Timur briefly talks about his mom and himself. He says that Sofia is holding up well, and his little brother is going back to play soccer. Good has found a nice club for him, so overall the atmosphere is festive. Everyone is in anticipation. It’s as if the Christmas holidays are just around the corner, and a miracle is about to happen. As for me, whether I’m upset with my husband or not, I’m still glad that Vlad has decided to ban Diko from coming near me. Knowing the nature of that man, I’m sure he will try to take revenge.
— Hey, are you going to be there long? — Milana’s voice echoes.
I turn back to the girl. I finish my conversation with Timur and head to the house. I share news from her brother, bypassing any mention of her, and continue decorating the house. The party is tomorrow, by the way, and the brothers are not invited. Milana seems hardly bothered by this, while I worry about whether we’ll have problems. After all, I didn’t ask them for permission, just like their sister. So, if the “AMB” driver brought us, then they probably know about our plans. But would any of them want to come? Timur is with his mom — that’s understandable. And the Saint? I don’t know where he is. I don’t know how he lives, what he thinks, or what his plans are…
I’m particularly uneasy about the second part of the plan. We passed the first one, so that’s clear. It happened rather violently, considering my living at home with Diko and the kidnapping of my mom from there… How will the second one go? And why is it even necessary? Isn’t the trial and the complete deprivation of Diko of almost everything he has that part?
The girls pull me out of my thoughts after finishing decorating the house by arguing. Katrin wants to cook her mom’s signature dish, while Milana wants fried eggs because she can’t handle more. Once again, I have to break them up, as they can’t even agree on something as simple as dinner.
The night passes calmly. I manage to cast away all unnecessary thoughts and sweetly fall asleep, surprisingly. Perhaps it has to do with the fact that my wedding night took place here. Or maybe because mom was here with Timur, already saved, while the Saint was washing me and taking care of me… I don’t know, but this house holds my best memories and associations.
In the morning, as the rain starts to drum on the roof and wake me, I return to thoughts about Vlad, my shattered dreams, and barely noticeable, aching hopes. I’m angry with myself for this, but I can’t help it, no matter how hard I try. And I really do try. Sometimes I even wonder how I previously tolerated Diko and his torment without feeling such pain in my soul. Perhaps it was due to the lack of love for him? I knew that my father hated me and tried to humiliate me in every possible way, putting me in my place in life. And Vlad… All this time, he was only trying to teach me to believe in myself, to stand my ground and see how things actually were. Yes, in strange and complicated ways. He pressured me and tried to dominate me while simultaneously showing me that it was wrong. I remember how I went to see my mom alone; not much time had passed since our agreement in the restaurant. Timur picked me up, mom thought of him as her fiancé, while I, returning to the Saint’s apartment, didn’t know where to hide from shame because I didn’t understand what he meant. I apologized then… I apologized for not being able to interpret his words correctly. And he said, “You don’t need to account for yourself or justify.” At that moment, I couldn’t see what I see now. I didn’t know that despite Vlad’s coldness, despite his behavior that seemed strange to me, sometimes his words and hints, which I didn’t understand and still don’t fully grasp, he wasn’t just trying to take revenge for his sister and grant me freedom. Perhaps seeing who I really was, he wanted to help. He wanted to prove that “clumsy, unwanted, not even a woman” wasn’t about me. He wanted to show me that I shouldn’t tolerate such treatment of myself…
I sigh. It’s heavy on my soul. It hurts. Yes, I drove him away because I want certainty. But I’m ready to accept any decision from the Saint, even if he wanted me to stop putting up with things. It’s hard to live on the edge, to balance between anger, despair, and desperate love. It’s difficult to understand that a person who touches your body with such tenderness can so fiercely wound your soul, constantly reminding you that your freedom is yours. As if I’m not using it. And if I’m honest, what does freedom mean for Vlad himself? What does he invest in this word? Because for a long time, freedom was something ephemeral for me, unattainable, unreal. And when the Saint offered me a path to it, I didn’t know what to do. Now, however, I clearly realize that my freedom isn’t loneliness. My freedom is family, loved ones, and friends nearby, a home full of joyful memories, time spent together, paintings created together, the bright looks of my mom and brother, and the ever-present scent of the forest, danger, and paint nearby. My freedom is racing with Vlad on a motorcycle, and then swimming in a body of water… It’s when he hugs me during a thunderstorm, when he picks me up from the club, when he gets upset that I went into “Paradise.” This is my freedom. And loneliness… I lived far too long in its cocoon, even though I seemingly had everything despite the human eyes.
So, I probably continue to believe that Vlad will make a decision that won’t shatter me into pieces. That by driving him away, I did the right thing, and he will know what to do with us… when everything ends.
— Are you still asleep? — Milana bursts into the room.
Judging by her face, she’s just woken up, in a tank top and shorts, luckily the house is heated, so it’s hot inside. I throw off the blanket and sit up.
— It’s the weekend, — I mumble.
— Yeah, you drove my brother away and are enjoying yourself here, — she states. For a few seconds, I tense up, examining her blue girl’s eyes, but it’s worth noting the sparkles of laughter in them, and I relax.
— You asked to dragon your brother yourself, — I say somewhat resignedly.
— But not to drive him away, — she smiles. — In any case, everything will end soon, right? And then you will know what’s next.
I nod. I told Milana everything on one of the previous days. After all, she is the Saint’s sister, knows much more about our situation, and she called herself with complaints that I decided to ignore her.
— You have a positive view of the world, — I tease.
— No, — she leans closer to me and whispers with a smile, — I live this damned life so as not to fall into a crack where hell lies at the bottom of memories.
A chill runs through my skin from those words. I know exactly why this crack exists at all, why there is hell at the bottom. Sometimes I feel guilty because the horrors she has endured were brought by my father.
— Mil…
— Don’t, — she puts a finger to her lips. — You’re not guilty. Do you understand? Because in your eyes, there’s such guilt, as if you did this to me. No. You’re an angel, Yuliana. And I spoil you just as you fix me. Right?
I nod at her. Milana is always sincere; I’ve understood that. She doesn’t sugarcoat her words; if she doesn’t like something, she doesn’t try to present herself nicely, unlike others. She is simply who she is, and therein lies her beauty.
— Then, how about we have breakfast or lunch today before spoiling and fixing?
— Of course. Your Katrin has already gone to the kitchen and is irritating me there.
I laugh.
— She’s interesting, — I shrug. — Persistent.
— More like annoying, but — Milana raises her hands as if to surrender — I’m quiet. Your classmate. Just… annoying.
— Can you hold on until the evening?
— I’ll have to; you’re the only one who makes me patient.
I get dressed, and we walk to the kitchen. Katrin is indeed there, just serving breakfast. So we sit at the table and have breakfast while chatting about the upcoming party.