A month has passed since the beginning of the course. I still don’t know what happened then, at Vlad’s meeting with the shareholders and Dyk. I can’t approach and ask him; we don’t see each other. And the reason isn’t me, because practically every evening and night after classes I spend at his apartment. The reason is him. He simply doesn’t come home. He leaves money for me with a note on the kitchen table, and that’s where our communication ends. So, all this time, I’ve been able to focus all my attention on studying and having fun with Katrin. We’re joined by a few other classmates, and we go to various bars, pubs, and nightclubs on weekends. Sometimes even on weekdays. Katrin has suggested several times that we visit “Paradise” again, but I refuse. I want to ignore the Saint’s prohibitions and go there, so he can see, know… But Vlad isn’t around to demonstrate what I’ve learned about being disobedient.
Today begins as usual. Waking up at seven in the morning and taking a shower, I prepare breakfast. I brew coffee, which I’ve never drank before. Now I drink it — Katrin taught me. I talk on the phone with a classmate and pretend that I’m interested in the academy students who, according to her, want to get to know me better. I myself think about how much longer I need to wait until Vlad settles everything with his mother and brother? When will we truly be free from Dyk’s oppression? The rest of my thoughts I deliberately suppress because I know that the time for suffering hasn’t come yet. The Saint has disappeared from my life, probably wishing not to cause pain after our last conversation, but he doesn’t realize that he’s breaking my heart in doing so. Just in this month of communicating with the students, I’ve learned to express my emotions on canvas and paper, rather than suppressing them in my soul. I’ve learned to set aside anger, sadness, and bitterness from the separation for later, so at night, while no one sees, I can suffer and cry into my pillow. I’ve learned to appear strong on the outside. In some sense, here my father’s tyranny helps, as thanks to him, iron resilience is present in my character. I just endured torment then, and now I endure pain from wounds… And that’s the only difference.
No, I know Vlad thinks this is better. He believes that the passion he’s afraid to step outside of will bring nothing. Our love is somewhat one-sided. I love, he does not. To him, I am merely a wife on paper. Soon... Soon the time will come, and we will part forever. He will never think of me again and will continue living. He will cut me off, so as not to be the cause of pain, and I will have to learn to exist, rejoicing in my freedom and convincing the world and myself that it’s better this way, that it’s my choice… That I had that damned choice at all…
— Are you listening? — Katrin pulls me from my thoughts.
— Yes.
— And what did I say?
— The story about our young teacher who pushed Inesa, who was taking the exam, and how he has a crush on me.
— I doubted, — she mutters. — So what do you think of him?
I sigh. I had to tell Katrin that the marriage between me and the Saint is fictitious. I didn’t go into details, just shared that this way I am escaping from Dyk. And she didn’t ask any more questions. She just sighed sadly, muttered that then his heart is free, and we left it at that.
— I don’t know, — I taste the coffee. I burn myself and quietly mumble under my breath that haste is a bad thing.
— Zirka, he’s a GOD!
— We have an age difference.
— A few years. Vadim Vadimovich finished his studies as an external student, — she cuts in. — I recommend you pay attention.
— I don’t want to pay attention to anyone, — I say.
— Are you still worried about Anton’s affection? Trust me, if needed, I’ll explain to him myself that he’s not your type!
— No need, — I smile.
— You can always count on me.
I nod, forgetting that Katrin can’t see me. I try the coffee — it’s cold, so I quickly drink it and head to the door. I barely manage to unlock it when I freeze on the threshold. There’s Milana. The blue, painfully familiar eyes look at me scrutinizingly and cheekily. Her hair styled in perfect curls. She leans against the doorframe and snorts.
— I’ll call you back, — I say to Katrin and hang up before she has a chance to be outraged.
— Well, hello, my brother’s wife, — her tone is brazen.
I narrow my eyes. I still remember the cup and her commanding tone.
— Hi, my husband’s sister, — I cut in.
— U-m-m-m, glad to see you’re not the gray mouse I imagined. You can talk normally.
— Do you need something? — I take my keys and put on my shoes. I grab a light jacket and throw it over my shoulders.
— Uh-huh. I want to get to know you better. I want to know who this heroine of a story is, thanks to whom my brothers pushed away that disgusting guy who didn’t let them live.