What is it like to love him and never be allowed to touch? To watch him from a distance, to memorize every curve your eyes are permitted to see, to talk about meaningless things - anything, as long as it is not what lives in your heart.

  Or what is it like to kiss his swollen lips greedily, to slide your tongue over his tender skin, pressing him into the bed with your heated body.

  To forget everything with him, to notice nothing around you, to become the closest person in his life and to call him your own - only to lose him day by day, while desperately convincing yourself that everything is fine.

  The sound of the wheels slowly faded as the warm sunlight grew brighter. Soon the train emerged from the dark tunnel into a bright metro station, gently slowing down by the platform.

  An indistinct voice announced the stop. The doors opened noisily, and a small group of people rushed out toward the escalators.

  A young dark-haired man wearing headphones, a light sports jacket, and loose-fitting pale jeans stood up as well - not to leave, but to move closer to the door. From there, an almost mesmerizing view opened before him: the platform flooded with sunlight, seen through enormous windows still smeared with traces of winter snow. Beyond them lay a wide river, still partially covered with cracked ice, and a vast metropolis - usually loud and restless, yet here strangely quiet and peaceful.

  After endless gray days, spring was finally claiming its place, painting ordinary life in vivid colors and breathing warmth into familiar routines.

  The doors closed. The scene outside began to move again, but he could not tear his eyes away from that long-forgotten view until the train disappeared back into the darkness of the tunnel.

  Catching the last rays of sunlight, he suddenly thought that this day promised to be a good one.

  But even good days carry something bad.

  A beautiful woman in a light beige business suit, her neat bob perfectly styled, was driving her recently purchased white Audi. She glanced at an incoming call for just a second—but that second cost her too much.

  In the next moment, a truck appeared directly in front of her, its bright grocery store logo flashing across her vision. She had not noticed it because of a car that had changed lanes moments earlier.

  "Theo is waiting for me at the office..."

  That was the last thought she managed to have.

  Theo—her beloved son—who had grown from a thin, awkward boy always dressed in ill-fitting clothes into a stunning young man with dark, slightly wavy hair, clear gray eyes, and a charming smile that left no one indifferent. His wardrobe was now filled with expensive clothes; he worked as a model, and his face appeared in magazines from time to time.

  Her Theo.

  For whom she had risen every time she fell, clinging to every chance to escape crushing poverty. Their life had known many stages—some she never wished to remember again—but eventually, light appeared on her path. Life began to resemble her boldest dreams... until, in a single second, everything went dark.

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  ***

  "Hello, Theo."

  He heard the familiar voice behind him while trying to figure out the new coffee machine, which—with its overwhelming number of buttons—looked more like an airplane control panel.

  He turned around and smiled politely at a tall, attractive brunet with an athletic build, dressed in strict dark-blue trousers, a brown leather belt with a matte buckle, and an immaculately pressed white shirt.

  Mir stepped closer to Theo and pointed at one of the buttons.

  "Double Americano. Just right for that size of a mug," he said calmly, casting a brief, indifferent glance at the young man. As always—focused, serious, as if nothing interested him more than work.

  "You came just in time!" Theo exclaimed happily and reached out his hand, feeling the firm handshake of a warm palm.

  Around this strict man, Theo always felt a certain awkwardness—even shyness—but not the kind that forced him to watch every word. It was something closer to respect, mixed with quiet admiration. They only saw each other occasionally in the office when Theo visited his mother, and their conversations usually revolved around the weather and other meaningless things.

  "The sun is so bright today!" Theo said enthusiastically, gesturing toward the exit.

  "Is it?" Mir replied indifferently.

  The brightest sun for him was standing right in front of him now—within arm's reach, yet infinitely distant.

  The coffee machine fell silent. Ready glowed on the screen. Theo took the mug, stepped aside, and leaned against the wall, carefully taking a small sip of the hot drink.

  The conversation should have ended there—the coffee was made, the formalities complete. But Mir did not seem to be in a hurry to leave.

  "I haven't seen you in a while. How are you?" he asked, glancing at Theo again.

  Theo always hid his slender, attractive body beneath oversized hoodies, loose shirts, and wide sweatpants, choosing comfort above all else. But the photographs in magazines fed Mir's imagination, and he could almost picture those tantalizing curves without the shapeless clothes. Not now. He couldn't think about that now.

  "Oh... yeah, I'm good," Theo shrugged. "Lots of work lately. Constant traveling. Though I'm not sure why I'm telling you—you're always on deadlines here," he smiled faintly. "Mom practically lives at the office. We live together, but hardly see each other. I stopped by to have lunch with her, and she's not even here."

  "She left early this morning for a meeting with a client," Mir said, pouring himself a large mug of strong coffee and standing beside him. A project for a new residential complex was waiting on his desk, deadlines pressing hard—but he quickly negotiated with his own reason for a few stolen minutes.

  "Yeah, I talked to her recently. She said she'd be back soon. I'll wait a little," Theo replied, glancing at the clock on the wall. Mir instinctively followed his gaze.

  Someone opened the door noisily, then closed it almost immediately—perhaps changing their mind or failing to find who they were looking for. Mir smirked, took a carton of milk from the cabinet, and held it out to Theo after noticing his grimace at the bitter coffee.

  "If you want," he said casually.

  "Exactly what I needed," Theo laughed, generously diluting the almost black liquid. "By the way, how—"

  are you doing, he had wanted to ask, but the sudden ringing of his phone from his jacket pocket interrupted him.

  In the silence of the small kitchen, the melody felt unbearably loud and unpleasant. Theo stared at the screen for a moment, trying to figure out who was calling and whether he should answer. Mir noticed the hesitation and gestured toward the door, signaling that he was about to leave anyway. Theo nodded and pressed the green button.

  Mir was already at the doorway when he heard Theo's alarmed voice:

  "Which hospital? I'm on my way."

  Something twisted unpleasantly inside Mir. He stopped and turned back. Theo's face made it clear—something serious had happened. He went pale, fear obvious in his expression. For several seconds he stared blankly at the phone, trying to comprehend what he had just heard.

  He set the coffee mug down on the table with a visibly trembling hand and glanced around, as if afraid he might have forgotten something.

  "I... I should go too," he finally said in a hoarse voice, stepping toward the door.

  Mir reached out and caught him by the sleeve of his jacket.

  "Theo, what happened?" he asked anxiously.

  Theo looked stunned, his unfocused gaze fixed on emptiness.

  "My mom... she's in intensive care," he said, forcing the words out, refusing to believe them himself. "They said she was in an accident..."

  "Come on. I'll drive you," Mir said immediately. "You came by metro, didn't you? My car is in the parking lot downstairs."

  Theo nodded weakly and followed him without a word.