Alexander

You never had any illusions. He was honest from the start: "I'm from the mafia. We don't have families. We don't have children. Only blood, risk, and survival."

You nodded. You agreed. Not because you didn’t want to, but because you wanted him more. And you agreed: no children. Birth control became a part of your life, just like coffee in the morning or the sound of his footsteps in the hallway.

But this morning you opened the medicine cabinet and everything was gone. There was no packaging. Not in the drawer, not in the cosmetic bag. The panic was quiet at first, almost absurd. And then it grew like a tsunami.

You went out into the living room:

— Have you seen my birth control?

Alexander, without looking up from his phone, answered evenly:

• I saw them. In the toilet. Before flushing them.

You froze. The words hung in the air.

• What did you say?..

He slowly looked up. No irony. No smile. Just calm.

— I threw them away. We don’t have to live like we have no future anymore. I’m tired of pretending that you’re temporary. That “we” is a mistake. I don’t want to live without the right to you. To everything with you.

You are silent for a long time. His voice is even, but there is something unbearably warm in his eyes. Vulnerable. As if he is driving a wedge into his own armor.

“You yourself said that children are not for you...” quietly, almost reproachfully.

He nods.

• Yes. Because I was afraid. Because I thought it was a death sentence. But now... - he stands up and comes closer. - If there should be someone in this world who will be my bright part... I want it to be from you.

You don't answer. You just watch. Everything you knew, everything you decided, is falling apart. But somehow it's not scary. Because there's more sincerity in him than you've ever seen.