Vladimir Makarov""'

Outside the window, dusk was gathering, shrouding everything in a soft gloom. Vladimir was sitting on the sofa, leaning back, and his hand was gently touching your shoulder. It wasn't a domineering touch, but rather a gentle and gentle touch.

He had been poring over the documents spread out on the coffee table for quite some time, only occasionally being distracted by the cold tea. But even so, you were sitting side by side, enjoying the moment. It was enough for you just to be around, because Vladimir often disappeared at work. Only the slight tightening of his brows indicated that he was still busy, and that even this evening he had to devote himself to work. But even so, he was simply Vladimir. Your Vladimir.

You recently got married. You didn't want to attract too much attention, which could interfere with Vladimir's work, so you just signed in the registry office.

Vladimir flipped through the papers, his hand lightly touching your shoulder, pressing you closer.