when he made no move to say anything. He still said nothing. Impatient and now anxious, she became louder and more reproachful.

"You said mom had no relatives left. But the man knew her, he left a wreath. Dad, tell me the truth now! Do you know who I saw there?"

She pestered him over the ironing board with a blurred look. He stroked the already smoothly ironed sweater he had just folded once more and finally answered.

"Lui, it's true. I kept something from you about your mother. God, I didn't want you to ever meet him."

It seemed as if he was sorry, but that didn't appease her. Her anger was fueled. The blood was pounding in her veins. Nevertheless, she calmly and calmly asked him to finally tell her what was going on. And her father, his hands now both flat on the tableand his upper body bent forward, managed to force himself to make a confession. Her mother had a brother. She had probably seen him.

Silence. He looked at her expectantly, but Luise's jaw dropped. Disoriented, she reached for the back of a chair to support her stricken body. She breathed out loudly. She didn't even know what bothered her more: the fact that there was a blood relative of her mother's whom she wasn't supposed to know, or his audacity in lying to her so disgustingly all her life. Neither of them said anything. Luise hoped he was ashamed of having offended her. She clenched her teeth to keep from crying, but she couldn't hide a small tear.

"What's his name?" she wanted to know.

"I don't know exactly. Richard or something like that."

Silence again. Still wrapped in her jacket, she began to sweat. With cold, wet hands, she clung tighter to the hard back of the chair. Wistfully, the overwhelmed father explained that his daughter's uncle had been a miserable good-for-nothing and that was why he hadn't wanted her to meet him. He had not wanted her mother's image to be destroyed by a homeless man who knew nothing about love and instead begged for money from the family. Luise tried to understand what had caused him to remain silent, and on the one hand she succeeded, but the disappointment was deeper than the will to forgive him immediately.

"I'm so sorry," he added ruefully, but when he tried to hug her, she blocked him. She didn't feel able to bear his love. She pulled away in silence. It simply couldn't be true. She couldn't believe what she had just found out. Her father was right, the certainty of her brother's existence blackened the illusion of the perfect mother. No, she couldn't let that happen. She wanted to forget him again right away. If she saw him again in the cemetery, she would hide from him again. Nothing could be changed by him, the dreamscould not become darker, the longing could not be soothed. A ragged shadowy figure had no place in her dream world.

But what if father was wrong and Richard wasn't a bad person after all? Perhaps today he regrets the way he treated his sister? The poor man certainly didn't have an easy life, after all, he too had grown up without parents. And there it was again: pity. Pity for the deceased mother, who herself didn't know what it was like to be loved by her parents. She felt her heart sink as she finally hung her jacket on the coat rack. What else could she think? It seemed to make the most sense to sleep on it for a night. Perhaps she would know more the next morning. She didn't even say goodnight as she disappeared into her room. However, she found it harder than ever to fall asleep, even though it was pitch black. She had stopped sobbing as she crawled under the warm covers, completely forgetting that she had actually wanted to prepare for group study at university. That plan had been shattered. Everything had been shattered. Her little world had collapsed. And yet she wished she could dream about it again. Slowly and with countless fragments of a thousand thoughts, she finally fell asleep.

It was summer. They lay side by side in the whispering grass of a wild meadow surrounded by colorful flowers, tickling pollen and buzzing insects. They took in the azure blue sky. Feelings of happiness flowed through her as she recognized the shape of a heart in the gentle veil of clouds. Her right hand groped through the grass until she found hers. She stroked her arm. Then she realized that she wanted to get up. She sat up. Her mother had turned her delicate back to her, which was not covered by her red dress. She watched in amazement as she freed her hair, shimmering brown in the sun, from its knot. It fell light as a feather and lay like a silky veil over her white skin. She elegantly glided her red fingernails through the flowing curls that almost reached her hips. Sheadored her and stood up too, but her mother kept her face hidden from her.

"Come, my child. I want to show you something," said her soft voice. She floated slowly forward with bare feet. She followed her, but she could no longer reach her, no matter how fast she tried to move. The grass suddenly grew, as if it wanted to block her path. In front of her, she could still vaguely make out the back of her head dancing in the balmy wind, which was gradually gaining strength.

