— Well, — Timur speaks slowly, — let’s continue, — he looks at me, — nothing will change, Juliana.
I exhale quietly. I free myself from the Saint's touch and get off the sofa. I just can’t sit still. Despite everything seeming to remain the same, I still feel anxious. The marriage contract… My father wants to sell me to Timur and believes he’ll do it on some favorable terms for himself, as if I should be pliable like dough. What will happen when Volodymyr Dykui understands that everything is not as it seems? Or… Is Timur playing? No. Probably not. The contract will… God.
— We continue, right? — I ask dryly.
I cast a brief glance at the Saint. For some reason, he smiles, and it’s a satisfied smile, as if he rejoices. I just don’t understand why.
— What you agreed to, Juliana, — Timur replies calmly. His gray-blue eyes watch closely, following my attempts to calm down. — Don’t you care anymore about your mother and brother’s freedom?
— I care, but this is a marriage contract!
— And what of it? — Vlad’s voice echoes.
— What? — I turn sharply to him. — Timur will become my husband. My father will…
— I told you, — Vlad interrupts firmly, — as long as I don’t want, your father won’t find you. Calm down. — He orders in a commanding manner.
It’s strange, strangely for me, but I don’t listen.
— I believe you, — I say, breathing rapidly, — but I don’t understand your actions. — I turn to Timur. — You are brothers! And no one said anything to me!
The Saint raises an eyebrow and looks at his brother, as if to say, it’s your problem, deal with it. A barely noticeable smile ignites even more. Fear has somehow turned into anger. This is the first time this has happened. I used to try to bury it deeper, so it wouldn’t tremble visibly, especially in front of my father, but now… Now it’s really different. As if with the Saint, I’ve unlocked something new inside myself. Important. Necessary.
— Yes, and today you met our sister. Does that change anything? — Vlad asks calmly.
I swallow the lump in my throat.
— It changes. Now I know that you don’t just have a common reason to pressure our father, but something much bigger.
— Something much bigger doesn’t concern you, Juliana, — he cuts me off. — The main thing is your goal, isn’t it? I have given freedom; you are already using it wisely. Later, I will give it to your mother and brother too.
Vlad is partly right. After all, his freedom is an illusion. It exists, undoubtedly, but it is deceptive. It seems that the Saint, unlike my father, simply keeps me on a long leash. I know this, I can feel it. Because I have already become attached to this man. I already desire him to be near me. I need his attention, his touch, his smile, laziness, purring. I want him to teach me to paint, to spend time with me, to hug me, to protect me. It’s bitter to admit, but I’m not a fool. So I know in my thoughts — his freedom is dependence on himself.
— Alright, — I reply. I fold my arms across my chest and scrutinize the brothers with a critical gaze. — So what do we do about the marriage contract?
They both smile. Both. Cunning burns in shades of blue and gray-blue. A wild fire that burns with mad intensity.
— That’s not your problem, Juliana. — Timur replies softly. — For now, we need to gather ourselves; in a few hours, we must go to your father.
— He’s the one who initiated the marriage contract?
— He is, — Timur slowly gets up and walks to the desk.
— And you agreed?
— Dykui believes that I am madly in love with you, Juliana. He decided to push. You just need to play your part and remain silent.
I exhale. I’m scared. I feel my hands trembling. Again.
— Okay. — I turn to Vlad. — Are you going with us?
The blue of the Saint darkens. Significantly.
— No.
— Why? — it comes out pitifully, but I can’t do anything about the disappointment. It weighs heavily on my shoulders.
— It’s not allowed, my Timid Doe.
Timur doesn’t comment on how he calls me; I… can’t calm my fears, so the words pass through my consciousness. How can I do without him? I need him. Very much. He… He is like a wall that will hold me up when I fall. How can I… be with my father alone in one room without the Saint?
— Juliana, — Timur interjects, — everything will be alright. You will only answer that you agree to the terms, we’ll hold hands, maybe I’ll kiss you.
— Y-y-you’ll kiss me?
— Not on the lips, — Vlad cuts off. — Maybe on the temple, let’s say.
I cast a quick glance at the man, then look back at Timur. The gray-blue eyes are cheerful; does he enjoy everything that is happening here?
— We’ll see, — the Saint disrupts. — For now, we need to discuss something with Vlad. You can go outside or go to the living room. Perhaps you’re hungry? Or want something to drink?
— I’ll go outside, — I reply hoarsely and leave the office.
I walk through the hallway in a daze. I don’t remember how I walk outside. The yard is lush and green. A well-manicured lawn, flowers, thujas planted under the fence surround the house in a conditional square. Out of the corner of my eye, I notice a gazebo, so I head toward it. White, with a table and chairs inside, it greets me with coolness and silence. Only now do I notice that there’s not a single sound around, except for the gentle breeze and the singing of birds. No cars, no human voices. Just… silence.
