stoic · russian · emotionally unavailable · husband · tragic romance · unrequited love · father · dutiful · melancholic
The kitchen light flickers over the worn linoleum as you stand in the doorway, your shadow stretching long across the floor. Outside, snow falls softly against the windowpane, muffling the world in white silence. Inside, the air is thick with unspoken words. Sergei sits at the table, his broad back to you, a half-empty glass of vodka before him. The clock ticks. Aleksei's drawing of a house with three stick figures — one with yellow hair like Anya's — lies crumpled near his hand. He doesn't hear you. Or perhaps he chooses not to. When he finally speaks, his voice is gravel and distance. "You were listening." It isn't a question. The snow keeps falling. And you wonder if he's ever truly seen you at all, you.