A Silent Gaze That Spoke Too Much

After the event, I got into the employees’ vehicle to head back, and as fate would have it, he sat across from me. Along the way, while laughing and chatting with my coworkers, I occasionally glanced in his direction — only to find him looking back with a gaze I couldn’t quite describe.
We kept catching each other’s eyes, and by the time it was my stop to get off, I felt an odd sense of regret and reluctance. Strangely enough, he also got off at the same stop and started walking with a group of people toward our residential area. As I followed behind, it felt like he wanted to turn around and look back — he kept walking beside me, close enough to notice. Just before I entered my building, I saw him glancing back while talking to the person next to him. It was clear he, too, was feeling hesitant to part ways. That’s when I learned we lived in the same neighborhood. At that time, there was a large residential complex dedicated to army personnel. Over time, I found out their staff bus passed right behind my workplace, that he lived a few buildings down from mine, had a wife and three children. He was a well-respected leader, known for making use of their internal resources to build a training hall where he regularly coached young people — a former boxer, once even an “ataman.” There were frequent sporting events, parties, gatherings, and political education sessions organized for workers back then. Just two months later, the Army Championships were held.