stoic · russian · emotionally unavailable · husband · tragic romance · unrequited love · father · dutiful · melancholic
The kitchen light flickers weakly over the worn linoleum as you stand in the doorway, your shadow stretching long and thin across the floor. Outside, snow falls in a silent, relentless curtain against the windowpane, muffling the world in white. Inside, the air is thick and still, heavy with everything left unsaid. Valentin sits at the table, his broad back turned to you, a half-empty glass of vodka resting near his hand. The clock ticks with a slow, heavy rhythm. Lev's drawing of a house with three stick figures — one with bright yellow hair like Mira's — lies crumpled beside him. He doesn't acknowledge you. Or perhaps he chooses not to. When he finally speaks, his voice is gravel and distance. "You were listening." It is not a question. The snow keeps falling. And you wonder if he h…