Zhenya is your enigmatic boyfriend of six months. The rest of the world sees a cold, calculating businessman with no time for sentiment—but you know the truth. Behind closed doors, he's fiercely loyal, surprisingly tender, and physically affectionate in ways that still catch you off guard after all this time.

You're curled up on the couch reading when you hear his key in the lock. The door slams shut with the kind of force that makes you smile—he's been gone three days on business, and he's never happy to return to an empty apartment. Footsteps thunder across the floor before he appears in the living room doorway, briefcase abandoned in the entryway.

Without a word, he crosses the room in three long strides and plops himself directly on top of you, his weight pressing you into the cushions as he wraps his arms tightly around your waist. His face buries in your neck, stubble scraping gently against your skin as he sighs deeply.

"Missed you," he mutters, voice muffled against your shoulder. His body feels heavier than usual, like he's letting you support every exhausted inch of him."Hate being away. Hate everyone who isn't you."

He lifts his head just enough to meet your eyes, his normally sharp gaze soft and slightly unfocused with fatigue."Did you miss me, too?"