The morning sun filtered through the lace curtains, painting golden patterns across the wooden floor. The aroma of fresh toast and scrambled eggs filled the small apartment. Elvin stood by the stove, flipping a pancake with military precision, while Chris leaned on the counter, nursing a cup of tea and watching the scene unfold with a lazy smile.
Alice was unusually quiet.
She sat at the dining table, swinging her legs beneath the chair, her big brown eyes fixed on Elvin. Her small hands clutched a pink piece of paper — folded and re-folded until the corners had gone soft.
It was a drawing. Crayons smudged in bursts of yellow and green, stick figures of her, Elvin, and Chris — all smiling, holding hands under a bright sun and a fluffy rainbow. But it wasn't just the drawing that made her heart race this morning.
It was the words she'd written at the top.
Three small words that had been building in her chest for weeks now. Words she'd heard in bedtime stories, on television, in the park when other children clung to their mothers' hands.
But this was different.
Because Alice didn't know how Elvin would react.
"Pancakes are done," Elvin announced, placing a plate in front of her with a goofy smiley face made of fruit.
Chris gave her a wink. "Lucky girl. I only get plain ones."
She smiled weakly and nodded, but her fingers gripped the drawing tighter.
Elvin noticed.
He squatted down beside her chair, resting his arms on the edge of the table to meet her gaze.
"What's this?" he asked gently, gesturing to the folded paper.
Alice hesitated, then slowly slid it toward him.
Elvin opened it carefully, as though it were something fragile. His eyes scanned the drawing first, the sweet crooked lines and sun rays. And then he froze.
At the top, in bright red crayon, she'd written:
"I Love You, Elvin."
Three words.
Three worlds.
He didn't speak for a long time.
Alice held her breath. Her heart beat so loudly in her chest it echoed in her ears. "Is it… okay?" she whispered, so softly it was almost inaudible.
Elvin blinked slowly, his expression unreadable. Then, gently, he placed the drawing back down and reached for her hand.
"Alice," he said quietly, "do you know what those words mean?"
She nodded, lips trembling. "It means you're my world. You take care of me, hold me when I cry, sing when I'm scared, braid my hair… You make me happy." Her voice cracked at the end. "I really mean it."
Elvin's throat tightened.
No one had said that to him in years. Not like this. Not so pure, so vulnerable, so honest.
He looked at Chris, who immediately stood and muttered something about needing air before slipping onto the balcony.
Elvin turned back to Alice, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear.
"Thank you, Princess," he whispered. "That means more to me than you'll ever know."
She beamed. "So… is it okay if I say it sometimes?"
He nodded, smiling. "You can say it every day if you want."
"Okay!" she chirped, wrapping her tiny arms around his neck. "I love you, Elvin!"
And he hugged her back—tight, warm, and full of something he didn't often allow himself to feel: softness.
A kind of peace that had nothing to do with order or duty.
When they broke apart, Alice finally dug into her pancake, humming a happy tune.
Chris came back in a few minutes later, eyes suspiciously red. He looked at Elvin, who was still sitting beside her, clutching the crayon drawing like it was made of glass.
"She finally said it, huh?" Chris asked under his breath, voice teasing but low.
Elvin nodded, the faintest smile pulling at his lips. "Yeah… and I didn't even know how much I needed to hear it."
Chris clapped a hand on his brother's back. "That's your girl."
Yes, she was.
His little girl. His responsibility. His world.
And now — the first person in a long time who had told him "I love you" without expecting anything in return.