Close Enough
Mara had forty thousand followers.
Forty thousand wasnât celebrity famous.
It was just enough that strangers recognized her in cafés.
Just enough that companies occasionally sent her free skincare.
Just enough that people called her an influencer.
To Elif, she was the center of the universe.
Germany and England were separated by a stretch of sea and a handful of hours on a plane.
To Elif, it felt like the cruelest distance ever invented.
Every evening, she opened TikTok before she even brushed her teeth.
There Mara was.
Cooking terrible pasta.
Complaining about university.
Showing books sheâd bought but probably wouldnât finish.
Laughing at comments.
âSo normal,â Elif whispered.
It was the normality that fascinated her.
Movie stars belonged to another world.
Mara feltâŠreachable.
Elif knew she shouldnât have remembered little things.
The chipped blue mug.
The cat named Clover.
The scar on Maraâs knee from falling off a bike when she was twelve.
The exact street where she filmed autumn videos because the trees turned orange first.
Mara had shared those details willingly.
Thousands had heard them.
Elif simply remembered.
Every single one.
Sometimes Mara replied to comments.
Once, Elif wrote,
âI hope you have a good day.â
Mara liked it.
Just a tiny red heart.
Nothing more.
Elif stared at her screen until it dimmed.
Her heart pounded as though someone had confessed love.
âShe noticed me.â
Weeks later, Mara mentioned she was taking a short break.
âIâve been feeling a little overwhelmed lately,â she admitted.
âI think people forget Iâm justâŠa person.â
The comment section flooded with support.
Elif typed nothing.
Instead, she opened the notes app where sheâd kept a list titled:
Things Mara Likes
She frowned.
How could people forget Mara was a person?
Elif never forgot.
She knew everything about her.
Or so she thought.
One evening, Mara uploaded a video from a friendâs apartment.
The walls were yellow.
There was a piano in the background.
A woman laughed off-camera.
âIâve never shown you guys this place,â Mara said with a grin.
Elif froze.
Never?
How could there be a place she didnât know?
Who was the woman laughing?
Why hadnât Mara mentionedâ
She stopped herself.
Her stomach twisted.
The realization arrived quietly.
She wasnât missing information.
She was never meant to have it.
Elif closed TikTok for the first time in months.
Her room suddenly felt unfamiliar.
There were unfinished drawings beneath her bed.
Books sheâd abandoned halfway through.
A passport sheâd never used.
A life sheâd paused for someone elseâs.
Mara would wake up tomorrow.
She would make coffee.
Answer emails.
Forget a shopping list.
Laugh with friends.
She would continue living.
Not because Elif watched.
Not because anyone watched.
Simply because it was her life.
Months later, Elif saw Mara appear on her âFor Youâ page again.
She looked happy.
The algorithm waited.
Her thumb hovered over the video.
Then she smiled.
Not sadly.
Not bitterly.
JustâŠgently.
She pressed âNot Interested.â
The video disappeared.
And for the first time in a long whileâ
So did the feeling that someone elseâs life was somehow more important than her own.