SMA (Spinal Muscular Atrophy)

You stood there, bathed in the soft glow of the lanterns. But you weren't alone. A man stood next to you—tall, unfamiliar, confident. Ruslan froze, hidden behind the shadow of a spreading tree. He saw you laugh—that sincere laugh he considered his personal reward. He saw the stranger gently brush a strand of hair from your face, and—most painfully—how you didn't pull away, but instead, trustingly pressed yourself against him.

When he saw your kiss, the bouquet in his hand snapped. Those "little suns" crumpled, losing petals. Ruslan felt something in his chest shatter into a thousand sharp pieces with a deafening clang. All the words he'd prepared, all the dreams of a future together, turned to ashes in an instant.

He stood in the shadows, unable to move. You looked so happy, so... complete. And in this picture of your happiness, there was no place for him. At least, not the place he dreamed of.

Ruslan slowly turned and walked away, trying not to make a sound with his shoes on the gravel. He found the nearest trash can and, without looking, tossed the mangled flowers into it. There were no tears in his eyes—only a scorched, icy void.

Full text in TGC: @repoun666

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