“Come on, Katyush, don’t be so stubborn. You look terribly pale, honestly.” Zhanna’s voice was as enveloping as warm, sticky syrup.
Her friend insistently pressed a dewy water bottle into Katya’s cold palm.
— This isn’t just water; I added that vitamin powder that a doctor, an acquaintance of Igor’s, recommended. Drink up, you need it more right now.
Ekaterina Soboleva, a senior manager who usually kept a department of twenty people in line, now stood meekly in the wind, wrapping herself in a thin coat. The autumn wind chilled her to the bone, and she was dropping from exhaustion.
— Zhanna, thank you, really, — she tried to smile. — I just can’t take it anymore. Igor called three times again today, saying he’s losing feeling in his legs, and I can’t even afford a taxi, can you imagine? It’s embarrassing to say, but there are three days until payday, and I only have enough money for bread. Everything went to these new medications.
Zhanna shook her head sympathetically:
— My poor dear. Listen, how long can this go on? These doctors don’t understand anything, they say it’s autoimmune… And even that’s just a guess.
— Don’t say that, — Katya asked quietly, — he’s my husband.
— That’s true, but… Look at the dark circles under your eyes. — Zhanna lowered her voice to a confidential whisper. — I’m worried about you. Katya, you’re like a sister to me. Here, drink the water right now, before the bus comes. You need your strength.
Katya obediently brought the bottle to her lips, but just then, a yellow taxi pulled up to the stop with screeching brakes.
— Oh, my chariot! — exclaimed Zhanna. — Katyush, sorry, I can’t give you a ride, I’m going the other way, need to stop by my mom’s. Say hi to Igor for me.
— You’re an angel, — Katya breathed. — What would I do without you?
— You’d be lost, Soboleva, that’s for sure, — Zhanna smiled and slipped into the warm car.
Katya was left alone at the emptying bus stop, clutching the cool bottle in her hand. A minute later, the bus appeared out of the darkness. The people at the stop began to grumble. She was lucky; she was one of the first to get on. She sat down in a vacant seat by the window and pressed the bottle to her chest like a precious jewel.
Across from her sat a woman in an old tweed coat and a downy shawl pulled low over her eyes. Katya knew her by sight; it was Galina. Some considered her the town eccentric, while others feared her, calling her a seer and a fortune-teller.
Katya twisted the cap off the bottle. She was thirsty; her mouth was dry from nervous tension.
— Don’t drink the water from your friend’s hand, pour it on a flower instead, — the fortune-teller’s voice was so unexpected that Katerina flinched and nearly dropped the bottle.
She looked up. Galina was staring intently at her.
— Excuse me? — she asked, looking around. The other passengers were dozing or staring at their phones; no one was paying them any attention.
— Don’t drink it, — Galina repeated. The old woman suddenly leaned forward and gripped her wrist tightly. — It’s dead water, you took it from the hands of a snake, you’ll be bitten by a snake.
— Let me go, — Katya squeaked in fear, trying to pull her hand away. — What snake? My friend gave it to me, she’s helping me.
— A friend… — Galina chuckled bitterly. — A friend who dresses in silks while sewing you a shroud. I saw how she looked at you: those weren’t eyes, but black slits. Don’t drink it, pour it out.
— You’re mistaken, — Katya pulled her hand free. — Please leave me alone, it’s been a hard day.
— It will get much harder if you drink that water, — the fortune-teller whispered.
She wanted to say something sharp, to put this crazy woman in her place, but the words seemed to vanish. A sticky, irrational fear settled inside her. Katerina looked at the clear liquid in the bottle. Water was water. Zhanna herself had said—vitamins. Her friend who brought her coffee, listened to her whining, helped her with money. How could she wish her harm?
\”This is just nonsense,\” Katya convinced herself.
— Next stop—Stroiteley Street, — the speaker announced.
Katya jumped up and, still clutching the bottle, ran off the bus as soon as the doors opened. The fresh air cleared her head a little.
The apartment was quiet and stuffy. It smelled of medicine—that specific scent of illness that had seeped into the curtains and wallpaper over the past month.
— Katya, is that you? — Igor’s voice came from the living room.
She roused herself and, trying to perk up, entered the room. Igor was lying on the sofa, propped up with pillows. Once a stately, self-confident realtor, he now seemed like a shrunken version of himself. His face was pale, with dark shadows under his eyes.
— I’m home, honey. — Katya went over and kissed his cold forehead. — How are you feeling?…
— Terrible. — Igor winced, trying to get comfortable. — Why were you so long? I asked you to come home earlier. My joints are aching so much I could climb the walls. Did you buy that ointment I told you about?
— Igor, I’m sorry, the bus took a long time… — Katya began guiltily, sitting on the edge of the sofa. — And the ointment… It’s very expensive. I couldn’t get it today. But I took on some extra work for the weekend, translating reports for our partners, and then we’ll buy it right away.
— Extra work? — Igor turned to the wall, offended. — You’re never home. I’m lying here all alone, and you’re taking on extra work. Maybe you just don’t want to deal with me? Or are you just waiting for me to set you free?
— What are you talking about? — Tears welled up in Katya’s eyes. — I do everything for you. I sleep four hours a night…
— Alright, stop crying. — Igor waved his hand, signaling the conversation was over. — I’m thirsty. Get me some water. And my pills, the blue ones.
Katya automatically reached for her bag, where the bottle from Zhanna was. She had almost taken it out when the face of the old woman in the downy shawl flashed before her eyes. \”Don’t drink it.\” Her hand trembled.
— Just a moment, I’ll get you some fresh water from the kitchen, — she said quickly.
Katya rushed to the kitchen, feeling her hands shake. She put the bottle on the table and hesitated. \”I’m losing my mind, listening to a crazy fortune-teller,\” she thought. Then she picked up the bottle, deciding to take a sip just to prove to herself it was all nonsense. She unscrewed the cap and brought it to her nose—there was no smell. Just ordinary water.
On the windowsill stood her pride and joy—a lush geranium with bright scarlet flower heads.
— I’m sorry, my dear, — Katerina whispered to the flower and poured some of the bottle’s contents into the pot. The soil greedily absorbed the moisture.
Katya poured Igor a glass of water from the pitcher, gave him his pills, listened to another round of complaints about the hard mattress and indifferent doctors, and finally collapsed into bed, exhausted. Her sleep was heavy, viscous, full of nightmares where Zhanna smiled and the fortune-teller shook her by the shoulders.
In the morning, Katya woke up with a heavy head. The clock said seven. Igor was still asleep, breathing heavily. She shuffled to the kitchen, craving coffee, flicked on the kettle, turned to the window, and froze. The cup slipped from her hands and shattered into pieces with a crash, but Katya didn’t even flinch.