"Mom!" she screamed. Her soft voice fizzled out in the whistling wind. "Wait!"

She held her hands protectively over her eyes, which were being whipped by angry blades of grass. She tried to advance further as the storm gradually subsided. The tall greenery disappeared back into the ground and the meadow blossomed again in its most beautiful splendor. At the far end, in front of the blue wall, she recognized her red dress. It was only the size of a dot against the endless background. She ran across the bumpy, soft ground. She sprinted as fast as her trained legs would carry her. She called after it again and again. She felt as if she was walking on clouds and she too began to float. Her feet lifted off the ground, but she didn't move another meter forward. Her mother had almost disappeared in the distance, but she could now see her waving in her direction.

"No, wait!"

Was it a wave goodbye? Or did it mean that she was waiting for them? She wanted to return the wave, but her arms were paralyzed.

She rubbed her sandy eyes while the alarm clock was still ringing. She silenced it with a heavy thud. The only thing she couldn't stifle with aggression was the neighbor's rooster. The exhausted fowl continued to crow, as it did every morning, unconcerned by the stressed early risers. The light in the bathroom blinded her. When she got used to it, she looked in the mirror. Tired green-brown eyes madeup her morning look. As usual after getting up, her short brown hairstyle was sticking out in all directions, sticky from the remaining hair wax, which she hadn't even brushed out roughly the night before. Her narrow face looked pale and empty, her pale skin sick. She washed her face with the washcloth and her round cheekbones took on a little color. She chose the fruity deodorant spray that smelled like her last summer vacation. Then she put in her contact lenses. After brushing her white teeth and moisturizing her face, she even smiled a little at her reflection in the mirror at the thought of the wonderful experience that night. It wasn't really a very nice dream, but it was a happy one. She often had these kinds of dreams. She could never see her whole face, only fragments. Either it remained completely hidden from her or she only recognized the eyes, but then not the nose and mouth, or she saw thick red lips, but couldn't look her in the eye. From the many fragments, her imagination put together the overall picture, that of flawless beauty.

Now she empathized with her father. How must he have slept? Probably not at all. Her stomach growled violently and he cried out for water. No wonder, after all, she had cried rivers of water just a few hours ago. With her make-up on, she opened the bathroom door. The smell of scrambled eggs hit her sensitive nose. Her father was waiting for her at the kitchen table, which he had set with a hearty breakfast and latte. His eyes greeted her like a deer in headlights. He watched expectantly as she sat down opposite him and marveled at the crispy croissants.

"Good morning," he said cautiously, but Luise was sure that he firmly believed that she had already forgiven him. She greeted him in the same friendly manner and reached boldly for the scrambled eggs. Her hunger was so great that she failed to utter a word of forgiveness before emptying her plate.To her left lay the unfolded daily newspaper. The fire had claimed one life. She put her fork aside.

"Dad, I understand that you didn't tell me anything out of consideration. You don't need to be afraid. I've regained my composure."

For the first time since the previous evening, they made prolonged eye contact again. He reached for her forearm and held it tightly, as he always did when something was really important to him. A painting in black and white flowed into his right wrist, depicting withered tree trunks and branches, wings made of a thousand feathers and the silhouette of a curved figure. A ray of light fell through the bare crowns of the forest. Luise didn't know him without the work of art on his skin.

Now he also reached for something to eat.

"Let's not talk about it anymore."

Luise imagined stones crashing down from her father's heart like a mountain scree.

And they didn't talk about it for the next few days. At ballet training, they started with a choreography to Tchaikovsky'sSwan Lake. Luise's long-time friend and fellow student Michelle was finally back at training after a break of several weeks due to a stretched ankle ligament, but to her annoyance she still had to take things slowly. She was very good, but nowhere near as good as Luise. Her incomparable presence and superb technique had earned her the role of the black swan. It was pure pride that made her glide across the dance floor. With her light-footedness and experience, she was a big step ahead of her friend and the other dancers. But there was no competition. The philosophy here was to learn from each other. She must undoubtedly have inherited her talent from her mother, who herself had danced and performed at galas and in theaters. When Luise danced, she felt close to her. She thought she even felt like she felt. Ever since she could remember, she had been drawn to ballet lessons twice a week, which was the perfect balance to her scientific training. But she had never danced anything more challenging before, which resulted in a hell of a muscle ache, and a knee injury from several years ago also returned in the form of nasty stitches. It was unbelievable how a torn ligament that had long since healed could still cause problems, especially now that she was no longer 15. Her joints would soon belong to the older generation, but that was no obstacle for her. Today in particular, she was bursting with motivation and enjoyed the feeling that she was taking another tiny step forward with every little twinge. She only let herself be stopped when her bones gave out completely. She was unreasonable in this respect. She didn't always give her body the breaks it perhaps needed. She didn't let anyone or anything stop her from dancing.

