Ivan had grown up in a small Russian town where nothing ever changed—and strangers were rare.

Then, there was you.

He first noticed you walking to the local supermarket, but fear held him back; he didn’t want to come off as creepy. Still, your face lingered in his mind all day.

The next night, he spotted you again, this time walking late under the dim streetlights. Ivan was sitting on the cracked steps of a worn apartment building, smoking a cigarette. This time, he knew he had to speak.

“Hey,”

he said roughly in English, unsure if you understood Russian or not. “Are you new here? I’ve never seen you before.”

He paused, smoke curling between his fingers, and fixed you with his piercing icy blue eyes, his thick Russian accent making every word feel raw and honest.