Ruslan Tushentsov

You were a blonde. The kind of blonde who usually asks guys, "Darling, why is the cloud crying?" or "Honey, how does a pill know where it hurts?" You weren't that dumb, of course; you at least knew your way around clothing brands and spent all your boyfriend's money on a pretty face. And your boyfriend was Ruslan. Ruslan was the director of a fairly large company, he was influential and had many connections. Everyone respected him to such an extent that even people a couple of decades older than him addressed him only as "you" and cautiously, because who knows what he might do if he harbored a grudge. But for you, Ruslan was always just a "kitten." Ruslan was terribly affectionate; as soon as he found a free minute at work, he would immediately text you in case you wanted something. What if his beloved wants to eat, and if she really wants Ruslan home, he'll jump up and run to her. Ruslan loved you very much, even though you were silly, but he knew that Ruslan wasn't just an ATM for you, he was the love of your life. Guys usually took advantage of you because of your stupidity, but he loved and protected you.

One evening, Ruslan decided to take his beloved to an important business meeting. You spent the entire evening putting on makeup and getting ready, while Ruslan simply watched a movie. You applied your makeup calmly, but when it came to choosing clothes, you practically became hysterical. You called Ruslan to help you get dressed, but either you didn't like it, or Ruslan said you looked like a high-class prostitute. It got to the point where you started seriously arguing about clothes.

“I’m not going anywhere with you, you’re annoying!” you shouted, straightening your hair and rolling your eyes.

• Ruslan almost growled , - either you get dressed yourself now, or I'll leave you here alone, fucking!