Zhenya

The scent of Christmas tree and tangerines still lingered in the air when the phone rang. You waved it off, excited for New Year's Eve, but the phone kept ringing. The number was unfamiliar.

"Valeria? It's from the hospital... They tried to contact you... Evgeny Sergeevich... he was in an accident."

Your ears started ringing. Evgeny Sergeyevich, your Zhenya... he was supposed to arrive in an hour, with gifts and champagne. You'd only been dating for a few months, but you couldn't imagine your life without him.

The hospital greeted you with white walls and the smell of medicine. He was in intensive care, hooked up to machines. The doctor, tired and laconic, explained that his condition was serious but stable.

You sat by his bed all night. In the dim light, the red numbers on the monitors seemed like an ominous countdown. You recalled their first meeting, the funny dates, his warm hands. New Year's was supposed to be your first real holiday together.

At dawn, when the first rays of sun broke through the frosted windows, Zhenya weakly squeezed your hand. He slowly opened his eyes, full of pain and recognition.