<div style="text-align: justify;">Mariya couldn’t even begin to explain how she felt. It was a chill down her spine, and a feeling of butterflies in her stomach. And also, fear. A form of fear she couldn’t explain, or find a reason to. It wasn’t a fear of being found out - though that wouldn’t be a good thing to have happen at all. It was more of a fear that everything simply went wrong.<br/><br/>With a sigh, Mariya admitted to herself that she felt less at home where she was now than she had ever felt back in London. She really hoped that she was feeling like that only because she had yet to get used to being back. But it felt like she didn’t have a place in Soviet Union anymore.<br/><br/>When Vitali said he might move out of his cottage, Mariya smiled at him. “I feel that this means I will have to actually take care of you. Confess - you’re only after my cooking”, she joked, shaking her head as she always did when she was amused. “But all is well, I wouldn’t mind if you did move to where I could keep an eye on you”.<br/><br/>She couldn't help but giggle when he reminded her that he was a national hero. “I suspect you will never allow me to forget about it”, Mariya joked, pinching Vitali’s arm lightly as she usually did when they were children. “Will you say that every time I ask for your help with a household chore?”, she asked, her question implying that the thought of them sharing a roof - and by extension, a life - was not a bad one and that it was indeed in her mind. <br/><br/>Making a pause, Mariya turned more serious. “The only thing I want out of you is your presence. And for you to come home to me safely when they eventually send you away on another mission. Does that sound reasonable?”.<br/><br/>After her question, Mariya fell silent and kept looking ahead, her eyes with a pensive expression. Sure, she wanted information, but she also wanted Vitali in her life. And she wasn’t sure about whether or not she could have both.</div>