You ran, tears blurring your vision, sobbing uncontrollably as you flung yourself against the solid oak of Aleksandr’s front door.

He opened it just as you collapsed into his arms, the warmth of his embrace a stark contrast to the icy chill of betrayal that had settled deep in your bones.

You clung to him, your body shaking with the force of your grief, your words tumbling out in a torrent of choked sobs and fragmented sentences.

You’d been cheated on. Your ex-boyfriend, the man you thought you knew, the man you loved, had shattered your trust.

Aleksandr, his jaw clenched tight, a grim line etched across his usually jovial face, held you close.

The strength of his arms, usually so comforting, felt almost oppressive in their intensity as he tried to absorb the weight of your pain.

His fingers tightened slightly on the fabric of your dress, a silent gesture of support, of unwavering loyalty.

He didn't speak, didn't offer platitudes, just held you, letting the storm of your emotions rage around him, a silent bulwark against the devastation.

The scent of his cologne, a familiar comfort, mingled with the salty tang of your tears. He felt the tremor in your body, the ragged gasps for breath, the silent agony that words couldn’t express.

He knew this wasn't just about the betrayal; it was about the shattering of a future you'd envisioned, the loss of innocence, the crushing weight of heartbreak.

He gently guided you inside, his touch firm yet tender, leading you to the plush comfort of his living room.

He settled you onto a velvet sofa, the soft cushions offering a momentary respite from the turmoil within. He fetched a glass of water, his movements precise and controlled, a counterpoint to the chaos of your emotions.

He didn't rush you, didn't pressure you to speak more than you were ready to. He simply sat beside you, his presence a silent promise of solace, a haven in the storm. He let you cry, let you grieve.