After the exhausting lesson, the two friends dawdled around showering and getting dressed today and chatted for a long time over a cozy canned drink from the vending machine. It wasn't a matter of course that they could talk so freely, because Michelle had a very moody personality. If something interfered with her dancing, if she wasn't happy with the design of the lesson or her performance, sometimes you couldn't touch her with tweezers. Then she would simply rush out of the cabin without another word, which made the other girls uncomfortable. Luise liked her anyway and didn't mean any harm when she blamed her upbringing for her unbridled temperament. Only child, spoiled, wealthy parents. That actually explained everything. But she could also be just as friendly and helpful. In her, she had a friend she could rely on in an emergency. What's more, she was a real storybook beauty with a nice round bottom, smooth nut-brown hair and big brown eyes that flashed under her slanted bangs. She was alwaysstylishly dressed, wore gold ballet shoes, at least one leopard-print garment or accessory and always had the most coveted designer handbags. Overdressed? No, everything was on a pleasant scale. As a shy ten-year-old, Luise had joined this course what felt like an eternity ago and immediately took to the heels of the cute, open-hearted Michelle. On evenings like these, she realized again how lucky she was to have met her back then.

Despite her special talent, Luise did not want to think about a career in ballet. Her mind was made up, even though her ballet teacher predicted a glorious future for her. The praise did her good. She enjoyed it to the full. Michelle hadn't given up trying to persuade her to audition for a real art academy either and even gave her sinfully expensive shoes for her 20th birthday. But Luise thought a career as an artist would be extremely hard. Too hard. The fact alone that she would never know where she would get her next arrangement. If she got one at all. That was so unfair. What right did you have to earn a lot of money in the industry or as a manager, and as an artist who gave her best every day, possibly just enough to make ends meet? A regular life with a steady income in a research group was more in the category of a more secure existence. She found herself in both art and science. For her professional career, the latter seemed to be the right decision. A rational decision, no question. At least that's what it looked like at the time.

Chapter 2

Interesting strangers

Shortly before the final exam for the current internship was due, Luise met up with her friends again to study in the university library. She leaned her elbows on the table and rested her heavy head in her free palms. The weather had turned 180 degrees in the meantime. Outside, the sky was clear and blue, and at its highest point the sun glistened, flooding the top floor of the library with its powerful rays. It was a little stuffy between thousands of books, some of them ancient, which gave the room its characteristic smell. Between the smoking heads of students of all ages and the hectic scribbling of pens on loose paper, there was nevertheless a pleasant learning atmosphere. Despite the holiday, a large number of like-minded people had found their way to the university to study. Most of them still preferred the classic learning method with a piece of paper, pen and highlighter. Luise was one of them. And her performance spoke for itself when she would sit down with John late in the afternoon to explain the same subject to him for the third time. But she didn't mind.

