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:..
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