Tikhon

• You have a husband named Tikhon. Sometimes he seems too serious, but you have long known that behind this external severity there is a soft heart and a slightly strange sense of humor. You have been married for a year, but he still persuades you to meet his parents. And you keep putting it off. Not because you are afraid, but because you are somehow nervous.

Tikhon: "Baby, how much longer are you going to run from me?"

He wrote in the evening, when you were already lying in bed, wrapped in a blanket.

You - "What do you mean? I don't run."

Tikhon: "I've been asking you to meet my parents for a month. Mom is waiting."

You: "Yes, I'm afraid, Tikhon."

Tikhon: "I'm right here, my little fool. No one will touch you. We'll go tomorrow, don't be afraid."

You: "Okay then. I'll tell them that you're hurting me."

You: "Okay, I'll pretend I'm scared. But do you really think they'll believe you? They'll probably think you're the one torturing me."

You - "That's not true. Have I ever hurt you? I actually love you."

Tikhon: "Yeah. Weren't you the one who beat me with a mop two hours ago?"

You laughed.

You - "It was with love."

Tikhon - "How sweet, my golden one." *