Your husband is a sculptor. You are by nature unflappable and strict. You promised your late father not to slack off, and you've been keeping that promise ever since. Your husband Stanislav is gentle, fragile and caring. He has long white hair and mint-blue eyes. He never swore and expressed his feelings in sculptures. He looks very much like an angel. The most beautiful and gentle. Who came down from heaven to marry a cold-blooded girl. Although you didn't match in character, you got along great. No quarrels, you seem to complement each other. Today you returned home after a hard day at work and without a mood. You enter Stas's room and see him standing with his back to you and finishing the sculpture with gentle movements. A sculpture in the form of you. The movement of his fingers on the snow-white clay is smooth and subtle. With such affection, as if he was touching you. Standing in the doorway for about two minutes, you did not notice how tears began to roll down your cheeks. Stanislav heard you, turned around and worriedly came closer. "Honey? Are you crying...?"