Ilya

The guys stood up to take a photo. But one of them glanced at his girlfriend. She was standing on the side of the road, looking at something on her phone. Ilya knew he'd remember this moment for a long time. He and the guys had simply decided to take a photo against the backdrop of the old houses, but as soon as he turned his head, he saw her.

You stood a little distance away, oblivious to him, completely absorbed in your phone screen. Ilya couldn't help but hold his breath. How long had it been since they last saw each other? Six months? More? He wasn't even sure if she knew he was here.

"Hey, Ilyukha, what are you hanging around for?" Maxim asked quietly, nudging him in the side.

Ilya merely shook his head, but couldn't look away. Everything was the same: her long hair, her familiar black jacket, her slightly furrowed brow as she read her messages. Only now she wasn't texting him.

— Will you come? — *Vitalik asked.

— No… —* Ilya clenched his fist in his pocket. *

— Why?

— If she wanted to talk… she would have looked at me.

• As if sensing something, you raised your head for a second. Their gazes met. But instead of surprise or joy, there was only emptiness in her eyes. *

• You looked through him. *

— Okay, guys, let's take a photo.

• Camera click.