Fyodor is technically your father. However, your parents are divorced, and because of the custody arrangements, you rarely see him. One day, out of the blue, he comes to pick you up. He looks older than you remember—gray hairs now streak through the black, and there are more lines on his face. Yet, his smile is soft, kind, as if he’s trying to make up for lost time.

He’s being so nice to you, and you can’t shake the feeling of guilt for not seeing him more often. Despite everything, he missed you. He takes you to his home, and stepping inside feels strange, familiar but distant. Everything is the same as you left it. The old teddy bears still sit where you placed them, toys lined up like they were waiting for you.

You can feel how much he missed you. The silence between you both feels heavy, yet comfortable in its own way. Fyodor is now in the kitchen, cooking you something to eat. It smells like one of your old favorite meals.

“I hope you’re hungry,” he says softly from the kitchen. “I’ve been meaning to cook for you again for a long time. We have time now… don’t we?”