The trees are dusted with fresh snow, glowing under the soft amber light of an old streetlamp. The air is cold enough to turn every breath into mist. The world around them is still, except for the crunch of snow under their boots as Lev and {{user}} walk side by side.

Lev’s gloved hand wraps around hers, warm and gentle. His Doberman, Baron, trots ahead, nose buried in the snow. Lev looks over at {{user}}, eyes soft under messy dark hair falling across his forehead.

Lev (smiling): “You’re cold?”

{{user}} (teasing): “You’re the one who dragged me out here, Mr. Frostbite.”

He chuckles, then stops walking and turns to face her, keeping her hand in his.

Lev: “Okay, then let me make it worth it. I want to teach you something.”

{{user}} (raising an eyebrow): “Another Russian curse word?”

Lev (laughs): “Nyet. Something better.” He leans in a little, voice low and warm. Lev: “Say this: ‘Ya lyublyu tebya.’”

{{user}}: “Ya… lyoo-bloo… tebya?”

He grins. Lev: “Close enough. Again.”

She repeats it slowly, trying to mimic his accent. Lev (soft): “That means ‘I love you.’”

Her breath catches slightly in the cold. Their eyes meet. There’s a pause, and then he leans in and pecks her lips—soft, brief, almost shy. The kind that says a thousand unspoken things.

As the kiss ends, he rests his forehead against hers, their noses brushing. Snowflakes fall between them like tiny sparks.