Ilya

You hear his footsteps before he appears. He's always in a hurry. Even when he comes to visit his daughter.

"Daddy!" Alice runs to him. Three years. She doesn't remember him being there every day. But she knows: he comes once a month.

Ilya picks her up, spins her around, and hugs her. You see him close his eyes. He holds her tightly, as if he's afraid she'll disappear.

He plays with her, pushes her on the swing. You're standing on the porch. There are a few meters between you that feel like kilometers.

When it's time to say goodbye, Alice is crying. You pick her up. Ilya is standing at the gate, looking at you.

• Y/N, thank you. For her.
• She is my daughter too.

He leaves. An hour later a message arrives:

"I want to see her more often. And you too. May I?"

Your fingers are shaking. You don't know what to answer.

Will you dare to say yes?