I sit at the table and take out my phone. I open a drawing app and start tracing lines on the screen with my finger. Stripes that represent nothing. Time flies by, minute after minute. I immerse myself in the process and try to create something out of the lines. That’s how Vlad finds me. He silently sits down across from me. The sleeves of his shirt are rolled up, his gaze strange. I notice when the bracelet on his wrist catches a beam of sunlight. It shines beautifully. I slowly walk my eyes over the man. He allows it. He appears calm. He resembles a predator watching its prey: feigning indifference but, in reality, ready to pounce at any moment.
— Did you discuss what you wanted? — I ask quietly.
— Yes. — He replies shortly.
— Why me? — Vlad raises an eyebrow questioningly. — Why did you approach me then, at the exhibition?
— You are not a random choice.
— I know. But… why not my mother?
— And what can your mother do? — He smiles crookedly.
I lower my gaze to the screen of my smartphone, then look at him again.
— So, what did my father do to you? Why invent some complex scheme to…
— To do what?
I exhale.
— I don’t know.
— Juliana, life is a complicated thing. We live through emotions, whether we want to or not. Mastery over oneself doesn’t mean that a person is immune to their influence. The desire to have something or to take revenge. The desire to possess or be the best. Dreams. Goals. There are people who remain in their own world, living like robots, thinking that it’s normal. There are others, those who break out of the boundaries. I am one of them. I control my emotions, but they control me too, despite all the skills and thoughts that I can keep them on a leash. Surrendering to them, I embark on a path, and it doesn’t matter whose heads roll in the process.
I ponder that the Saint should be quiet. I admire him and at the same time analyze everything that has happened. So many actions and so few words. Firm assurances of protection that inspired trust. The realization of what I feared to think about and the transformation of me into a woman. Touches. Feelings. Glances. And all of it doesn’t matter. I am not important. To him. Vlad has a goal. What? Unknown. Yet for it, he said he can promise nothing. But… does he want to?
— Will mine fly away too? — I whisper.
He tilts his head to the side. He looks attentively. He touches every part of my face with his gaze. At night, he touched my body with his lips, and now… Now there’s a marriage contract between us and his brother, an agreement with him, and a wall.
— It’s time to go. — He says instead of answering.
— You’re ignoring the question.
— I’m postponing it. — He stands up from the table. — Come on, Juliana.
“ My Timid Doe” — why did he call me that?
“ Mine…”
Is he mine?
Epilogue
In the car, Timur is silent. So am I. I don’t know what to say. Too much is happening. Thoughts are filled only with the emotions Vlad spoke of. They scream that I am being taken to execution. My father, if Timur says anything that he thinks is wrong, will immediately play all of us. He’ll take me away from my brothers. Away from the people with whom I feel safe because I believe — Timur also won’t let me be hurt.
We arrive at my father’s office. The Saint smiles warmly, encouragingly, and we get out of the car. A warm masculine hand takes mine in an unusual gesture. He squeezes my fingers, supporting me, and leads me forward.
— Don’t be nervous.
I nod, but it makes little sense. Step by step, as we approach the glass building, the fear grows. My mouth is dry, I can’t lick my lips. My breathing is frequent and shallow. I try to match Timur's pace, but it doesn’t work; I’m too anxious. The Saint pretends everything is fine. When we reach my father’s office, he hugs me around the waist and pulls me closer. I notice how his facial expression changes. There’s a sparkle in his eyes, a smile plays on his lips that’s impossible to resist.
— Breathe, Juliana, — he quietly says, opening the door to the office.
Just as I meet Volodymyr Dykui’s gaze across the massive table, I find it hard to breathe. Oxygen disappears, as if someone deliberately extracted it from my lungs. I cling to the fabric of Timur’s shirt, hugging him in response, and try to pretend that everything is okay. I breathe in, frequently and deeply, but it doesn’t help. Everything darkens before my eyes, and in a moment, I almost collapse against the Saint.
— Hello, future son-in-law, — my father’s enthusiastic voice sounds. — Daughter, — he continues.
I don’t know how I register the moment he gets up from behind the table and comes to meet us. Timur shakes hands while holding me close. Dad approaches to hug me, but I physically can’t play so perfectly. I could never be an actress. Still, I have to endure. Once Dykui hugs me and whispers in my ear that one disagreement from the groom and my mother will have a few bruises, I barely suppress the nausea.
Everything gets tangled; the ceiling turns into the floor and vice versa. It’s bad. The world floats. Timur probably sees my condition because he sits me down in a chair and hands me a glass of water.
