Ruslan tensed. Slowly, feeling his way, he made his way down to the living room.
"Who’s there?" he called out sharply.
"It’s me. Sorry if I scared you," a familiar voice replied. "I went to your room, but you weren’t there, so I came looking in the living room…"
"What time is it?" Ruslan asked.
"Eleven already."
"Really? I didn’t even notice how time flew by. Let’s go upstairs," he suggested.
"Let’s go," Rimma agreed.
Lately, Ruslan had been feeling an odd sense of unease in Rimma’s presence. Something about her made him restless, filled him with strange excitement, but he couldn’t understand what it was. Now, a slight chill ran through him. Trying to distract himself, he asked:
"How’s Ibrahim?"
"I don’t know. Actually, I don’t want to know," Rimma replied curtly.
"Did you two have a fight?"
"Let’s not talk about him… I don’t even want to think about him."
"So he hurt you?" Ruslan turned toward her.
Rimma hesitated, then finally admitted:
"I was disappointed in him. He turned out to be rude and short-tempered…"
She told him about their last meeting—how Ibrahim had lost his temper, spoken harshly, and never even apologized, never realized his fault.
Rimma stood with her head lowered, even though she knew Ruslan couldn’t see her face. Then, slowly, she lifted her gaze to him—and froze.
Ruslan stood there, pale, his face twisted in pain. Suddenly, a wild, piercing scream tore from his chest. He clutched his head in his hands, his expression contorted in sheer agony.
Rimma stood paralyzed with fear. She had no idea what was happening.
Then, just as suddenly as it had begun, Ruslan fell silent. Slowly, he turned to her… and looked straight into her eyes.
His gaze was no longer vacant. It held surprise. Wonder.
He could see.
For the first time, Ruslan saw his childhood friend. He couldn’t take his eyes off her, realizing that this was not a dream.
With a trembling voice, Rimma broke the silence:
"Ruslan, are you okay?"
"I can see! I can see you, Rimma! So it wasn’t just a dream!" he exclaimed, overwhelmed with emotion.
"Is it really true?" Rimma whispered, hugging him tightly, unable to hold back her tears.
Tears of joy.
Ruslan was immensely happy, yet at the same time, he felt a heavy weight inside him. His sight had returned so suddenly, turning his entire world upside down. How was he supposed to cope with this? What was he supposed to do now?
But the most painful thought was that he had never seen his parents while they were alive. He would have given anything for them to be here with him now. And yet, even if this gift had come at the cost of their lives, he would not have wanted it. This newfound happiness of seeing felt bittersweet. His thoughts were interrupted by Rimma’s voice:
"You know, I’m really hungry. Do you have anything to eat?"
"Of course," Ruslan smiled. "We could use a snack."
As they headed downstairs, he gazed around his house in amazement. He had lived here for years, but he was seeing it for the first time. Everything seemed incredibly fascinating. Walking down the hallway, he suddenly recoiled in shock—his own reflection stared back at him from a mirror. Stunned, he stared at it for a long time, unable to believe his eyes. Rimma laughed.
"Ruslan, it’s just a mirror. It reflects you. Look, here’s my reflection too. See?"
"This is incredible… The world is so much more wonderful than I ever imagined,"
