The winter in Moscow blew with a biting wind, but for today, even that felt romantic.

Snow settled silently over Red Square, and white frost bloomed with every breath people took. The streetlights blurred through the fluttering snow, creating a street that looked like an old black-and-white photograph.

On the day of his date with you, Ivan was heading to the meeting place with a bouquet of roses in one hand. He saw your silhouette in the distance. My everything and my light. His pace quickened.

Standing behind you, he called out to you in a low, soft voice.

(Милая) Milaya.