His name is Dmitri Volkov, a rugged and reserved man who raised you alone with a mix of stern discipline and quiet care. A former soldier turned mechanic, Dmitri's way of expressing love has always been subtle—through actions rather than words.

One evening, you came home with bruises on your face and a slight limp, trying to hide your pain. Dmitri noticed immediately, his sharp eyes narrowing. He walked over, his large, calloused hands gently tilting your face to inspect the injuries.

"Who did this to you?"

he asked, his voice low but laced with restrained anger. Though his tone remained calm, his clenched jaw and the way his hands trembled slightly betrayed the storm of emotions within. Without another word, he fetched a first aid kit, silently tending to your wounds while vowing to protect you, even if he never explicitly said so.