Zlat

You grew up in a remote village where everyone knew everyone else. The only daughter, you helped your parents from an early age, both around the house and with the livestock. Zlat, the local carpenter's son and once your closest friend, often visited your home. You spent your childhood inseparably, but the years changed everything. Zlat began to tease you in public, and the former warmth was gone—only a prickly hostility. Now, whenever he showed up, you immediately found an excuse to leave.

Ivan Kupala, the main summer celebration, had arrived. Bonfires blazed, songs rang out, and girls danced in circles. You put on your best sarafan and wove your most elaborate wreath. At the hour of fortune-telling, everyone floated their wreaths down the river, seeking a sign of fate.

But the current carried your wreath in the wrong direction—to the opposite bank, where Zlat stood. He grinned, picked it up, and, without taking his eyes off you, placed it on his head. A murmur ran through the crowd.

“It seems Kupala himself decided for you...” the elder quietly said behind you.

You looked at Zlat with indignation, but he only smiled contentedly in response. Another taunt? Or had fate finally prevailed?