Water flows from the wet clothes onto the floor, but it seems to me that a soul is leaking out. It's not me; Milana opens the door. Before us is a painted picture — Vlad sits on a stool, the same one he sat on when I painted him. In front of him stands a half-dressed Catherine, in a bra and a short black skirt. In high heels and stockings. A choker peeks out from below her bob. She doesn’t hear us. She doesn’t know that I’m behind her, at her back. All of her groupmate’s attention is taken by Vlad. However, he… Oh, he sees me and his sister. It's strange that even his facial expression doesn’t change; he lazily shifts his gaze from Catherine to us and back. He rests one leg over the other, lightly touches his face with his fingertips, demonstrating a lack of interest. It feels like Catherine doesn’t appear to be the kind of girl who could affect Saint.
Neither Milana nor I move. We are silent.
I, mostly because I don’t know how to behave. Milana, probably for the same reasons, or just stunned by Catherine’s audacity.
— If I wanted to, — Saint starts slowly and smirks crookedly, unfriendly, even threateningly, — I would have done it back when you were sleeping here.
The shadows from the dim lighting hide part of the man. They caress him from behind, touching his muscles, in a way that no one else can. They seem like a continuation of Saint, rather than something separate from him.
— I know that you are in a sham marriage with Yuliana, — swaying her hips, Catherine approaches Vlad. — So saying that you’re madly in love with your wife won’t work. — She squats before him and reaches for the waistband of his pants, which he watches indifferently. — I’ve dreamed of you, Vlad Saint. I’ve dreamed about you since the first day I saw the paintings, and then you yourself. I’ve dreamed every day.
Saint slowly raises his hand, palm toward us. I instantly realize that this gesture is for me and his sister, as if to say, stay where you are and be quiet.
— So you started befriending Yuliana? — he asks almost gently, leaning toward the girl.
— She said she loves you, but if she loved you, she wouldn’t be kissing our classmate, — she whispers, impressed by the proximity.
— What else did Yuliana do? — Vlad asks almost in a whisper. — Was there someone else?
— No, — Catherine squeaks, — but she has a crush on the professor; he… He replaced Inessa. I know you studied with her once at the academy too. She asked…
— Hm, — Saint touches her chin with the tip of his finger, — and what did Inessa say?
— She said she was in love with a broken boy, — the girl exhales and leans her lips toward the man. My man!
— Enough! — I growl. I can’t bear to see this anymore.
If Vlad wanted to show that being friends with Catherine isn’t worth it, then this time I understood.
The girl abruptly turns around and looks into my eyes with a frightened gaze.
— Star? — she mumbles.
— Now you see? — Vlad lazily speaks.
Anger crushes me from the inside. If it weren't for Milana's fingers, which, as it turns out, had been squeezing mine all this time, I would have already been beside both of them.
— Yuliana, I, — Catherine stands up and walks toward me. I notice her red lipstick and gray eyes outlined with black pencil. — It’s not what it seems! I wanted to reconcile you!
I raise my eyebrows and grunt:
— What’s happening between us is none of your business!
— Just stop it, — Milana hisses, releasing my hand and heading toward Catherine. — I’ve wanted to do this for so long! You are such an annoying brat! — unexpectedly for everyone, she slaps her classmate.
At first, I can’t utter a word from shock, but inside, I’m rejoicing. It’s right. Yes… It’s needed because Catherine has crossed a line. The line that friends do not cross.
— Why? — the girl hisses.
— You! — Milana jabs her finger into Catherine’s chest, — get out of here now. I’ll count to three.
Catherine is crying. She touches her red cheek, looking back and forth at me and Vlad, but doesn’t wipe her tears. She picks up a sweater from the floor and glares at Milana with hatred.
— I think it’s time for you to go, Catherine, — Vlad says calmly and indifferently. — I’ll walk you to the door before my sister and wife turn you into a piece of not-so-appetizing meat.
The man stands up and, pushing Catherine from behind, leads her out of the workshop. Milana and I remain alone.
I still don’t understand what to feel. Fear? Joy? Just shock? Pain? Or maybe happiness, because despite everything, Vlad came in response to my message. True, it was full of remorse for his banishment, and not from me, but still…
— I told you she was like that, — Milana sighs.
— And Vlad, — I reply, bewildered.
— Where’s your intuition? — she smiles. — I’ll go back, right? I’ll leave you two.
— Why? — I ask sharply.
— Why? — she laughs. — Yuliana, you are husband and wife, and I enjoy you, but this is a conversation you need to have alone.
— I’m scared, — I whisper.
— Why?
— Because I want certainty. And now I’ll have to ask him if he figured out his feelings… What if they aren’t what I want?
— It’s never too late to start teasing my brother, believe me, I’m a master at it. We’ll come up with something.
Milana kisses me on the cheek, wishes me luck, and like a butterfly, flutters out of the workshop. For a few minutes, I hear the quiet conversation of the sister with the brother, and then Vlad enters the room.
— Hello, wife.