The wife of the Saint…
At first, I rejoice. I smile sincerely and cheerfully at Timur Dobry. But as soon as I recall his deceitful surname, I immediately understand my mistake—he is Vlad's brother. He has the same surname, Holy!
— Do I have a choice? — I whisper softly.
Timur looks calm. This calmness touches me with some invisible waves. Then he takes my hand and leads us back to the altar.
— Just a little more, — he says vaguely.
The representative of the registry office begins. He talks for a long time about the importance of marriage, about support and the rest, which I let go in one ear and out the other. Not because I’m not interested, but because none of this will be with Timur. I don’t want it to be…
Time flows monotonously. Everything that is happening is unimportant. I search for Vlad with my eyes, not immediately understanding. It is impossible to hide this from the observant Timur. He holds my hand, and as soon as I start to wander my gaze through the trees again, he squeezes it.
— Do you, Timur Dobry, take Julianna Dyka as your lawful wife?
— Yes.
— And you, Julianna? Are you ready to be with Timur for a lifetime, to support him, to be a friend and a wife, to accept all his qualities and love him devotedly?
— Yes, — I reply hoarsely.
— Kiss your wife, — the man marrying us smiles gently.
Timur looks into my eyes. Everything in my body flutters. I don’t want him to kiss me. I don’t want it to be him. It’s not disgusting, not at all. It’s just… nothing is vibrating in my heart right now. It’s just… I imagine Vlad and his blue eyes instead of the grayish-blue ones.
Dobry leans down and lightly brushes his lips against mine. Briefly. Concisely.
I exhale.
He takes my hand, and we walk down the aisle covered in petals to the applause of the guests.
I glance back, forcing a smile on my face. I'm searching for him. Looking everywhere. In every tuxedo. Behind every tree. Is he somewhere? Hiding? He must be here, right?
The celebration exhausts me. I do everything a bride is supposed to do: I dance the wedding dance with Timur, my father, the guests. Sometimes we kiss because we have to. But not for a single moment during this time do I not search for the Saint.
The wedding drags on languidly, spreading like fog in my thoughts. I come to my senses only in Timur’s car when the celebration is over. We rush past the night city, startling all its residents. We remain silent. Sometimes he glances sideways but says nothing. I am constantly squeezing the fabric of my dress from nerves, to the point that a few small pebbles fall under my feet. Maybe it’s because of this that Dobry can’t hold back:
— Stop it, — he throws out curtly.
— I’m sorry.
Silence again. Only the sound of the engine is heard. Minute by minute, I still can’t hold back:
— Vlad was at the wedding. — I assert.
Timur smiles briefly:
— He was.
— Why? He’s not hiding in the shadows?
— Your father doesn’t know him.
I sigh. I’m unlikely to get an answer regarding Vlad. But we were at Vlad’s art exhibition, so why aren't they familiar?
— Where are we going?
And again, a smile:
— Wedding night, Julianna. Don’t you know?
It feels like Dobry is mocking me. There’s no hardness in his tone, just genuine laughter.
— I agreed to all of this out of a desire to help my mother, — I say offended, but there's nothing I can do; — and you’re taking me who knows where, to spend the wedding night?
— Uh-huh.
— I slept with your brother! — I shout. — Doesn’t that bother you?
— No, — he chuckles cheerfully.
— No? — I ask, surprised.
— No, — he repeats.
I don’t know what to say. I exhale noisily. Has something changed? Has Timur ceased to be the middleman between me and Vlad? He’s not the one who asked me out, though for the sake of misdirecting my father’s eye, it was him. But Vlad was the one who initiated it.
Finally, the car stops beside a country house. Behind its walls, there is a forest; there’s no one around, not even other houses. There isn't even a fence, just grass everywhere. Quiet and deserted. It feels like we are not far from the city, yet it seems as if we are in another reality.
I get out of the car and look around, holding onto my dress. The house is beautiful, white, single-story, resembling a summer cottage or something like that. Next to it is a gazebo and a wide swing. I also notice a barbecue and a small table.
— Go into the house, Julianna, I’ll be right there, — Timur asks and goes somewhere behind the gazebo, disappearing into the darkness.
At first, I hesitate, but the rather cool wind urges me inside. As soon as I enter, the light turns on. It immediately reveals a modern renovation and expensive, minimalist furniture. The interior is white, reminiscent of Vlad's apartment. The only difference is that it feels cozier here, whether because of the warm shades of the curtains or thanks to the blanket on the large sofa that is visible from the living room.
I sigh. I don’t know what to think. I walk further, and suddenly I hear the noise of a car’s engine. I rush to the window and see that Timur has left. He just took off and left me alone! What is even happening?