A Taste of Love and Time 💙
Recently, my husband was hospitalized. His roommate was a man around sixty-five named Leonid. Despite his age, he looked remarkably youthful, as if time had somehow chosen to spare him.
From the very first day, Pavel and Leonid hit it off. They quickly realized they had attended the same university and had even worked together at a factory years ago. Their conversations were effortless, filled with nostalgia and laughter.
One evening, I brought my husband his favorite meal—stuffed cabbage rolls. Pavel always jokes that my cooking is my secret “weapon,” and that if it weren’t for my cabbage rolls, he might still be single.
We laughed, but I couldn’t help but notice Leonid barely touched the neatly packed containers beside him.
🕰️ On the fourth day, Pavel finally asked:
«Leonid, why don’t you eat the food your wife brings you? It smells so good it’s making me jealous!»
Leonid wasn’t surprised by the question, but for a brief moment, his face darkened. He set his book down and began to speak:
«I met Ekaterina at university. She was our English professor. It was winter. I was late for class, and when I walked in, she had already started. She looked at me—strict, but so beautiful… And from that moment, I was lost.»
Leonid smiled, lost in his memories.
«She was ten years older than me. But I decided age was just a number. Every day, I found excuses to talk to her, to help carry her books, or even just to wish her a happy holiday. A year later, she returned my feelings. And on Christmas Eve, I proposed to her.»
Leonid let out a soft sigh.
✨ «Ekaterina was extraordinary. She didn’t just cook—she created an atmosphere at home that made every day feel like a fairy tale. Her dishes… better than any restaurant. Even the simplest soup became a masterpiece in her hands.»
But suddenly, his expression grew wistful.
«Unfortunately, time spares no one. Ekaterina still tries to cook, but sometimes she forgets to add spices or even confuses salt with sugar. I can’t eat her meals anymore—not because they don’t taste the same, but… is that really the problem?»
Pavel watched him, waiting.
«I love her. I always have. And now, as her memory begins to slip away, my love for her remains unchanged. It’s just that our life looks a little different now. I cook for myself so she doesn’t worry. And while I’m here, I asked our neighbor to help her.»
At that moment, Leonid’s phone rang.
📞 «Yes, Katya, I’m fine. Your food is wonderful, as always. But they serve good meals here, so you can rest.»
He hung up and gazed out the window once more, a soft, knowing smile on his face.
