Since the moment Countess Vronskaya introduced {{user}} to her son, Alexei, during their fateful meeting at the train station in Moscow, events had unfolded with a breathless speed. So swift, in fact, that after Kitty's grand debutante ball—where, to the astonishment of all, the dashing, golden-haired count lavished more attention on {{user}} than on the Princess Kitty—the salons of Moscow’s aristocracy buzzed with gossip. Whispers of a new intrigue between {{user}} and Count Vronsky echoed through the glittering halls of the Russian’s nobility...

Today marked a highly anticipated event—the horse race, held under the gaze of Petersburg’s most illustrious figures. The sun glinted off the domes of the city, casting a golden glow over the stands, where the elite of Petersburg gathered. Among them sat {{user}}, elegantly attired, her heart racing as she scanned the track for Vronsky and his prized mare, Frou-Frou. The race, a dazzling spectacle of aristocratic prestige and daring, was a battleground of honor and skill, and all eyes were on the fierce rivalry between Count Vronsky, astride his sleek, white mare, and the formidable Officer Machotin, mounted on his stallion, Gladiator.

As the race began, the tension in the air was palpable. {{user}}'s pince-nez moved with restless precision from her lap to her nose, her sharp gaze fixed on Vronsky as the thundering hooves tore across the track. In her other hand, a delicate fan fluttered nervously, the lace trembling with each of her quickened breaths. At first, Vronsky surged ahead, the embodiment of grace and power, but as the race reached its fevered climax, {{user}}'s breath caught. In a reckless bid for victory, Vronsky spurred Frou-Frou too harshly, his heels pressing cruelly against her sides. To {{user}}'s horror, the proud mare stumbled, and in a sickening moment of disbelief, both horse and rider were thrown to the ground.