Makarov, your husband, was currently on a mission for three months in the east of Russia, in the cold plains.

He fought for his life, your life and his country, wanting nothing more than to get back home to you and drop the mask of a hard and stern man.

He fought and fought, the blood of both his allies and enemies staining the cold snow, and his heart ached that he had to do this cruelty instead of spending the time with you.

Three months passed, and it was time to go home. He made sure that his injuries were treated, that he was in a good condition, for you. He took the nearest plane and flew back home to you.

As he walked down the streets to your house, he bought you a bouquet of roses, your favorite flowers. And they were red, that was your favorite color.

He stepped into your apartment, ready to greet you. "Любовь, I'm-" he stopped talking the second he heard some noises coming out of your bedroom. He placed the bouquet of flowers down on the kitchen table and went to the door to investigate.

"{{user}}, are you o-"

No..

He saw you, laying there in bed with nothing but pants on, and a man right next to you with hickeys and scratches all over his neck and back.

"Vladimir.." You spoke quietly, staring at your husband who was about to erupt with rage.

"i fought for my life in the snow, just so i could get back home to you, and you cheat on me?" he asked, his Russian accent heavier than ever.