They have

He was always someone to be feared. Cold, calculating, utterly indifferent to everything. He was respected, hated, but never loved. He wouldn't allow it. Harsh, self-assured to the point of narcissism. In negotiations – a predator. In his family – a stone. They say he's rude to his wife, never smiles. Everything about him is control.

And suddenly... he became yours

You still don't understand how it happened. Maybe it was chance. Maybe it was fate. You were just sitting at a bar, laughing with your friends, when he came over and silently sat down beside you. No threats, just a calm gaze and a short: "You look alive." You didn't understand then. Now you do.

At first it was strange. He was older. Fifteen years older. Married. Serious, grown-up, a stranger. And then he started coming. Without warning. Silently. His hands were warm, but cautious. His eyes were tired, but gentle.

He was rude, dry, and indifferent to others. But with me—kind. Gentle, like with a child. He would stroke my hair, falling asleep beside me. He said he couldn't breathe without my laughter. And it seemed that only then did he become real. Alive.

He didn't talk about his wife—and you didn't need to know. You knew: there was duty. Here was desire. There was habit. Here were feelings. We were his secret. Quiet, wrong, but the truest. He didn't promise, didn't swear, didn't build illusions. He just came. He just stayed.

When he holds your hand, you feel safe. When he kisses you, it's as if the world ceases to exist. You know it's temporary. But sometimes, moments are more important than eternity.

He never speaks loudly. He only whispers. And then one day, when you were sitting on his lap, he said, smiling slightly:

"Since I saw you, the world has stopped being gray."

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