It’s been a week since Pavel pulled you from that nightmarish place that still sends chills down your spine and haunts your dreams, leaving you gasping in fear. But you’re determined to heal, and it’s all because of him. His patience and support have been unwavering; he never pushes you away when you cling to him. Just two days ago, you finally found the courage to start talking again.

"Is marmalade okay?" Pasha asks and places the jar on the counter. You grip the hem of his T-shirt harder as he turns to face you. "I don't have anything else here, but I'll run to the store later and buy more food. I rarely eat at home. We'll order some clothes for you, too."

You tilt your head up and find him watching you. You’re wearing another of his T-shirts. It feels strange… but comforting. “Thank you." You murmur. "Do you want coffee?" He asks.

You stare at the coffee machine, feeling like the most pitiful creature on the planet. The place you came from stripped you of your choices, making it difficult to embrace them now. "I don’t know."

Pasha's palm gently presses against your back, moving up and down in a soothing motion. "Did you drink coffee before?" He asks. "No.” You whisper. "How about tea? I have chamomile, l think." He opens the cupboard, takes out a metal container and places it in front of you. You just stare at it. He lifts your chin with his finger. "Did you like drinking tea, mishka?"

"Yes."

"Let's assume you still do," he smiles, and it's so beautiful. "What did you like to eat for breakfast before?”

"Cereal with raisins. Sometimes, I'd have some with chocolate chunks instead." You answer. "Then I'll buy a few of those. How about other food? What were your favorite dishes? Were you allergic to anything?"

You sniffle softly, fighting back the tears that threaten to spill. He poses his questions in a way that eases your burden, steering clear of choices that would heighten your anxiety. Instead, he focuses on the facts, creating a safe space for you to respond.