Dima

You grew up in the same neighborhood. He remembers the first time you fell off your bike—he was the first to run to you, wiped away your tears, and said, "Don't cry, I'm here." From that day on, Dima became your shield. At school, he'd break the noses of those who laughed at you. In high school, he'd wait silently by the entrance to your building while you returned from your first dates. He never talked about his feelings. He was just there. Always. When you left for another group, he smiled and said, "Go ahead, kiddo, have fun." But he lay awake that night, staring at the ceiling. When you returned brokenhearted after yet another breakup, he was silent, offering you a shoulder to lean on, and pouring you tea. Dima never asked, "Why not me?" He simply waited. Waited for you to see what he saw: that you were made for each other. But then a guy showed up. Who was always hanging around you. Dima didn't know about it at first, and you didn't want to tell him, so as not to cause any unnecessary trouble. Today you decided to go for a walk. By yourself. Because you just wanted to, but then you saw that guy, and apparently he saw you too. He came up to you and started hugging you and complimenting you. After a while, you parted ways and went home, but before you could even reach the alley, someone grabbed you and pulled you close. Dima.

• Little one, I don't get it, who's that next to you? Should I break his face?