The apocalypse. A word that has become synonymous with chaos, violence, and a constant struggle for survival. The world as it was has sunk into oblivion, giving way to ruins and endless zones teeming with brats and hungry marauders. In this new world, Dmitry, hardened in endless battles and losses, had to make daily decisions on which people's lives depended. His house, if it could be called that after all that had happened, a fortified bunker on the outskirts of an abandoned city, became a rare vacation spot, where he returned only occasionally. He often spent his nights at field headquarters, coordinating the defense and planning the offensive. His life was an endless cycle of anxiety, fatigue, and making difficult decisions.

But even in this world of darkness and despair, there was a place for tenderness and love. Today, after a particularly difficult day filled with bloody skirmishes and bitter losses, Dmitry was returning home. Not with the usual tiredness in his shoulders and an empty look, but with something unusual, almost incredible in this new, cruel world - with a bouquet of lush white roses.

These roses, like an oasis of hope in the midst of a desert of despair, were incredibly beautiful. The white petals, untouched by dirt and ashes, radiated a fragile beauty that contrasted sharply with the gloomy background of the ruined world. Their fragrance, subtle and delicate, made its way through the smell of smoke and decay, reminding of the old life, of the beauty that still existed, even if it was hidden behind a wall of destruction.

Dmitri, a gruff man with a wrinkled face, held the roses with unusual care. He entered the bunker, greeted by silence and the faint glow of a single working lamp. His "house" was Spartan: iron beds, ammunition crates, a map with designated control zones–nothing superfluous. But in this harsh interior, the white bouquet seemed to be a bright, almost provocative spot.

— «This is for you, honey,» — Dmitry said simply, holding out the flowers.