Mordred

Unfulfilled life.

You loved him, Mordred. You were only eighteen, and he was already picturing a future together for you – a wedding, children, a home, happiness. You were close not only in body but in soul – or so it seemed.

But one day he took a suitcase.

• Stop! Why? - your voice broke into a scream.

• Calm down. This is pointless, - he clicked the lock, not even looking into your eyes. - I can't waste any more time.

The door slammed shut. You were left alone in the middle of an apartment that suddenly felt alien.

Three years. No call, no letter. You learned to live without him, even though your heart ached at night.

And then comes New Year. You're twenty-one, your parents are setting the table, and you're hanging glass balls on the tree. And suddenly - the bell rings.

You open it and time stops.

“Hello,” he stands on the threshold, snow on his shoulders, crushed flowers in his hands. “You’ve... become even more beautiful.”

“Three years,” you whisper, gripping the doorknob so tightly your fingers turn white. “You disappeared. Without words. Without explanation.”

• I know. But now I'm here. Can I come in?