I also walked out, my mind drifting to the thought of finding a place to stay.
Ah, Denube was somewhat an expensive city after all, and I had to stay here for at least three to four days. So I started searching for an affordable house or something temporary.
If I had known he would leave so quickly, I would have tried to ask him about it — or at least asked what the rent criteria were. He seemed like he worked nearby, and maybe he could have given me some tips.
It was already late evening, yet I could not find any suitable place.
Will I get an affordable house or not? Or should I choose one of the options I had already seen, even though they were too expensive? Although there were online platforms that provided services for affordable dwellings, the prices were all standardized and didn't leave much room for negotiation.
When I was coming to Denube, I had asked around within my circle about this issue. They all said that, rather than relying on online listings, going local would be more convenient and often more affordable. Not every city worked this way, but Denube was one of those places.
And finally, I met a woman.
She had bright hair and a friendly smile, standing at the entrance of a small building.
"Looking for a room?" she asked.
I nodded. "For three or four days. Affordable, preferably."
She laughed softly. "Affordable in Denube? That's… tricky. But I might have something. Come with me."
She led me through a small corridor to the back of the building. The room was modest, but it had character — a little balcony with a view of the bustling street below, a cozy bed, and a tiny kitchen corner.
"Thirty-five euros per night," she said. "Wi-Fi included. You can pay cash or card."
I smiled. Finally, something that felt reasonable. "I'll take it," I said.
She handed me the keys, and I couldn't help feeling a small surge of relief. At least that part of my stay was settled.
After walking and searching for so long, I felt completely tired.
I entered the room and looked around carefully. It wasn't large, but it was clean and had a quiet charm. The walls were pale cream, and a soft light came through the balcony door. I walked closer and stepped out for a moment. From there, I could see the evening sun slowly sinking behind the line of buildings, spreading a gentle orange glow across the city. Cars moved lazily below, their lights beginning to flicker on one by one.
I stood there for a while, just watching the sunset. It wasn't the kind of view people would write about in travel guides, but somehow it felt peaceful — maybe because it came after such a long, tiring day.
After that, I went back inside, placed my bag on the bed, and stretched a little. The air felt slightly warm, and I decided to take a cold bath before sleeping. The water washed away the fatigue clinging to my skin, leaving a quiet freshness behind.
When I stepped out, I felt lighter — both in body and in mind.
I bought a light dinner from a nearby shop — just enough to fill my stomach without feeling heavy. The simple meal was comforting, and for a moment, I just enjoyed the quiet of the evening.
Soon after, fatigue took over, and I went to sleep, letting the day's events — the city streets, the cafés, and the encounter with Alex — drift through my thoughts as I rested.
---
The Next Morning
I woke up to a calm silence broken only by the soft chirping of birds outside the window. For a moment, I didn't move; I just lay there, listening. It was one of those rare mornings when everything felt perfectly balanced — the temperature warm yet gentle, the air cool enough to brush softly against the skin.
A faint golden light filtered through the curtains, painting the small room with a sleepy glow. The curtain swayed slightly with the rhythm of the breeze. Somewhere far away, I could hear the faint rumble of a tram and the distant laughter of children heading to school.
When I finally got up and opened the window, a soothing wind greeted me. It carried the scent of wet soil and blooming flowers from the small park across the street. The sky above was a clear pastel blue, with thin white clouds scattered lazily as if they had all the time in the world.
I leaned against the window frame, just watching. The leaves on the nearby trees danced lightly, creating a soft rustling sound that mixed with the birds' songs. Somewhere, a café had already started brewing its first round of coffee; the aroma reached my room faintly but unmistakably.
It was hard not to smile. After yesterday's endless walking and uncertainty, this morning felt like the city's way of saying welcome.
I made myself a quick coffee using the kettle in the corner and took the first sip while standing by the window. The warmth of the mug felt good against my palms, and the bitterness of the coffee reminded me that I was still halfway between exhaustion and excitement.
Denube looked different in the morning — less crowded, less noisy. The same streets that had felt unfamiliar last night now looked inviting. A delivery truck stopped near the bakery downstairs, and the smell of freshly baked bread soon filled the air. I could even see the baker — a middle-aged man with flour-streaked hands — greeting customers with a cheerful grin.
I decided to head out for breakfast instead of making something myself. The air outside felt even fresher than it had inside. The streets were beginning to stir with life — cyclists, a few joggers, a woman walking her dog, and a couple of students chatting on their way to class.
Every corner of Denube had its rhythm. Even the sound of footsteps and closing shop shutters seemed to blend into a sort of morning melody.
I found a small café nearby with outdoor seating. It wasn't crowded — just a few locals enjoying their morning tea and croissants. I ordered a simple breakfast: scrambled eggs, toast, and another cup of coffee.
While eating, I noticed the same woman from last night — the one who had helped me find the room — walking past the café with her shopping bag again. She noticed me too and waved with a smile.
"Morning, James," she said, pausing briefly. "How's the room?"
"Perfect," I replied. "It's exactly what I needed."
"Glad to hear that," she said. "If you need anything, just ask. The owner's a bit strict about noise, but otherwise, it's a good place."
"Thanks again for the help," I said sincerely.
She shrugged lightly. "It's nothing. Denube can be tough for newcomers. Enjoy your day."
She continued on her way, leaving behind a faint scent of fresh bread and flowers — maybe from the nearby market she had been to.
I finished my breakfast slowly, watching the sunlight shift over the cobblestones. There was something grounding about this morning — the calm pace, the ordinary beauty of people just living their lives.
After paying, I strolled through the nearby park. Children were playing on swings, a group of elderly men sat chatting on a bench, and pigeons were busy pecking at crumbs on the pavement. I found an empty bench under a large tree and sat there for a while.
The breeze brushed through the leaves above, and every now and then, a leaf would fall gently, spinning in the air before landing beside my feet.
For the first time since I arrived in Denube, I didn't feel like a stranger.
The city still had its high prices, busy streets, and uncertain moments, but it also had mornings like this — calm, quiet, and filled with small, peaceful details that made everything feel worthwhile.
I leaned back, letting the warmth of the sun rest on my face. Maybe today I could explore more — perhaps visit a local museum, or just wander around the markets. My stay here was short, but something told me that Denube still had more to show me.
I didn't know if it was the charm of the city or simply the feeling of having survived yesterday's chaos, but I felt lighter. The tension of travel, the worry about expenses — it all seemed to fade beneath the calm of this gentle morning.
And so, with renewed energy, I stood up, stretched my arms, and smiled to myself.
I took my phone and noticed a few missed calls from my mother, along with a message.
> Son, you didn't pick up the phone. I think you're well. It's late night — if you have time, call later.
Ah, it seemed I was in such deep sleep that I hadn't even heard the ringtone. I smiled faintly and thought, I'll call her once I'm back in the room.
Placing the phone back in my pocket, I continued my little morning walk before heading back.
A new day in Denube had started.