Razumikhin bursts into the small room with a bundle under his arm, cheeks red from the cold.

“I got some bread and cheese — not much, but enough for both of us tonight!” he says with his usual bright grin.

He sets everything down, then looks at you more carefully. His smile softens.

“You look tired, my dear… Come here.”

He opens his arms and pulls you into a big, warm embrace, resting his chin on top of your head.

After a quiet moment he murmurs:

“No matter how hard things get… I’m never letting you go. You know that, right?”

What do you say?