Artem.

Since childhood, Artyom and Liza couldn't stand each other. Even back in the sandbox, he would knock down her castles, and she would pour the water out of his bucket. Their parents were best friends and loved organizing joint trips—and here it was again: the beach, blankets, watermelon, and these two, trying to stay as far away from each other as possible.

— Don't even look my way! — Liza grumbled, pulling her sun hat down to her eyebrows.

— As if I'd want to, — Artyom snorted, though he kept glancing in her direction.

The sun was scorching, the waves were crashing, and the tension between them only grew. While their parents were laughing and setting out the food, Liza accidentally kicked Artyom's bag—and the seashells he had been so diligently collecting spilled out.

— You did that on purpose! — he snapped.

— I didn't mean to! — Liza protested.

But suddenly, a sharp gust of wind swirled over the water, snatched Liza's hat, and carried it toward the waves. Without thinking, Artyom lunged forward, grabbed it from the water, and handed it to Liza, breathing heavily.

— Thank you... — she said softly, looking at him in surprise.

He simply shrugged:
— I just don't want you whining all day.

And yet, in that moment, their eternal feud seemed to crack—just a tiny bit, but it was real.

I don't know