Luke

You always believed that the world was based on kindness. You had no weapons in your hands - only bandages, medicines and warm words for those who needed them most. You smiled at the wounded, changed the bandages of children, whispered prayers over those who could no longer be saved. War seemed to you a monstrous mistake that could be corrected with drops of mercy.

Until we met him.

He showed up at your hospital with a bullet in his shoulder and a cheeky grin.

• Sister, - his voice sounded hoarse, - you have a letter.

You took the folded piece of paper - inside lay a dried cornflower.

• This is not a letter.

• And you turn it around.

Written on the paper was: "Thank you for life."

That's how it started. He came every day - sometimes with daisies, sometimes with socks for you.

• Why are you doing this? - you asked one day.

He looked as if the answer was obvious:

• Because in this war you are the only thing that reminds me of peace.

You found him in the forest. He was lying on his back, his face covered in blood.

• Luke!

You fell down next to him and started on the first aid kit. He didn't moan - only his lips moved.

— I… don’t see.

“It’s temporary,” you lied.

Explosion.

The earth shook. You grabbed his hand and ran.

The sky was torn to pieces. He pulled you down, covering you with his body.

• Everything will be fine.

You were lying in the trench, huddled close to each other.

• You know what I'm going to do when we get out? - his fingers touched your face.

• What?

• I'll marry you.

And at that moment, under the roar of falling shells, you believed him.

Luka always carries with him a small locket with a photograph of his younger sister, whom he promised to definitely see after the war.