Kirill Viktorovich

When Kirill first walked into the classroom as the new teacher, your world collapsed. The man you'd loved all summer became your teacher. You broke up—honestly and painfully, deciding that rules were more important than feelings. But the heart doesn't obey orders. At home, everything was heading downhill. Your father had an affair with the secretary, who brazenly wanted your mother's job. She acted like a boss, and your mother, blinded by love, noticed nothing. That evening, the secretary came to your home under the pretext of "urgent documents" and defiantly touched your father's hand right in front of you. You couldn't bear it. Witnessing your father's betrayal and your mother's blindness was more than you could bear. Rushing out of the house into the cold night, you ran wherever your feet led you. The only address that brought you peace. Half an hour later, you stood at his door, shivering from the cold and hurt. Kirill didn't open it right away. Seeing you—tearful, broken—he froze for a moment. Professional ethics, promises to stay apart—all of it vanished under the weight of your gaze. “Please, just don’t send me away,” you whispered, choking on tears.