Where Silence Finds Us E-Book

Katja Schmidt

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

Seitenzahl: 206

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2026

Beschreibung

A life-changing diagnosis and a breakup. Annika just wants to get away—away from her old life and take her mind off things. Having only ever known the North Sea island of Borkum, she rents an apartment far from the sea in the Austrian Alps. But when she meets her landlord, Nico, her resolve to never get involved with anyone again begins to waver. Nico is also enchanted by Annika. However, he has also suffered a blow of fate. Are they both ready to trust again and allow themselves to fall in love? Can Annika confide her secret to Nico?

Leseprobe

Table of Contents

For all those who are capable of love

Annika

Nico

Annika

Nico

Annika

Nico

Annika

Nico

Annika

Nico

Annika

Nico

Annika

Nico

End

Epilogue

Acknowledgements

Trigger warning

IMPRINT

For all those who are capable of love

Love knows no right or wrong, no appropriate or inappropriate. Everything happens in its own time. It comes to you when you least expect it. On quiet feet.

But because life does not take place in a pink bubble, there are always dark days when you feel lonely and your vision becomes blurred.

These confusing, conflicting thoughts appear in this book. Please note the trigger warning on the last page ...

Annika

"No matter how difficult

yesterday was, you can always start something new today." 1

The rattling of the floorboards. A brief roar of car engines as they slowly chug up the jetty. The noise of the cars pulling in. The dull hum of the ship's engine. The grinding of heavy metal against the hull. The seagulls are also screeching frantically above my head. The rough seas lap gently and monotonously against the ferry. Departing vacationers chat animatedly about the past few weeks. They have all had experiences and made memories that will make Borkum a part of them forever. Everyone would like to turn back so they can enjoy the magic and relaxation of the island a little longer. Except me.

Here, by the seemingly endless water, many thoughts can be set free. Carried by the wind, they dissolve on the horizon. I, too, love to sit on the beach and enjoy the infinite expanse. The narrow ridge where the sea and sky meet. With every wave that hits the shore, I encounter a new chance for my fears and worries to be carried far away. Even in stormy times, I have never felt lonely or uncomfortable near the sea. Never, until today. For 48 hours, I have been asking myself the same questions over and over again:  Why? Annika, what does life have in store for you now, what will happen to your goals, dreams, and desires? I doubt that my own footprints will remain visible in the sand.  Am I good enough the way I am? The question hammers back and forth in my head over and over again.

A bell rings, signaling the return journey. The island train turns back. It rumbles loudly as it returns to the center to pick up new passengers for the ferry. All these sounds, so familiar, are what hurt me so deeply at the moment.

I urgently need to get away from here, as far as possible, so that I can sort out the chaos in my head. To get some air so that I can breathe freely again. Ultimately, perhaps on the way to finding myself again.

It's funny, because for 26 years this island has been my safe haven. It was everything I needed. I could find everything here. Everything had its place within these 30 km². Me, my family, my work, my friends, and my great love. I feel like I know every seagull here by name and never felt like anything was missing. Until now.

Nervousness rises in my veins. My pulse races through my bloodstream. My nerves begin to flutter.

Borkum is home to many stories of successful sailors. But instead of fearlessly throwing my burdens overboard like Störtebeker and following a new, exciting adventure, I'm sitting on the ferry to the mainland. Running away from everything and everyone. Plan? There is no longer one. Nothing is the same as before. The constant, the everyday, has disappeared. I have lost the meaning of life in the sand. And only I remain behind. Alone and without any vision of the future. Perhaps that is also something I am known for at home. Annika, the sweet girl next door. I was and always am too nice. I never break out in any significant way. I often keep what I think and feel to myself so as not to offend others. I don't go overboard. I like things to be conflict-free and harmonious whenever possible, and I prefer to be Daddy's girl. Okay, I'm an only child. It's very easy to be proud of myself when there are no other standards to measure myself against. But let's be honest, I've never ventured very far beyond the railing. I haven't had to so far. My life has followed a pattern. Without complicated difficulties to overcome.

