Scene: Moscow, Late Night
It was deep into the night. A soft winter chill drifted through the Moscow air, and the streetlights glowed with a hazy warmth.
Alia stumbled out, eyes a little blurry, lips curled into a faint smile, but her steps unsteady. She had drunk more wine tonight than she could handle — far more.
Victor stood silently for a moment, then exhaled deeply and stepped forward.
"Пойдём, малышка…" ("Come, little one…") he said in a low, controlled voice.
Alia tried to respond, but her words dissolved into unintelligible murmurs.
Without hesitation, Victor lifted her into his arms. Her cold hand slipped inside Victor's coat, and her head slowly rested on his shoulder.
Victor carried her across the quiet Moscow streets to a luxurious hotel at the heart of the city — golden lights shimmering, silent yet regal. The reception staff gave only a glance before bowing slightly and stepping aside.
As the suite door closed behind them, the outside world faded away.
Only soft light remained, the view of the Moscow night through the window, and Alia — sleepy and weightless in Victor's arms.
---
Scene Cut: Inside the Suite
The soft light of the suite bathed the room in a golden glow. Snowflakes drifted slowly past the window.
Victor looked at Alia, his eyes reflecting a strange blend of emotion — concern, tenderness, and unspoken thoughts.
Alia, now in a light nightdress, had silk ribbons cascading over her shoulder, glittering faintly in the ambient light.
Victor stepped closer and gently extended a hand — his fingertips brushed along one of the ribbons, not as a touch, but like a silent language.
Alia's breath paused slightly. The silence thickened.
Suddenly — a movement across the curtain.
Outside, through the snow and hotel lights, a shadow appeared.
Not a person — but perhaps the silhouette of a feeling: love, hesitation, and a strange sense of fear all woven into one.
On the glass, their reflections appeared — two figures, close, yet separated by an invisible line.
Their hands almost touched, but it felt as if their shadows spoke first —
A silent story told through the light, where emotion spoke louder than sight.
Snow slowly melted on the windowpane,
and outside, that mysterious shadow seemed to witness the deepest corners of their hearts...
---
Scene: Early Morning
Soft dawn light seeped through the curtains, casting a golden hue from the Moscow sky.
Alia was still half-asleep, hair tousled, peace etched onto her face.
Victor slowly walked over and gazed at her. Then, he gently pulled her close and placed a warm, quiet kiss near her neck.
Alia's eyes widened slightly, a shy blush blooming across her cheeks.
Victor smiled faintly and said in a deep Russian voice —
"Доброе утро, моё солнце." ("Good morning, my sunshine.")
Alia didn't reply at once — she only looked down and smiled…
She whispered with a playful grin:
— "Сейчас же утро…" ("But it's already morning…")
Victor's lips curved into a mischievous smirk.
He leaned in and whispered into her ear —
"Утро только начинается, малышка…"
("The morning has only just begun, little one…")
Then, with one hand around her waist, he pulled her in closer.
Before Alia could react, Victor's lips paused by her neck —
A soft, electric touch that sent a shiver down her spine—
Aaaaah…
The room filled with silent heat, while outside, morning in Moscow slowly began to awaken.
---
Scene: Hotel Corridor
Outside the room, in the hallway, two bodyguards sat—one Russian, the other from Alia's team.
At the sound of that unexpected, soft but clear breath from inside, both turned toward each other.
One coughed. The other put a hand to his forehead, as if trying not to hear anything.
— "Эм… я ничего не слышал…"
("Um… I didn't hear a thing…")
— "Да, да… тсс…"
("Yeah, yeah… shhh…")
Still, both their ears turned red, and they looked away—
But the corners of their mouths couldn't hide the smile.
---
Scene: Corridor, Moments Later
The two bodyguards sat still, stealing awkward glances and stifling laughs.
Suddenly — footsteps. Heavy boots.
Tap… tap… tap…
A man walked up to them. Dark sunglasses, black leather jacket, a faint look of irritation on his face.
He frowned and asked:
— "Hey… why are you two still standing here, huh?"
Both guards immediately stood at attention. One stammered:
— "We… I mean… we're on duty, sir!"
The man raised an eyebrow and stared at the window.
Another breath, another soft laugh echoed from inside.
He pressed his lips together to stifle a grin, then cleared his throat:
— "You're not on duty. You're watching a movie. Do you guys even know how thin the walls in this hotel are?"
The two guards lowered their heads. One cupped his ear, the other gave a sheepish smile and said:
— "Sir… we didn't hear anything. Honestly!"
The man chuckled, shook his head, and walked away saying:
— "You guys are hopeless… to guard love, you need courage in your heart too."
He disappeared around the corner, leaving behind a quiet laugh.
The bodyguards exchanged a look. This time, they didn't say a word —
They just smiled and looked toward the window…
Where the morning light held two silhouettes wrapped in each other.
---
Scene: Corridor, Later
After the man walked away, silence returned.
One bodyguard leaned against the wall beneath the window, the other dropped into a chair.
Suddenly—
— "Ouch! Something bit me!"
— "What? What bit you?!"
— "A mosquito!" 😠
The seated guard jumped up.
— "I'm out! I'm done, man!"
— "How the hell is there a mosquito in this hotel?"
— "In all this snow, all this cold — and still a mosquito? Must be a Russian spy-mosquito!" 😤
They both stood now, slapping their backs and arms.
One of them even pulled out an anti-mosquito spray from a pouch on his belt.
— "I came prepared!"
— "Are you on a mission or guarding a honeymoon?"
— "With what's going on inside, it's definitely a honeymoon!"
They both burst out laughing — then immediately stopped, because a shadow moved again behind the glass.
— "Shhh! What if they hear us?"
— "Then I'd rather be bitten by the mosquito again, bro…" 😓
The spray filled the air with a light fog — the corridor now mosquito-free, but with a touch of romantic mischief lingering.