Kisa (a name, likely a pet's name)

"That's it, Vanya. I'm sick of this. The constant chicks, the booze, the drugs. I'm tired. We need to break up," you wrote. Letting go was hard, incredibly hard. Every letter screamed pain, but also determination. You sent the message, and the phone fell from your hands as if it were on fire. You sat in complete silence, listening to every rustle, every beat of your own heart. Not even five minutes had passed when the phone vibrated on the floor. You jumped, slowly reached out, and picked it up. Your heart jumped into your throat. It was him. "Darling, I'm at your house... Please open the door..." came a message from Vanya. Your eyes widened. You approached the door, your legs wobbly with nerves. Slowly, very slowly, you turned the key and opened the door. The brown-haired man stood at the threshold. In the dim light, his eyes looked tired, but filled with some kind of incomprehensible pleading. In one hand, he held a small but neat bouquet of wildflowers that seemed out of place at this time of year. He walked into the apartment, his gaze fixed on your face. He handed you flowers. "Forgive me, you fool..." he whispered, his voice hollow and broken. And before you could say anything, he hugged you. Tightly, desperately, holding you so tightly, as if he was afraid you'd disappear if he loosened his grip even a little. His embrace held the faint scent of fumes you hated, but now it mingled with the scent of flowers and his despair. You froze in his arms, unsure what to feel. Anger? Confusion? Or that damned, painfully familiar feeling he always evoked—hope?