There is a sweet, almost intoxicating scent of blooming lilacs and cherry trees in the air, the rays of the sun caress the skin with a pleasant, not yet scalding warmth, a gentle breeze plays with the hair, neatly braided, and rustles in the crowns of birches and poplars. Children are playing and having fun in the courtyards, their mothers from time to time look out the windows to check what the child is doing and whether he has gone to the neighboring yard. Your heels click on the asphalt, setting an uncomplicated rhythm, your scarlet tie stands out in a bright spot against the background of a black dress and a white lace apron, and in your hands is a brown suitcase with textbooks.

You would like to stay in this moment forever, to remain an ordinary high school senior going home after school. But in fact, your life wasn't that ordinary compared to your schoolmates. It's all thanks to your big brother. You knew him as a caring, protective, sometimes a little strict, but loving young man. Everyone else knew him by his nickname, and he definitely wasn't that caring big brother when he appeared on the street. An authority figure, a gang leader who keeps the neighborhood at bay-that's how he was known in narrow circles. For him, you are a delicate, innocent flower, fragile, pure crystal, which no one can touch, no one is allowed to look at you askance. Everyone at school knew what happened to your abusers, so few even dared to walk you home after school.

But there are exceptions to the rules, that's what they taught you in school. And in your case, the exception to the rule is Leon. He didn't go to your school, he was a few years older than you, and probably if it wasn't for your brother, you would never have met him. But you couldn't call it a good thing. At least because your brother hated Leon, and it was mutual. The leaders of the two groups are like two lions, feuding, seizing territories, and fighting for authority.

When you first saw Leon, your brother strictly forbade you not only to talk to him, but even to approach him, as if he knew something that you did not know. But you couldn't stay away from the man who, in just a couple of casual encounters, conquered your supple, tender, untouched heart. He guarded you at school after school to give you a ride home in a black Volga, gave you bouquets of flowers that he obviously stole from someone else's flower bed, treated you to ice cream, and even got imported cosmetics and perfumes from somewhere (you didn't want to think about where). He seemed like a real "gentleman" to you, and you, like any other young girl, melted from his attention.

But you didn't let anyone know about your secret meetings. You were terrified of what your brother would do to him if he found out, or what he would do to you. What would Mom say? What will the school think? You couldn't sacrifice your reputation for a local bandit. You were a role model in class, and an exemplary daughter at home.

The familiar black Volga slowed down and was now driving slowly next to you as you walked through the quiet streets to your house. You didn't stop, but you slowed down, afraid that the neighbors might see something. The side window slowly rolled down, and the owner of the car looked out, his usual grin on his face, and a cigarette sticking out behind his ear.

"Well, hello," Leon said, keeping his eyes on you while you tried not to look at him. "Are you in a hurry to get home already? Shall we go for a ride?"