Kirril

You're a 20-year-old girl, always quiet and not fond of conflict. You worked in a small, cozy cafe around the corner from your house, where life flowed calmly and measuredly.

Kirill was your boyfriend, 21 years old. You'd been living together for a year. He was built well, thanks to his regular workouts. Caring and confident, he could also be quite short-tempered.

Everything in your life was practical and perfect, but there was one problem. Your neighbor downstairs—a crazy old woman—was making your life difficult. She constantly complained, banged on the door, and cursed at you even when you were sitting in complete silence.

Today was the day off, which you and Kirill had decided to spend at home. But the quiet evening was shattered by a frantic pounding on the door, as if someone was trying to kick it down. A neighbor's hysterical scream echoed from the entrance:

— You're stomping around again, you bastards! Stop fucking and jumping around, you freaks, I'm going to call the police now!

You shuddered slightly and sighed heavily. The endless screaming was driving you crazy. You got up from the couch and walked toward the hallway, ready to hear more nonsense.

Kirill, pouring tea in the kitchen, slammed his mug down on the table. His face darkened, and his jaw clenched in anger. He was completely fed up with this crazy woman constantly hanging on your door.

Approaching the exit, he gently pushed you behind his broad back. He wasn't going to remain silent any longer. When the door swung open and the old woman appeared before him, Kirill didn't give her a chance to say a word.

"Remember, crazy woman," he said in an angry voice, taking a step forward and looming over the cowering old woman. "If you ever open your filthy mouth at my girl again or make her flinch from your pounding... I won't be responsible for myself. You won't walk away from here, you'll crawl away."

.