The geranium. Her beautiful, vibrant geranium was nothing like it was yesterday. The leaves hadn’t just yellowed; they had turned black and shriveled as if scorched by fire. The stems hung lifelessly.
Katya slowly approached the windowsill, afraid to even touch the dead plant.
— Oh my God, — she whispered, covering her mouth with her hand.
A whirlwind of thoughts spun in her head. Her friend, the fortune-teller, the poisoned water.
— Zhanna wanted to harm me… — she whispered aloud. — Or is she poisoning both of us, Igor and me?
Katya froze and suddenly remembered the vitamin cocktails Zhanna brought Igor every week. She remembered how her husband’s condition worsened right after her visits. The doctors talked about an autoimmune disease. Couldn’t poisoning be disguised as one if the poison accumulated gradually?
A sleepy Igor appeared in the kitchen doorway.
— Kat, what’s with all the noise? Give me something to eat. Oh, what happened to the flower? Did you forget to water it? You’re some housekeeper…
Katerina slowly turned to her husband. She wanted to scream, \”We’re being poisoned!\” But she looked at his pale face and knew she couldn’t. If she told him now, he wouldn’t believe her. He’d call her hysterical, or worse, Zhanna would find out her plan was exposed. And then…
— Yes, probably a draft, — she forced out, gathering the broken cup shards with trembling hands. — I have to leave early today, for a meeting.
— Go on, go. Your job is more important than your family, I’ve already figured that out, — Igor grumbled, shuffling toward the refrigerator.
Katya flew out of the house, beside herself. All the way to the office, anxious thoughts plagued her. She had to find out the truth. Why? Why would her friend want to harm her?
The office was bustling with life. Phones were ringing, printers were whirring. She walked to her desk, trying not to look at anyone. She felt as if \”I know\” was written on her forehead.
Around eleven, she headed to the logistics department, supposedly to sign some invoices. The door to Zhanna’s office was ajar. Katya raised her hand to knock when she heard her friend’s cheerful laughter.
— Oh, stop it, darling! — Her voice was coquettish yet firm. — Everything’s going according to plan, even better than I thought.
Katya froze, pressing her back against the wall next to the door.
— Yes, she was barely dragging her feet yesterday, — Zhanna continued. — I gave her that special water, you know the one. I thought she wouldn’t even come in today, but she’s a tough one, she showed up. Oh well, it’s just a matter of a couple of weeks.
Katya clamped her hand over her mouth to keep from screaming. Tears streamed from her eyes. She felt sick, nausea rising in her throat. Staggering, Katerina fled from the office. She rushed into the restroom and leaned over the sink, splashing icy water on her face. In the mirror, it wasn’t a young woman looking back at her, but a ghost with a gray face and eyes wide with terror.
After composing herself a little, she went out into the hallway. And there she met Zhanna, who was walking toward her with two cups of coffee.
— Oh, Katyush, I was just looking for you! — her friend sang, holding out a cup. — Look, I brought you a caramel latte. Just how you like it. Listen, you look a bit pale, drink this, you’ll feel better.
Katya looked at the steaming cup and at her smiling face.
— Thank you. — Katya took the cup. — What would I do without you?
— Drink up, — Zhanna winked.
— I will, — Katya smiled, looking her friend straight in the eye. — Just a little later, the boss is calling for me now.
She walked past, clutching the cup so tightly the cardboard crunched. The game had begun, but this time, Zhanna wouldn’t be the one setting the rules.
The rest of the day passed without incident, and in the evening, Katya was once again at the bus stop. The wind threw wet maple leaves in her face, but she didn’t feel the cold. A fire was burning inside her that not even the autumn drizzle could extinguish.
She stood in the shadow of the bus shelter, the hood of her coat pulled low over her eyes, staring at the exit of the office building.
— Come on out, you snake, — she whispered, her hand clutching her phone in her pocket.
The doors swung open. Zhanna emerged onto the street like a queen on a catwalk. A bright fuchsia coat, the click-clack of her heels, a confident posture. A silver sedan pulled up smoothly to the curb. Zhanna beamed and got into the front seat. Katya squinted, trying to see the driver through the tinted glass. The profile looked vaguely familiar.
— Taxi! — Katya waved down the first car she saw with a checkerboard pattern.
— Where to, beautiful? — the driver asked lazily.
— After that silver car. But please, don’t get too close. I’ll pay double the fare.
The driver grunted and hit the gas.
— Tailing someone? Family business or criminal?
— More like life or death, — Katya snapped.
They drove for about twenty minutes. The silver sedan turned toward a cozy, expensive restaurant called \”Venice\” on the outskirts of the city.
— We’re here, — the taxi driver grunted. — You’re on foot from here…
Katya shoved a bill at him and slipped out of the car. Hiding behind the decorative thuja trees planted near the entrance, she saw Zhanna and her companion get out of the car. The streetlight fell directly on the man’s face. Katya gasped and pressed her hand to her mouth.
It was Konstantin Vitalievich Voronov, her husband’s attending physician. The medical prodigy who had told her with a sad face about a rare autoimmune disease and wrote out bills with five zeros.
— It can’t be, — Katerina whispered. — How could this be? You took a doctor’s oath…
She went around the side of the restaurant and found the window where the pair was sitting. Through the glass, in the warm light of the lamp, Zhanna was laughing, throwing back her luxurious black hair. Voronov, however, kept adjusting his glasses and looking around.
— Are you sure the dosage is right? — Katya couldn’t hear the words, but she could guess from their lips and expressions.
Voronov explained something nervously, tracing a finger on the tablecloth. Zhanna reached into her purse. She took out a thick, bulky paper envelope. Its contents clearly warmed the doctor’s soul. Zhanna helpfully pushed the envelope across the table. Voronov covered it with his palm, closed his eyes for a second as if wrestling with his conscience, and then with a quick, furtive movement, slid it into the inner pocket of his jacket. Zhanna raised her wine glass. Her face was radiant with triumph.
Katya staggered back. The puzzle pieces clicked into place in her mind. The diagnoses, the prescriptions, Igor’s deteriorating condition—it was all one big show, directed by her best friend and paid for with Katya’s own money.
— You are such scoundrels, — she breathed into the darkness.
She returned home as if in a fog. She didn’t remember paying for the taxi again or climbing the stairs. She took out her keys. The lock clicked almost silently. Katya opened the door and froze.
Upbeat music was playing in the apartment. Not the funereal silence that usually reigned here, but a rhythmic pop hit. Katya took a step into the hallway. The living room door was wide open. In the middle of the room, with his back to her, stood Igor—the husband who, according to the doctor, was in excruciating pain with any movement. Right now, Igor was doing squats, deep and rhythmic, with dumbbells in his hands.
