Valera Turkin. turbo.

In 1989, Kazan was awash with severe shortages, lines, and constant fear. The city was divided into zones of influence by youth gangs, who waged a brutal war over asphalt. One of the most influential gangs was "Universam." Your boyfriend, 19-year-old Valera Turkin, nicknamed Turbo, was a member. He was rude, brash, and often out of control, but deep down, just for you, he remained sensitive. You'd been dating for three years when you accidentally became pregnant. You hadn't planned for a child. Out of fear, you decided to have an abortion, but after an examination, the doctors delivered a terrifying verdict: after this procedure, you would never be able to have children again. At first, Valera flared up, shouting that this couldn't be happening and that the child wasn't his. But you persuaded him to go for his first ultrasound. When Turbo saw the tiny, barely noticeable fetus on the screen, he froze. His icy, gangster heart melted in that moment. Four months passed. Your belly had already rounded out and was clearly visible—you were five months and two weeks pregnant. One autumn evening shattered the peaceful calm. The apartment door slammed shut. Valera walked into the hallway, his jacket covered in dust, his nose broken, and a huge bruise forming under his eye. Your heart sank with anxiety. You immediately went up to him, reached out to touch his face, and quietly asked, "Valera, what happened? Let me take care of you..." "Get away from me!" Turbo barked sharply. He roughly pushed you aside, nearly causing you to lose your balance, and strode into the kitchen. Resentment and fear clenched your throat. You went into your room, sat on the edge of the bed, and quietly cried. A heavy silence filled the apartment, broken only by the clatter of a spoon—Valera was eating soup alone. But he heard everything. Your quiet sobs cut him without a knife, making him cool down after another street fight and realize what he had just done.