This unconventional break will be the adventure of my life. A journey into the distance and, hopefully, ultimately a journey of self-discovery. Borkum has become too small, too cramped, and, above all, too noisy. I feel suffocated. Crammed into views and routines that clearly no longer suit me. My inner core needs to find out whether Annika is currently the best version of herself. Who am I, who can I be? Is there potential for development? And hopefully I can use the break to let the huge anger subside. My disappointment is hard to put into words. That's why I'm escaping to the mainland. I urgently need to put some distance between myself and the island. Borkum is not to blame for this, only the people who live there. Although it's not really accurate to say "the people who live there." There is only one person who is the target of my anger. One single person who has disappointed me more than just a little with their behavior. They are history as far as I'm concerned, that much is certain. I could never forgive or forget their cowardly behavior.

It only now occurs to me that I have no idea where I'm going. I've been to the mainland far too rarely, except for vacations in Holland. Our family liked to stay close to the sea. Until now, I never felt like I was missing anything. The feeling of missing out only became intense in the last two days. But now everything is different.

Now I'm sitting on the cold, musty wooden bench, scrolling through the route on my phone. The destination is 970 km away, travel time without delays 11 hours 30 minutes. My plan could be described as mental derangement, but the sleepless nights and recent events have borne fruit.

Away, far away from here.

No sea in sight and hopefully no working cell towers in the mountains.

I want peace, just peace. In my pulse, in my heart, and in my head.

I rented a modern farmhouse online with a charming wooden facade. Plus a view I've never seen before.

Okay, some of these pictures are fake and filtered to look more beautiful. But the mountainous panorama itself remains uniquely new to me. Enormous mountains reaching up into the sky. Different colors, different people, an unknown adventure that will hopefully distract me from my own disaster.

I am filled with energetic anticipation for what lies ahead. A smile tentatively creeps onto my lips. Mighty mountains are framed by white clouds in the sample pictures. They wind their way feather-light around the peaks. No blue expanse of sea right outside my front door. No screeching seagulls above me, making me fear for my food.

During my idiosyncratic planning preparations, I nevertheless found mountain lakes on Google Maps in which the gray giants are reflected in breathtaking beauty.

A phenomenal photo of a lake that leaves you speechless. The reason for my reserved accommodation.

Okay, I'll obviously never really get along without water. But I'll chalk this up as the first insight of my journey of self-discovery.

All the heavy gates on the ship have been closed. Sirens are sounding. There is no turning back. Engines are humming at full power.

The massive colossus of a ship begins to move. The ferry slowly departs. My thoughtful gaze wanders over today's sea. The water surface is calm in the distance. Only tiny waves reach the ship. The engine powerfully stirs up the water. The blue turns into white breakers. And I realize that my journey is beginning. A trip so big and significant that I swallow hard at the thought. My heart is beating in my throat. I close my eyes and force myself to take a deep breath. The blood in my veins roars through my ears. My chest feels tight. My heartbeat slows down. My hands start to tingle. They suddenly become clammy.

Breathe, Annika, take a deep breath.

I want a change and I absolutely have to go through with this trip. There's no way I'm turning back now. Panic attack or not. Closing myself off and retreating into my shell once again, before I even had a chance to open up.

No, breathe, Annika. You can do this. Don't make yourself smaller than you are. Where has your self-belief gone in recent years? Where is your courage to overcome any obstacle? I push thoughts of yesterday, today, and tomorrow aside. My body feels like lead, my arms are heavy, and my eyes are surely still swollen. Nevertheless, I decided not to wear a dark baseball cap and sunglasses this morning.

To be honest, I also avoided looking in the mirror. Would it have shown me what I already sense and feel on my own? Red and tired eyes that have barely been closed in the last few days, with bags under my eyes that are visibly swollen.

