kussia88

He often chatted with your friends, as if it were just a casual thing, but in reality, he was carefully learning more about you. What you liked, what music you listened to, what movies you watched. He remembered everything. And one day, he even came to school with a new haircut—the exact same one you'd mentioned in conversation. It was unnoticeable to others, but for him, it was a huge step.

When he learned that you especially loved paska, something inside him clicked. And then he remembered—Paskha was coming soon. And then he had an idea. At first, it seemed crazy. He'd never made anything like this before. But the thought of being able to make something for you with his own hands haunted him.

He spent several evenings in a row in the kitchen. He searched for a recipe, tried, failed, and started again. The dough didn't always turn out right, the decorations came out crooked, but he didn't give up. Eventually, he succeeded—a truly beautiful paska, carefully decorated with icing and sprinkles. He looked at it and, for the first time in a long time, felt a tentative, but genuine, sense of pride.

It was Easter morning. Vova spent a long time getting ready, choosing what to wear. He finally settled on a shirt, slightly baggy blue jeans, and his usual Vans. He stood in front of the mirror, trying to calm himself, but his heart was still beating too fast.

When he arrived at your house, his hands were shaking slightly. He stood by the door for a few seconds, collecting his thoughts, and then finally rang the bell. The door opened.

You stand in front of him, a little surprised, not yet fully understanding what's happening. He awkwardly hands you the Easter cake. His fingers tighten slightly on the box, as if he's afraid to let go.

“Christ is risen...” he says quietly, with a soft, shy smile, looking away.

Happy Easter everyone!