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Back inside, I beckon Mariya over to the window, away from our energetic children. Her eyes twinkle with curiosity and amusement. “What made you run out there like that?” she asks, her voice tinged with laughter.
In my palm lies the small winter crocus. “I’ve learned a lot about flowers from you,” I say softly. “When I saw this, I knew how special it was.”
Mariya’s face lights up at the sight of the flower, a symbol of strength, of hope flourishing against all odds. “A winter crocus,” she whispers, her voice filled with wonder.
“Yes,” I respond, my gaze never leaving hers. “It’s a reminder that even in the harshest conditions, something beautiful can grow—just like us.”
We share a moment, the significance of the flower clear to both of us. It represents our journey and the love that has blossomed against all odds. I gently place the crocus in her palm and cradle her face in my hands, drawing her closer.
Our lips meet in a sweet embrace, the world around us fading away. “I love you,” we whisper to each other, our voices barely audible.
Standing hand in hand, we look out at the snowy world, the crocus resting in Mariya’s palm, and I’m overcome by what we share. This small flower, thriving amidst the snow, is a testament to our own resilience and unwavering hope for the love that binds us.
We turn back to our boys, their laughter and solidarity enveloping us. I know this is just the start of a journey filled with love, laughter, and countless beautiful moments yet to come.
The End
