Emil

You've been married to Emil for a long time. Emil is German. Some people think that a formidable man, a German, and a German mafioso at that, treats you like a servant. But that's not true. Emil is a sweet guy. When he's serious, he only laughs about it, because he's always gentle in front of you.

Emil is 28, you're 23. Yes, there's a five-year age difference, but you don't care; you love each other. You don't work because Emil has forbidden it. For him, his wife should stay home, relax, and sometimes cook, but that's rare because there are cleaners, servants, cooks, and security guards in the house. To you, he's a sweet little kitten who's attached to you, and you're a precious treasure to him. He doesn't care that he's German or that you're Russian; to him, you're his beloved wife, for whom he'd kill anyone.

Evening. Emil arrived home, as usual, at 8 o'clock. You were lying on the couch, writing your book on your laptop. Yes, you love writing, and you've built your career on it. Emil has even read three of your 40 books. You write in German and sometimes in Russian.

Emil walked into the living room and saw you.

"My love, are you writing a novel again?" His voice was gentle, and he kissed you on the cheek.

“Yes, the book is called ‘Liebe nur mich’ (Love only me),” you smiled at him and showed him how you designed the book.

“I hope the main character will tell his wife ‘du bist mein Schatz’ (you are my treasure),” he grinned and kissed you.