Chapter 1
I was late.
And not for five decent minutes, which can still be attributed to traffic jams, a long elevator, or the sudden need to return home and check the iron. Twelve minutes after the time we agreed to meet, I was still walking down the street, wet from the recent rain, and listening on my phone as Lera was happy to list my moral shortcomings.
“I’ve already ordered wine,” my friend said. Dishes and music were playing softly against the background of her voice. “And if you don’t show up in the next ten minutes, I’ll order a meal without you.”
โ Order it. You know what I’m eating anyway.
“I’ll take your liver.”
I picked up my pace.
“You know perfectly well that I hate her.
โ That’s an additional motivation. Where do you even go?
โ I’ve already passed Bauman Street, now I’ll turn off and be at your place. I would have arrived on time if you had warned me that it would take a taxi forty minutes from your house to the center, and then it would drop me off a few blocks away because of the blocked passage.
“I warned you.
“You said: “It’s not far away.”
โ By the standards of Kazan, it’s not far.
โ Lera, we’ve been friends for nine years. During this time, it was possible to remember that I am a Moscow person and perceive distances solely by the duration of suffering on the road.
My friend laughed, and I smiled automatically, looking around the street in front of me. To be honest, I couldn’t get mad at her anyway. I arrived this afternoon, for the first time in several months, I properly unpacked my suitcase, took a shower, put my hair on, and even managed to feel like a person who really went to another city to relax, and not a woman who ran away for ten days from her own apartment, work, and too many memories.
The evening was warm, despite the recent rain. The wet tiles glistened under the lanterns, freshness wafted between the old houses, coffee, pastries and meat with spices smelled from the open doors of the cafe. People were walking on both sides of the street, someone was taking pictures at the facade, a group of girls was laughing in front, and on the opposite side a man was hastily folding a rack of souvenirs under a canopy.
It was beautiful here, of course.
It’s a pity that Lera, who threatened my liver, prevented me from enjoying the view.
“That’s it, I’m turning off,โ I said, spotting the right alley. “I’ll be there in a few minutes.”
“You’ve already said that.”
โ So now my words will finally coincide with reality.
I hung up, put my phone in a small bag with a long strap, and straightened a strand of hair that had escaped due to the humidity. The hair that I’d honestly styled for forty minutes in the morning had already started to fluff around my face and was clearly going to make a decision on the shape of my hairstyle by the end of the evening.
I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the dark glass of the closed shop. Long blonde hair below the shoulder blades, milky skin, gray-blue eyes that were saved only by a good concealer after the trip, and a light pink dress just below the knees with short sleeves and a scent on the bodice. It accentuated my waist and fitted my slender figure exactly the way I wanted it to. At one hundred and sixty-five centimeters, the heels also added a little height.
In general, I looked pretty decent.
If you don’t take into account Lera’s lateness and desire to feed me cookies for educational purposes.
After the road, I especially wanted to finally look like a woman who came to my best friend’s wedding, and not a creature in a tracksuit who spent half a day on a plane, taxi and queues.
The cafe was about a hundred meters away.
I could already see the sign around the corner, so I quickened my pace and came to a small exit from the arch between two buildings. She looked to the left, where a car was slowly passing along a narrow street, and stepped across the passage.
The next second, a horn sounded briefly from the right.
I turned my head sharply.
A black SUV was taxiing out of the archway right into the exit.
Everything happened so fast that I didn’t even have time to get scared right away. The car lurched forward, the brakes squeaked sharply on the wet asphalt, and I shied away and unsuccessfully put my heel on the curb. I had to grab a wet metal pole with my palm so as not to sit down directly on the road.
The SUV stopped half a meter away from me.
Now it’s getting scary.
My heart slammed into my throat, my palm instantly began to sweat, and my legs felt uncomfortably weak. For a few seconds, I just stood there, holding onto that unfortunate pole, and stared at the black hood in front of me.
The driver’s door swung open.
“Are you okay?”
The man walked around the car faster than I could straighten up properly.
Tall.
The first thing I noted was completely pointless, because in such a situation it was more reasonable to check your own limbs rather than assess the height of the person who almost knocked me down. But he really turned out to be very tall โ noticeably over one meter ninety, broad-shouldered, in light trousers and a blue shirt with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows. He wears a dark watch on his left wrist, and his short black hair is neatly combed back.
With my height, even in heels, I had to raise my head a little when he stopped in front of me.
He looked to be in his early thirties.
Dark eyes, swarthy skin, straight nose, sharp cheekbones. His face was calm and collected, although the situation did not seem to be conducive to calmness at all.
And he looked annoyingly good.
Especially for the man who was making my heart try to leave my body.
โYes,” I replied, finally letting go of the pillar. “It’s okay.
The man stopped a step away from me and looked carefully at my face, then at my arms and legs. The dark eyes lingered on the shoes.
“Did you fall?”
- no. I resisted.
