— 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…
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