The road to the village didn’t run alongside the river, but at dusk, Younes missed the turn and found himself on a quiet bank lined with tall reeds. The sun was sinking toward the horizon, casting a soft golden light across the water. That’s when he saw her, standing between the reeds at the river’s edge.

She stood in the water up to her knees, wearing a burgundy dress that clung gently to her body, her long black hair woven with red flowers. Despite the chill in the air, she didn’t shiver, nor did she seem lost.

She slowly turned toward him and said:

-  You’re late..

Younes froze in place.

- Do you know me?

She smiled but didn’t answer.

There was something about her face that was impossible to resist—not just beauty, but the unsettling sense that she knew things about him he’d never told anyone.

She took a step forward, sending small ripples around her legs, then reached out her hand to him.

- Come closer... I won’t keep you long.

His mind told him to go back to the car, but his body moved toward her.

One step... then another.

The water reached his shoes.

He stopped and asked:

-  Who are you?

She replied, her voice barely louder than the rustling reeds:

- Don’t you remember me?

Suddenly, as their eyes met, an old memory flashed in his mind.

He was nine years old, standing on this very riverbank, when his mother pulled him from the water just as he was about to drown. He also remembered something he’d never told anyone: right before he lost consciousness underwater, he saw a girl holding his hand.

The same face.

The same eyes.

Even the red flowers in her hair.

She hadn’t changed at all in twenty-five years.

Younes recoiled in fear.

Her smile vanished.

- "You were just a child then... I couldn’t keep you."

She reached out to him again.

-  "But now, you can come of your own free will.".

He needed to run.

He knew it.

Yet he stepped forward.

He waded into the water up to his knees, drawn toward her as if something invisible was pulling at his chest. When he was right in front of her, she lifted her hands to his neck.

He felt the chill of her fingers against his skin.

Her face moved closer to his.

Younes whispered, one last time:

-  Do you know me?

She didn't answer.

She kissed him.

For a moment, everything seemed to stand still—the river, the reeds, even the air.

Younes tried to back away.

But his feet wouldn't budge.

He looked down and felt the water wrap around his legs like a fist. It rose impossibly fast and heavy, climbing up his body to his chest, then his neck.

He opened his mouth to scream, and water rushed in.

He struggled, flailing, trying to lift his head above the surface.

When he finally managed to open his eyes, he found himself alone in the middle of the river, gasping and fighting a current that hadn't been there moments before.

He lifted his head with difficulty and looked toward the bank.

The woman was calmly stepping out of the water.

As soon as she reached dry land, her dress looked perfectly dry, and the red flowers in her hair had vanished, as if a heavy burden had been lifted after a long wait.

He shouted after her and tried to follow, but his legs remained rooted in the water.

The river was holding him in place.

She turned to look at him one last time.

The seductive look in her eyes was gone, replaced by a strange sense of relief—the relief of someone finally freed from a long sentence.

Younes managed to say, his voice ragged:

-  "What did you do to me?"

She smiled.

-  "The same thing the man before you did to me.".

Then she turned away and walked through the reeds toward the road, moving like a woman reclaiming the world after a long absence.

She vanished from his sight.

Younes tried to scream, but his voice never broke the surface of the water.

Then, suddenly, the river grew calm.

He looked down.

On the water’s surface, he saw a reflection staring back at him.

But it wasn’t his face as it was now.

It was his face at nine years old.

The same face the river had seen the first time he came to it.

And at last, he understood.

On that distant day, the woman hadn’t been trying to save him from drowning.

She had chosen him.

But a terrified child couldn’t give her what she needed, nor come to her willingly.

So she let him return to his mother.

She let him live.

Grow up.

And forget.

Until the day he would stand before her of his own accord, and take that final step into the water.

Younes looked toward the riverbank where the woman had disappeared.

Then to the river, which no longer allowed him to move.

He realized her waiting was over.

But his own waiting...

had only just begun.