It was both a blessing and a hope.
Standing beneath the falling snow, the young man gazed up at that bright splash of color on the mountainside. He lowered his hand to cover his reddened eyes, as if to hide the tears threatening to fall, yet a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.
In all his nineteen years, he had never experienced anything like this journey—never felt something so profoundly moving, so unforgettable.
He thought to himself: I’ll remember this for the rest of my life.
Beneath his hand, warm tears slipped down, falling onto the white snow where they left dark stains—marks that were quickly covered over by the relentless snowfall.
The world was silent, wrapped in wind and snow.
......
At the summit, the church awaited.
Mila stood at the church’s entrance, her legs leaden as if weighed down with iron, each breath heavy and labored.
“You’ve come.”
From within the open doorway, a priest in crimson robes sat with his back to her. His voice, touched with age, sounded distant yet kind.
Mila faltered. “Father… you knew I was coming?”
He shook his head, his tone calm. “No. But I heard your footsteps on the mountain path. The climb is not easy—come in, warm yourself with a cup of tea.”
Drawing a slow, shaky breath, Mila forced her heavy legs to move, stepping into the church. She made her way around to where the priest sat and found a small table set for two, steam rising from the cups.
The sight surprised her, but she said nothing. Instead, she sank onto the cushion behind the table, murmured her thanks, and took a tentative sip. The tea’s warmth slid down her throat, chasing away a bit of the mountain’s chill.
The priest poured her another cup before she could protest, so she simply thanked him again and drank. Three cups later, warmth had returned to her limbs.
Just then, the priest rose, his eyes gentle beneath lowered brows. His voice was steady, tranquil as still water.
“I sense no confusion in your heart. Whatever you wish to say to God, speak freely.”
“My first wish: For my great-aunt, my friends, for everyone who has ever loved me—I wish for long life, happiness, and peace.”
She bowed again, her heart full.
“My second wish: That my divorce goes smoothly and swiftly.”
For the third wish, she gazed up at the statue of Christ for a long time. Then, suddenly, she smiled—a smile like spring sunlight—and spoke softly, her voice floating in the still air.
“My third wish: That for the rest of my days, I may live freely, and never again fall in love.”
She bowed once more, deeply.
Bang!
Behind her, the church doors burst open, slamming against the stone walls. The wind and snow came roaring inside, swirling around Mila as she knelt in prayer. The candles flickered wildly.
Through the storm, a tall figure in black strode into the church, each step echoing heavy and deliberate.
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