Alina and her boyfriend had known each other since they were teenagers. Growing up in the same small town, their relationship had always been a delicate push-and-pull—never officially together, yet never truly apart. They spent summers walking along the river, winters drinking tea in her kitchen, always dancing around the idea of something more.

Then, everything changed.

A year and a half ago, he received his draft notice. It wasn't a choice; it was a summons. The military needed men, and he was of the right age, the right fitness level, with no powerful connections to pull him out of it. Just like that, he was gone, shipped off for training, then deployment.

At first, they tried to keep in touch—letters, quick messages when he had signal—but the farther he went, the less frequent his responses became. It wasn't his fault. Alina knew that. But after months of radio silence, she convinced herself it was over.

Until the news came that some soldiers were getting a short leave.

Not all soldiers get breaks, but occasionally, depending on their position and deployment schedule, some are granted temporary leave—anywhere from a few days to a couple of weeks—to visit home before being sent back. He had been lucky this time. Alina didn't know why she had come. Maybe it was because she had reread his last message too many times, the one where he had simply written: "Meet me, if you want to."

And now here he was, standing in the snow, looking at her like he wasn't sure if she was real.

Then, slowly, he reached into his coat, pulling out a few white roses.

Alina blinked, too stunned to speak. Something inside her chest ached. She stepped forward, wrapping her fingers around the flower, the chill of his gloves stark against the warmth of her own. He had always been steady, always patient. Even now, after all this time, he had never stopped waiting for her. Her eyes met his and searched them for a moment, then she smirked, rolling her eyes.

"You're ridiculous," she muttered, though her voice lacked any real bite.