Belavia Sale

A man in a dark uniform with white suspenders sits in a dimly lit, industrial-looking room, his face contorted in distress as he repeatedly brings his right forearm up to wipe his eyes and nose, then lowers it, his expression shifting between sorrow and a strained, pained smile. The scene cuts to a white webpage with a "Please wait..." loading message and a series of dots that incrementally fill, indicating a process in progress.