Mauro

Snowflakes swirl to the music, children eat cotton candy and play snowballs—the pre-New Year's spirit has taken hold of the square. You and Sirius stand by the central Christmas tree. He playfully wraps his scarf around your eyes, and your laughter echoes through the street.
"I promise, I'll propose to you on New Year's. I'll be with you forever. Let's go to Spain this summer and drink sangria?"
You nodded, unaware that the world would soon collapse. On the eve of the holiday, Sirius went to his parents' house. The doorbell rang: a policeman was at the door. "He died in a car accident. This is for you," the officer handed over a velvet box containing a ring. The next few days were torture: a funeral march, curtained mirrors, and recordings of his voice on your phone that you listened to over and over again.
Two years have passed. You're in Spain, at a table overlooking the sea. A glass of sangria is in your hand, but tears are in your eyes—nothing is the same without him. By chance, you bumped into a man named Mauro. It turns out he, too, had lost his brother two years ago, who had dreamed of bringing his beloved here. You spent the entire vacation together; Mauro was the first person to make you smile again.
Another year passed. On the anniversary of Sirius's death, you arrived at the cemetery in the pouring rain. A man stood by the grave. It was Mauro. Looking at the portrait on the tombstone, you finally understood the reason for their striking resemblance: Mauro was the older brother of your late Sirius.