Scene: Dawn of Tension
The first light of dawn seeps softly into the room through the cracks in the window.
Alia slowly opens her eyes.
In her gaze—an in-between haze, caught between dream and reality.
Beneath the white sheets, her body is still wrapped in the warmth of the previous night.
She feels it—Victor's lips still tracing her back, her shoulder—soft, slow kisses, silent but lingering.
Victor knows she's awake.
But he doesn't stop.
His kisses now aren't just of desire—they speak:
"I want to remember every part of you, for as long as I can."
Alia closes her eyes again.
A faint smile plays on her lips—
a rare peace caught between love and war.
She slowly turns to look at Victor.
Their eyes meet.
No words.
Victor's voice, low, almost a whisper:
Victor (whispers):
"You're awake… I knew it."
Alia (softly):
"You haven't left yet?"
Victor shakes his head.
In his eyes—a mix of guilt, longing, and a glimmer of hope.
Alia touches his cheek.
One moment... as if the whole world stands still.
Alia (whispers):
"This morning is just for us."
Victor pulls her closer, more firmly than before.
Alia melts quietly into his embrace.
Outside, the sun is rising.
But inside the room, the night still lingers—
A silent vow,
Where love and revenge walk hand in hand.
Scene: Bound in Silence and Flame
The room glows golden in the early morning light.
A light chill drifts in—but there's no coldness inside.
Because Alia sits on Victor's lap now, wrapped in white sheets, a vision of quiet beauty.
Her hair falls messily across her shoulder, eyes still heavy with sleep.
But there's a strange peace on her lips.
Victor holds her in both arms—
one on her back, the other at her waist.
Slowly, he brings his face to her neck.
His breath—warm, soft.
His lips land gently at her throat, a deep, lingering kiss.
Then, in Russian,
Victor (softly, in Russian):
"Я хочу держать тебя вот так всю жизнь…"
"I want to hold you like this for the rest of my life…"
Alia doesn't tremble, but her breath catches—
a silent shiver running through her.
Victor (deeper now):
"Я хочу делать с тобой всё. Всё, что возможно…"
"I want to do everything with you. Everything that's possible…"
His voice no longer carries the firmness of a battle-hardened soldier—
Only the fragile yearning of a man, broken open by love and awe.
Alia closes her eyes and brushes a kiss across Victor's forehead.
Her voice is low, steady—
Alia (gently):
"You know our time is short."
Victor:
"That's why I want to conquer every moment—with you."
A moment of shared breath.
In the morning light, they stand on an invisible edge—
Where love and fire burn side by side.
---
Scene: White Sanctuary
Everything is white.
The walls, the curtains, the bedsheets, even the light—
A dreamlike stillness, as if they've pushed the world's sins far away,
And now exist in a realm untouched, pure.
Alia gazes slowly at Victor's face.
There's no more fire in her eyes.
Only peace.
As if all the world's wars have fallen silent in this moment.
She wraps her arms around his neck—gently, pulling him closer.
Their lips meet—soft, deep.
Their breaths become one.
Victor's hand trails slowly up her back,
drawing her into him—closer, deeper.
Within the folds of soft sheets, their bodies disappear—
into a quiet tide of white.
Alia's hair spreads across the pillow.
Victor's lips travel down her shoulder.
Each touch says—they want to forget every broken word of the past.
No rush.
No noise.
Just the rhythm of two people breathing…
A silent, intimate melody built on heartbeats.
Outside, the city begins to wake.
But in this room—
Dawn still lingers.
Here, there's only Alia and Victor.
Their white world.
Their silent love.
And a moment,
kept just for them—beyond fear, revenge, and war.
---
Scene: Heat in White Silence
Silence blankets the room.
Within the folds of white sheets, Alia is dissolving in fire.
Her breathing quickens—
Her body burns, as if a flame is alive within her.
Her face turns red—
Not from shame, not from rage—
but a strange storm of emotion.
Her eyes—sharp, golden-honeyed like a tigress—
Fierce. Possessive.
And in one glance, she tells Victor everything.
Victor knows—
Alia will not give mercy now.
Suddenly, she grips the sheets tightly.
Her fingers dig in—
She doesn't want control.
She just wants to feel—
wants to surrender—
to this one man.
Victor moves toward her.
Alia grabs his wrist—firmly.
