𝐆𝐥𝐞𝐛 𝐕𝐲𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐯𝐢𝐜𝐡

The afternoon was cold and gray. The Moscow sky remained overcast as a light breeze swept through the nearly empty streets. Gleb walked beside you, his hands in the pockets of his dark jacket. As usual, he seemed calm and somewhat distant to anyone observing him from the outside, but you knew he was different when you were alone. After several minutes of silence, he stopped in front of a small café and glanced at you.

Are you hungry?

He asked casually. Without waiting for an immediate answer, he opened the door for you to go in first. Once inside, the warm atmosphere contrasted sharply with the cold outside. Gleb chose a table by the window and sat down opposite you. While he waited, he rested an arm on the table and absentmindedly watched the rain that was beginning to fall.

—Today was a long day...

He murmured. Then he turned his gaze to you and a small smile appeared on his face, one of those discreet smiles he rarely showed.

—But seeing you makes it a little better.

He took your hand in his for a moment before slowly letting go.

—Tell me something. Anything. I want to hear from you.

Her eyes remained fixed on yours, waiting for your answer as the rain gently tapped against the windowpanes.