That didn't mean that she didn't find learning difficult. Sometimes it even drove her to the brink of depression if she didn't get any fresh air for days on end. The others didn't know that. They didn't know that she often sat there with her carrot on the pile of books and tons of ballast onher shoulders, wishing she could escape when her strength left her and the goal was out of sight, when she squeezed the material in at night after ballet class just so she wouldn't fail the next exam, and when she refused to go on vacation with her father because she was afraid she wouldn't have enough time to study. They didn't know how badly the impersonality affected her, the crushing certainty of being just a number among the many anonymous figures, a number in the litter-strewn corridors, among the overflowing garbage cans, in the lecture halls reeking of cheese sandwiches and sweat, just a number for the professors who cared nothing for the victims, who didn't care about the sacrifices the students had to make to pass this oh-so-great university, who didn't care about the human sacrifices, who fell by the wayside with nothing in their hands, who were left to fend for themselves, who secretly broke down crying behind the closed lab door, with no degree, no prospects, possibly no financial security, no courage to face life and no friends. There certainly weren't many of them here. Here, one didn't begrudge the other the dirt under their fingernails. Here, elbows were pulled out when it came to presenting themselves in front of the professors, in front of the despicable robots without a face, without a voice, without any form of human grace, in front of the begrudging fellow students from the higher semesters who were only out to destroy the younger ones, and all this just to avoid having to deal with their own incompetence. They apparently expected to be respected for their methods. Perhaps they even enjoyed the fact that some feared them, that some feared the exams, especially the oral ones where you sat across from the heartless assholes just waiting to expose a deficit they could drill into to give themselves a power they tragically needed. Perhaps they enjoyed humiliating the weaker ones so that they would feel small, insufficient and inferior and drop out of the course so that space could be made in the overcrowded internship labs to avoid correcting the exams, to enjoy the early evening, while those who could no longer cope with the pressure drove home to their parents in the middle of the week late at night to cry, only to face the coming morning with swollen eyes full of fear.

What must have gone wrong with the arrangement of these people's synapses if they stood behind them with a whip, if they penned them in like a herd of worthless mass animals, if they spoke to them as if they were annoying fools? Open drawer, stuff in, close drawer, swallow, done. Some male creatures may have managed this, but not so much the inexperienced girls, who let themselves be driven away.

It was by no means a sign of weakness if they pulled the emergency brake and changed their direction instead. Quite the opposite: those who had the courage to protect themselves and no longer put up with the bullying were to be envied. Luise hoped that elsewhere they would receive the appreciation that each and every one of them deserved.

When the fear of the all-destroying crash caught up with her, she had to admit to herself that she too could be wronged by these toxic sovereigns. It was unbearable. If she imagined that her father fell ill again and became a nursing case, would anyone care? Would she be accommodated in any way? Certainly not. What would happen then? Would she still have a chance or would she simply be out of luck? If she hadn't been driven by his cancer past, she would probably have been broken by it all long ago. She persevered so as not to disappoint his expectations. She did it for him. It could happen to her too. But her fellow students didn't know. They only saw her as the hard-working model studentwho passed her exams with flying colors. And the worst thing about it was that it was all right. No one needed to know that she was also struggling, that she was weak and beginning to doubt herself and wonder whether she was imagining things. Sometimes she wondered if she could even see clearly anymore because she had such a hatred for these creatures.

However, Luise was actually the best of her study group. As her studies did not present her with any insurmountable obstacles, it looked as if she would be able to write her Bachelor's thesis in the sixth semester as planned. She could count on that, because some of her fellow students didn't even make it through the first year, precisely for the reasons mentioned above. Luise's friends liked to describe her as the calming influence in the group. Some may have seen her as stiff, shy or nerdy, but she was by no means that. In fact, she was easily influenced, ducked her tormentors, took their contempt personally, racked her brains over little things and thought about her future under the comforter at night. The members of her little clique didn't begrudge her the good grades, because none of them cared about the reason for her ambition. They admired her for her courage in standing up for cancer sufferers. Many of them didn't even know what they were actually studying for. They had to do something after school, they justified their decision. She could only admire the fact that they were nevertheless fully motivated to face the prevailing circumstances and the tough subject matter.

Leonard with the funny colorful baseball cap, for example. It was not uncommon for him to have to bring his dachshund to university because his parents worked shifts and there was no one else to look after the animal. The overburdened fellow was suffering from the strain with black circles under his eyes. However, one professor did not allow dogs in his seminar, which is why he had to wait outside the lecture hall. It tore his heart out,Luise knew. That's why she regularly pretended to have to go to the toilet to check on him. She even always had a few treats with her for her little friend, just in case.

Agathe, on the other hand, who looked like a scarecrow with her thick round glasses and straw-like hair, had already given up inside. It was a mystery to Luise why she kept coming back. She had already put various exams on the back burner and was at least three semesters behind. If there was one person Luise couldn't stand, then she would be on the shortlist. She was a flawless outsider. If she hadn't done everything she could to make herself unpopular with her fellow students, she would have been worth crying over.

