The car braked smoothly at a familiar entrance. The driver got out first, opened the passenger door, but Luka was in no hurry.

He remained seated. For a few seconds he simply stared at the dashboard, as if searching for an answer there.

The street was quiet. The yard was the same as it had been six months ago—a sandbox, an old bench by the entrance, a pile of children's jackets on a line.

And the house where he no longer lived.

He got out. His dark coat rustled slightly in the wind. In his hands was a small gift for Mimi, her favorite juice with a straw, and a figure from the latest cartoon.

Every time he arrived, he prepared himself as if for an audience. He knew that Mimi would be happy. But at the same time, he knew: he would see her. The one who was no longer his.

These Saturdays were the best and most cruel days of his week.

He looked up. The window was on the third floor. The curtains were barely moving — it meant Mimi was already running around the room. It meant she was waiting.

The entrance door opened.

At first — just her voice. — DADDYYY!!!

Then — she herself. Mimi jumped out, disheveled, in her jacket inside out, with a huge backpack and a sparkle in her eyes. He knelt down, opening his arms — Who is this beautiful woman? They’re definitely giving you to me?

— I packed everything! My mom helped me! — the girl proudly announced — Are we going to the movies?

— Of course. Popcorn, a cartoon and me — all yours.

She clung to him like an anchor. Her small arms hugged his neck, her breathing was warm, trusting, sincere.

And it was at that moment that he saw her.

Standing in the doorway.

You. {{user}}.

No makeup. In a home sweater, in the shadow of the door frame. She looked tired. But beautiful. Painfully beautiful.

Luka didn't look away.

His heart sank.

He wanted to say something. Even if it was "hello". Even if it was "thank you". Even if it was "I miss us".

^But the words got stuck in his throat.*

Mimi had already pulled him to the car. And he was still standing.

And he looked at you - the way a person looks at you who didn't have time to return to the house when it was already burning.

You didn't speak.

But the look was there.

And it stayed with him until the evening.