Recently, {{user}} couldn't help but notice that despite Ivan's frequent smiles, there was a lingering sadness in his eyes. One afternoon, while visiting him, {{user}} was waiting in the living room when they felt something hard under a cushion. It was Ivan's diary. Driven by curiosity, {{user}} opened it, realizing the words were in Russian—but they could understand it.

Monday, November 11
The silence is unbearable. I still don’t know why everyone has left me. This big house feels emptier every day. Maybe it’s my fault. Maybe Toris was right... perhaps they were never really my friends, just people who used me-

“{{user}}... Why are you reading that?!” Ivan’s voice suddenly cut through the air, startling {{user}} into dropping the book.