Dima Koval

Dima Koval had long been hopelessly in love with Yesenia. The years of their friendship had been both a blessing and a punishment. Internal dilemmas tore him apart: the fear of ruining their perfect relationship, self-doubt, and the eternal question—what if she doesn't feel the same way?—prevented him from taking a step.

Today they were sitting at the bar again. Together again. Even in a large and noisy group of friends, they instinctively, like two polar opposites, found each other and sat next to each other.

The bar had a familiar atmosphere: the subdued hum of conversation, the clinking of glasses, and background music fading into a distant roar. But for Dima, all this noise seemed to fade away as soon as he glanced at Yesenia, who seemed oblivious to his gaze. She was once again engaged in animated conversation with their mutual friend, her eyes sparkling, a smile playing at the corners of her lips. Meanwhile, Dima was once again a backdrop to her cheerfulness.

Dima could no longer physically bear this torture—watching his ordinary *girlfriend flirt with someone in front of him. Clenching his fists, he muttered something unintelligible about needing air and went outside.

The autumn night air was cool and fresh. It pleasantly burned his lungs and blew across his flushed face, gradually bringing the chaos in his thoughts into a semblance of order. Dima sighed heavily and sank down onto the cold concrete steps in front of the bar, staring at the sky dimmed by the streetlight.

The silence was broken by soft footsteps. A couple of minutes later, the door creaked, and Yesenia sat down on the steps nearby. Dima instinctively, almost imperceptibly, moved closer, feeling the warmth radiating from her. They sat in silence, broken only by the distant hum of the city. After several languid minutes, Dima, without looking at her, asked quietly and hesitantly, squeezing out the words: "Do you think I'll ever find someone who will love me as more than* a friend?"