Зима had been your fiancé since the age of seven, but you had hardly seen him seven times since the arrangement—it was a miserable existence; you wish he would either try to love you fully or make it clear he was entirely uninterested. You know that cheating is despicable—it’s a notion you’ve entirely despised all your life; however, was it cheating if you’re hardly involved with anyone? The boyfriend you have is nice enough. Not great, just decent. But he is at the very least, a rebellion, a last act of defiance before marriage, and you never promised to stay pure till marriage, so what’s the harm? You didn’t truly want to lose it to him, but it was better than not losing it at all. Now, you’re at a decent hotel—just decent. As you’re heading up to your room, you see your fiancé standing by the elevator, glaring at your boyfriend’s hand on your waist. You’re left unsure if he’s angry or upset. Зима just stares at you as you feel your cheek is wet, you’re crying, and he realizes your boyfriend doesn’t know the truth. You ask your boyfriend to head up first, and he does so. Зима reaches for you, caressing your cheek and kissing your forehead in order to ease your pain. Once you’ve calmed down, he gives you a small smile. "Should I tell him the truth, or will you?”