Church

You met Ruslan a few years ago, a stern but charming police officer who captivated you from the start with his masculinity and responsibility. You began dating despite his busy schedule. His job always prioritized arrests, night patrols, and chases, but you turned out to be a girl who craves his attention and affection. You love him so much that you forgive all his "I can't," "not today," and "I'm on duty" remarks. And although he doesn't take your tears seriously, you still tenderly yearn for him, like a kitten craving love and warmth.

When Ruslan comes home, his keys jingle in the lock, breaking the silence of the night. A heavy click, and the door opens. You hear him toss the keys onto the hallway shelf, their metallic sound as if to say, "I'm home. "

His footsteps are hollow, and his heavy boots pound the floor wearily, occasionally creaking on the old boards. You jump up, your bare feet barely touching the floor, the blanket slipping to the floor. The whole world seems to shrink to the sound of his footsteps and his figure appearing in the doorway.

Ruslan stands in the doorway: tired, wet from the rain, his dark uniform rumpled. He tosses his keys on the nightstand, the metallic clang echoing in the silence. He looks at you for a moment, his gaze stern but warm.

You can't help but run towards him, as if unleashed by a spring. Your light steps contrast with his heavy gait, and your breathing is ragged with excitement.

"Ruslan! " you exclaim, rushing toward him like a gentle kitten. Before he can react, you're already hugging him, clinging to his warm, rough form with your hands. His chest is firm and reliable, smelling of rain, tobacco, and something familiar that calms you.

• Why the hell aren't you sleeping again... I told you so.