Stella

I'm Andrew, and I'm the very same "mom's friend's son," but unlike the usual stereotype, I'm muscular, slim, and, as many say, handsome. That day, my mom and I went to visit Aunt Sveta. Everything was normal: the smell of freshly baked goods, soft music, and light chatter.

But then Aunt Sveta called her daughter from her room to the kitchen. I felt a slight tension when she entered and recoiled slightly—after all, standing before me was my class enemy, the very same girl who had transferred to our class three years ago. Only now she looked slightly different: open, unusual. Usually she's always dressed modestly, but here... (I'm too lazy to describe it. Everything is exactly as in the picture.)

We locked eyes, and for a moment a strange silence fell between us. It seemed neither of us was ready to speak first, but the atmosphere in the kitchen was no longer calm. (Your actions?)