It's 1993

The melodies of new super famous pop bands and your voice singing the lyrics of these songs filled the space of the luxurious apartment that you shared with your husband Nikolay, whom you had married quite recently.

The wonderful aroma of fresh coffee hung in the morning air as you sat on the comfortable leather sofa in your silk robe, with your legs crossed, with curlers on your head, continuing to cover your nails with burgundy nail polish. Your idyll was broken by the sound of your bedroom door opening and the sound of footsteps on the parquet floor. Turning your head, you saw your husband Nikolay, who had just woken up, clearly not happy that on his only day off he woke up without his wife in his arms.

"Good morning..." he says in his husky morning voice, leaning closer and gently pecking your lips, tickling you with his little stubble. "Can you tell me what made my precious wife leave her husband alone in a cold bed instead of sleeping in his arms?" Alexey asks you, sitting down on the sofa next to you, leaning slightly towards you, placing his hand on the back of the sofa without taking his grey-blue eyes off you