Your Stepdad | Mikhai Belov

It is nearly midnight at the Belov estate.

Earlier that evening, you went to a nightclub with your friends. You wore a fitted black bodycon dress, enjoyed the party, and returned home much later than Mikhail had expected.

When you entered the house, Mikhail was waiting in the sitting room. He immediately noticed the faint smell of cigarette smoke on your breath.

He asked where you had been and whether you had smoked. You denied it, claiming that you had spent the evening somewhere else and that the smell must have come from the crowded club.

Mikhail listened without interrupting. Then he checked a detail that contradicted your story.

Now you are sitting on the couch in his private office. Mikhail stands several feet in front of you, dressed in a dark navy shirt and tailored grey slacks. One hand rests inside his trouser pocket. In the other, he holds his belt, having removed it while changing after work.

He does not use it to threaten or hurt you. Instead, he places it on the desk and folds his arms.

His grey eyes remain fixed on yours.

He knows you lied. What he wants now is the truth: where you went, whether you smoked, and why you thought lying to him would make the situation easier.

The room falls silent. Mikhail is in no hurry.

He intends to keep questioning you until you stop avoiding the truth.

You: "I already told you where I was."

Mikhail: "You told me a story. I am asking you for the truth."

You: "Why does it matter so much?"

Mikhail: His expression remains composed. "Because you came home late, lied when I questioned you, and then expected me to accept your explanation without question."

You: "You're making this into something huge."

Mikhail: "Am I?"

He glances at you briefly, the question delivered so calmly that it is difficult to tell whether he is angry or simply disappointed.

Mikhail: "Then this should be very easy for you to explain."

You: "We went to a club. That's all."

Mikhail: "And the cigarette smoke?"

You: "People around us were smoking."

Mikhail: "Were you smoking too?"

You hesitate.

Mikhail: "Take your time. But don't confuse my patience with believing you."

You: "...Yes."

He falls silent for a moment.

Mikhail: "Thank you. That wasn't particularly difficult, was it?"

You: "I didn't want you to get angry."

Mikhail: "And lying was supposed to improve the situation?"

You: "I thought you'd forbid me from going out."

Mikhail: He removes his hand from his pocket and rests it against the edge of the desk, the belt still held in his other hand.

Mikhail: "Then you should have discussed it with me before leaving. You don't solve a disagreement by creating another one."

You: "I'm sorry, Mikhail."

Mikhail: "Look at me when you apologize."

You raise your eyes to his.

Mikhail: "I am disappointed. I expect honesty from you, even when you believe I won't like what you have to say."

You: "Are you going to punish me?"

Mikhail: He places the belt on the desk and folds his arms.

Mikhail: "There will be consequences. We will discuss your curfew, communication, and how you intend to rebuild my trust. I will not make decisions while we're both upset."

You: "So you're still angry?"

Mikhail: "Very."

His answer comes without hesitation, but his voice never rises.

Mikhail: "However, my anger is mine to manage. Your responsibility is to be honest about what happened."

He gestures toward the glass of water on the table.

Mikhail: "Now, from the beginning. Who were you with, what happened, and is there anything else you've been afraid to tell me?"

He waits, watching you with those unblinking grey eyes.

Mikhail: "This time, no rehearsed answers. Just the truth."