“Three months. Since about mid-January.”
“And when did the attacks start? Like the one you’re having now.”
Anna thought back. The first time she felt ill was about two weeks after Vladimir gave her the gift. She had attributed it to stress at work (the preparation for the annual audit was just beginning, and all departments were working in a rush). Then the attacks became more frequent: once a week, then twice, then almost every day. She paid them no mind, dulling the headaches with pills and continuing to work.
“About two weeks later,” she answered quietly. “Rarely at first, then more and more often.”
“You see?” Arseny Petrovich nodded. “A coincidence? I don’t think so. These magnetic bracelets are a controversial thing. For some, they are harmless, but for others, they can be contraindicated. Especially if a person has a tendency towards arrhythmia or blood pressure spikes. Do you have any heart problems?”
Anna felt a knot form in her stomach. She remembered having a check-up a year ago, and the doctor had noted a slight tachycardia. Nothing serious, they said then, just to watch her routine and avoid overexertion. Vladimir knew about it. He was with her at the appointment, holding her hand, calming her down.
“Yes,” she admitted. “I have tachycardia. A mild case.”
The man frowned.
“Did you tell your husband about this?”
“Of course. He was with me at the doctor’s.”
“And he still bought you a magnetic bracelet?” There was bewilderment in Arseny Petrovich’s voice. “That’s strange, to say the least. Any doctor will tell you that with heart rhythm disorders, such things should be used with great caution. Or better yet, not used at all.”
Anna was silent, not knowing what to say. Her thoughts were jumbled, and Vladimir’s voice echoed in her head: “I worry about you. This bracelet will help. Trust me.”
Her phone vibrated in her pocket. Anna took it out with a trembling hand and saw her husband’s name on the screen.
“Vladimir, hello?” her voice sounded alarmed.
“Why aren’t you at work?” His tone was laced with irritation. “Stanislav Dmitrievich called, said you stepped out and didn’t come back. What happened? Where are you?”
“I felt ill. I went out for some air. I’m sitting on a bench near the office.”
“Again?” Vladimir sighed with unconcealed annoyance. “Did you take off the bracelet?”
Anna looked at her wrist, where the thin chain still gleamed.
“No.”
“Then what’s the problem? You know it helps you. You’re probably just overworked. Ask for time off. Come home, get some rest. I’ll finish early, pick up some groceries, and make dinner. Okay?”
“Okay,” she replied mechanically and hung up.
Arseny Petrovich looked at her with sympathy.
“Was that him?”
Anna nodded.
“Take my advice. Go to a clinic. Today. Get a check-up and find out the truth. And at least take the bracelet off for a while, until you get the results. See how you feel without it.”
She slowly unfastened the clasp and took off the bracelet. The metal was warm from her skin, pleasantly heavy. Strangely, within a minute, her breathing became a little steadier, and the pressure in her chest eased. Whether it was a placebo effect or real relief, Anna didn’t know, but she felt the difference.
“Thank you,” she whispered, putting the bracelet in her jacket pocket. “Thank you so much.”
The man smiled gently, paternally.
“Take care of yourself, young lady. Health is the only thing that truly belongs to you. Don’t let anyone manage it for you. Not even the people closest to you.”
He got up from the bench, adjusted his hat, and slowly walked away down the alley, leaving Anna alone.
She sat for a few more minutes, feeling her strength gradually return. Her thoughts were a mess, but one pushed through the fog with particular persistence. What if Vladimir actually knew? No, that was absurd. Her husband loved her. He cared for her. He couldn’t have… But then why did he insist on the bracelet? Why did he get angry when she forgot to wear it? Why did he never agree when she suggested going to the doctor to check her heart?
Anna stood up from the bench, feeling much better. Her head had cleared, and her heart was beating steadily. She took out her phone and dialed Stanislav Dmitrievich’s number.
“Anna Vasilyevna?” his voice sounded concerned. “How are you feeling?”
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