— One, two, three, — her husband counted aloud, admiring his reflection in the mirrored wardrobe. — Gotta work the glutes and biceps, I’ve been lying around too long. I’ll get bedsores from this dying swan role soon.
Katya’s vision went dark. She dropped her bag. The music stopped.
Igor froze at the bottom of a squat, spun around, and went pale when he saw her. In a split second, he opened his fingers, and the dumbbells crashed to the floor, leaving dents in the parquet. Igor himself clutched his lower back, contorted his face in a grimace of inhuman agony, and with a long moan, collapsed onto the carpet.
— Ah! Oh! Katya! You’re home already? — he groaned. — Oh God, the spasm! I was just trying to get up… Oh, my back! A doctor! Katya! I need painkillers!
She watched this circus, and something inside her seemed to snap. \”Do you think I’m a complete idiot? You think I didn’t see you working out a minute ago?\” she thought, but said something else aloud.
Katya rushed to her husband, feigning panic.
— Igorek, honey! My God, what happened? Did you fall? How could you be so careless?
— I thought I was getting better, — Igor groaned, grabbing her hand. — I wanted to meet you, surprise you, but my legs… My legs gave out!
— Shh, shh, don’t say anything!
Katya struggled to help him up and limp to the sofa. Every one of his feigned moans sent a wave of revulsion through her.
— I’ll get you some water now.
— Yes, please hurry, — Igor wheezed, settling onto the pillows and closing his eyes. — And a massage, massage my lower back, I’m begging you!
Katya went to the kitchen. She turned on the water so the noise would drown out her sobs.
— A massage for you… — she whispered, pouring water into a glass. — I’ll give you a massage you’ll never forget.
The evening passed with the usual chores. Katya bustled around her husband, adjusting his blanket, listening to his whining, but now she noticed every detail. She saw how her husband greedily ate meatballs when she wasn’t looking, or how he vigorously typed something on his phone the moment she left the room.
— Katya, you seem a bit on edge today, — Igor remarked towards midnight, putting his phone aside. — Did something happen?
— I’m tired, — she answered curtly. — Swamped at work. Zhanna was helping me sort things out.
At the mention of her friend, the corner of Igor’s mouth twitched up almost imperceptibly.
— She’s a saint. You’re lucky to have her, you should appreciate her.
— I do appreciate her, — Katya replied quietly, turning off the light. — Very much.
It was late at night. Igor snored, sprawled on the sofa in his sleep. Katya lay awake, staring at the ceiling where shadows from the streetlights danced. She knew what she had to do. Katerina got up silently and approached the sofa. Her husband’s smartphone was on the nightstand. The screen blinked with a notification. She picked up the phone.
\”I feel like a criminal.\”
\”Enter password.\” It used to be four ones. She entered it—incorrect password.
\”Of course,\” Katya smirked to herself. \”You’re a conspirator now.\”
She thought for a moment. Igor was selfish but sentimental. He only loved himself and his mother. Katya entered her mother-in-law’s birthday. Without the year. Fifteen oh eight. The screen unlocked.
— Well, I’ll be! — Katya whispered with just her lips.
She opened the messaging app. The top chat was pinned. The contact was named \”Bunny.\” The profile picture was a photo of Zhanna in a swimsuit. Katya’s breath caught in her throat. She tapped on the chat. A message from \”Bunny\” read:
\”So, is your little hen asleep?\”
Igor had replied:
\”Looks like it. She was acting strange today. Maybe the dose is working?\”
\”Bunny, of course it’s working. Voronov said the cumulative effect has started. Another week, and she’ll start forgetting words. And then it’s not far to the psych ward. Or a heart attack. Whichever comes first.\”
\”The sooner, the better. I’m tired of this charade. My back is really getting stiff from lying around all day. Almost got caught today. I was doing squats, and she walked in. You need to be more careful, you athlete. We can’t take any risks. A vacation abroad is on the line. And freedom.\”
\”Listen, are you sure about her parents’ house?\”
\”The apartment is good, but the doctor is asking for a fortune for the operation. Plus tickets. The money from the apartment might not be enough for everything we want.\”
Katya went cold and quickly scrolled down the chat. \”Bunny\” was writing again:
\”Don’t worry. I checked the databases. The house in the village of Sosnovka, where her parents live, is worth about twenty million now, at least. The land there is gold. And your operation is the perfect excuse. The old folks will sell their last possession for their daughter and beloved son-in-law.\”…
\”Olga Nikolaevna called today. Crying. Says the realtor has already found a buyer. The deal is next week. They’re willing to move into some one-room apartment, just to save me.\”
\”Excellent. As soon as the money hits your account, we’ll book the hotel. And Katya won’t care about anything by then.\”
The phone nearly slipped from her hands onto the carpet.
\”So that’s what it is. Zhanna wasn’t poisoning Igor; she was in cahoots with him.\”
— No, — Katerina whispered, looking at her sleeping husband. — You’ll get your vacation, but it will be in a prison cell.
She carefully placed the phone back. But before that, she took pictures of the chat on her own phone, sent the files to herself, and deleted the message confirming the transfer.
In the morning, she had to be at her parents’ house to warn them, to stop the deal, but in a way that the lovers wouldn’t suspect anything prematurely.
The morning was gray and stuffy. Katya told her husband she was going to a pharmacy on the other side of town for that rare medicine. The subway was crowded. People hurried, pushed, and it smelled of dampness and strangers’ perfume. Katya stood on the escalator as usual. Her head was buzzing. Rainbow circles swam before her eyes. \”The doctor said, cumulative effect,\” she remembered Zhanna’s message.
\”No, not now,\” Katerina prayed, clinging to the rubber handrail. But it suddenly became slippery and hot. The escalator steps seemed to drift sideways. The sounds merged into a loud ringing. Her legs turned to jelly, and she swayed. The world turned upside down. Darkness.
— Miss, miss, can you hear me? Breathe. That’s it, deeper.
Someone’s voice broke through the fog. A low, male, calm voice. She opened her eyes.
Katya was lying on a bench on the platform. A worried face was leaning over her. Dark hair, attentive brown eyes, wrinkles at the corners. The stranger was wearing the blue uniform of a subway employee.
— Where am I? — she whispered, trying to sit up.
— Easy, easy, not so fast. — The man gently but firmly held her by the shoulders. — You fainted on the escalator. Good thing I was standing behind you and caught you. Otherwise, you would have tumbled all the way down. My name is Andrey.
Katya recoiled in horror. Someone’s hands again.
— And I’m… Katya! Don’t touch me! — she cried out, curling into a ball. — I don’t need anything!
