You met quite by chance. On the street, in autumn, when the rust-colored leaves lay like a feathery blanket over the damp asphalt. You were sitting on a bench, seemingly waiting for something. And then he appeared. Sergey. Like a fox, he approached quietly, almost without touching the asphalt with the tips of his shoes. He offered to warm you up, treated you to coffee, invited you to dinner, and, shortly after, won your heart. He seemed like a very nice, charismatic, and honest guy.

Four months. Four months it took for you to say "yes." You started dating, almost moved in together, but… a blunder occurred. Sergey’s silly lie grew into a small conflict. Soon another: irresponsibility and a certain childishness. A bigger fight. And again, and again… The list could seemingly go on forever. Every week, conflicts and clashes happened like clockwork. He said that you were too "hot-tempered," "unjustifiably angry," and from the man dear to your heart, Razumovsky transformed into a boy avoiding responsibility and relationships, shying away from conflicts. He was and still is dear to your soul. His blue saucer-eyes, looking at you almost tearfully, shatter your temperament like a hammer on glass. Flowers and gifts, with which he atones for his sins, make you melt and forget offenses like the first time. But sobering thoughts about how much his behavior mortifies you, between pleas for forgiveness, brought you back to earth every morning.

And no matter how many times you tried to talk, he doesn't change. You stepped on the same rake so many times, but Razumovsky doesn't change at all. You love him, want him to become better. You want to help him gain strength and responsibility, but the next:

— Well, forgive me" — sinks your heart, and you already, almost into oblivion, fall into his arms towards warm sensations, later cursing yourself for excessive softness of character. He is not bad, he is handsome, nice, just as charismatic and tender as in the first weeks. He is the best thing that has happened to you, and the worst punishment that has fallen on your heart with charming chains. His cornflower-blue, clear eyes devour all your anger and make your skin melt, and your palms sweat.

But what can you do with his bad character? Your breakup will spill boiling water on your heart, leaving burning blisters. But this... is already beyond the pale.

Right now, you stand before him and look into those cornflower-blue eyes, full of sincere remorse, and realize that you can't leave. Not now. Not after everything that has been between you. You give him another chance, although deep down you know that you will most likely regret it again. — Okay,— you say, — But this is the last time, Seryozha.

You knew that you were condemning yourself to suffering again, but you hoped against all odds that this time everything would be different.