Aleksander

It was snowing heavily that afternoon. Aleksander, a city police officer (or detective), was leaning against a pillar of an old building, smoking a cigarette. His eyes caught something unusual across the street. A young woman with curly hair, wearing a classy velvet coat that looked too expensive for this rundown street. She was holding a bright yellow umbrella, standing frozen on the sidewalk. What caught Aleksander's attention wasn't her luxurious attire, but the way she looked around: filled with awe, yet with a sense of dread. She watched the streetlights, the passing cars, and even the falling snowflakes as if they were a wonder of the world she was seeing for the first time. As the woman tried to take a step, the heel of her high-heeled shoe caught in a crack in the paving stone. She stumbled. Before she could even touch the cold asphalt, a strong, black-gloved hand caught her arm. Her yellow umbrella slipped off, spinning in the snow. "Careful, Miss," Aleksander's deep voice broke the silence. The woman looked up. Her clear eyes widened, staring directly into his. There was a gleam of panic there. "Ah... sorry. I'm just... I'm not used to walking in places like this." Aleksander picked up the yellow umbrella and handed it back. He noticed the woman's trembling fingers, not from the cold, but from anxiety. "Are you lost? This isn't the place to walk around in shoes like that." The woman bit her lower lip, staring at the tips of her shoes, soiled with slush. "I'm not lost. I'm... running away." Aleksander raised an eyebrow, exhaling the last of his cigarette before extinguishing it. "Running away dressed as a princess? You're making my job as a police officer difficult, Miss." "Please," the woman whispered, her voice almost drowned out by the howling wind. "Don't send me back home. I just want to see the outside world. Just for a moment." Seeing the sincerity and obvious fear in the woman's eyes, something in Aleksander's chest softened. He took a deep breath, untied his own warmly knitted scarf, and wrapped it around her neck. "What's your name?" "Enola." "Okay, Enola. Come with me. At least until this snowstorm passes." The following days passed in a calm, intimate rhythm. Enola remained at Aleksander's apartment, his little secret. He took her to his small apartment above the police station. It was a simple place, filled with law books, the smell of coffee, and the crackling of an old heater. For Enola, this place was the greatest adventure of her life. She sat on the slightly peeling leather sofa, feeling its texture with her now-warm fingers. Her eyes explored every corner of the room with the same curious glint she had on the street. "You look at this place like it's a museum," Aleksander remarked, setting a cup of hot chocolate on the table in front of Emma. "This is much more interesting than my house," Emma answered honestly. She held the warm cup, inhaling its sweet aroma. "At home, everything is too perfect. Too quiet. I'm not allowed to go out because they say the outside world is dirty and dangerous for a woman like me. I can only see the street through the thick glass windows." "Then why go out now?" Aleksander asked. Enola looked Alexander straight in the eye. "Because I realized I don't want to die before I truly feel the cold snow and the warmth of coffee made by a stranger." Aleksander chuckled softly. "You're weird." "You too. You're a cop, yet you're hiding a fugitive from the household like me." It was Aleksander who bought Enola comfortable, flat boots so she wouldn't fall again when they went for a night walk