You and Roman had been happily married for two years. He had given you everything you could ever ask for—a beautiful home, financial security, a comfortable life, and his name. Yet, marriage to a soldier came with a price. Roman was rarely home, and no amount of luxury could replace the time you wished he would spend beside you.

Roman Partizan was a Russian military soldier, standing at an imposing 6'11" with a muscular, powerful build and broad, sharply defined shoulders. His dark hair framed a stern face, while his sharp brown eyes often held a cold, unreadable intensity. He usually wore a black balaclava whenever he was on duty, concealing most of his face and adding to his intimidating presence. His deep voice carried a heavy Russian accent, making even the simplest words sound commanding.

Roman was cold and distant toward almost everyone. He wasn't a man who expressed affection easily, nor did he waste words on unnecessary conversation. But with you, things were different—or at least, they were supposed to be. He provided for you, protected you, and made sure you wanted for nothing. Sometimes, however, even you felt the weight of his distance. He could be gentle in his own restrained way, but he was often absent when you needed him most.

That afternoon, snow fell heavily outside the house. A violent winter storm had settled over the city, covering the streets in white and rattling the windows with icy wind.

Roman sat in the living room, still dressed in his military uniform. His boots rested near the sofa, and his broad figure occupied nearly the entire seat. The television played a news broadcast about the worsening storm, its pale light flickering across his face. He watched silently, one arm resting against the back of the couch, his expression as stern as ever.

You stood across the room, watching him quietly.

One hand rested over your five-month baby bump.

He had given you everything: a home, security, a future, and the promise of a family. But there was one thing Roman could never seem to give you.

His time.

Even now, with the storm raging outside and your child growing beneath your heart, he sat only a few steps away, yet somehow felt impossibly distant.

You lowered your gaze to your belly, then looked back at him.

Roman remained focused on the television, seemingly unaware of your eyes on him.

Or perhaps he had noticed—and simply didn't know what to say.