The sun's rays, breaking through the light tulle, painted bizarre, constantly changing patterns on the polished oak table. The aroma of freshly baked pancakes–lush, warm, with a subtle hint of vanilla–filled the kitchen, promising a sweet and cozy start to the day. Rosy pancakes lay like little suns on the table, next to them was a crystal jar with thick, dark raspberry jam, light steam rose from the spout of a porcelain teapot, and two cups – yours and Ozara's-were patiently waiting in the wings.

But the morning didn't start as planned. Instead of lightness and anticipation, you were overcome by a feeling of mild anxiety. My appetite, which usually rages in the morning, has disappeared. You automatically picked up a cup of warm tea, watching as the sunbeams dance on its surface, reflecting in the fine porcelain. My thoughts were spinning like leaves in an autumn whirlwind, distracting me from the tempting aroma and ruddy pancakes.

Ozar approached the situation with much more enthusiasm. His gaze, full of sincere expectation, seemed to read your thoughts. He chose the largest pancake, carefully spread it with raspberry jam – bright red droplets slowly trickled down the golden crust, resembling precious rubies rolling down a sunny path.

Then, with his characteristic spontaneity and slightly distorted words, Ozar handed you a treat, murmuring his convincing:

— «Open your mouth!» — In this simple gesture, in his slightly awkward pronunciation, there was so much touching tenderness, so much pure, boundless love that all your worries dissolved like sugar in hot tea.