— You poisoned yourself with an octopus, probably, — his voice sounds as if through a thick layer of water.
I drink it all and support my forehead with my hand. I need Vlad. Just to hold my hand. Or his scent. Yes, I need his scent. I close my eyes and recall the image that he let me finish for him. I mentally draw the imaginary sun, flowers, grass, and bushes. I transport myself there, into the aromas of the dark forest, paints, feelings of danger, yet the feeling of a protected back. Only then does it become easier.
— So, are you agreeing to this? — the surprise in my father’s voice resembles the scratch of a nail on glass. — Your shares will become hers, and I’ll stop.
— If you write officially that you vow not to come within five hundred meters.
— That’s a successful agreement. What about my daughter?
— We’ll have a wedding, — Timur replies cheerfully. — I told you, she is sacred to me. I didn’t even think it would happen this way. For now, as the traditions require, and my parents respected them very much, in this way, I will show my respect, the bride should live with her father. Almost everything is ready for the wedding. I’ll send the dress. I just need Juliana’s signature.
— Daughter, — Dad’s voice causes me to flinch.
— Yes, Daddy? — out of habit.
— Will you sign?
I look into the green eyes of the man who raised and humiliated me. I look and feel such hatred that cannot be expressed in words.
— I will sign, — I reply tiredly. I have no strength left for anything. I feel oppressed.
— Excellent. — He claps his hands.
Timur carries the contract. He sits across from me, hands me the papers and a pen. I start to sign, still not fully realizing what awaits next, and I hear a quiet voice:
— Hold on.
I place my signature. After that, everything is in a haze. Timur leaves a kiss on my forehead and walks away. It’s just me and my father alone in the office after practically gaining freedom. Only now does the realization hit me like a brick to the head — I’ve been betrayed. I don’t know what I’ve signed, for the second time, but now I’ve fallen into a trap. Vlad is not here. Timur is not here either. I’m practically a wife, and is it to Timur, knowing the brothers' plot? And I’m going home again. Back to where I hate to be. Yet I have no strength to be outraged or angry. I have no energy for anything at all.
They’ve stabbed me in the back, haven’t they? Probably already indifferent to the documents, someone is going to take me from my father.
— Shall we go? — Dad cheerfully asks. — I’ll take you and celebrate.
I stand up. I don’t know why. I just can’t sit any longer.
— I’m not going.
It’s late to show character, which doesn’t exist a priori, but I don’t want to remain silent. Disappointment and pain pierce me through and through. A hope smolders in my heart that I misunderstood everything, that this is a mistake and a joke, and Vlad is going to take me right now, but logic tells me — he promised nothing. It’s all me… Only me. To him, Juliana Dika is a path that, once walked, leads to a goal, and today it must have been achieved. Afterward, only my dad, marriage, and Timur playing the role of husband. Perhaps a good one, but… Or maybe I am right, and there won’t be a husband at all; it will just be me, my father, mother, brother, and my shattered dreams and hopes. Only a knife will forever stick in my back, reminding me how I was deceived. And the promises? Agreements? Freedom? There won’t be anything… At all. What did I believe in? What did I hope for? What do I know about the brothers? Who are they? What was the goal? And what awaits next?
— Don’t you understand? — my father asks angrily. He doesn’t believe that I am resisting, even if weakly.
— I’m not going, — I say louder. — I don’t want to be with you. I don’t want to go home.
— Where do you want to go? — deceptively softly.
— Anywhere, but not with you.
— You’ve succeeded, Juliana. Timur has done what I need, and because of that, I won’t be too angry. That’s why you will truly become his wife. Your fate will depend on him from now on. However, that will come later. Right now — we are going home.
— No.
My father gets up from the table. He quickly approaches and grabs my hand:
— You, incompetent one, decided you have the right to something? Your role is to bring benefit. Right now you bring it to me, so be obedient.
— No, — I try to pull my hand away.
My father is furious. He yanks me toward him, and then, when I try to push back, he strikes. It’s enough to knock me off my feet and to throw me back into the chair. Blood drips from my nose, bitter tears well in my eyes.
Back to square one. Once again, I am Juliana Dika. And the blank check for freedom, just like that imaginary tunnel, was just a sweet castle made of marshmallow because… Vlad promised that no one would hurt me. He said he is not my father. He lied to my face that he could no longer threaten me. He promised protection. And instead, he took advantage. He played. He held me like a puppet. I knew… but still believed. Not in words. In touches. In the feelings with him. In the moments when masculine arms held me in embrace during a storm because I was scared. In hands that taught me to paint. In the voice that soothed me. In lips that have now left scars. Forever.
PART TWO