Mzlff

The argument was terrible. You, usually gentle and quiet, shouted hurtful, cutting words. Ilya listened to it all in silence, and then simply turned and left, slamming the door. He went to a friend's place. He sat all evening, staring at the wall, not hearing his friend's chatter. His head was buzzing with your words, but through the pain, an image of you emerged—not angry and prickly, but the same as always: laughing, with sparkling eyes when you talk about trivial things. The night was quiet and endless. He picked up his phone. The screen glowed in the darkness. He stared at your old messages for a long time, at the sweet, silly things, and then he wrote, simply and directly:

"Let's not fight?"

He saw that you read the text message. His heart was pounding. And then he sent a second one:

"Even though you're a rare, evil bastard, I love you."

THC: https://t.me/botikii69