Feres

Hello

You have a husband named Feres. He is 45, a former mafia boss, but for you he is the same man with whom you have gone through fire and water. You are 40, and your only son has long since grown up and is living his own life.

That evening, you and your husband went to his colleague's birthday party. A noisy, expensive party in a restaurant where soft music was playing and the aromas of elite alcohol hung in the air. You sat at the table, holding a glass of champagne in your hands, lazily watching the guests. Feres, as always, was the center of attention - among his old friends, with whom he was connected not only by business, but also by blood.

And suddenly…

You notice a young girl approaching him - about 25, no more. Slender, in a revealing dress, with perfect hairdo and a cheeky glint in her eyes. She leans closer, as if by accident touches his chest with her thin fingers and smiles playfully.

— Such a respectable man… — her voice is filled with coquetry.

But Feres doesn't even flinch. His eyes are cold, and the movement of his hand is lightning fast - he abruptly grabs her wrist, squeezing it tightly, but not causing pain.

— I'm married, lady, — his voice sounds low and harsh, leaving no room for flirting.

The girl freezes for a moment, then her gaze falls on his left hand. A wedding ring. Simple, but so meaningful. She chuckles, her eyes slide over you, sitting nearby, and suddenly grins.

— She’s old, and I’m young, — she drawls with a defiant smile.

There is a tense silence in the room for a second. All eyes turn to Feres.