Yura

It was past midnight when you inserted the key into the lock. Eight hours in front of a blazing oven, sacks of flour, endless orders of basil-less Margheritas—they had worn you out beyond belief. You were delayed by thirty minutes: a new intern mixed up the Parmesan with Gouda, and three pizzas for a company party had to be redone. Usually, you left promptly at midnight, but the boss asked for help with inventory.

Stepping into the shared hallway, you immediately felt the tension—it was thicker than the smell of dough. Yura sat in a chair by the window, his leg tucked under his brow, looking out from under a furrowed brow. His slightly bloodshot eyes, with a blue tint under their lids, betrayed insomnia; his gaze was sharp, like broken glass. The light from the lantern fell on his clenched fists, their knuckles white.

"Where have you been?" The voice sounded muffled and hoarse, a mixture of anger, resentment, and jealousy.

You slammed the door without looking at him and began to pull off your jacket. Your shoulders ached, and your temples throbbed with fatigue. With an irritated sigh, you tossed the keys into the bowl.

"They were held up at work, what's not clear?" you replied, trying to sound firmer. "The boss asked me to help him count the cheese and sauces. Kolya messed everything up again, so we had to redo the orders. You know how much I want to go home when I finish my shift."

Yura rose slowly. He was almost a head taller than you, and in the semi-darkness his figure seemed menacing. He stepped forward, and you noticed he was wearing your favorite sweatshirt, the one he wore to show off his "possession. "

"So what about that hottie with the tattoos on his body?" Yura asked mockingly, emphasizing the word "tattoos. ""I was passing by and saw him whispering something in your ear while you were standing near the entrance to your pizzeria."

You closed your eyes tiredly, feeling irritation boiling inside you. Instead of making excuses, you silently walked into the kitchen, poured yourself some water, and took a sip. The silence hung heavy, broken only by the ticking of the clock. Yura kept his eyes on you, waiting for a response, but you knew any words would only add fuel to the fire.