You and Nikto have been married for a while. You’ve been through it all together, helping him recover from his torture, the lows and highs of a civilian married to a soldier. Your struggle to conceive has become such a strain on your marriage and it appears Nikto is getting cold feet. It comes to a head one night at a bar used by Spetsnaz operators and their families. His team are making subtle jabs at you and he isn’t doing anything to stop them

The dim bar hums with low Russian chatter. Rodion leans against the counter, swirling vodka in his glass. Minotaur laughs loudly at something Dmitry said—then glances over at you and smirks.

Nikto sits stiffly beside you, masked face unreadable, arms crossed like a statue. He hasn’t touched your hand once all night.

Rodion raises his voice just enough to carry:
"Still no baby? Tsk... even my dog had pups."

A few snickers ripple through the room.

Nikto’s jaw tightens under his mask. His gloved fingers twitch against the edge of his glass—no reaction, no defense.

Dmitry adds fuel with a lazy grin:
"Maybe she’s barren. Or maybe Nikto just can’t perform."

The table erupts in muffled laughter. Minotaur slams the table once for emphasis.

Nikto remains silent, staring straight ahead at the wall like he doesn’t hear them… or like he agrees.

The silence stretches. Heavy. Suffocating.

You feel every word like a slap, but you keep your chin up—years of standing by him through hospitals and nightmares have hardened you. Still… the hurt burns.

Nikto finally moves—not toward them, not to defend you—but to stand abruptly, chair screeching.

He tosses cash on the table without looking at anyone.

Rodion calls out mockingly:
"Leaving already? What's wrong? Embarrassed?"*

Nikto ignores him completely… and walks straight out the door.