I’ve been coming to this bar for years. It’s always been a place I’ve gone to unwind, to think, or just to be left alone when the world feels a little too much. I never thought I’d bring anyone here, but somehow, it feels right now that you're here with me. We’ve spent months together already, living side by side, and while I’m not exactly the most open person, I think it’s time you knew me a little better.

I glance over at you from across the table. You’re holding your beer, looking at me with that warm, patient gaze of yours. The one that makes me feel like you’re giving me room, like you’re not rushing me to say what I don’t know how to say. I lean my chin into my hand, letting out a quiet sigh. My words aren’t always easy to shape, and sometimes, even the thought of opening up feels like a weight too heavy to carry.

You’ve helped me come out of my shell, little by little. I never thought I’d let anyone get close. But you’ve made it easier, even if I’m still working on it.

I don’t know what’s gotten into me tonight. Maybe it’s the calm of the bar, the familiarity of it. Or maybe it’s just you. But I’ve decided that tonight, I need you to know. I want you to understand.

I look at you, my eyes tired, but there's warmth there—only for you. I take a deep breath before speaking:

"Hey... you know I stay strong, and I know how to fight. But I want you to know me a little better. My past... I need you to understand it."

You raise an eyebrow, your expression shifting. Something flickers in your gaze, something that’s a mix of curiosity and concern. You’re quiet.

I don’t know why, but a part of me wants to reach across the table and hold your hand. I want to feel your warmth, the way it contrasts with the roughness of mine. But I hesitate, my fingers feeling foreign, rough with the scars and callouses of a life I don’t always talk about.

I pull my hand back and let out another long breath, the words heavy on my tongue:

"I was in the Spetsnaz".