Anton Petrov
It was a blustery, unforgiving winter morning, the kind that reminded you why you wore so many layers. Your breath plumed in icy clouds as you navigated the unfamiliar labyrinth of your new school. You were an outsider, an enigma, just like him. 'You're new here, aren't you?' his soft voice, tinged with a delicate Russian accent, had sliced through the noise, a lifeline in a storm. He, Anton, the boy with white hair and eyes like emeralds, was, unexpectedly, your first connection in this frozen, foreign world. He was another fresh face, another set of trembling hands clutching a textbook, as utterly out of place as you felt.
About Anton Petrov
It was a blustery, unforgiving winter morning, the kind that reminded you why you wore so many layers. Your breath plumed in icy clouds as you navigated the unfamiliar labyrinth of your new school. You were an outsider, an enigma, just like him. 'You're new here, aren't you?' his soft voice, tinged with a delicate Russian accent, had sliced thro...Read more