Dry skin on my nose, a reminder of many used tissues. And a pale complexion that was not prepared for the outcome of the past week at work, the betrayal, and the loss of trust. And so the dusty champagne, a remnant of the last celebrations, became my daily companion. In hindsight, it wasn't the best idea, but it helped to temporarily switch off my mind and the tormenting thoughts. In the long run, it was definitely the wrong choice for me. Life has knocked me off my feet, but I'm not going to drink away my grief with constant alcohol consumption.

That's why I've decided:

I have no other choice: get off the island before I drown in self-pity!

I surfed the web for accommodation. My filter options were: far from the sea, impressive view, possibility of extending the rental period, German-speaking. I wasn't quite that brave when it came to the big wide world.

I quickly found what I was looking for.

My destination is in beautiful Austria.

I'm heading to the mainland, from where I'll drive south in a rental car. I'll drop it off in Ischgl as planned and be picked up by the hostel manager. Then it's on to my accommodation: Brand near Bludenz. A cute vacation home surrounded by greenery. The sample pictures show trees, fields, and meadows. There are also a few animals on the property.

Swapping gray seals for mountain goats.

If the landlord doesn't understand me, I'll just have to communicate with them. Oh God, what language do they speak in that area? Is Austria comparable to Switzerland, where several languages are spoken? The accent of the country unsettles me, a northerner, even before I arrive. It will be a quiet trip, which is not a bad thing. My plan is to find myself. Distracting diversions are therefore a hindrance.

Every day at work, I speak countless words, sing, or rhyme with the children. I have fundamental discussions about why tidying up is just as much a part of playing. Why boys are not necessarily stronger than girls. Why the spa children cannot take a baby seal home with them in their suitcase. Why the painted picture still looks pretty, even if the idea behind it was different.

Peace and quiet—can I even tolerate that? Am I cut out for it?  Take a deep breath, Annika, I communicate with my subconscious. It can't get any more painful than this. You've already lost your dream.

I close my eyes.

The last seagulls accompany the ferry until even the bravest of them let the ship continue on its own. As I sail alone on the sea, they return to the coast. But turning back is out of the question for me. Slightly wistful to leave Mom and Dad behind, I have to take these unknown steps. Life simply doesn't work with a safety net. What happens is what happens. This realization is painful. Deep cracks adorn my heart. I need my journey to process and come to terms with things. And also to reorganize my life. The water is already up to my neck anyway. Giving up and hanging on is therefore completely out of the question. I would sink. That's why I've decided to swim. Who knows, maybe I'll find a glimmer of hope on the highest mountain that I can hold on to.

My life is taking a new route that I couldn't have imagined a few hours ago. A cell phone vibrates, and without looking at the screen, I can guess who's calling.

When he returned to our shared apartment, he noticed that my side of the bed was empty, the closet was half empty, and I was no longer by his side.

After ringing briefly, it falls silent again. Thank goodness for dead spots. The subscriber is temporarily unavailable. More than just a cliché. The azure blue of the sea stretches to the horizon at . Surrounded by water, I close my eyes, feel the wind, taste the salt, and enjoy the unfamiliar silence.

And suddenly, a quote from my beloved grandmother pops into my mind.

"Anni, sweetheart, happiness comes in waves." Sighing, I lean back on the bench. I hope so much that she's right.

1  Siddhartha Gautama, colloquially known as Buddha,www.woxikon.de

Nico

"The art is to get up once more

than the number of times you fall down." 2

The bright sunlight can be faintly glimpsed behind the curtain. It reminds me that another day in this shitty paradise has begun.

I quickly pull the blanket back over my head. I don't want to see the misery. My life has fallen apart. I hide away in the dark. All this black brings with it a sobering barrenness. But sealing myself off only works to a limited extent. In the distance, through my closed window, I can hear the loud begging cries of Bärbel and Fridolin. Both are wailing pitifully across the pasture. So small and yet so unspeakably annoying.

Why are these creatures standing outside? Just yesterday, I replanted the green space and created culinary opportunities for them again.

