part eight

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As Mila and Leo rode through the serene Ukrainian countryside, the world seemed to stretch out endlessly before them. The cart rocked gently over the uneven path, and Mila's gaze drifted to the sprawling wheat fields swaying in the breeze. The sun cast a soft golden hue over the scene, its rays glittering like threads of gold among the stalks of wheat.

"Це так спокійно," Mila whispered to herself, taking in the beauty that lay before them. This was the Ukraine she knew, the Ukraine she loved.

Leo, sitting beside her, seemed to feel the same pull. He reached for his sketchbook, his hands already moving, capturing the pale blue sky and the gentle hills beyond. Mila followed suit, pulling out her own, and soon they were both drawing, their pencils gliding across the paper. It was as if they were preserving a moment of their homeland, something to hold on to as they journeyed further away.

"I could draw this forever," Leo murmured, his focus never breaking from the page. "But it makes me miss what we're leaving behind."

Mila nodded, her pencil pausing mid-sketch. The thought of leaving home weighed on her too, but there was something beyond these fields she had to reach for, a world where her talent could flourish. And perhaps, one day, they would return to paint these fields again, under different skies, with stories to tell.

For now, they simply let the beauty of their homeland guide their hands, creating a memory they would carry with them, wherever their journey led.

Miracles | 𝔐𝔞𝔤𝔫𝔦𝔣𝔦𝔠𝔢𝔫𝔱 ℭ𝔢𝔫𝔱𝔲𝔯𝔶Where stories live. Discover now