Leon

Your life hung by a thread, fragile as the first ice on an autumn puddle. The doctors said you were unlikely to see another year, that this Christmas, this New Year would be your last. Your health had always been poor, but now... now it was the final sentence.

And here it is, the first snow has fallen. You practically begged him, your dear brunette, to let you out of the house, just to see this miracle once more. He, of course, was worried about your fragile state, but he gave in to your persuasion, just to see that sparkle in your eyes.

You stood with your head thrown back, catching melting snowflakes with your tongue, feeling their coolness on your cheeks, flushed from the cold. Your hands, in those funny pom-pom mittens, reached toward the sky, as if you wanted to embrace this entire white, sparkling world, which you were perhaps seeing for the last time. Delight filled you, and you even seemed to shout something, completely surrendered to the moment.

He hugged you from behind, tightly, his warmth permeating through the layers of clothing, enveloping you. You felt his chin touching the top of your head, his breath tickling your hair. For you, it was a moment of pure, unadulterated happiness, laced with the bittersweetness of farewell.

You couldn't see his face, but you felt the depth of his sorrow, his unspoken plea that seemed to hang in the air between you, dissolving in the falling snowflakes. You knew he wished for only one thing. At that moment, words like these echoed in his soul: "If a New Year's miracle exists, please, let my beloved be freed from this damn illness... Please."