Vlad stands at the threshold. The question comes out quietly. His voice is somewhat hoarse, but strangely, he is dressed in a suit. A watch on his wrist, the same unchanging bracelet. Concern flickers in his blue eyes. It feels like the Saint is looking at me as if I were crazy.
— Why did you cut it?
— I wanted to.
— Nice, — he is surprised.
— Nice?
— Very. It suits you.
— Thank you, — I whisper in response.
The pause between us stretches out. I'm standing in my underwear, but Vlad, as always, demonstrates the composure worth all the riches in the world. He looks only into my eyes.
— Where are you going?
The Saint snorts. A crooked, familiar smile appears on his lips. Lines form at the corners of his mouth. I remember how they struck me during our first meeting; for some reason, I focused on them.
— Business.
Short questions. Short answers. Nothing significant, yet my heart is tearing at the sight of him.
— What kind? — I ask boldly.
He smiles again.
— The doctor will come soon.
— You're avoiding the answer.
— I will come back before he arrives, — he continues, as if he doesn't hear.
I place the scissors on the sink. I avert my gaze. I stand naked before him, not only in body but in soul. Always. Constantly. And he still hides something.
— Why are you like this? — I ask sharply. Desperately. Hoping for an honest answer. — So indifferent and cold? Then hot, soft, gentle? You know how to be both.
— I control my emotions, but they also control me, — he replies.
I've heard this. I heard it before going to the Wild and signing a marriage contract with Timur. Back then, he said that starting the path to a goal, it didn't matter whose heads would roll.
— You've postponed the answer. You owe me at least one regarding any question. I'm tired of guessing…
— I'm going into private security.
I bitterly snort. An answer, but not to the question I need.
— Have you ever lost something? How did life make you so indifferent and calm? There are few situations that throw you off balance. Explain why? Back then, by the lake, you were…
— Don't look for it, Yuliana, — he pleads. For the first time, I hear something new slip through his voice. Different. An emotion that has never been present before.
— What not to look for? — I sob.
Vlad steps closer. He touches my short hair. He trails his fingertips down my cheek.
— You are a wonderful girl. My wife, — he hoarsely states.
— But we won't be together. We can only occasionally make love if we want? Right? You'll leave me once it's time to achieve the goal... That's true too, isn't it?
— I will leave when our goals are achieved. You and your family will be free..
— And will Volodymyr Dyk be off the stage?
— He will get what he deserves, — he cuts off ambiguously. — I told my mother about our deal and shares. — He kisses me on the forehead. — I'll be back soon. Timur is with you. Don't worry.
The Saint avoids looking me in the eye. This worries and unsettles me. He turns and disappears from the bathroom. Immediately, my chest tightens with the feeling that the entire conversation was a dream, yet the hot burn on my skin from his kiss reminds me, with its pulsing sensation, that it was all real.
I notice a robe on the hanger. I grab it, wrap myself up, and step out as well. I stride outside. I want to inhale a breath of fresh air that the last summer nights share.
I sit on the steps of the porch, resting my chin on my hands. I tilt my head back and gaze at the stars. They shine brighter than diamonds in the sun. So beautiful, so distant. I remember how the Saint said I reminded him of a star. Distant, unattainable, unknown to anyone.. He said I didn't want to shine brightly. But that's not true. He was mistaken. I want to. It's just our goals differ. His is revenge, mine is a desire for freedom and harmony. That's all. Probably why he will leave… He is not the enamored girl who has seen nothing in this world, who lived in a gilded cage and suffered from tyranny. He hasn't felt, if not physical, then emotional pain. It's not his dreams that shattered against the walls…
— How are you? — Timur's voice startles me.
I jump in place. The man is sitting nearby, it turns out. Probably for a long time, and I didn't even hear him.
— Fine, — I squeeze out dully.
— I'm sorry, Yuliana. For everything.
I turn to Dobry.
— Why?
— I believe you have the right to know. Vlad makes a mistake by not telling you everything, wanting to protect you. I think there's nothing left to ruin, forgive me.
— What do you mean? — I ask, anxious.
— All of this started because of revenge against your father. He hurt our sister — Milana.
Timur falls silent, and I eagerly wait for him to continue. I was right; it truly is about their sister.
— What did he do?
Dobry sighs.
— I’m sorry, that while we were saving her, you suffered. You see, when the plan was devised, I didn't know you. I hadn't seen how fragile you were, I hadn't noticed that you were suffering too. That day, at the exhibition, I just knew that you were our target. And for the sake of revenge for Milana, it was necessary to hit you in any way possible.
— Everyone is to blame, — I say quietly. — If you look at everything from a different angle, I'm glad Vlad approached me back then. Otherwise, I would have married an old man, would have continued to suffer… So… If this suffering leads to the desired freedom…
— Then it’s not in vain? — Timur smiles.
— Then it’s not in vain.
I wait for the man to start speaking again. To tell me why… What happened between Dyk and Milana, or, more likely, what he did to her if they wanted revenge? But Timur suddenly stands up, suggests tea, and disappears into the house, promising to soon bring a cup of fragrant drink.