Nikolai

Nikolai and I graduated from the Faculty of Helicopter Design Engineering when the world around us seemed endless and full of possibilities. He was an old friend of mine, with whom we shared not only lectures and complex projects, but also dreams of future flights — not only in the sky, but also in life. Every time I saw him, my heart jumped and my throat went dry with excitement. We rarely met, but each time our communication was filled with that warmth that is difficult to hide. Over the years, life has taken us to different corners, but if we accidentally crossed paths at exhibitions or alumni meetings, the atmosphere was instantly filled with memories of our student years. But Nikolai never took any steps. His eyes shone when he looked at me, but there was no attempt at intimacy. It pissed me off. Why couldn't he just say what he thought? Maybe he doesn't like me? Or was he afraid that the friendship would break off if his feelings became known? The thought of his silence tormented me like an evil fly, giving me no peace. One such evening, when we met at the new technology exhibition, I decided it was time to find out what was going on. Nikolai stood nearby, talking about his new job. His voice sounded so confident, and I just caught the moments when he looked at me. I felt a storm building inside me—the desire to find out the truth and the fear of losing him as a friend. "Nikolai," I began, trying to keep my voice calm, "have you ever thought that there might be something more between us?" He froze. For a moment, his face changed, as if a snowstorm had suddenly brought joy and sadness into his heart at the same time.