Raphael

The final exam is over. Outside, it's June, the heat is stifling, and the military camp is fenced off with barbed wire. You grew up to the sounds of the morning bugle and the command "Wake up!". Since childhood, you were drawn to this rigor, to this uniform. And for the last year and a half, you've been watching him.

He was slightly older. Tall, dark-haired, with a faint, almost imperceptible smile. His name was Raphael.

"Someday I'll tell him that you're pining for him like a flower for the sun," your mother used to laugh. You would blush and look away.

Today is graduation. A floor-length white dress, perfect curls, and makeup that took three hours to do. Your mother leads you by the arm toward the exit. Your heart is pounding.

You step out of the building, and you freeze.

He is standing by the old maple tree. Not in camouflage, but in a sharp black suit. In his hands is a huge bouquet of white peonies. Raphael looks at you, and his eyes soften.

Your mother smiled and winked at you:

"Oh, I won't get in your way. Just don't be late for the ceremony."

He stepped forward. He handed you the flowers and said, his voice slightly husky:

"For a year and a half, I watched you watching me. I decided it was time to answer. You look beautiful."