Gleb nodded. Matvey and Denis moved closer, as if the pendant were something sacred.
— All three of us have them, — said Matvey, pulling down his shirt collar to show his.
Denis did the same. The three pendants were identical.
Zinaida Petrovna felt her heart beat faster. This was unusual. This wasn’t bought at a market. This was a symbol of someone who had money, or a family, or places where you order identical things for three identical children. Zinaida Petrovna looked at the symbol again, and something in her memory stirred, like a creaking door. She remembered an old news item, many years ago, a notice taped to a post near the market. Three identical children, a desperate family, a phone number, the word “Reward,” and a small logo in the corner. The same three stars. Zinaida Petrovna felt the blood drain to her fingers.
— What is it? — asked Denis, seeing her serious face.
Zinaida Petrovna swallowed, trying not to frighten them.
— Nothing, son, — she said, but her voice didn’t quite obey. — It’s just that symbol… it’s not from the street.
Gleb clutched the pendant.
— I don’t know, — he said. — I only know that when I touch it, I remember a voice singing.
Matvey stared at the ground.
— And a smell, — he whispered, — like expensive soap.
Denis frowned.
— And I remember a big gate, — he said quietly. — Tall, metal.
Zinaida Petrovna felt a chill. A gate, expensive soap, a singing voice. This wasn’t the bridge; this was a home. Zinaida Petrovna looked around as if someone might be eavesdropping. The street was ordinary, but she was no longer calm inside because she understood something no one else saw. These children didn’t just have hunger; they had a history. And if someone was looking for them with a reward and a logo, it meant someone else wanted them never to be found.
Zinaida Petrovna took a deep breath, leaned toward them, and lowered her voice.
— Listen to me carefully. Tonight, you’re not going to the bridge. Tonight, you’ll stay near me. And not because I want you to, but because I feel that someone might want you to be far away.
The three looked at her, frightened.
— Who? — asked Gleb.
Zinaida Petrovna gripped the ladle as if it were a shield.
— I don’t know yet. But I’ll find out.
And for the first time in this modest stall, the danger no longer felt like hunger but began to feel like something more—like a shadow reaching from the past. The sun sank lower, and the air grew cool, with that street smell that mixes dust, food, and gasoline. Zinaida Petrovna stood behind her stall, stirring with a spoon with feigned calmness, but inside she was tense. The three pendants with the symbol of three stars had ignited memories in her that she didn’t want to fully believe.
Matvey, Gleb, and Denis stayed close, not crossing the street, as if for the first time they had a place from which they weren’t immediately chased away. They spoke little, watching people with caution, and every time someone got too close, the three would huddle together as if they were one.
Zinaida Petrovna brought them a glass of water.
— Drink slowly, — she said. — I don’t want you to get sick.
Gleb took the glass carefully.
— Thank you, ma’am.
At that moment, a dry chuckle was heard a few steps away.
— Look at her now.
Zinaida Petrovna turned around. Rogov was walking toward them, followed by two men of the type who always walk around with an “I have a permit for everything” expression. One had a folder, the other a cap and a cheap walkie-talkie. Rogov was smiling as if he had come to enjoy himself.
— Zinaida Petrovna, — he said. — What a big heart you have! Giving food to vagrants. Don’t cry later when they take your spot away.
The triplets froze. Matvey looked down. Denis pressed his lips together. Gleb pressed closer to the edge of the cart, as if hiding. Zinaida Petrovna straightened up.
— They’re not vagrants, — she said. — They’re children.
Rogov raised an eyebrow.
— Children who eat for free today and steal tomorrow, — he replied. — That’s how it all starts.
One of the men behind him opened the folder and pretended to read.
— A complaint has been filed, — he said. — For unsanitary conditions and obstructing the passageway.
Zinaida Petrovna felt a punch to the gut. That word, “unsanitary,” was a favorite when they wanted to take something away without telling the truth.
— How am I in the way? My spot is clean, — she said firmly. — It has always been clean.
The man shrugged.
— We decide that, — he said.
Zinaida Petrovna looked at the pan, the pot, the jars. Everything was in order. She knew it. But she also knew that when an inspector comes looking to find something, he finds it.
Rogov smiled.
— I told you, Petrovna, — he muttered. — If you wanted to live peacefully, you would have listened to me.
Zinaida Petrovna looked at him with restrained anger.
— What do you want? — she asked.
Rogov lowered his voice. But in a way that the children could hear.
— For you to stop attracting problems, — he said. — And these kids. Get them out of here.
Gleb looked up with fear. Matvey gripped the edge of the stool. Denis, on the contrary, stepped forward as if he wanted to stand in front. Zinaida Petrovna reached out a hand to him, stopping him without touching.
— No, — she whispered. — Don’t get involved.
Rogov noticed the gesture and smirked.
— Look at that, how sweet! She’s already got bodyguards, — he said. — How much do you pay them? With soup?
People started to look over. Curious onlookers moved closer. This was the plan—to humiliate her publicly so that shame would do its work. One woman from the market muttered:
— That’s why hooligans hang around here.
A man on a motorcycle threw out:
— They should be sent to an orphanage.
The children heard and shrank even more. Zinaida Petrovna felt anger rising but forced herself to speak calmly.
— They haven’t done anything, — she said. — They are eating. That’s all.
The inspector with the folder approached the cart and stuck his nose in, as if looking for germs.
— Mmm, — he drew out exaggeratedly. — It smells strange here.
Zinaida Petrovna gripped the ladle.
— It smells like food, — she said. — As it should.
Rogov stepped forward and pointed at the triplets.
— You see, — he addressed the crowd, — this woman encourages street life. Soon they’ll start stealing, and everyone will complain. But no one will do anything.
Denis clenched his fists. His eyes shone with rage.
— We don’t steal! — he blurted out, unable to hold back.
Silence lasted for a second, and in that second, Rogov smiled.
— Oh, you don’t? — he said. — Well, prove it. Come on, what’s in your pockets?
Matvey looked at Gleb with fear. Gleb instinctively clutched his pendant. Zinaida Petrovna stepped forward, forming a wall.
— You have no right, — she said loudly. — They are children.
The man with the walkie-talkie approached…
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