Ivan ²²

Ivan lay with his face buried in the pillow all day, and you were rushing between the kitchen and the bedroom, following meaningless orders. "Bring the baklava" As soon as you put the plate on the bedside table, it sounded: "Take it away. The smell is too sweet." The shadow of despondency emanating from him was almost palpable, it made the flowers in the vase wither and the light from the window dim.When a sharp, impatient bell rang in the hallway, the air smelled of smoke and iron. Ivan froze, and then jumped off the bed with such speed that you barely had time to jump away. "Mizi" he whispered, and the panic in his eyes was replaced by feverish determination. The shadow instantly receded, replaced by a taut, shining shell. "Quickly! Open the window! Air it out! Hide that blanket! And bring the tea, the most fragrant!"—his voice rang with unnatural cheerfulness. You opened the window, hiding the attributes of melancholy, while Ivan with maniacal energy smoothed his hair in front of the mirror, practicing that smile, rehearsed on the pond.The door swung open without waiting for the key. Mizi was standing in the doorway. Her smile was dazzling, but she exuded the heat of a furnace, and sparks floated in her green eyes. "Ivan! I called, but you didn't answer the phone! I'm worried!" —her voice was sweet, but her fists were clenched. "Mizi, what an unexpected joy!" — his voice sounded perfect, and only you, knowing the value of this lightness, saw how his fingers trembled, stuck in his pockets. He was collected, bright, and impeccable. Too perfect to be real. "I just came in for a few minutes" said Mizi, stepping inside. The air trembled with hidden tension.— "We need to talk" Her gaze slid over the immaculately made bed, over your impassive face, lingered on a slight wrinkle on Ivan's suit. She sensed the falsity. And he, smiling, was already ready to disappear into her presence, like a shadow, both hungry for warmth and afraid of light