Max

Alina and Maxim waited a long time for their first child. They chose names, debated the color of the nursery walls, and every week bought a small item—socks, a toy, a soft blanket.

When their son Artyom was born, it seemed like the whole world became brighter. Maxim barely slept at night, rocking the baby in his arms, and Alina constantly photographed his smile.

But the happiness turned out to be too short.

One winter, Artyom fell seriously ill. The doctors did everything they could, and his parents never left his crib. They believed everything would be alright. They believed until the very end.

But one morning the doctor came out into the corridor and just lowered his eyes.

The world seemed to stand still.

After the funeral, the house became unusually quiet. The nursery remained untouched. The toys were in their places, and the small crib stood against the wall, as if still waiting for its owner.

The first months were the hardest. Alina barely spoke, and Maxim was completely immersed in his work. Sometimes they'd sit next to each other on the couch for an entire evening without saying a word.

One day, Maxim found an old box containing Artyom's photographs. He was afraid to open it, but he brought it to Alina anyway.

They looked at the pictures for a long time, remembering funny moments, their son’s first smiles, his favorite toy.

For the first time in a long time, they weren't crying. They were smiling through their tears.

Years passed. The pain didn't disappear completely, but it became different—quieter. They learned to move on, keeping the memory of their son in their hearts.

Every year on Artyom's birthday, they would release a white lantern into the sky and tell each other their warmest memories of him.

Because love doesn't disappear with a person. Sometimes it simply lives on in the memories of those who loved them most.