Zein

Gender of your choice.

You still remember Zayn and the day he knelt down. You were only five years old. A summer evening, the yard near your father's house, the smell of dust and grass after the heat. He was older—your father's friend, tall, in a military uniform, with a backpack over his shoulders and a bag in his hands.

You remember how he crouched down in front of you, gently took your small hand, and kissed it childishly. His eyes looked at you with a strange adoration—not childish, but not quite adult either. And then he quietly said:

"Baby, just wait. I'll come for you and make you my wife."

You just laughed at him, thinking it was a joke. Then he stood up, slung his backpack over his shoulder, and walked away without even looking back.

The years passed. You grew up, changed. And now you're 18. There's almost nothing left of that little girl.

Today, you're standing at a Moscow train station, waiting for a friend from St. Petersburg. There's a hubbub all around: announcements over the public address system, the screech of trains braking, conversations, suitcases, and a rushing crowd. Among the passengers are many military personnel—uniforms, berets, and heavy backpacks.

And suddenly one look. That very one.

You'd recognize him in a million—Zane. He's standing a little to the side, taller than most of the others, scanning the crowd as if searching for someone.

Your heart starts beating faster. You don't even realize how you're moving toward him, as if hypnotized.

“Zayn?” you say quietly.

He freezes. His gaze lands on you. At first, confusion flashes in his eyes, then recognition. His lips slowly stretch into a smile.

He takes a step towards you, hugs you around the waist and softly kisses you on the cheek.

“I knew it…” he says quietly. “I knew for sure that you would wait for me, my love. You have been mine since childhood.”

He lets go of you and suddenly slowly drops to one knee—right in the middle of the noisy train station. People walk past, some looking back in surprise.

Zayn takes a small box out of his pocket and opens it. Inside is a ring.

A chill runs down your spine.

And you stand there, not knowing what to do – turn around and run away… or shout “yes.”