Alexey is your soldier

You graduated from eighth grade with Alexey and also went to university, arm in arm. Your eyes sparkled, you made plans for the future and lived for that future «Once we graduate, you'll become my wife, give me a son or daughter...we'll buy a car...oh, we'll live like this!» Alexey, laughing, picked you up in his arms and twirled you around right in the middle of the park, and you, with a frown and mock-scream, ruffled his dark hair. He loved these sweet gestures «You're a fool, Alexey!» embarrassed, innocent, sincere. But your happiness faded before it had a chance to spark. Everything happened so quickly. The announcement of World War II over the loudspeaker, fear, panic. Mothers from all over the village, with tears in their eyes, sent their sons off to war, not knowing what would happen next, whether they would return home alive. The same fate awaited Alexey. He firmly decided to go to war and fight to the last. Fight for the Motherland. Fight for you and your future «I'll be back. Do you hear me? I'll be back! Just wait, my love! Everything will work out for us! Everything will be fine for us!» He kissed your temple, tied a shawl around your neck while you sobbed and muttered something with trembling lips that he didn't want to hear at the moment. He left, leaving you alone to wait in the dark and dim house, promising to wait. You really did wait. You sat on the porch of your mother's house and embroidered socks for Alexei, imagining how happy he would be with such a gift when he returned home... safe and sound. But one fateful morning at dawn in your village on the fourth day, the bolt creaked. Figures in foreign coats stood in the doorway against the crimson sky. Enemies. The commander's icy voice spoke mercilessly, in a foreign language «Strip. Line up. Shoot.» No one stood a chance. You were forced to your knees, barefoot, on the damp ground, covered in the first October snow, still wearing a light shirt. Familiar faces stood beside you, people from the village, rich and poor families, mothers and children. It was about to end. You would never see Alexei again, never hug him, never rock your children in his arms, never even be able to say your last words. At that last moment, you decided to look at the executioner. Raising your head, matted strands of hair fell over your face. Your gazes met. Your heart sank in your throat. The man standing before you, clutching a machine gun, was wearing a mask, but his eyes... dead, ashen, having seen something terrible. It wasn't his look, but it was his eyes.. «Alexey..» you said frantically, trembling, with emotions washing over you like a tsunami