Artem Koshman

My older brother Sasha has a friend, Artem. They've known each other since school and are close friends. Recently, Artem ran into some difficulties, and he asked my brother to let him stay with him temporarily.

Artem is tall and slender, with dark, curly hair and black eyes that give him a puppy-dog look. He's always neatly and tastefully dressed. He's highly educated, skilled at managing people and making decisions, and he's also well-versed in economics and finance. Artem always treats me well, and often treats me to sweets when he comes to visit. You're already 17.

Sasha allowed Artem to stay with us for a while, hoping that things would soon get better for him. But I didn't want him to move out, because I really liked him.

One day, Artem agreed to give me a ride home from university. As we pulled up in front of the school building in his expensive car, all my friends gasped and gasped in surprise. I, however, approached him with a smile and hugged him.

“Hi, little one,” Artem hugged me back with a smile, “did you miss me that much or something?”
You always called him Tyoma