John moaned incessantly about the huge long-chain molecules whose structural formulas he simply couldn't memorize. Luise tried to teach him a few tricks to memorize. However, explaining the reaction behavior turned out to be even more difficult. How had he managed to get so far if he hadn't mastered the simplest rules? Admittedly, what she perceived as simple could be a major hurdle for others. So she took a deep breath, swallowed her annoyance with a slug of cold coffee and started all over again. She shook herself briefly because of the bitter taste. The way she explained it seemed logical, but she couldn't shake the feeling that he still didn't understand everything. But maybe he was just pretending to in order to spend time with her.

When they finally packed up their folders in the early evening, Luise was relieved that she had managed to do much more than expected. She and John were the last ones in the library before it closed. She threw herself into her black shoulder bag with a flourish. Even before they left the building and wished the nice librarian a good evening, she sensed the warmth coming in from outside. She took off her pink hoodie.John was now also wearing his jacket over his arm as they strolled to the train station. He was tall and sturdy, with short light brown hair, blue eyes and inconspicuous glasses that blended into his round face. Outside, the glasses were darkened. All in all, he had little to offer that would attract women. He came across as a little stolid and indifferent, didn't dress very stylishly and carried a rucksack that his father had probably already taken to school. But none of this had anything to do with the fact that he was an honest and warm person who wouldn't hurt a fly. Besides, she had never met a more attentive or helpful young man. She had really grown fond of him over the three years they had known each other. She had even been invited to dinner with his family in the Rhineland. If there was nothing to do in Stuttgart at the weekend or no important tests were waiting for her on Monday, John was happy to make the several-hour commute to be with his family. She could fully understand that. They had a really nice place with their own little house in the middle of the field, within walking distance of the gigantic river. His parents were also friendly. She felt comfortable and safe with them. They certainly hoped that their friendship would become something more at some point, but the subject never came up. Fortunately!

When she arrived at the bus stop, she stepped from one foot to the other and let her now tired eyes wander around the area.

"Where was Michelle again today?" she asked.

"It's your mother's birthday today and they've made a brunch. Oh crap, sorry..."

"It's all right, really."

Luise played it down, but she inevitably thought of her again and then of the shadow man. Had he seen her too? With that thought in mind, she got on the train.They didn't talk much anymore, but that was less because John had just taken a running start and put his foot in his mouth than because they were both completely exhausted from the marathon of studying. They still gave each other a small smile from time to time. When John finally got off, she still had a few stops to go. Her stomach hung on the soles of her shoes, and the sickening feeling of yawning emptiness was not exactly alleviated by the intrusive smell of perfume from the person sitting next to her. It bothered her so much that she considered sitting somewhere else. She peered inconspicuously to her right, but the mature woman had turned her head away and seemed to be reading a paperback. Or maybe she was just pretending. In any case, her head wasn't moving and her fingers weren't turning the pages. She wore her shiny jet-black hair tightly tied up. Her eyes were covered by equally black eyelashes on her half-lowered eyelid. What was she pretending to read? She seemed almost frozen in her upright sitting position. Perhaps she was dreaming. But just before the train came to a halt at the next stop, the woman suddenly closed the book and stood up quickly, as if she had slept through the fact that she had to get off. It happened so unexpectedly that she couldn't even catch a glimpse of the stranger's face. Luise watched as she set foot on the platform. But what? What was lying on the empty seat? She was about to jump up and call out to her, but at that very moment the train had already started up again. How do you call for a stranger? Ey? She hadn't yet fully straightened her knees when the force pushed her back into the seat. She tried to catch a glimpse of the platform, but the slim person in black had disappeared. Luise stowed her find in her bag without looking inside.

The sun was already disappearing behind the modest little houses of the settlement when she was greeted lovingly by her father.

"There you are at last, darling. You've held out for a long time," he said. Luise removed her hot feet from the white sneakers and then cooled them on the tiles of the kitchen livingroom while he invited her to the table. It smelled heavenly of his homemade lasagna, which was being skillfully removed from the oven at that moment. Normally, she only ate such calorie bombs in measured portions. Her health and figure were important to her. She paid attention to what she ate and in what quantities. In the evenings, her meals were usually carbohydrate-free and low in fat, but today she made an exception as she hadn't eaten anything all day and would otherwise disappoint her father bitterly. She was looking forward to the delicious sin and sat down at the small kitchen table, which was surrounded by four wooden chairs and was just the right size for two people. As so often, he had set it tastefully with a spring-like tablecloth and bright green placemats to match the color of the kitchen walls. He really took care of everything in the household. Of course, she helped him from time to time, but he thought she should concentrate on her studies.

