— Pavel didn’t understand.
— Tarot, — the old woman explained, taking a drag from her pipe. — Zara sees the future. Not always clearly, but she sees it.
Pavel wasn’t inclined to believe in mysticism, but after today, he was ready to believe in anything.
— Zara, — he said, — I need to talk to you. About Igor Belov. And about your daughter.
Zara’s face hardened.
— Did he send you? To get me to leave him alone?
— No. He doesn’t even know I’m here. I came on my own. Because I believe you both need to find out the truth. For the child’s sake.
Zara looked at the infant in her arms, then at Pavel.
— Come in.
Inside, the house was simple but clean. Old furniture, carpets on the walls, icons in the corner. It smelled of something spicy, probably cooking in the kitchen. Zara sat Pavel at the table and sat opposite him, rocking her daughter. The old woman went into another room, leaving them alone.
— Tell me everything from the beginning, — Pavel requested. — How did you meet Belov, what happened?
Zara sighed and began her story. Her voice was quiet but firm.
— It was a year ago, in October. I was telling fortunes near the office center on Tsentralnaya, earning a living. Igor came out of the building late one evening, he was drunk, upset. He came up to me, asked for a reading. I laid out the cards and saw trouble there: a death in the family, loneliness, the inability to continue his line. I told him this, and he laughed. Said I was right, that the doctors had just given him a diagnosis of infertility. That his dream of having children was shattered. He was so unhappy that I felt sorry for him. We started talking. I invited him to my place, a rented room back then, not far from the center. I made him coffee, calmed him down.
— And then?
She fell silent, lowering her eyes.
— Then one thing led to another. It was one night. In the morning, he left, left money on the table, as if I were a prostitute. I didn’t look for him, didn’t demand anything. I thought I would just forget. But two months later, I realized I was pregnant.
Pavel listened without interrupting.
Zara continued:
— I didn’t want to have an abortion. It goes against our traditions. I decided to give birth and raise my daughter myself. But when Masha was born, I realized I couldn’t stay silent. Igor Belov is my child’s father, and he must know about it. I went to him, showed him the girl. He sent me away. Said I was lying, that it wasn’t his child because he couldn’t have children. I tried to explain that miracles happen, that doctors could be wrong, but he wouldn’t listen. He threatened me with the police. And I left.
— But you didn’t give up, — Pavel noted.
— No. Because the cards showed me that Igor was in danger. That he would die if someone didn’t intervene. I read the cards every day, trying to understand what was threatening him. And three days ago, I saw it clearly: surgery, hospital, blood, a substitution. I realized I had to warn the person who would be operating on him. I found the information, learned it would be you, Doctor Romanov. I came to the hospital, waited for you. And when you came out, I knew I had to speak.
Pavel shook his head, amazed.
— But how could you have known about the tests? About someone switching them?
— I didn’t know the details. I only saw images—a lie, someone else’s blood, danger. You needed to check, and you did. The rest is to your credit.
Pavel thought for a moment, then asked:
— Zara, do you want Belov to acknowledge his daughter?
— I want Masha to know her father, — she answered simply. — I’m not asking for money, not asking for his love. I just want him to look at her, to acknowledge that she is his blood. It’s important for the girl when she grows up.
— And if he refuses?
— Then I will leave and not bother him anymore. But I want him to see her at least once. Really see her, not just send her away like last time.
Pavel looked at the sleeping infant. Masha was a beautiful baby, with dark hair and chubby cheeks.
— Alright, — he said. — I will talk to Belov. I will ask him to meet with you. But I can’t promise anything.
Zara nodded:
— Thank you, doctor. That’s all I ask.
Pavel returned to the capital in the evening. The clinic was quiet, most patients were asleep. He went up to the floor where the Belov brothers’ rooms were. Igor was lying in his room, looking out the window. Victoria sat beside him, holding his hand. When Pavel entered, they both turned to him.
— Doctor, — Igor sat up in bed. — Where have you been? We were told you went somewhere.
— I went to see Zara, — Pavel answered honestly. — The Gypsy woman who warned me.
Victoria flinched. Igor clenched his jaw:
— Why?
— Because she saved your brother’s life. And because we need to find out the truth about her child.
— What truth? — Igor got out of bed, walked up to Pavel. — I told you, I can’t have children. That child is not mine.
— Igor Andreevich, — Pavel said patiently, — a diagnosis of infertility is not absolute. There is a chance, however small, that conception occurred. The only way to know for sure is to do a DNA test.
— I’m not doing that.
— Why? — Pavel asked sharply, a hint of steel in his voice. — Because you’re afraid to know the truth? Or because you don’t want to take responsibility for your actions?
Igor froze, staring at him. Victoria said quietly:
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