Have you ever cooked dinner for someone dear to you, dear reader?

No, not just dinner — but that dinner, the one meant only for her.

So that she sits at the table and says:

 

— Wow, how beautiful! And the smell! Mmm… Ah! I love when you cook. How do you manage this every time?

 

And truly, I surprise myself…

Although no. There is nothing surprising here. I love the one I cook for, and I love the process itself. Everything else is just an addition.

 

How wonderful it is to watch the one you love enjoy the meal prepared with love.

 

The plate is empty now, the glass too. I’ll take them to the kitchen, brew fragrant tea, and sit down beside her.

 

How good it is to sit on the terrace high above the sea, watching it sparkle in the light of an unbelievably bright moon.

To drink tea and listen to the silence.

 

— I’ve been waiting for you…

— Thank you.

— For what?

— You didn’t hold me. I realized I had always been free. But only now did I truly feel it.

 

She fell silent.

 

— I… I wasn’t honest with you. I thought I was leaving you. I thought I could live without you… I wanted to be with another, but he… he never made plans with me.

 

— I understand. It’s not easy. Even saying this requires courage.

 

— You know… right now it isn’t hard at all. I don’t feel threatened, although earlier I expected punishment. Even retribution.

I used to believe I would be punished… and now I understand that the worst punishment is the one we inflict on ourselves.

 

She stared into her tea, thinking.

 

— I suddenly realized that I always received hints and support. You didn’t always approve of my choices, but you never took them away from me. You never gave me anything for nothing, but I always had everything I needed. And also… these flashes of memory. Those…

 

She froze.

 

— White feathers?

 

Her eyes widened.

 

— Yes. How did you…

 

— It’s an angel. He is always near. He warns you when a step leads into an abyss. He prays for you when you cannot. He asks for help when he cannot manage alone. And his companions help him. They weave together events, destinies, people.

They nudge your gaze in the right direction.

They can tame passions.

And he — when the moment comes — will take your hand, show you the sunset, and light the path in the dark.

 

I smiled.

 

— And he is standing behind you right now.

 

She turned sharply… and froze.

 

He stood before her, smiling, his hands tucked in his pockets.

Exactly as she had always felt him.

 

Quiet. Still. Dazzling.

 

She took a step forward, as if about to rush to him… but he simply lifted a finger to his lips.

 

Say nothing.

 

He spread his wings — powerful, swift.

A wave of resilient air rolled across the terrace and across her skin.

And in the next moment he was already racing toward the moon, soaring upward, dissolving into the night, leaving behind a faint trail of white light.

 

— He’ll return, I said.

— He is very tired. He just needs a little rest. Even angels sometimes need peace.