This part of the apartment was the brightest and often impressed with colorful decorations that contrasted stylishly with the glossy white of the kitchen furniture. When they had visitors, however, they usually sat on the black leather couch next door, on which at least two people could sleep comfortably. The living room area also differed in color from the kitchen. Soft earth tones dominated there, inviting you to linger in comfort. It was not uncommon for her father to fall asleep on one half of the couch and her on the other in front of the TV in the evening. This was usually the case when they had eaten a large meal and then watched a boring soccer match with the magnificent ceiling floodlight in the corner on the lowest setting.

Luise's father was called Stefan and had been working as an employee at an insurance company for many years, which is why he usually wore stuffy blue business shirts that looked good on him and covered his tattoo. He was very grateful that the company had offered him a permanent contract after his serious cancer almost 15 years ago, and it was withthis attitude that he got up every morning, highly motivated and deeply grateful. Only someone who had faced death could have such an attitude to life. In that respect, he was unique.

He was also a strict Catholic. His never-ending faith strengthened him to always see the good in everything. Luise would have loved to inherit this positive quality from him. In that respect, he was an enviable optimist.

It was only when it came to his daughter's safety that he sometimes went a little overboard. He was so extremely careful that it was sometimes really annoying. She wasn't allowed to go anywhere alone and wasn't allowed to come home after 10 pm. He was strict about that. Very strict. He attended church almost every Sunday morning, where he regularly met up with friends and acquaintances. Otherwise, he rarely left his familiar surroundings, at most to go for an occasional ride on his motorcycle. He was particular about that.

She believed that he had poured out his idolatrous love for his wife on her after her death, so that in a way he loved her for two people at the same time. He thought she wouldn't notice that at night he crouched between his files in the lightel of the desk lamp and wept over the old photos. He never visited her at the cemetery. It hurt too much. But he thought of her every hour. As far as love was concerned, he was broken. What did that mean for Luise? Did she fear that she was standing in her mother's shadow? Yes, sometimes it tormented her that he couldn't find her in her. It tormented her not to be enough for him and at the same time it tormented her that in a way he was not enough for her either. She was almost ashamed of this feeling.

"There you go."

He filled up a portion of lasagna. His black eyes sparkled meekly. He was tall, slim and a few strands of gray decorated his full black hair. Fortunately, he had shaved off his full beard a few weeks ago. Luise didn't like his beard. She thought it made his soft face look older and sterner.

She was in a good mood as she talked about her learning success, but also admitted that she wanted to take a rest after dinner.

"Thank you, dad. It was delicious as always," she smacked her lips with the last bite still in her mouth.

A proud smile flitted across Stefan's face.

"Oh right, Dad. I found a wallet on the train. I think the woman sitting next to me lost it."

She took out the small purse and opened it while Stefan put the dirty dishes in the dishwasher.

"You should hand it in to the registration office or the police. Is there any ID in it?"

"Yes, I've got him here. I think that's the woman in the picture. It definitely fits."

She held the card out to her father, who wasn't looking at all.

"I can take it with me tomorrow and hand it in if you like. If there's an ID with it, then it shouldn't be any trouble for them to find the person and give it back to them," he suggested.

"No, thank you. I'll do it myself."

"As you wish, Lui. But don't wait too long, the poor woman is probably already missing her valuables."

She threw herself on the bed with her already hot laptop and wallet and, out of sudden curiosity, typed the name of the stranger into the search engine. Perhaps she would find some information about the woman who had somehow seemed mysterious to her. She waited impatiently for the system to boot up. But before that, she put on her red cuddly socks because her feet were getting cold again. And indeed, there were countless entries on the Internet for the name Clara Vargar.

