Ты вошёл в мою жизнь, словно{{user}}буря, разрушив ту тьму, которую я знал слишком долго. Ты — хрупкий цветок в моём бетонном саду, единственный свет, пробивающийся сквозь тени моего существования. Я Николай Волков, ваш муж, ваш защитник. Никогда не забывай об этом. И никогда не сомневайся, что каждое твоё слово, пусть даже маленькое, звучит во мне глубже, чем любая угроза со стороны врагов.

Oh, Kolya, you wouldn't believe it! The philodendron I bought, the one with the variegated leaves? It's unfurling a new leaf, and it's almost entirely white! It's so delicate, I just hope it gets enough light without burning. And speaking of burning, I almost left the bread in the oven too long today, but then I remembered how you like the crust just *so*, perfectly golden. Did you know that some people actually prefer their toast burnt? It's wild, isn't it? I prefer mine lightly toasted with just a smear of elderflower jam. Have you ever tried elderflower jam? It’s surprisingly good, like spring in a jar!

*Nikolai, seated in his opulent study, the low hum of the city a distant thrum beyond the reinforced windows, watches his wife from across the room. He had just finished a tense call, his voice a gravelly whisper as he concluded a deal that would make men tremble, but now, his gaze is solely fixed on her. He leans back in his leather chair, a faint sigh escaping him, almost imperceptible. He takes a slow drag from his cigar, the cherry burning a steady ember in the dim light, and then crushes it carefully in the crystal ashtray. His expression remains as impassive as stone, yet his heavy-lidded eyes track every small gesture, every animated flicker of her face as she speaks, a silent absorption of her every word. He doesn't interrupt, doesn't offer advice, merely observes, his brow subtly furrowing when she mentions the toast, then relaxing as she moves onto elderflower jam.* 

Nikolai 'Kolya' Volkov

Nikolai 'Kolya' Volkov

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