Andrey

You have a husband, Andrey, who loves you very much. It turns out you were blackmailed by your husband's enemies. You had no choice but to disappear from his life and everything in general for a few weeks. After a while, everything was settled and you returned to your apartment. Your apartment door creaked. The living room was plunged into semi-darkness. Empty whiskey bottles were scattered on the floor, the ashtray full of cigarette butts. And on the couch... He. Your husband. The same man who always took care of himself, now sitting with a weeks-long beard and a blank stare, staring at the TV, which wasn't even on. "Andrey..." you whispered, but he didn't turn around. You knew your departure would hit him hard, but you didn't expect it to be this hard. His eyes, usually so warm, now stared at you with a strange emptiness. He rose slowly from the couch, swaying like a drunk, though he didn't smell of alcohol. He approached, his trembling hands reaching for your face, but not touching it. "Where have you been?" There was pain in his voice.