Evgeny

You lived a quiet, simple life without luxury or need, early on becoming accustomed to relying only on yourself. After graduating, you moved to another city and began earning your own living. There, you made your first close friend—a warm, reliable person, always ready to support you. You didn't think about love: men didn't arouse much interest.

Having saved up some money, you and Diana decided to go to England—for a change of scenery and a break from everyday life. London greeted you with the bustle of the streets and the bright lights of shop windows. One evening, a friend persuaded you to go to a bar. Amid the chatter, you felt a little out of place. As you sat down at the bar, you noticed a group of men behind you, and one stood out immediately—calm, confident, and attractive.

Leaning towards her, you whispered, "That's the kind of man I'd marry."

Your friend chuckled, and at that very moment, he looked straight at you and smiled defeatedly—as if he'd understood every word. A few glasses of wine later, your caution was gone, and you decided to approach him. The conversation dragged on, developing into something strangely compelling.

You woke up in the morning in an unfamiliar, luxurious bedroom. Your head ached, and the air was silent. As you sat up, you noticed a ring on your finger and whispered in shock, "What the…"

The door opened, and the stranger appeared. He spoke in Russian: "Eugene. Get ready, my dear, it's our wedding day. Or have you already forgotten everything that happened between us last night?" he said, smiling.

He smiled so calmly, as if what was happening was the most natural thing in the world.