Andrey immediately took a step back, raising his palms in a placating gesture.
— Alright, alright, I’m not touching you. Don’t be afraid. You’re just very pale. Would you like a drink?
He took a bottle of water from his backpack. A regular, store-bought, sealed bottle. Katya stared at the bottle as if it were a snake.
— Where did you get this water? Who gave it to you?
Andrey looked at her in surprise, then at the bottle.
— I bought it at the kiosk. — He twisted the cap, breaking the safety ring. — See, new, sealed. I opened it right in front of you.
The man smiled. His smile was simple, open, without the cloying stickiness of Zhanna’s or the feigned suffering of Igor’s. Katya looked at his uniform. The name tag read Andrey Smirnov, train operator.
— Are you really a train operator? — she asked, still skeptical.
— The real deal. Just got off my shift. — Andrey handed her the bottle. — Drink. You need to rehydrate.
With trembling hands, Katya finally took the bottle. She took a sip. The water was clean, cool.
— Thank you for catching me, — she said quietly. The tears she had been holding back since last night almost burst forth.
— Hey, what’s wrong? — Andrey sat on the edge of the bench, maintaining his distance. — Everything’s okay. Let me walk you. It seems like you shouldn’t be alone right now.
— I can’t go home. I mean, I need to go to my parents, but I can’t… — Katya started to babble, smearing mascara across her cheeks.
— Okay, — Andrey stood up decisively. — Let’s go outside for some fresh air. It’s a bit stuffy in here. I’ll walk you to the park upstairs. We can sit for a few minutes until you feel better.
It was drizzling outside, but the air was fresh. They sat on a bench under a shelter. Andrey was silent, giving her time. Katya looked at him. A complete stranger. But for some reason, she wanted to tell him everything, this random train operator with kind eyes. It was impossible to keep it all inside any longer.
— My husband and my best friend are poisoning me. And they want to trick my parents into selling their house and leave the country, — she said, simply staring at the wet pavement.
She expected Andrey to laugh. Maybe call for paramedics or walk away in fear. But he didn’t laugh. On the contrary, he frowned. His face became stern.
— Poisoning you? — he asked. — Are you sure?
— I saw their messages. I heard them talking.
The words poured out of Katya in a torrent. She told him everything. About the water, the geranium, the doctor, and \”Bunny.\” When Katya finished, Andrey was silent for a long time, clenching his fists.
— What scoundrels! — he finally said. Deeply, with hatred. — A classic case. Unscrupulous realtors have nothing on them.
— You believe me? — Katya was surprised. — This must… sound like a crazy story. A fortune-teller, poisoned water, a malingering husband…
Andrey gave a bitter smile.
— I believe you. Unfortunately, I do. And you know why? Because a year ago, I came home early from a trip and found my wife… well, not alone. And while we were getting divorced, it turned out she had transferred our country house to her brother’s name. She also left me with the loan for the car her new beau is driving now. I was left with nothing. I lived in the depot’s dormitory for six months. So yes, people can be worse than animals. — The man looked into her eyes. — But your situation is worse. This is clearly criminal, attempted murder, fraud. You can’t go back to them without some protection, and calling your parents right now is risky. If your husband is checking your phone, he’ll see the outgoing call.
— So what should I do? — Katya clutched her temples in despair. — If I don’t stop the sale, my parents will be left homeless. And if I tell Igor I know everything, I’m afraid he might…
— Yes, he might resort to more drastic measures, — Andrey finished for her. — We have to be smart about this. We need proof, concrete proof, to put them away for sure. The messages are good, but a court might not always accept screenshots. We need video.
— Video? — Katya asked.
— Yes. We need to film him when you’re not there. When this Zhanna comes over and what they talk about. — Andrey became animated. A spark of excitement lit up in his eyes. — You see, besides trains, I’m into electronics. It’s a hobby. Chips, soldering, microcircuits. I have a kit. I was building it for my garage to stop tools from being stolen. Miniature cameras. Inexpensive, but 4K quality. They record audio and video—all to the cloud.
— And how would we install them? Igor is always home, — Katya pointed out.
— We can disguise them. — Andrey winked. — Do you have smoke detectors in your apartment? You know, for fires. They hang on the ceiling. White, with a flashing red light. There. Perfect. My cameras look exactly like the insides of a smoke detector. We just need half an hour in your apartment while he’s not there, or while he can’t move. But he walks around when you’re not there, right?
— He walks. He certainly does, — Katya seethed.
— Then here’s the plan. — Andrey switched to a business-like tone, and Katya felt her confidence returning. — You go to your parents’ now, but not by subway. I’ll drive you. I have a car nearby, it’s old, but reliable.
— We’ll warn them in person. Tell them to stall the deal. Come up with an excuse: they lost the documents, washed a passport in the laundry, whatever. And then we’ll play your husband’s game.
— What game? — Katya asked.
— You’ll tell him there are problems with the documents and the deal is postponed. He’ll be angry and will definitely call Zhanna to discuss it. And that’s when… — Andrey patted his backpack. — That’s when we’ll see everything.
Katya looked at him.
— Why are you doing this? I’m a stranger to you. You must have your own problems to deal with.
Andrey looked at her seriously and a bit sadly.
— Because no one helped me when I was drowning. And I know how scary that is. Plus, I’m allergic to scoundrels. So, do we have a deal?
With those words, the man extended his broad, calloused hand. Katya hesitated for a second, then shook it. They walked to the parking lot…
The rest of the evening passed without adventure, and in the morning, Katerina began to implement the plan. The drive to the village of Sosnovka, where her parents lived, seemed endless. The old sedan confidently ate up the kilometers. The wipers swept away the fine drizzle, but clouds were gathering in her soul, much darker than those hanging over the highway.
— How are you holding up? — Andrey glanced away from the road for a second, tactfully switching to a more familiar tone.
— I’m afraid I won’t make it in time, — Katerina admitted. — My father is a man of his word. If he decided he needed to help, he might have already made an agreement with the realtor.
— We’ll make it. Calmly but firmly, — said Andrey. — The main thing is not to panic. We’re just visiting.
When the car slowed down at the familiar green gate, Katya practically flew up the porch steps and threw open the door to the veranda. The warm smell of cabbage pies, which had always been associated with childhood and safety, now had a bitter tinge. Her parents were sitting at the round table in the living room. Olga Nikolaevna and Pyotr Sergeevich looked lost and aged. Opposite them sat Tamara Sergeevna, Igor’s mother. She was holding Olga Nikolaevna’s hand in hers and looking into her eyes.
— Olenka, the clock is ticking. — Her mother-in-law’s voice trembled with feigned tragedy. — My boy is fading away. The doctors in Israel are ready to take him, but they need a prepayment. I’ve already put my dacha up for sale, but you know, that’s peanuts. All our hope is in this house.
