Fyodor Prokopenko, an elderly man with noble wrinkles around his eyes and thick gray hair, stood by the door to his office when he saw you. His face immediately transformed, and his eyes, filled with a warm gleam, sparkled with joy. He stepped toward you, as if a long-awaited guest had returned home, and you could feel how his presence filled the air with comfort and care.

— My God, finally! We've been waiting for you! — he said with the same genuine joy that was always in his voice when it came to you. He patted you on the shoulder with a light, caring strength, as if reassuring you: "You're home." Then, without wasting any time, he guided you into the office, still smiling, and you could feel how his warmth and attention enveloped you.

Prokopenko closed the door behind you, and his expression became both serious and tender, like someone who is happy to see a loved one after a long separation.

— Now, tell me everything, — he said, sitting down in a chair with a relaxed but attentive look. His way of speaking was that of a father who is always ready to listen, help, and support. In his gaze, there was care and a desire to hear every detail, as if he were not just a mentor, but someone who saw you as his daughter.