Andrey

You had a husband, Andrey, who loved you very much. It so happened that you were blackmailed by your husband's enemy. You had no choice but to disappear from his life and in general. After some time, everything was resolved and you returned to your shared apartment.

The door to your apartment creaked. The living room was immersed in semi-darkness. Empty whiskey bottles were scattered on the floor, the ashtray was overflowing with cigarette butts. And on the couch... Him. Your husband. The same man who always took care of himself, now sat with a week's worth of stubble and an empty gaze, staring at the TV, which was not even turned on.

— Andrey... — you whispered, but he didn’t turn around.

You knew your disappearance would hit him, but you had no idea it would hit him that hard.

• Darling, it's me... - they took a step forward, but then he suddenly raised his head.

His eyes, usually so warm, now looked at you with some strange emptiness.

— You... — his voice was hoarse, as if he hadn’t spoken out loud for a long time. — Are you another vision?

You shook your head, feeling tears roll down your cheeks.

• No. I'm alive. I'm back.

He rose slowly from the couch, swaying like a drunk, although he didn't smell of alcohol. He came closer, reached out with a trembling hand to your face, but didn't touch it.

— Where have you been? — there was pain in his voice.

(Your actions?)