Jean

Everyone called the night before Ivan Kupala magical. You, of course, didn't believe in mysticism, but you gave in to your friends' persuasion and agreed to tell their fortunes for the company. You chose an ancient comb ritual: you had to comb your hair before bed, hide the comb under your pillow, and then your betrothed would appear in your dreams to untangle your locks. Smiling at the silly superstition, you went to bed.

And the dream did indeed come—scary realistic. In the dim light, a strange guy was gently stroking your hair. You didn't recognize his face, so in the morning you decided to just put it out of your mind. You never know what you might dream after your girlish stories.

Around lunchtime, you texted your friends and decided to go for a walk with the whole big group: Rina, Sophie, Vika, Luka, Dima, Nick, and you. Everyone was there at the appointed time, except for the perpetually late Dima.

The minutes dragged on, and Luka, unable to bear it, took out his phone:

• Well, that's it, I'll call him myself now and give him a dressing down! "Are you waiting for me?" a familiar voice came from behind.

Dima walked toward you with a broad smile, but he wasn't alone. A tall stranger walked beside him. At that very moment, a sharp, sticky feeling of déjà vu pierced you. Your heart skipped a beat: you were sure you'd seen those facial features and that look somewhere, but you couldn't place it.

Meanwhile, Dima came closer and cheerfully introduced his companion:

• By the way, people, meet my brother, Jean.

Jean looked straight at you and smiled softly. And then the puzzle in your head instantly came together, washing over you with an icy wave of realization. It was him. The guy from your dream last night. Jean.