A green meadow with lush green grass, dots of light from blue gentian, yellow goldenrod, and red lobelia. The color palette of wildflowers and soothing herbs is large enough. But slowly it dawns on me that these tiny four-legged creatures are pursuing a different, more cunning plan. Bärbel is the smallest and cuddliest kid I have ever seen. She accompanies me everywhere here on the farm and doesn't leave my side after the morning feeding. Every now and then, she signals me to take a break. She nudges me gently with her little wet nose and stands insistently in my path. When I try to walk past her, the acting begins again with " " until I finally stop and she can snuggle up to my leg.

Bärbel was born here on my parents' farm in the spring, and as small as she is, she is just as stubborn. It never ceases to amaze me how persistent this four-legged friend is until she gets her cuddle as a reward. Are goats intelligent? Does Bärbel, the little fluffy ball, sense that I'm completely screwed up at the moment? My body, usually a well-trained high-performance machine, currently resembles a major construction site. My body is my capital, enabling me to do my dream job. No matter what lies ahead, I can be sure that I am mentally and physically at peace.

The last few weeks have shown the other side of the coin. With the bad news, I've neglected my fitness. I'm a wreck, and I'm not just talking about my appearance.

It's a bit difficult to maintain my fitness level here, away from my usual surroundings. There's no gym in the neighborhood. It's more  old school and  nature here. But I'm out of breath. I'm just happy to get out of bed in the morning. I blame the lack of opportunities to go to the gym for the standstill in my training. But if I'm honest with myself, I'm already exhausted in the morning. Even without any physical exercise. I often lie awake in bed and check my phone every hour . Feeling empty inside. The next moment, I'm full of questions, worries, and torment. Life goes on. Damn it, that can't be possible. The sky has opened up and freezing rain is pouring down on me. Everything inside me is frozen. The sleep I get at night, if I get any, is not enough to replenish my energy reserves. Even without weight training, my arms ache and my hands cramp up painfully from time to time. My lungs burn, not from jogging, but from the many questions and fears that take my breath away.

Every day, when I open my eyes, I see only darkness.

The blanket protects me, keeps me warm, because otherwise I feel terribly lonely and everything around me has become so damn cold. My shoulders hang low, feeling as heavy as tons, so I feel a lot of empathy for Quasimodo. What that poor guy must have had to shoulder. Unlike me, the broken-looking Frenchman was not 1.88 m tall. Like him, I feel exposed, left alone in the big wide world. The hands of the clock keep turning. But I just want to scream. Stop them. Better yet, turn them back. Back to the good days, full of sunshine, bright colors, and the presence of my favorite people. But the world just keeps going. Why? Life isn't fair. This could only happen to me. The little guy from France locked himself deep inside the castle walls and hid from the outside world. I'm afraid I won't be able to do that. At least a few more moments here under my blanket.

But then I hear Bärbel again with her pleading, longing bleating. Yes, she is begging and won't give up. I take a deep breath. Why does this have to happen to me? The bleating cries are getting louder.  Okay, little goat lady, you win. So I force myself to get up. The animals can't help the misery I'm in. The daily Truman Show at the Stanzl farm  begins again. First, I open the chicken coop and release the little feathered shits into freedom. The proud rooster struts past me with his head held high, and I swear there is zero gratitude in his gaze. The hens trot along behind him, at least they are in a better mood. They have left two eggs for me in the chicken coop. Then it's the goats' turn. I scatter some concentrated feed in the trough and greet the annoying little Bärbel.

Together, we take a tour of the farm to take note of the day's to-do list. As I have discovered, this is a truly Herculean task. Only the front house is in perfect condition. My parents have fulfilled a heartfelt wish there.

"Someday, son, this will be your home. We're preparing it, and when you've had your fun, discovered the world and traveled, you'll come back and live a new dream here," I hear my father say all too often.