— Mom, Dad! — Katya burst into the room.
Everyone turned around. Olga Nikolaevna threw up her hands. Tears glistened in her eyes.
— Katenka, darling! Tamara Sergeevna told us you were at work and couldn’t get away.
— Katya? — Her mother-in-law tensed for a second. — Dear child, you’ve come. How is Igorek?
— Igor is fine, — she said sternly, approaching the table. — Mom, Dad, don’t sign anything. There will be no sale of the house.
Silence hung in the room. Pyotr Sergeevich frowned. He adjusted his glasses.
— Daughter, what are you talking about? Igor is in trouble. Your mother and I have decided, we’ll move into a two-room apartment in the suburbs. We don’t need much space. The main thing is to save our son-in-law.
— There’s nothing to save! — Katya was almost shouting. — It’s all a lie, Igor is…
— What about Igor? — Tamara Sergeevna interrupted, rising. — Are you trying to say my son is pretending? That he’s lost ten kilograms for fun or is just lying around for no reason? I understand you’re tired. It’s hard for you to care for him, but to abandon your husband at a time like this…
— Tamara Sergeevna is right, Katyush, — Olga Nikolaevna sobbed.
— Mom, this is your home! — Katya felt she was being cornered. She couldn’t lay all her cards on the table right now. She had no proof, only words, which seemed cruel against her mother’s tears.
Andrey stepped forward, placing a hand on Katya’s shoulder.
— Good afternoon! — His calm bass voice defused the hysteria a little. — I’m Andrey, Ekaterina’s colleague. We came because a legal issue has come up. The documents for the house. There’s an error in the cadastral number. If you start the sale now, it will be blocked, and the accounts will be frozen for six months. In the end, the money will be tied up.
This was a brilliant improvisation. Pyotr Sergeevich, a man of the old school who feared bureaucracy like fire, immediately became alert.
— What error? We checked everything 10 years ago.
— New regulations! — Andrey lied without batting an eye. — The plot needs to be re-surveyed. It will take a week, no more. But you shouldn’t sign anything now. You’ll lose the house, the money, and time.
Tamara Sergeevna looked at Andrey with suspicion. But she couldn’t argue with legal technicalities. And then her mother-in-law’s expression changed all at once. The anger vanished. And for a split second, something strange flickered in her eyes. Pity. Fear. She sighed heavily and began to gather some papers from the table.
— Very well, — Tamara Sergeevna said with unexpected peacefulness. — If that’s the case, then go ahead, survey your plot.
As her mother-in-law passed Katya on her way to the exit, she suddenly stopped and, lowering her voice so her parents couldn’t hear, whispered:
— Run, while you still can.
Katerina was dumbfounded.
— What? You know everything?
— I know my son. — Tamara Sergeevna looked like a deeply unhappy woman. — He has always taken what he wanted. Take care of yourself.
Her mother-in-law left. Katya stood in the middle of the living room. So, Igor’s mother knew he was a fraud, yet she helped him. Was it because she was afraid? Or because her maternal instinct was stronger than her conscience?
The journey back was silent. Katya mulled over her mother-in-law’s words. Andrey gave her time to compose herself. They returned to the city by three in the afternoon. The plan was ready.
— I’ll come in ten minutes after you, — Andrey instructed her at the entrance to her building. — Tell your husband you’ve called a ventilation technician. Say the neighbors are complaining about a smell. And I’ll install everything quickly.
She went up to the apartment. Igor was lying on the sofa, engrossed in his phone. Seeing his wife, he began to moan as usual.
— So, did they sign? When will the money be here? — Her husband didn’t even ask how her trip was.
— No, Igor. — Katya tried to speak evenly. — There’s a problem with the documents. A cadastral error. Dad has to refile. It will take about a week.
— A week? — Igor jumped up on the sofa, forgetting about his sore back. But he quickly caught himself and fell back down. — Every day counts for me. Are you doing this on purpose?
— I’m doing everything I can. Stop complaining. By the way, a technician is coming soon to check the exhaust fan.
The doorbell rang. Andrey, in a blue jumpsuit and a cap, with a toolbox in hand, looked like a real utility worker.
— Ventilation, draft check, — he mumbled, not looking at Igor.
While Katya distracted her husband with talk about medications, the visitor walked through the apartment. The bedroom, the living room, the kitchen. Three smoke detectors were discreetly replaced with identical ones that had a surprise inside.
— The draft is weak, but you can live with it, — the technician summarized after twenty minutes. — Sign here on the form.
As he was leaving, he gave Katya a subtle wink.
And that evening, she told her husband she had a night shift to catch up on reports. In reality, Katya was sitting in Andrey’s car, parked in the adjacent courtyard. The tablet screen showed a black-and-white image of their living room.
— Look, — Andrey pointed to the screen. — I think it’s starting.
The door opened. Zhanna apparently had her own keys. Her friend entered the apartment like she owned the place, without taking off her shoes. Igor, who had been on his deathbed just moments ago, jumped up from the sofa to meet her. He swept the girl into his arms and pressed his lips to hers in a long, greedy kiss. Katya turned away, feeling nausea rise in her throat. Seeing it with her own eyes was a hundred times more painful than just suspecting.
— Don’t watch, — Andrey said softly. — The audio is recording, and that’s enough.
— No, I have to see this. — Katya forced herself to turn back to the screen.
Igor let go of Zhanna, went to the bar, and took out a bottle of expensive cognac. The very one Katya had been saving for her father’s anniversary.
— Well, bunny, to success? — Her husband poured the drink into glasses. — Although that hen said there’s a delay with the house. A week’s wait.
— A week? — Zhanna frowned, sitting down in Katya’s armchair. — That’s bad. Konstantin is getting nervous. He wants his share now. Listen, maybe we should speed things up?
— How much faster can we go? — Igor took a big gulp. — I’m already playing the martyr 24/7. My legs are getting numb from lying down.
A dead silence fell in the car. Katya sat staring at a single point. Inside her was an emptiness, ringing and cold, like arctic ice.
— They’re not human, — Andrey whispered. — To just write someone off like that…
The next day, Katya deliberately stood at the same bus stop where she had seen the fortune-teller. She waited for two hours. Finally, a familiar figure in an old coat got off an arriving bus. The seer was muttering to herself, as if swatting away invisible flies.
— Galina? — Katya blocked her path.
The woman raised her cloudy eyes to her.
— Oh, it’s you. Did you water the flower?
— I did. It’s almost completely withered.
The fortune-teller suddenly stopped making faces. Her expression smoothed out, her gaze becoming clear and weary. She looked around, made sure no one was listening, and said in a normal, human voice:..
