“I’m fine. I want to go home,” Lena yawned. “Or rather, to your home. To our home,” she laughed.
“Soon,” Andrey hugged her. “Just a little longer. I’ll take you to your parents’ now, you’ll rest for a couple of days, and then we’ll start Operation Evict Katya.”
They laughed. Both of them. Standing by the car with the baby, hugging, they laughed at the plan to kick Katya out of her own apartment. Katya stumbled back from the tree. Her legs finally started to obey her. She turned and walked away. Quickly, almost at a run. Past the main entrance of the hospital, past the people still standing at the gates waiting for visiting hours to start, past the spot where the gypsy woman had been sitting.
The gypsy woman was gone. She had disappeared. Katya walked without looking where she was going. Tears blurred her vision, but she didn’t wipe them away. She just walked forward, clutching the bag with gifts for her nephew. The plush teddy bear, the onesies, the rattle. For the child who turned out to be the son of her husband and her sister.
At the bus stop, she got on a minibus without checking its route. She sat by the window, staring out at the glass. The city drifted by: buildings, streets, people. Everything seemed unreal, like a bad dream. Their words spun in her head. “We’ll kick her out.” “The three of us will live together.” “Katya can go wherever she wants.”
Sister. Her own sister, whom Katya had walked to school, helped with homework, protected from their parents’ lectures. Whom she loved. And her husband. Andrey, whom she had let into her life, into her apartment, into her bed. The two closest people in her life had conspired against her.
The minibus stopped at the last stop. Katya got out and started walking. It was a long way home, but she didn’t want to take public transport. She wanted to walk, to move, to not think. But thoughts kept creeping into her head, one after another. She remembered details she hadn’t noticed or given importance to before. How Andrey had become colder towards her in recent months. How he stayed late at work more often. How he avoided intimacy, blaming fatigue. How Lena looked at him during their meetings—Katya had thought she was imagining it. It all added up. All the pieces of the puzzle were falling into a disgusting picture.
Katya reached her building, went up to the third floor. She took out her keys, opened the door. The apartment was quiet and empty. Andrey hadn’t returned yet; he was taking Lena and the baby to their parents. She went into the room, threw the bag of gifts on the sofa. The plush teddy bear fell out of the bag, staring at her with its black glass eyes. Katya sat on the floor, hugged her knees to her chest, and buried her face in them. And only then did she allow herself to cry.
Katya didn’t know how long she sat on the floor. Maybe an hour, maybe more. The tears dried up, but an emptiness remained inside—cold, heavy, like a piece of ice in her chest. She got up, went to the window. Outside, it was an ordinary day. People were hurrying about their business, cars were driving by, children were laughing somewhere. The world continued to exist as if nothing had happened.
But for Katya, everything had changed. She stepped away from the window and looked at the apartment with new eyes. A three-bedroom in an old building, not far from the center. High ceilings, parquet floors, large rooms. Her grandmother had left her this place four years ago. Katya remembered them sitting together in the kitchen shortly before her death, and her grandmother saying: “Katenka, you’re the only one who cared for me. The apartment will be yours. The documents are with the notary, everything is in order. Just don’t tell anyone while I’m alive. Otherwise, relatives will flock in, demanding their share.” Katya had brushed it off then, saying her grandmother would get better, that it was too early to think about it. But her grandmother just shook her head and squeezed her hand tighter.
After the funeral, distant relatives did indeed show up, people who hadn’t thought about her grandmother while she was alive. They tried to contest the will, wrote complaints, went to court. But the documents were in order, and in the end, the apartment remained Katya’s. Back then, Lena had said, “You’re lucky, sis. I’m happy for you.” And now she wanted to take it away.
Katya went into the bedroom, opened the closet. On the top shelf was a box with documents. She took it out, emptied the contents onto the bed. The certificate of ownership, the privatization agreement, some other papers. Katya sorted through them, checking every line. The apartment was registered only in her name. They hadn’t bought the apartment together, he hadn’t invested in the renovation. His studio on the outskirts was still his property, he rented it out and received income from it. Katya put the documents back, hid the box in the closet.
Then she took out her phone. Her hands were shaking, but she forced herself to act calmly, methodically. First, she opened her chat with Andrey. Reread the last messages. Nothing suspicious. Just ordinary household chat: “buy bread,” “I’ll be late at work,” “what’s for dinner.” No hint that he was having an affair with her sister.
But Andrey often left his phone at home. He said he didn’t like carrying it with him all the time, that it distracted him from work. Katya stood up, went into the living room. Andrey’s tablet was on the coffee table. He rarely used it, mostly for watching movies. Katya picked up the tablet, turned it on. There was no password; Andrey never put protection on a home device. She opened the messenger. And immediately saw the chat with Lena.
Katya sat on the sofa, feeling her heart pound furiously again. She began to read. The messages dated back to last year. The oldest one was from June.
“Andryusha, I can’t stop thinking about you.”
“Lena, this is crazy. But me too.”
“When will we see each other?
Comments are closed.