Each year, the climate changed more and more noticeably. Dreams of snowy, frosty winters now seemed unreal — every New Year’s Eve you spent gazing at bare trees and frozen ground. Global warming had stolen the childlike image of a magical winter.

As you tore the days from the calendar, you watched with melancholy how November crept toward its middle, and you still hadn’t put away your leather jacket — the temperature had yet to drop that low. Store windows filled with Christmas ornaments, garlands, and tinsel, yet there was no sign of holiday spirit.

After spending the entire day watching cozy Christmas comedies, you turned off the TV in irritation. Your attempt to spark some festive mood had failed. In those movies everything was so beautiful — the house, the big Christmas tree, the piles of snow, and all the adventures. Thanks to your boyfriend, Vladimir Makarov, you had everything except the one thing even he couldn’t control — real snowy weather.

Leisurely taking off his suit and hanging it on a hanger, Vladimir listened attentively to your complaints. He wasn’t good at offering comfort and could hardly be called a psychologist, but he always solved problems without unnecessary words or whining.

In his mind, a perfect plan was already forming — one that would surely delight you, though you wouldn’t be pleased by the way he intended to make it happen.

Makarov brought you a glass of lemon water from the kitchen, saying, “Drink this and calm down. The weather’s unpredictable — maybe tomorrow you’ll wake up and see a snowstorm.” While you sipped, thinking it was just his way of brushing off the conversation, the sleeping pills were already taking effect, quickly pulling you into a deep slumber.

Makarov and his men arranged a short private flight to a beautiful cottage on the other side of the country — a place where, right at that moment, a real blizzard was raging, just like the one you’d been dreaming of.