The wind in Moscow had its own temper. It slapped the face first, then settled like an old friend tugging at Raj's collar as he crossed Red Square. The winter sun hung low, pale as if shy. He tugged his cap down and exhaled into his scarf, letting the warmth fog around him. Vaani's voice drifted gently through his thoughts—soft, older-sister warmth.
"Your forged documents passed the last local verification. Don't worry so much, Raj. You walk like someone expecting a parade inspection."
From his wrist, Red Queen's voice chimed through the disguised supercomputer watch—mischievous, humming like a girl hiding laughter behind her palm.
"He always walks like this when he's pretending to be normal. Very suspicious. Ten out of ten, I'd shadow him too."
Raj muttered under his breath, "Both of you behave. She'll be here any minute."
Red Queen snickered."And she is pretty. I scanned her photo. Just saying."
Before he could roll his eyes, a familiar voice broke across the square like sunlight slicing through cloud.
"Raj!"
He turned, and there she was—Ksenia. Long golden hair braided loosely, cheeks touched by the cold, tall enough that she didn't need heels to meet his gaze. A Ukrainian beauty dropped into the heart of Moscow.
She jogged the last few meters toward him.
He smiled. "Oi! Call me senior, Ksenia."
She snorted like she couldn't take that seriously even if forced at gunpoint."I'll call you Raj. That's it."
Her eyes softened in a way that made him forget the cold for a breath or two. Two years in the Soviet Union, buried in labs, surrounded by metal, equations, and sleepless nights—he hadn't held anyone like this in far too long.
But there wasn't space for thinking. Not when she hooked her arm through his and started talking.
"You promised you'd let me take you around the city. Last year. But your professor—ugh, that man—he grabbed you like you were some national treasure."
Raj laughed. "Professor Chekhov is… dedicated. Let's put it that way."
"He stole my chance last time," she said with mock anger. "But now you've graduated and joined work here, no professor can drag you away."
That made him pause. India and the USSR were still on great terms in 1957, but he knew the turn was coming. Not yet. But coming.
His smile faltered. Ksenia caught it immediately.
"What happened?" Her hand tightened on his arm. "You look… troubled."
He studied her for a moment, something complicated weaving inside him. "If one day… I had to leave the Soviet Union… would you come with me?"
Her breath caught."Raj… are you leaving?"
"I said if."
She didn't hesitate. Not even a blink."Wherever you go… I'll go."
That kind of certainty unsettled him more than the question itself. After a year together, she wasn't pretending. He could see it.
"Maybe one day you'll find I'm not what you think," he murmured.
She didn't argue. Instead, she took his hand, fingers firm and warm, and tugged."Come."
"Eh? Aren't we going sightseeing?"
"We are going somewhere important first."
"…Important like museum-important or—"
She didn't answer. She only pulled him faster.
They walked past the cheaper food stalls, the old stone buildings, the campus gate, down the hallway of the girls' dormitory, and straight to her room. Once inside, she locked the door, both bolts, with a determination that made his eyebrows rise.
"Ksenia—"
She stepped into his space before the words could form, her breath warming his lips, her eyes filled with something that refused to be explained in words.
"Raj… there's no point in talking any more tonight."
Whatever hesitation he carried, whatever caution—her kiss burned it out. He kissed her back, and the familiar hunger that had slept in him for two years roared awake like it had been waiting for this moment.
Her lips were soft. Her tongue bold.Her hands trembled against his shirt, then grew certain.
Clothes fell—dropped, tugged, half-fumbled. Raj moved on instinct he had pushed into the background for far too long. Ksenia's voice cracked with surprise and heat when his hands found the right places with the practiced confidence he once had.
And when he finally took her, she arched under him, breath sharp, nails gripping his shoulders, whispering his name with a mix of pain and wanting that settled something deep in him.
Two hours later, after the bed had protested more than once, Ksenia surrendered entirely, clinging to him, her lips brushing his shoulder.
She whispered, breath uneven,"Darling… you're too much… you'll break me…"
Raj chuckled against her hair. "But you liked it."
"I… love it…" she admitted shyly. "But maybe… someone should help me share the load…"
He blinked. "Share what?"
"You know what." She poked his chest, cheeks red as sunset. "Just—someone. Not that KGB woman they planted on you. I don't want a swallow. I want someone genuine."
Raj laughed. "You mean Anna?"
Ksenia nodded against his chest, flustered. "Yes… her. She's loyal, she's untouched, she's serious. And… she watches you so carefully even though she tries not to show it."
Raj smirked. "You're trying to bring her into this?"
"I'm trying to survive you," she retorted, burying her face in the blanket. "And she's… she's good. I trust her."
Raj didn't answer, but something thoughtful settled in his mind.
His days at the Patriot Base began immediately. Officially, he was an attached foreign expert—an Indian biological sciences prodigy working on genetic engineering. Unofficially, the KGB wanted to keep both eyes glued to him.
The surveillance started heavy but softened once they realized Raj was more focused on experiments than escaping with stolen documents. Anna was assigned to him—"for daily assistance," they said.
Raj saw right through that.But he didn't mind.If they placed someone as disciplined and earnest as Anna beside him, they were only giving him another ally in the long run.
Weeks passed, and Raj found each quiet moment with Ksenia waiting for him like a secret warming pocket in winter. Their relationship deepened naturally—touches, looks, late-night laughter after long shifts.
And when they came together, it was always the same intensity as their first night—her breathless pleas, his teasing dominance, the way she melted under him completely. Nothing changed. He didn't allow it to. She didn't want it to.
Ksenia's cheeks often glowed afterwards as she whispered,"You'll kill me someday… but I'll die happy…"
Raj's answer was always a low chuckle and another kiss to her shoulder.
By 1960, the storm that Raj had foreseen finally broke. Relations between India and the USSR dipped sharply; foreign experts were recalled en masse.
The KGB came knocking.
Yet Raj stayed—protected by the sheer weight of his contribution and by the professor who valued him like a rare gem. They couldn't repatriate him. They couldn't let him go. They could only watch.
And so Anna remained beside him.
Her loyalty.Ksenia's openness.Raj's growing influence.And the strange, warm, evolving family forming around him—sweetened by his quiet possessiveness, protected fiercely, always.
He belonged to none of these worlds, yet each woman slowly found a place in his orbit. A place he guarded, even if they never knew the depth of it.
This was how it all began in the winter of 1957—A girl in Red Square,a kiss behind a locked dorm door, and the first threads of a bond Raj would carry forward into countless futures.