Her eyes burn,
but her lips are taut with restraint… and pull.
Victor halts for a moment.
Alia whispers—
Alia (breathing heavily):
"Don't think I'm weak…
I'm just… just yours—right now."
Victor smiles faintly,
moves in closer.
His hand slowly intertwines with hers.
Underneath the sheets, the heat builds.
Boundaries between them dissolve—
Only waves of feeling remain.
The world outside begins to stir,
but inside—
they're still lost in their silent war of love.
Alia's eyes glisten.
Tears gather at the corners and roll down quietly.
Victor is still.
His blue eyes—filled with tenderness.
As if he's seeing Alia anew.
Slowly, he leans in,
touches her cheek, and wipes the tears away.
Then gently—
he kisses them.
No rush.
No words.
Just a silent promise that says:
"I'll carry your pain."
Alia stares at him, surprised.
But within… she feels it.
Losing herself in this man—
strangely feels… safe.
And as the tears continue to blur her vision,
a memory rises—
That one night.
The Alaskan sky had danced with green auroras.
Their laughter echoed in that silent, snow-covered night.
Inside, in soft warm light—
Alia wore a green nightdress,
sparkling in the glow like she too belonged to the stars.
Victor had looked at her—
as if nothing else existed in the world.
He had brushed her hair behind her ear,
a moment of silence—
then kissed her lips slowly.
That kiss had the warmth of winter's embrace—
a promise of another world,
where together they might touch the stars.
Suddenly, Alia cried out, sobbing—
"Ahhh… Victor, I can't… please, go slower."
But Victor… didn't stop.
His touch was intense—
an attempt to understand her wounded soul
and conceal his own pain.
"Alia," he said with a trembling voice,
"I'm here with you. You're not alone."
But in Alia's eyes—only pain, only tears.
"Victor, please… stop. My heart's breaking."
Victor's hands softened.
But in his eyes—
a sharp glint of guilt and helplessness.
"Forgive me… I don't know how to make it better for you."
Alia's sobs began to fade,
but her heart was still restless—
as if both their souls were locked in a war unknown.
Victor gently kissed her neck.
Alia stared at the ceiling,
eyes full of sorrow and quiet hope.
Evening light slowly descended from the ceiling's edge—
a muted dusk that wrapped the room in stillness,
as if the world had paused just for them.
Between Victor and Alia—
a strange intimacy lingered.
A silent understanding where words weren't needed.
Only presence. Only touch.
Only surrendering into one another.
Victor wiped her tears again and rested his head on her shoulder.
And Alia realized—
this man was her safe place.
A shelter.
Where she could dream again,
forget the pain,
and begin a new love story beneath the moon.
The Next Morning
Alia sat by the edge of the terrace, eyes lost in the endless waves of blue sky.
Cool wind brushed her hair.
Far away, the shadowy outlines of Moscow stirred, fading into light.
The morning felt like the beginning of something.
Victor was outside, surrounded by ten armed bodyguards—
All eyes sharp, scanning every corner,
making sure no harm dared to come near her.
Just then, the maid approached gently and asked,
"Madam, I've brought your tea. Do you need anything else?"
Alia smiled softly and replied with a sip,
"Thank you, not now."
The scent of tea in the air and the city's hum in
The aroma of tea lingered in the air, blending with the distant murmur of the city's bustle — making the morning feel even more vivid and alive.
After a peaceful start to the day, Alia sat in the car, slowly making her way toward Moscow.
The wide city roads hummed under the rhythm of the tires, and a crisp breeze slipped in through the window, brushing against her skin.
In the distance, the glimmering skyscrapers of Moscow crept closer, towering with cold elegance.
Soon, the car came to a halt in front of a sleek, luxurious apartment —
tucked away in a quiet corner of the otherwise chaotic city.
Through the tall glass windows, the city's lights shimmered softly,
reflecting stories waiting to unfold.
Just as Alia stepped out of the car, her phone began to ring.
The screen lit up: "Brian Morgan."
Her chest tightened — for a fleeting second, time froze.
With a deep breath, she answered.
Alia (quietly):
"Oh… it's you."
On the other end, Brian's cold, biting chuckle slid through the silence.
Brian:
"Yes, Alia… I've come back to break your little peace."
Alia's eyes flared with fire.
Alia (sharp and steady):
"You thought I'd disappear?
No, Brian — I've only become stronger."