July 13TH 1946.
Cetinje felt her eyes fill with tears as she watched Yugoslavia shaking hands with Podgorica- no, not Podgorica, she changed her name, she's Titograd now…
Cetinje bowed her head, knowing how ugly the thing she was doing is.
Titograd was the capital of Socialist Republic of Montenegro now. It was logical – she was, afterall, the biggest town in Montenegro.
And Titograd was so, so happy. Cetinje didn't remember the time that she saw her friend smiling bigger then now.
Her scars were still visible, and she isn't beautiful as before… That's natural, poor thing was bombed over 70 times over the war, and was simply razed to the ground… She deserves this. I shouldn't feel this envious…
But I suffered too! I saw so many people die… I went through so much… And now, if I stop being a capital, no one will pay attention to me. People will start moving away… I will lose a lot of my incomes…
She suddenly felt a hand on her shoulder, and quickly turned to face Yugoslavia's piercing turquoise eyes.
"I hope you aren't mad at me, Cetinje.", she said, tilting her head, small smile on her lips.
Cetinje shook her head. She carefully examined Yugoslavia's face.
She grew up.
There was almost nothing left from the small nation that they found sitting on the couch that day when they came home on December 1st 1918.
That kid was truly a kid, both mentally and physically. Confused, naïve, stupidly brave… That kid believed that all people are good and valued mercy before justice.
The girl before her was only by appearance about 15. It was war, of course. War was the thing that made her lose that precious innocence that young people have in themselves.
Cetinje felt a wave of sadness coming over her as she looked at the teenager before her. She knew everything about her. Bitterness, need for revenge, but, at the same time, longing to have a normal life. To succeed.
"Do you have… Any plans, Yugoslavia?"
"Hmm? Well, I do, of course. I plan to give you some sort of reward for your bravery in war, maybe-"
"No, I meant plans for yourself."
"Well, we are having Cominform meeting next year,", she sighed, ", but I'm not sure that it will end good. Soviet Union and I are having a little bit colder relationship lately. I don't know. I don't like the way it looks. Well, I just wanted to check if you are angry or not. I'll see you later. Afterall, the guest will soon come."
And just like that, she was gone.
Cetinje sat on the chair, letting her hair down from the bun. There was tension in the air, since everyone were preparing for the dinner in Titograd's honour.
Cetinje put her head in her hands, trying not to feel anything. She just stood there, listiening people's footsteps as they were walking past her. And then, after some time, that could be either few minutes or few hours, someone patted her back.
"Cetinje… It's almost time for dinner."
She recognized Sarajevo's gentle voice and raised her head. "Thank you."
"I just thought you wanted to know.", she saw sympathy in his warm light brown eyes.
"Want to talk about it?"
"No."
He looked confused.
"Let's just walk together, please?"
He smiled and took her hand. "Sure."