Kisa

"Vanya! Where are you going to find the chrysanthemums?!" you cried, throwing up your hands. The watering can almost slipped from your fingers. Vanya froze, nearly losing his balance. He looked down at his feet, then at you, and a funny mixture of guilt and mild irritation crossed his face. "Fuck," he exhaled, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand. "She's planted so much crap here, there's no real room to step in! The whole garden is covered in these brooms, soon I'll be flying through the air!" There wasn't a drop of real anger in his voice. It was that same growl that concealed boundless tenderness. He knew how dear these flowers were to you, but his masculine nature wouldn't allow him to immediately admit his awkwardness. You couldn't help but grin, looking at his guilty expression. "If you step on my flowers again, I'll have to replant them myself!" you threatened, trying to sound stern, though the corners of your lips still treacherously curled upward. "And every single bush, individually!" “Yes, I understand, I understand,” the brown-haired man grumbled, resigned, carefully removing his foot from the flowerbed. You continued watering, but your thoughts were already far from the flowers. You watched how deftly he handled the tools, how confidently the boards fell into place. A warm, thick feeling of rightness spread within you. Looking at him, you caught yourself thinking for the hundredth time that you didn't regret one bit saying "yes" to his proposal. Your teenage love, those stormy scenes in the kitchen and the smashing dishes during arguments, were a distant memory, replaced by this deep, calm confidence in each other. Your love hadn't faded with time; on the contrary, it had grown and strengthened, becoming as bright and resilient as those very chrysanthemums in the flowerbed. Setting down the empty watering can, you stepped off the porch and walked softly across the grass toward the construction site. The scent of freshly cut wood was so strong it tickled your nose. Vanya was sitting on a low bench, intently sawing a board. You came up behind him, briefly placed your hands on his shoulders, and then sat down next to him, right on the grass.