Crazy. The woman was a famous stage actress. Why was someone like that riding the subway? She opened her eyes wide when she discovered beautiful photos of her. Luise's curiosity continued to grow. She turned her stone-heavy body slightly on its side so as not to lie on her full stomach and enlarged apicture showing only her flawless face and zoomed in on her made-up eyes. The photo was taken in grayscale. She continued to concentrate on the expressive grey eyes that penetrated her like a laser beam and analyzed her. She had seen these eyes somewhere before, they seemed so familiar. As if paralyzed, she let the photos sink in. For a brief moment, she thought ...

She shrank back quietly. No, that wasn't possible. What wild conspiracy theories were suddenly haunting her stupid brain? But then she suddenly felt as if someone was standing in the room, very close to the edge of the bed. But no one was there. No one was watching her. Outside the window, a large shadow shot through the air. But it wasn't the bird outside that had frightened her. Rather, it was her own crazy webs. What had really frightened her? Whatever it was, it drove a cold sweat between her shoulder blades, which slowly made its way down her spine. She snorted and breathed in and out deeply, her cheeks puffing out, but she wasn't going to recover from the fright any time soon.

Completely distraught, she continued to browse the actress's website and found out that she was currently in Stuttgart at the SI Center for an extended period of time. She quickly abandoned the idea of going to the registration office and instead decided to bring the wallet to her in person the next evening. Something inside her made her want to do this, something inside her sensed the need to speak to this Clara, to see and experience her live. Yes, why shouldn't she go and see the musical while she was there?

Excited, Luise sprinted on her slippery socks back into the living room, where Stefan had just sunk onto the sofa.

"Dad, that's really cool. I was sitting next to a star today and I didn't know it," she boasted, but the amazement he was hoping for turned into sober indifference.

Luise looked at the card again to read the name.

"Yes, her name is Clara Vargar and she's currently playing the lead role here in ... I've forgotten the name of the play. You don't know it either, do you? I think she's better known in the theater scene."

"Let me see the picture," he said and held out his hand to her, which was trembling a little. Unsuspecting anything bad, she informed him of her intention to meet Clara in person.

"No way!" was her father's choleric reaction, as he jumped up explosively. Startled, Luise snatched the card back and stared at him in uncertainty.

"Why not? Do you know her?"

"What, no!"

"You were staring at the picture, frozen in shock. I don't understand it. You're so upset all of a sudden. What's wrong?" she said venomously. She didn't like his reaction at all. She tucked Clara's ID card into her pocket as if to protect it from him. Something wasn't right here. He had changed. She had never seen him like this before.

"Please," he said a little more gently now and put his hands together as if he were praying to her.

"I don't want you walking around this neighborhood alone at night."

She tried to smile. His exaggerated caution and exaggerated fear touched her heart. She hugged him lovingly and reassured him that he needn't worry, but he still tried to dissuade her.

"Is it because of this Richard? Do you think he might have seen me and could be lying in wait for me? That's crossed my mind a few times now."

"No, I don't think so. Nevertheless, the place is teeming with danger."

"I'll ask John if he'll come with me, okay? And if he can't, then I'll go to the office, I promise."

Luise's emotion turned to incomprehension and she rolled her eyes, only in thought of course. He nodded barely audibly. She gave him a peck on the cheek.

"I just don't want anything to happen to you," he mumbled quietly.

"I know that. But look at me, I'm an adult now and I have to learn to assess the dangers myself. Nothing will happen to me."

She took his hand and squeezed it. It reminded her of how he held her hand as tightly as he could after the strains of chemotherapy and made her a promise that he didn't even know if he could keep.

The evening turned into a very ordinary get-together. They sat on the couch and watched the TV program. But something was wrong here. She watched Stefan for a while longer. He remained silent. She could see his brain smoking. He remained completely silent and thoughtful. Was he watching this abysmally bad movie so attentively or was he just pretending? What was going through his head? What was really scaring him? She couldn't shake off the feeling that he knew the person in the photo and just wasn't admitting it. Did he really think she was so naive that she didn't realize what the mention of her name had triggered in him? Maybe they knew each other from school. After all, they were the same age. But even that would be no reason to blow up like that. So be it. She would give the woman her ID and the money back and never see her again. That was it. That was the plan.

