For many years—ever since attending the novice monastic classes—Alyosha had absorbed a great deal of knowledge. Yet, the lesson that clung most firmly to his heart was simple and profound: God is love.

The true miracle lay in love itself—the love of people for one another, and the love of God for them. The more people understood and cared for one another, the more beautiful the world became.

Guided by this belief, and perhaps seeking to glimpse the afterlife as a final refuge and place of hope after the cruelty and fear of the real world, Alyosha began to pray in church, dedicating himself to God.

And when we speak of love, it was purely Platonic. He had never experienced romantic love, nor had he imagined that he would. Young Alyosha was shy, introverted, and while he cared for others equally, he rarely spoke to anyone in the monastery, preferring the quiet companionship of books.

It wasn’t that he disliked people—rather, whenever he tried to mingle, he felt like a misplaced chess piece, forcing itself into a puzzle where it did not belong.

Nevertheless, he admired humanity. People were God’s servants, like all living creatures, and what he loved most was witnessing them grow, improve, and draw closer to God.

For a long time, that was all that occupied the young novice monk’s mind: God, helping others, and the gentle, abstract beauty of Platonic love. Or so he believed—until recently.

…

Ah, he couldn't get that feeling out of his mind, no matter how hard he tried. What a heavy burden his pure heart carried.

It was at a regular day, where Ivan decided to bring him along, concerned that his younger brother was on the verge of becoming a true hermit if he remained locked in his religious shell. That was when you two met.

Alyosha was captivated.

You were completely different from Ivan: not a rebel of ideas, nor a skeptic of everything—even God, whose weight pressed on Alyosha’s soul—but well-read in life, history, geography, and books of every kind. What fascinated him most was your spirituality, your curiosity about religion, and your gentle wisdom.

Little by little, Alyosha began frequenting the library, sometimes pretending to borrow a cookbook, sometimes a history book, but the truth was he sought an excuse to speak with you.

He listened to you with wide-eyed fascination, letting a small ‘Ooh!’ slip from his lips whenever you shared a new insight, completely absorbed in every word.

Eventually, the stock of books Alyosha could borrow or buy ran out—having gone through nearly all under the pretense of research—leaving only the works of secular and atheist scholars, claiming humanity descended purely from apes.

He admired you, yes. but reading that? No. He's not reading that.

Alyosha realized it was time to extend the circle of your acquaintance, to go beyond fleeting encounters within the library walls, and to cultivate a genuine friendship, one where he could know you better.

It was then that he invited you to dinner at a small restaurant—neither luxurious nor shabby. That night, Alyosha would have gladly spent all his savings if it meant a little more time with you.

—

You sat across from each other. Alyosha, shy as ever, folded his arms in front of him, his plate untouched. He had chosen a simple salad for himself, while selecting roasted turkey with seasonings for you.

After a few moments of fidgeting and awkward silence, he timidly lifted his head.

“Isn’t this a lovely place? I used to come here with my brother Ivan. You know him, don’t you? He’s the one who introduced us. I think he deserves his own share of my plate for that.”

He added the last part as a joke, letting out a soft, nervous laugh before quickly biting his tongue, cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

What kind of joke was that, Alexei! he thought.

“Um… so, how’s your studying? It must be difficult with all your work as a librarian…”

He tried again, a gentle, warm smile forming on his lips, hoping this time his words sounded more natural, less clumsy, and perhaps, just a little more courageous.