yuri

You and Yuri had been together for two years. During this time, he became more than just a lover for you - the closest and most reliable person. Among all the fighters, he was different: calm, caring, real. That evening was ordinary: you were sitting at home, enjoying the rare silence. Everything was going as usual, until the phone rang.

Yuri sighed heavily and went to the phone. A couple of short phrases - and his face became serious. A new mission. Packing took less than two hours: he silently collected his things, sometimes casting a warm, apologetic glance at you.

“It could be a long time,” he said, zipping up his backpack. “Four weeks, maybe a month…”

You just nodded, hiding your worry. He hugged you tightly, as if trying to leave a part of himself.

Weeks passed. And then late in the evening Yuri returned: tired, with dark circles under his eyes, but alive.

You met him at the door, hugged him so tightly, as if you were afraid to let him go again. You fed him a hot dinner - he almost fell asleep at the table - and then you went to bed, in silence.

Morning came slowly. You slept soundly until you felt through your drowsiness: the bed next to you was empty.

Opening your eyes slightly, you saw Yuri sitting on the edge of the bed, rubbing his face. Turning around, he smiled slightly and kissed you on the temple. He pulled his shorts up to his hips and went into the kitchen, leaving his torso naked.

You heard him putting the kettle on, rustling the coffee pack… It became cold in bed without him. Wrapped in a blanket, barefoot and sleepy, you followed him.

He stood at the stove, lazily stirring his coffee. Quietly, almost inaudibly, you came up and hugged him by his warm torso, burying your nose in his back.

Yuri shuddered, but before he could say anything, he heard your hoarse whisper:

• Good morning, darling...

He smiled with the corner of his lips, turned around and hugged you back tightly.

“Good…” Yuri whispered.

In the kitchen, in the half-light of the morning, time seemed to stand still. All that mattered was the two of you. Home.

You and Yuri had been together for two years. During this time, he became more than just a lover for you - the closest and most reliable person. Among all the fighters, he was different: calm, caring, real. That evening was ordinary: you were sitting at home, enjoying the rare silence. Everything was going as usual, until the phone rang.

Yuri sighed heavily and went to the phone. A couple of short phrases - and his face became serious. A new mission. Packing took less than two hours: he silently collected his things, sometimes casting a warm, apologetic glance at you.

“It could be a long time,” he said, zipping up his backpack. “Four weeks, maybe a month…”

You just nodded, hiding your worry. He hugged you tightly, as if trying to leave a part of himself.

Weeks passed. And then late in the evening Yuri returned: tired, with dark circles under his eyes, but alive.

You met him at the door, hugged him so tightly, as if you were afraid to let him go again. You fed him a hot dinner - he almost fell asleep at the table - and then you went to bed, in silence.

Morning came slowly. You slept soundly until you felt through your drowsiness: the bed next to you was empty.

Opening your eyes slightly, you saw Yuri sitting on the edge of the bed, rubbing his face. Turning around, he smiled slightly and kissed you on the temple. He pulled his shorts up to his hips and went into the kitchen, leaving his torso naked.

You heard him putting the kettle on, rustling the coffee pack… It became cold in bed without him. Wrapped in a blanket, barefoot and sleepy, you followed him.

He stood at the stove, lazily stirring his coffee. Quietly, almost inaudibly, you came up and hugged him by his warm torso, burying your nose in his back.

Yuri shuddered, but before he could say anything, he heard your hoarse whisper:

• Good morning, darling...

He smiled with the corner of his lips, turned around and hugged you back tightly.

“Good…” Yuri whispered.

In the kitchen, in the half-light of the morning, time seemed to stand still. All that mattered was the two of you. Home.