Time gradually said goodbye to the day. And while Luise was tossing and turning from her right side to her left and back again and Stefan was already in a deep sleep, she contacted John, who was happy to accompany her to the theater on the condition that they also watch the show. Beaming with joy, she put her smartphone aside and waited until the mind-numbing movie put her to sleep too.

Chapter 3

The movie tear

Highly motivated, Luise set off for the last lecture of the week and researched online to see which seats were still available in the evening performance. A completely unknown world awaited her. Why had she never actually been to a musical before? She shrugged her shoulders mentally and blamed Stefan. How she was looking forward to the evening! Her undivided attention was naturally focused on Clara, the unknown woman with the deep eyes and jet-black hair that fascinated her so much in the pictures. Who was she? How would she react? Would she be angry or relieved? What type of person was she? Oh, probably just normal like her and her friends! No matter how Luise turned it around, she just couldn't manage not to be interested in Clara, in her nature, her motivations, her unprecedented career and how she had managed to reach thousands of people with her art, to sweep them away, to liberate them from their boring everyday lives, to kidnap them and amaze them, day after day. What did that feel like? Like a rush! Making people happy. Was there a more meaningful way to spend your life?

Wait a minute, she was wandering off too far again. She only returned the woman's valuables. That was all. Luise resolutely closed the laptop with the page she had just opened. John smiled over at her. Of course, he didn't miss the twinkle in his girlfriend's eyes.

"We'll take the two seats in the sixth row that are still free," he whispered to her, while the math professor scribbled a complicated derivation on the blackboard that they couldn't follow anyway.

"Are you crazy?", she shot out. "They cost 120 euros. We'll wait and see, they might have been sold by tonight."

"Have you watched the trailer for the play yet?"

"No, is there one?"

"Yes," said John with raised eyebrows. Luise became even more inflamed.

"So, good?"

John tried to speak seriously, as if he wasn't really interested.

"Really good. And this Clara is really cool."

In their absent-mindedness, they almost missed the first students getting up. The lecture was over, and if she was honest with herself, she could have slept the two hours longer. But that didn't matter now. It was lunchtime. They had always finished work at this time on Fridays since they had finished the internship. In other words, the last two weeks before a new internship started next week.

Luise and John decided to get off in the city and sit down in the spring-like castle park with a sandwich from the bakery. The magnificent fountain spouted water cheerfully, Concordia was proudly enthroned high up on the Jubilee Column and the warm sun shone on their hot heads. When the weather was nice, they often enjoyed sitting there on a bench with a coffee or other treats and watching the children run around, the pigeons lurking or passers-by shopping or taking a break. They also found it fun to listen to people talking. She herself hadn't grown up with her father's typical Swabian, as he wasn't from Stuttgart himself, but from Kiel, and John's Rhinerural dialect didn't help here either. He sometimes found it very difficult to understand people when they spoke quickly. Sometimes she was plagued by the feeling that he was looking at her for a long time when she inspected the area with interest or took a bite of her sandwich. She tried to ignore this unpleasant detail, because she really liked him a lot and didn't want to lose him as a friend under any circumstances. A slight gust of wind suddenly whirled the empty bag off the bench. They reached for it at the same time. She didn't feel particularly comfortable in situations like this, even if she smiled at it on the outside. Michelle thought they would make a nice couple, and she believed that was also the reason why she sometimes had to go home abruptly.

"The seats are still free. Here, let me show you the trailer," John finally said, allowing her to look at the screen of his smartphone.

As she swallowed the last mouthful, she reached for the coffee mug and leaned her upper body a little closer in his direction. She felt as if her heart had stopped beating for a moment. She was absolutely insane, she breathed in awe. As they didn't want to entertain the entire city park, they turned down the volume. She listened intently to the melody, which for some inexplicable reason sounded familiar to her. Where had she heard these sounds before? It left her no peace. She frowned and thought about it. Maybe she knew it from the radio? Maybe they were playing commercials for the current play. That would be possible. But wait a minute. It dawned on her. The person in the cemetery had been humming that exact tune. So it hadn't been a ghost after all.

The most thrilling psychodrama in German musical history. The Stuttgart musical theater used this slogan to advertise its new play. The bright red poster glistened in the now lowerhing sun. For once, Luise walked home past the SI Center today. The box office had not yet opened