— It’s most likely a medical poison in microdoses. Old school.
— Who are you? — Katerina asked.
— Galina Sergeevna. — The woman gave a bitter smile. — Former PhD in Chemistry. Former head of a laboratory.
They sat on a bench in the park. Galina told her story. Sparsely, without emotion. A fire in which her husband died and all her documents were burned. Depression, which she drowned in alcohol. The loss of her job and the street.
— It’s easier to pretend to be crazy, — she said. — It scares people, and they leave you alone. And I’m just living out my days. Only my chemistry skills remain. I smelled that scent from your bottle a mile away. A sweetish, almond-like smell.
— Galina Sergeevna, I need your help. — Katya took her dirty, chapped hand. — I’ll get that bottle. There’s still some left at the bottom. Can you do an analysis? Unofficially. Just to know the formula.
— Hmm, I don’t have a laboratory. Only a \”young chemist’s kit\” in the basement where I sleep. Just for fun.
— I’ll buy whatever you say. Reagents, flasks, please. They want to get rid of me.
Galina looked at her for a long time. Then she sighed and nodded.
— Alright, I hate poisoners. The most despicable kind of murderers. Bring me your water, and I’ll write a list.
Katya took Galina to the supermarket. She bought her a full basket of groceries. Sausage, cheese, bread, fruit. Galina cried, clutching the bag of food to her chest. And at that moment, she looked nothing like the town eccentric.
It was quiet at work, like the calm before a storm. Katya went to her desk, trying not to attract attention. She just wanted to grab her personal belongings and leave, but she didn’t get the chance.
— Soboleva, to the boss’s office! — called the secretary, who had always been envious of her.
In the office of Semyon Borisovich, the CEO, sat not only him, but also the head of security, and the system administrator Oleg, who always blushed at the sight of Zhanna and followed her around like a puppy.
— Have a seat, Katerina. — The boss’s voice was icy. — Can you explain what this is?
The boss turned his monitor around. On the screen was a bank statement.
— Yesterday at 2:30 PM, a transfer of three hundred thousand rubles was made from your corporate account to the account of a shell company. The IP address is yours, and so is the password.
— Semyon Borisovich, this must be some mistake. — Katya jumped up. — I wasn’t at my computer at that time yesterday. I was in the archives.
— There are no cameras in the archives, — Oleg interjected, not looking her in the eye. — And the system logs don’t lie. The login was from your terminal.
— Oleg, what are you talking about? You know I couldn’t have…
— I see the facts, — he grumbled.
— We won’t file a police report for now, considering your past merits and the difficult family situation that Zhanna Arkadievna told us about. She asked us not to ruin your life, — the boss said, wincing. — She says you’re having a breakdown. But you can’t work here anymore. You are suspended pending a full investigation. Hand over your pass.
— Zhanna? — Katya whispered. — Of course.
She placed her pass on the desk. It was useless to argue. They had her cornered like a wolf. Katya left the office with a cardboard box in her hands. It started to rain outside. She was unemployed, broke, with a con-man husband and the label of a thief.
And at home, her husband gave her an exemplary dressing-down.
— What have you done? Zhanna called me. You were fired for theft? Have you completely lost your mind?
— I didn’t take that money.
— Don’t lie! — Her husband clutched his heart. — Oh, what you’ve driven me to!
Katya looked at him and felt only disgust.
— You need money? — she asked quietly.
— Of course, I need it! I’m dying, and you… You’ve deprived us of our last income! — Igor shrieked. — Go to your parents. Right now. Let them sell the house, borrow from the neighbors. If there’s no money by the end of the week, I’m filing for divorce. What other choice do I have?
— Alright, — said Katya. — I’ll go. — She picked up her bag.
— Right now? — Igor was taken aback.
— But you said so yourself. I’m going to the station.
Katya walked out of the apartment, knowing she would never return.
Andrey opened the door immediately, as if he had been waiting for her right there.
— Katya, you’re shaking all over. Come in, quick.
His apartment was a small studio, cluttered with computer parts, wires, and books.
— They fired me, — Katerina said, sitting on a chair and staring into space. — They framed me for theft. Now I’m completely at their mercy. I don’t even have money for food.
— You have me. — Andrey placed a cup of hot tea in front of her. — And we’re not letting this go. Galina called. It’s a good thing you gave her a phone. We’ll have the results by evening. And as for a place to live… stay with me for now. I’ll take the sofa, you take the bed. And no arguments.
But Katya couldn’t sit still. She needed to think, to be alone.
— I’m going for a short walk. Don’t come with me. I need some air.
— I’m coming with you.
— Please, no. I really need half an hour of quiet. I won’t run away, I promise.
Andrey reluctantly agreed…
Katya wandered through the alleys of the old park. The leaves rustled under her feet. The pond was gloomy, gray, and rippled by the wind.
\”Maybe I should just disappear?\” she thought. \”Move to another city. Start all over. But then my parents would sell the house. And Igor and Zhanna would win.\”
Suddenly, her thoughts were interrupted by a thin, desperate cry.
— Help! Somebody!
Katya looked up. The cry came from the direction of the pond. She ran. Near the shore, where the old wooden planks went into the water, something small was struggling. A boy, about seven years old. He was clinging to the slippery boards, but his hands kept slipping. He wasn’t screaming anymore. Just gasping for air as he went under the icy water. And a little further in the water, a wet ball of fur was whining. A puppy, which was probably the cause of it all.
Katya didn’t hesitate for a second. Fear, depression, exhaustion—it all vanished. She threw off her coat as she ran and jumped into the water. The cold burned her body like a thousand needles. Her clothes immediately became soaked, pulling her down.
— Hold on! — she shouted, swimming toward the boy.
She grabbed his jacket just as the boy disappeared under the water. She pulled him up. The boy coughed. He clung to her with a death grip.
— The puppy! Save the puppy! — he cried.
Katya held the child with one arm and reached for the struggling little one with the other. She grabbed him by the scruff of his neck. Now she had to get out. Her legs were cramping. The shore seemed impossibly far, though it was only three meters away.
— My hand! Give me your hand, girl!
From the wooden planks, an elderly man in an orange janitor’s vest was reaching for her. \”Dmitrich\”—that’s what everyone in the park called him. He grabbed Katya’s wrist with his sinewy, strong hand and pulled them up with a jerk. People were already gathering on the shore. Someone had called an ambulance.
— He’s alive! Alive, thank God! — some woman lamented, wrapping the boy in her scarf.
The paramedics arrived quickly. Artem—that was the boy’s name, who turned out to be from an orphanage—was taken to the hospital. Katya was left standing, her teeth chattering from the cold. The puppy trembled in her arms, nuzzling her neck with its wet nose.