I have heard these or similar words many times before, and I still cannot agree with these vows. I feel like I am standing in the rain and cannot see a single answer to my questions. In every thought, everything is shrouded in fog.

The front building is located on a chicken pasture further up the slope. In the basement, there is a garage with my father's immense Black & Decker collection. Over the next few weeks, I will get many blisters from using these tools.

Upstairs is the place that is to become my home. Fully furnished, this apartment is waiting to be used and filled with memories. I stand on the balcony because the many construction sites in the yard are not enough to distract me, so I start thinking again.

In a few days, I will face the most difficult journey of my life.

Unfortunately, I cannot close my eyes to it. With tears welling up in my eyes, I stand exhausted on the balcony and look down. The panorama makes me feel nostalgic. Nostalgia for days gone by, forgotten moments, and times that are no longer there.

My childhood took place right here. Dad and I often went mushroom picking in the coniferous forest on the right. We came back with wooden baskets full of mushrooms and cooked Jägerpfännle together with Mom. It has always been the most delicious food on the planet. Bacon from Old Fritz, fresh mushrooms, and Mom's homemade pasta.

The painful memory of it leaves a lump in my throat. I claw at the railing. My fingertips turn white. Do I even want to hold on to all of this? Now would be a good time to finally leave it all behind. That's what I always wanted . To get out of the middle of nowhere. Away from here, to live differently. The neighbor, and thus the nearest available social contact, is not a minute's walk away through the middle of nowhere. In addition, the lack of spontaneity annoys me and restricts my existence. No nightlife, not an Italian restaurant around the corner, let alone a supermarket I could visit on a whim. Because I forgot to get something important again.

Planning and foresight are such a thorn in my side. It stresses me out to have to keep track of everything at all times. Are the animals fed, have I refilled the drinking water, when do I need to make a vet appointment? What will I eat in the coming days, what is missing in the pantry, what materials can be used for the construction sites? We live in the 21st century, a little more than this barrenness is not wrong. On top of that, there's this damn silence that gives my thoughts so much more space. Silence wherever I listen. But the worries don't fall silent in my head. They scream louder than ever. Sometimes it's so incredibly hard to believe in a happy ending and closure. In a light at the end of the tunnel. How am I supposed to do all this? I feel like the narrow walls are closing in on me bit by bit. Taking my breath away and reducing the light to the size of a pinhead.

And yet, out of a sense of duty, I can't turn my back on the farm. Give up an entire family history because of a few minor inconveniences. I turn and twist in circles. At night, in my thoughts, always. Leaving everything behind and striking out on a new path sounds appealing. Reality is a different story. It tears me apart that I even think about it. Just throwing away my parents' life's work and dream. At some point, my lousy karma will come back to bite me. If it hasn't already. Thoughts torment me. As they so often have lately. I haven't seen the light in a long time. All that remains is a stabbing headache that won't go away anytime soon. The only positive thing I experience here, is the force of nature. When a thunderstorm comes here, it passes just as quickly. It's like a band-aid: painful for a moment, but over quickly. Soon after, the sun fights its way back and bathes the landscape in bright light. Darkness is followed by brightness.

My gray clouds lie heavy in the downward spiral of my life. They weigh me down day in, day out. Darkness surrounds me and I cannot escape it. I am stuck and cannot see a way out. My personal storm has been going on for far too long. It will never end. I will never be carefree again. There will never be another moment of color and beauty. It's so easy to get lost in the dark. I haven't had the strength to fight my way out of it for a long time. The leaden darkness obscures my vision. How I would love to be back in bed right now. In passing, I read a quote in today's newspaper. It is written there in large black letters: A miracle can happen every day, you just have to open your eyes and sometimes change your perspective.

Only a journalist who is free from worries and fears could write something like that. We can swap lives, you bum. Let's see if you can still come up with such clever sayings then. I throw the paper into the basket in front of the fireplace and return to my bed. Grateful that I no longer have to see my misery, I close my eyes.

2 Churchill, Winston,www.zitate-fibel.de