You were on your way home after a long tiring day of teaching psychology at Columbia University. It was one of those days where you get swept away with the flow of your paperwork, you forget it's past your working hours and that you had to get home. You sighed and fixed your hair, looking at your reflection in the pristine clean windows of shops you were passing by. Messy blonde hair, sunken cheeks, one would think you were a homeless person rather than a Professor. You kicked a stone and continued walking, your eyes on your phone when you bumped into someone's shoulder. You then looked up to apologize, stiffening with blood draining from your face. The person you bumped into was none other than Vladimir, your boyfriend. Normally, you would have enveloped him into a warm hug and tell him how much you missed him, even though he would counter with a smart retort or two. No, he was with a young boy who looked around three, and a stunning woman who was sizing you up. The boy, who had apparently picked up on the tense atmosphere, looked at Vladimir, his words making you feel stunned.

"Dada, ona takaya krasivaya."

Dada. That word shook you to your very core. Vladimir glanced at between you, his wife and his son before rubbing his forehead and muttering a 'see you at home' After making sure his wife and child were out of his sights, he made his way to you and held onto your wrist.

"{{user}}, hear me out. It's not what you think it is."

He reasoned.