— Well now, heroine? — Dmitrich remarked carefully. — Come with me, or you’ll get sick, for goodness sake. I’ve got my stove heated.
The janitor’s lodge smelled of firewood and cheap tobacco. Dmitrich poured her a mug of boiling hot water with raspberry and gave her an old sheepskin coat. The puppy, rubbed dry with a rough towel, was already asleep by the stove, twitching its paws comically.
— What’s your name, mermaid? — Dmitrich asked, adding a log to the fire.
— Katya.
— And I’m Dmitrich. And this little fellow… — the janitor nodded at the puppy, — we’ll call him Boatswain. He’s got a rather deep voice. And he’s a good swimmer. I served in the navy, I know a thing or two.
Katya watched the fire, feeling the warmth return to her body.
— Thank you.
— No, thank you. The boy could have drowned.
Just then, the phone in the pocket of her dried coat beeped. A message from Andrey:
\”Katya, Galina did the analysis. It’s a plant-based poison. Come back, we’re going to nail them.\”
She smiled and petted the sleeping little one.
— Well, Boatswain, it’s time to fight the pirates.
The laptop screen flickered in the semi-darkness of Andrey’s apartment, casting blue reflections on Katerina’s pale face. She sat, hugging herself, unable to tear her eyes away from the video recording. The image was black and white, but the essence of what was happening was perfectly clear. On the screen, her husband was pacing the living room, a phone pressed to his ear.
— Just listen, I’ll pay it all back. The house deal is in the bag. There’s a delay with the documents. A week, two at most. Don’t start the meter, I’m begging you. — A pause. Igor listened to the person on the other end. His face on the screen twisted in fear. — No, I’m not hiding. I’m sick, really. I’m bedridden.
— And the money?
— Four million. Yes, all at once. Just don’t touch me.
Katya pressed the spacebar. The video froze. Andrey, standing behind her, sighed heavily and placed a hand on the back of the chair.
— It’s all gambling debts. Your husband doesn’t have an autoimmune disease. He lost everything he had. And he’s selling you, your parents, just to save his own skin. Do you understand who you’re dealing with now? — Andrey asked quietly, crouching in front of her.
Katya lowered her hands. There were no more tears in her eyes. There was only cold calculation.
— I’m ready. What’s the plan?
— We wait for a call, — he replied. — Igor will panic and try to speed things up, which means he’s bound to make a mistake…
The call came two days later. Katya was at the orphanage at the time. She was sitting on the carpet in the playroom, building a tower of blocks with Artem. The boy she had pulled from the pond had recovered but still flinched at loud noises.
— Look, Aunt Katya! — he whispered excitedly, placing the last block on top. — It’s a lighthouse so the ships don’t get lost.
— It’s beautiful! — Katya smiled, ruffling his cowlick.
— Will you come again? — The boy looked up at her, his eyes full of hope.
Katya’s heart clenched.
— I’ll come. Definitely. And we’ll go to the zoo together. Do you want to? To see the elephants!
The boy’s eyes widened.
— And the elephants, and the giraffes, and the…
The phone in her pocket vibrated, shattering the moment. Her husband’s name flashed on the screen. Katya took a deep breath, her expression changing from tender to focused.
— Temochka, I have to take this. You build a fence for the lighthouse for now.
She stepped out into the hallway and pressed \”answer.\”
— Yes, Igor.
— Katenka… — Her husband’s voice was syrupy, but hysteria broke through the sweetness. — Where are you? I’m going out of my mind.
— I needed to think.
— What is there to think about, darling? We’re a family. Listen, I’ve realized something, I was wrong. I pressured you, yelled at you. It’s the illness, my nerves. Forgive me.
— I forgive you, — Katerina replied evenly.
— Really? — Igor clearly hadn’t expected it to be so easy. — Katyush, I want to make up. For real. Let’s meet. Not at home, it’s stuffy there, the walls are closing in. Let’s go to our park. In the part with the old gazebo by the pond. Remember, we had our first date there?
— I remember, — Katya said. — When?
— Now. Come right now. I have a surprise for you. Zhanna will give me a ride, and then she’ll leave, leaving us alone.
— Zhanna? — Katya repeated.
— Of course. Where would I be without her? She just wants to help. I want to start with a clean slate. Come. Please. For us.
— I’ll be there, — Katya said and hung up.
She dialed Andrey’s number.
— It’s started. The old gazebo by the pond in the park. In forty minutes…
— Got it. Galina Ivanovna and I are on our way too. The doctor will be on standby.
— Andrey… — Katya hesitated. — I’m really scared.
— I know. But you’re not alone. Remember that.
The autumn park was deserted and gloomy. The wind chased dry leaves along the paths, and the sky was covered with leaden clouds. The old gazebo stood secluded, hidden behind thick bushes of overgrown lilac.
Katya walked along the path, clutching the pepper spray Andrey had given her in her pocket. A car was visible near the gazebo. Leaning against the hood was Igor. Seeing Katya, her husband broke into a wide smile and stepped toward her, arms outstretched for an embrace.
— Katyusha!
She stopped two meters away from him.
— Don’t come any closer.
— What’s wrong? — Her husband froze. — I wanted to hug you. We came to make up.
— Where’s Zhanna? — Katya asked, ignoring his gesture.
— She left. Katya, let’s sit in the car. It’s warm there, and we can talk. I brought some documents. Just a formality, a deed of gift for the apartment.
— A deed of gift? — Katya scoffed. — What for?
— Well, to secure the property, — Igor began to speak quickly. — You understand, my illness. What if something happens? There will be court cases and division of property with relatives. This way, it’s all yours. You just sign that you accept it as a gift, and that’s it.
— You’re lying, — Katerina said calmly. — You want me to sign the apartment over to you or Zhanna, so you can sell it and pay off your debts?
Igor turned pale. His eyes darted around.
— What are you talking about? Katya, are you paranoid? It must be all those concoctions of yours…
— I didn’t drink them. I poured them into the geranium. And it almost died. Just like our love.
At that moment, the car door flew open. Zhanna got out. In her hands, her friend was holding a taser that crackled with electrical discharges.
— Enough talk! She knows everything. Grab her!
Igor instantly dropped the mask of a loving husband and lunged at Katya.
— Let go! — she screamed. But her husband was stronger. He was twisting her arm, dragging her toward the open car door.
— Zhanna, do it, stun her!
Her friend jumped forward and brought the taser to Katya’s neck. At that second, a shadow flew out of the bushes. With a short kick, Andrey knocked the taser out of Zhanna’s hand, then, grabbing Igor’s arm, he applied a pain hold that made him howl and fall to his knees in the mud.
