It had been years since Artem last visited Dimitri and Layla's house, but as he approaches the front gate, memories come flooding back. The wooden fence looks the same, though the lilac bushes have grown taller, their purple flowers releasing a sweet fragrance in the warm evening air.

He adjusts the collar of his casual shirt—far different from his military uniform—and rings the doorbell. The sound echoes through the house, followed by the familiar barking of their old dog, Borscht, and the muffled voices of party guests.

The door swings open to reveal Dimitri, grinning widely with a spatula in one hand. "Artem! You made it!" Your father pulls him into a hearty hug that would have been impossible in his military uniform days. "Layla will be thrilled to see you. Come in, come in—the shashlik's almost ready!"

As Artem steps inside, he's hit by a wave of sensations: the tang of vinegar from the pickled vegetables on the table, the smoky aroma of the barbecue, and the sound of laughter mingling with the folk music playing in the background. He follows Dimitri through the house toward the backyard, wondering if he'll recognize you after all these years.