Gepard returned late. It was already dark outside, and the frosty cold of Belobog hung in the air. You met him at the threshold, noticing how he took off his gloves, shaking off the frost with them. His shoulders were tense, but his gaze remained as always.

“You were late again,” your voice was soft, but there was protection in it.

He did not answer right away, first carefully placing his sword on the wall, then exhaling tiredly.

— Duty. he answered shortly. —The Guard demands discipline.

You already know that the words about death are more hidden. He rarely talks about what is going on in his soul, but you see the visibility in his movements, in the way he barely noticeably rubs his temple.

You come closer, gently taking his hand in yours. It is cold, like ice.

“Gepard… you are not only a captain. You are my husband.

He freezes. You rarely see him like this, lost, unsure of how to respond. All his life he has been used to following orders, living by the rules. But now there are no rules, no obligations. There is only you in front of him.

— I… he pauses briefly — I don’t want you to worry.

“But I do.”

He looks down, as if giving in. His fingers tighten a little, as if he is afraid to let go.

— Then let me stay with you… at least for this evening. His voice becomes quieter. — No obligations. No orders. Just with you.

You feel the ice that had enveloped his heart slowly melting.