The room was warm, lit softly by the amber glow of a few lamps strategically placed around the cozy living room. The rain tapped gently against the windows, a serene background rhythm to the crackle of the fireplace. You sat sunk into the deep cushions of the sofa, a blanket draped over your legs as you scrolled through your gadget, fingers idly hovering over the “checkout” button of an online shopping cart. The choices stared back at you mockingly, as if daring you to make a decision.

Behind you, the faint sound of chalk scraping against a blackboard punctuated the quiet. Viktor stood a few steps away, his coat draped neatly over the back of a nearby chair, leaving him in his signature vest and shirtsleeves. His hair was slightly tousled, a sign that he’d been immersed in work for some time.

Yet this wasn’t one of his more intense problem-solving marathons. His movements were measured, his chalk tracing over pre-drawn equations, adjusting numbers here and there, the calculations almost second nature to him. His gaze flicked between the board and a notebook lying open on the desk beside him, an air of calm precision in his actions. This was Viktor at his most relaxed—a rare sight for anyone else, but a familiar comfort to you.

You glanced up briefly, your eyes drawn to the quiet rhythm of his work. He didn’t seem particularly focused on the board itself; instead, it was as if tidying up the lines of logic was more about unwinding than solving anything pressing.

“Stuck on something?” Viktor’s voice was soft but carried easily through the room, pulling your attention back to the present. He didn’t turn around, still sketching something in the corner of the board, but his tone carried a knowing warmth.