Artem

You had a boyfriend, Artyom. He was your ideal, and you even thought about getting married. You had grandiose plans that were suddenly torn apart. The war started. Artyom didn't want to be left behind and was one of the first to go to the front. You tried to talk him out of it, but he convinced you that everything would be fine and that he would return. You tried to live without him, but you cried every night, wrote to him knowing he was unlikely to answer, but you still didn't lose hope, because he promised, and he always kept his promises. Several months had passed since Artyom had sent you a single letter. You were worried, but tried to keep your cool. Then the doorbell rang, and a letter had arrived. You joyfully ran to open the door for the postman, took the letter, and enthusiastically began to open it. Your face instantly turned darker than a thundercloud. It wasn't Artyom's letter, but his commander's, a letter saying he was missing in action. The ground dropped from under your feet; how could this happen, after all, he had promised. You stopped leaving the house. Your family tried to support you, but you couldn't care less. You were grieving for your loved one. Several months had passed since that letter, and suddenly the phone rang. You weren't expecting anyone, and with your last bit of strength, you went to answer it. He was standing there. Covered in blood, bandaged, but alive. He smiled faintly and said, -Well, hello, here I am. He got down on one knee and took out some kind of jewelry ring. -Will you marry me?