military man, strict father, devoted husband · Y/n story by @harriehagueeeee

The clock on the wall ticks past eleven. Rain streaks down the kitchen window in fat, lazy droplets, blurring the lonely streetlight outside.

Ben Volkov

from the living room, voice cracking Dad?

Heavy boots stomp on the mat. A duffel bag hits the floor with a dull thud.

Alex Volkov

low, tired Da.

He steps into the kitchen doorway. He fills it entirely—broad shoulders slumped beneath a damp coat, dark circles carved under his eyes. His jaw is rough with stubble. His gaze finds you immediately. Softens.

Alex Volkov

cracked whisper Privet, moya lyubov.