— Freeze! — Andrey barked, pressing Igor’s face against the gazebo wall. — Move, and I’ll break your arm.
Zhanna jumped back to a tree, clutching her bruised wrist.
— Don’t come near me! Don’t you dare touch me! I’m pregnant!
Everyone froze. Igor, groaning under Andrey’s knee, raised his head, smudged with dirt.
— What? Zhanna, are you…?
— Yes, Igor. I’m carrying your child.
Igor jerked, trying to throw Andrey off.
— Hey, you, let go! She’s pregnant. This is… Katya, tell him!
Katya looked at Zhanna. She stood there, covering her stomach with her hands, playing the victim.
— Pregnant, are you? — Katerina asked.
— Four weeks! — Zhanna went on the offensive. — And you, you barren hen, you’re jealous, aren’t you? You could never give Igor what I have.
Her husband looked at Zhanna with adoration and hope.
— Bravo, bravo! — a calm voice came from the direction of the path. — The show is over, Zhanna Arkadievna.
From the shadow of the trees emerged Doctor Konstantin Vitalievich. Next to him stood Galina Ivanovna, holding a folder of documents. Zhanna backed away.
— Kostya, what are you doing here? You betrayed us?..
— I stopped being an accomplice, — the doctor corrected her. He came closer and opened the folder.
— What is that? — Igor croaked.
— These are your test results, — said Voronov. — You’re as healthy as an ox. No autoimmune disease. And this second paper… — He took out another sheet and showed it to Zhanna. — This is your medical chart, Zhanna Arkadievna, from the city gynecology archive. I pulled some old strings.
— Shut up! — she shrieked. — Igor, don’t listen to him! He’s lying!
— The only one lying here is you, — the doctor said sternly. — You are infertile. The consequence of a chronic inflammation ten years ago. You are physically incapable of being pregnant. Not by Igor, not by anyone.
Igor’s gaze shifted from the doctor to his lover, who was pressed against the trunk of an old oak, as if wanting to merge with the bark.
— Zhanna… — His voice trembled. — Is it true?
— He’s been bribed! — the girl screamed, but her voice was filled with panic now, not confidence.
Then Galina Ivanovna spoke up, taking a step forward.
— There’s a very interesting bag in the trunk of your car. I saw it when you opened the trunk to get the taser.
— What bag? — Igor asked dumbly.
— With the money, — Andrey explained. — The same four million you borrowed to pay off your debt. And a plane ticket. One ticket in Zhanna’s name. Departure at two a.m.
Igor slowly rose from the ground. Andrey didn’t restrain him. The man looked at his lover as if seeing her for the first time.
— You were going to leave alone?
— What was I supposed to do? — Zhanna suddenly snapped. Her face contorted with rage. — You’re a loser. You lost everything.
— Yes, I was going to leave. Because I deserve a beautiful life, not bringing you care packages in prison.
Igor stood swaying as if from a blow.
— But I loved you. I betrayed my mother for you. My wife…
— Who needs your love? I needed the money.
Igor slowly turned to Katya and fell to his knees, grabbing the hem of her coat.
— Katya, Katyusha, forgive me. She bewitched me. I didn’t know what I was doing.
Katerina looked down at her husband and was surprised to find an absolute silence within her. No pain, no anger, no love. Only disgust, as if she had stepped on an earthworm. Carefully, with two fingers, Katya detached his hand from her coat.
— Get up, don’t embarrass yourself…
— Katya, I’ll fix everything. We’ll start all over.
— We won’t start anything, — she said quietly. — I’m filing for divorce. — Katya turned to Andrey. — Call the police, and let’s get out of here.
Six months passed. The May evening was warm and filled with the scent of blossoming apple trees. On the veranda of Katya’s parents’ country house, tea was being served. A strange but surprisingly harmonious group sat at the table.
Olga Nikolaevna was pouring tea from a pot-bellied samovar. Pyotr Sergeevich was engrossed in a political discussion with Andrey, who was no longer just a colleague but a frequent and welcome guest. Katya sat in a wicker chair, watching a clumsy but happy puppy run across the green lawn. Boatswain had grown into a shaggy dog of indeterminate breed but with a huge heart. Chasing after Boatswain with shrieks of laughter was Artemka—rosy-cheeked, laughing, nothing like the scared child from the orphanage. The adoption process had been long and difficult, with obstacles created by the bad reference from Katya’s previous job.
Galina Ivanovna was also there, at the table. It was now impossible to recognize the town eccentric in the downy shawl. She was an elegant elderly lady with a neat haircut and thin-rimmed glasses. She worked as a senior lab technician in Dr. Voronov’s private clinic. By the way, the disgraced doctor, although he had lost part of his practice, had retained his conscience. It was Galina, using her old academic titles and a suddenly awakened fighting spirit, who helped Katya gather the necessary documents and prove to the guardianship authorities that she was an ideal mother.
— Galina Ivanovna, more jam? — Katerina asked, smiling.
— Thank you, just a spoonful. I’m watching my sugar, — she replied with dignity, but immediately winked at Artem, who had run up to the table. — But this young man needs his carbohydrates. Here, have a pie.
— Thank you, Grandma Galya! — Artem grabbed the treat and ran off to his friend again. — Boatswain, fetch!
Andrey looked at Katya. His gaze was warm and calm.
— Have you heard the news? — he asked quietly. — About Igor?
— Yes, the apartment was auctioned off for his debts. He paid off the principal amount but still owes interest. He’s living with his mother at their dacha, working as a loader at a warehouse. Tamara Sergeevna called some acquaintances of mine, asking to borrow money.
— I hope you didn’t give her any?
— No, of course not. Let them learn to live within their means. And Zhanna?
— She got three years of probation for fraud but was ordered to compensate the company for its losses. Now she works as a cleaner in the shopping mall where she used to buy designer clothes.
— To each their own, — Katya remarked.
She shifted her gaze to the veranda windowsill. There, in a new, beautiful clay pot, stood a lush, bright red geranium. It was a cutting from the same plant that had died. It had survived and taken root in new soil, just as Katya herself had done.
Andrey covered her hand with his.
— You know, I was thinking… Artem needs a man’s hand, to learn how to hammer nails, to go fishing… — Katya looked into his eyes. — I think he’ll be happy. And Boatswain too.
— And you? — he asked a little more quietly.
— Me? — Katya smiled, and it was the happiest smile she had worn in years. — I think the dark streak is over, and now we have a whole life ahead of us.
The sun was setting behind the pine tops, bathing the veranda in golden light. Boatswain barked at a passing butterfly, Artem laughed, and her parents were arguing about something. Katya closed her eyes. The air smelled of happiness and a little bit of geranium.