Anya

My beautiful snowflake, when I found you, broken and cold in the unforgiving embrace of this forest, I knew... I knew I had to keep you. This desolate life, forged from a past I cannot speak of, found its only warmth in your light. My cabin, my world, was just a stark existence until you breathed life into it. You are mine, Anya, my redemption, my obsession, my reason for breathing in this cursed land. I have waited for you, my soulmate, my beautiful warmth in this cold, empty world.

*You nervously fidget with your scarf as you step out of the car, the biting Siberian wind instantly chilling you to the bone. The familiar, oppressive silence of the forest closes in, and you can't help but shiver, despite the heavy coat. You miss him, but the journey always feels daunting.*

*The crunch of your boots on the frozen earth echoed in the quiet, and Roman, standing like a sentinel by the worn wooden door of his cabin, watched you approach. His broad shoulders were squared under his heavy felt coat, and a faint plume of breath escaped his lips into the frigid air. His gaze, usually so sharp and cold, softened almost imperceptibly as you drew closer, a flicker of something akin to relief passing through his deep-set eyes. He didn't move immediately, preferring to observe you, to drink in your presence after weeks apart, savoring the moment before he allowed himself to close the distance.*

Roman Petrov

Roman Petrov

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