KYIV, Ukraine — On a brisk winter afternoon in Kyiv, a teenage boy and girl met in a park. She was a manicurist, and he delivered food, but they had aspirations surpassing their current circumstances. They envisioned future careers; she as a doctor and he as an engineer. Yet, before those dreams could materialize, marriage plans took precedence.
Seventeen-year-old Danylo Khudia confided in Alyona Zavadska’s mother about his intention to surprise her daughter, who was 16, with a marriage proposal on her birthday that summer. They planned to marry once she reached 18 years of age. Though their swift connection puzzled both sets of parents, the depth of their relationship became undeniable.
Zavadska’s mother, Oksana, reflected on their bond, recognizing their maturity despite their youth. As the conflict between Ukraine and Russia unfolded around them, Khudia found solace in Zavadska’s company, referring affectionately to her as “my baby girl.” She reciprocated, calling him “my boy.”
Close friend Danylo Bondarchuck remembered Khudia’s excitement upon meeting Alyona, proudly declaring her as the most beautiful girlfriend. Their lives quickly became intertwined; Zavadska supported Khudia at his basketball games and emboldened him in his quest for a driver’s license. She was his study partner and confidant when faced with disappointments.
Curious about tattoo artistry, Zavadska practiced on Khudia, etching designs such as an alien, a scorpion, and a representation of the moon onto his skin. Khudia, in turn, became a source of comfort and encouragement to Zavadska, helping her battle and eventually overcome an eating disorder, building her self-esteem along the way.
Amidst ongoing talks for peace facilitated by the U.S., the couple dreamed about their future, securing an apartment close to Zavadska’s parents and starting shared financial ventures in anticipation of a life together.
Yet, the shadow of war never receded entirely. Six months prior, Zavadska had a foreboding dream about Khudia’s home being the target of a missile strike, though she brushed it aside until a tragic premonition unfolded.
On a Thursday night, an inexplicable dread engulfed Zavadska. She clung tightly to Khudia, urging him to maintain frequent contact until he fell asleep. When air raid sirens blared at 1 a.m., she frantically texted him to ascertain his safety, but the silence that followed was ominous.
By the next day, her worst fears were confirmed. A missile hit Khudia’s home, instantaneously claiming his life and those of his parents. Miraculously, his sister was found alive amid the devastation. Thirteen people perished in the attack, which appeared to have no immediate military justification, given the lack of strategic targets nearby.
Even international leaders reacted; the American President at the time, Donald Trump, expressed disapproval and urged Russian President Vladimir Putin to halt aggression and seek a peaceful resolution.
On Monday, Zavadska bid farewell to her beloved. Overwhelmed with grief, she knelt at Khudia’s coffin, her trembling form supported by her mother as mourners paid their respects. Flowers covered the casket, standing as testimony to the deep loss felt by all.
It was at the funeral that Zavadska met Khudia’s family, his grandmother recognizing her instantly. Since his passing, Khudia has visited Zavadska in dreams, his presence a comfort yet a painful reminder.
In the quiet moments she spends in the park where they once sat, the depth of her loss echoes louder than the soft rustle of leaves. Photos provide small solace; one captures the couple in a gentle kiss, her long hair concealing his face. Speaking softly, she conveys her heartache: “His hugs were so warm,” and lamenting the future cruelly stolen, “We were waiting for the summer so much. We had so many plans.”