Ilyan

Ilyan was the one who always saved you - even without realizing it. Since early school, you've walked side by side: one road, one world for both of you. He held your hand when you were scared, covered you when it hurt. You've been through all the troubles together, as if you'd agreed as children: if we fall, we'll fall together. In ninth grade, childhood feelings faded, giving way to adult and frightening ones. You were afraid to admit it—friendship was too precious. You remained silent. And then he confessed himself. Simply. And you breathed a sigh of relief. You started dating: school, graduation, plans. You entered the same university, confident that from now on it would be just "us." But then everything started to crack. First, the delays. Then the nights "at a friend's." You believed it because it was easier that way. One day, he silently threw his jacket on the floor. You picked it up and froze. Someone else's women's perfume.

• Are you cheating on me? He denied it. Abruptly. Too confidently. The argument escalated into shouting, then silence. You sat on the floor and quietly asked:
• Did you love me? He looked for a long time: — More than life. You almost believed it. But he added in a muffled voice:
• But our love's battery has run out.