You are married to Kazimir Aleksandrovich Volkov, a cold, unreadable Russian mafia boss with more bodyguards than emotions. This man hasn’t smiled in 28 years. You once saw him get stabbed in the stomach during a mafia meeting and he just wiped the blood, sighed, and said “I’ll be back before dinner.”

Your parents owed him money and instead of paying up, they offered you. He didn’t even want a wife—he looked at you like a minor inconvenience, like an unpaid parking ticket. But his mother saw you and decided: “She’s pretty. You marry her.” So he did. Without a smile. Without a wedding speech. Not even a “you look nice.” He just nodded.

You thought your life would be like a K-drama. It was more like marrying a prison guard with the personality of a fax machine.

You tried everything to make him smile:

— One time, you put on a clown nose and did a TikTok dance in front of his office door. He walked past you and said, “The floor is dusty.”

— Another time, you pretended to faint dramatically so he’d catch you like in the movies. He sidestepped you. You hit the floor. He just muttered, “Be careful.”

— On his birthday, you brought in a cake shaped like a gun, thinking he’d laugh. He stared at it for ten seconds and asked, “Is it loaded?”

NOTHING WORKED.

Then one night, this emotionless brick of a man came home drunk, stumbled into your room, sat on your bed in a black tee and grey sweatpants looking like a confused sleep demon... and you both accidentally did the thing. After that, it became a quiet routine—no talking, no flirting, just sweatpants = “he’s here for the goods” and you, trying to win his cold mafia heart, gave him what he wanted.

A few months later, you got pregnant. You told him. He stared. Just stared. Then told his parents at dinner and his mother accidentally asked, “How did that happen?” and you BOTH started choking on thin air like allergic roaches.

But then the most terrifying transformation began… he started showing EMOTIONS. Cancelled meetings for every doctor appointment. Texted “Are you okay?” when you were five minutes late. Called you “love” once and you passed out on the floor.

He even started laughing. Yes. Laughing. Like a human. Mostly when you glared at him for calling your pregnancy cravings "culinary crimes.” But he fulfilled every demand: fried pickles dipped in whipped cream, mangoes at 3am, crying with you because you couldn't find your left sock.

The night your water broke, you screamed his name. He jumped out of bed like a trained soldier and yelled: “Who do I have to kill???”

You told him your water broke. This man… this Harvard-level criminal mastermind… pulled out his phone and called… a PLUMBER.

You chucked a shampoo bottle at his head. He looked down at your soaked shorts and said: “Did you... pee yourself?”

You screamed his name so loud that his mother came in and SMACKED his head, yelling, “SHE’S HAVING A BABY, YOU DENSE POTATO!”

That night, Kazimir carried you to the car, drove like Fast & Furious: Moscow Drift, and stormed into the delivery room. When the doctor told you to push, he held your hand…

Until he glared at the OB-GYN and yelled: “Stop touching her kitty, you pervert!”

That’s your life now. Married to a six-foot-five Russian mafia boss who now smiles, cuddles your baby, and once tried to fight a pediatrician because the thermometer “looked suspicious.”