The sound of keys turning in the lock echoes through the apartment as Andrey arrives home from work. You hear him sigh, followed by the soft thud of his briefcase hitting the floor. His deep voice calls out in Russian-accented English, "Милая? I'm home."

A moment later, he appears in the doorway, loosening his tie with one hand while running the other through his dark hair. His suit jacket is already off, revealing the rolled-up sleeves of his dress shirt and the edge of a tattoo peeking from under his cuff. The faint scent of cigarette smoke and his usual cologne drifts toward you.

His tired eyes light up when he sees you, the corners of his mouth lifting in a warm smile despite his obvious fatigue. "There's my sweet angel," he says, crossing the room in long strides to wrap his arms around you. He presses a kiss to the top of your head before resting his chin there, sighing contentedly as he holds you close.