“Did you twist your leg?”
I carefully shifted my weight first onto one leg, then onto the other. My ankle didn’t hurt.
- no.
“Did you hit your head?”
โ As you can see, I didn’t even have time.
He frowned, as if my answer didn’t satisfy him at all.
โ Get in the car.
I hadn’t fully recovered yet, so I just stared at him for a few seconds.
“Why?”
“I’ll take you to the hospital.”
โ No, thanks.
โ You need to be examined.
His voice remained calm. For some reason, that was what particularly got on my nerves. The man had clearly already come to the conclusion that I needed to go to the hospital, and now he was trying to convey to me the only correct solution, in his opinion.
I took a deep breath of the humid evening air and forced myself to speak normally.
“I didn’t hit anything.” I’m fine.
“You look very pale.”
“Because you almost hit me just now.”
He exhaled briefly and looked at the car.
“I haven’t seen you.” You came out from behind the wall.
“I haven’t seen you.”
“That’s why I suggest we make sure you’re okay.”
โ We’ve already made sure.
I raised my arms to show that they were intact, then I decided in vain to demonstrate the condition of my legs and turned on the spot. My heel slipped on the wet tile, and I had to immediately adjust my foot and balance myself.
The man immediately extended his hand.
I steadied myself, but his fingers rested on my elbow anyway.
“You see.
“I’m wearing heels and wet tiles,” I explained, gently pulling my hand free. โ This is generally a separate type of extreme sport. It has nothing to do with health.
Something like a smile flickered at the corner of his lips, but it was gone before I could decide if I really saw it.
“At least sit down for a few minutes,” he suggested, more gently. โ If we get dizzy, we’ll go to the doctor.
โ It won’t get dizzy.
“You can’t know that.
“Can you?”
โ At least I’m not trying to run away right away after I almost got hit by a car.
I looked at my watch.
Lera has been waiting for me for more than fifteen minutes.
“That’s exactly what I’m going to do, because I’m late.”
“Where to?”
The question sounded so natural that I almost answered.
Then she came to her senses in time.
โ I’m sorry, but this has nothing to do with the incident.
The dark eyes lingered on my face again. Without arrogance or male appreciation, just too attentively. He generally had the uncomfortably collected look of a man who was used to quickly assessing the situation and making decisions. And now, for some reason, my transportation to the hospital has become such a decision.
โOkay,” he said after a short pause. “Then tell me the address, and I’ll take you.”
- no.
- why?
“Because I have two minutes to go.”
โ Even more so.
I blinked, confused.
“Especially what?”
โ It will take less time than our conversation.
It was hard to argue with that.
But getting in the car with the man I saw a couple of minutes ago after he almost gave me a ride on the hood still seemed like a strange way to save time.
“Thanks, I’ll get there.”
I adjusted my purse on my shoulder and took a step towards the cafe.
“Wait a minute.
God.
I stopped and turned around.
He followed me, too, then seemed to remember about the SUV, returned a couple of steps and turned on the emergency lights. The car was parked at the edge of the exit, not blocking the road completely, but it was clearly impossible to leave it here for a long time.
โ Are you sure you don’t have any pain? โ the man asked, coming up to me again.
โ Exactly.
“No nausea?”
- no.
“Are you feeling dizzy?”
- no.
โ Do you understand that after a fright, you may not immediately feel pain?
โ I understand.
โ Then let’s go.
I closed my eyes.
“Where to?”
โ To the hospital.
“We just discussed this.”
โ And you made the wrong decision.
Now I was looking at him openly.
“Excuse me?”
He stopped about a meter away from me. A couple passed by, and the girl turned curiously in our direction, but the man didn’t even notice.
“It’s hard for you to assess your condition objectively right now,โ he explained calmly. โ The inspection won’t take much time.
โ First of all, everything in the hospital takes a long time. Secondly, I really feel great. Third, I won’t get in a car with a strange man.
He was silent for a moment.
โ It makes sense.
- thanks.
“Then I’ll call you a taxi.”
I stared at him.
“Why?”
โ So that you don’t walk.
“I’m going to the cafe across the street!”
“Show me.”
I automatically pointed my hand forward.
“Over there.”
He looked in the direction I pointed.
The entrance was indeed less than a hundred meters away.
But Lera slowly sat back down at the table and silently picked up her glass.
It was clear from her face that only Timur understood here.
Something else was becoming clearer to me.
It’s definitely not going to end in five minutes.
Chapter 2
…It’s definitely not going to end in five minutes.
I realize this at the moment when Kirill, who has been examining Timur with ill-concealed curiosity for a few more seconds, nods towards his table.
“Why don’t you join us?” โ He offers. Then he looks at Lera and immediately corrects himself: โ All together. Since we met by chance.
No.
That’s exactly what I’m missing right now. Spending the rest of the evening at a friendly table with an ex-man, his new girlfriend, his best friend, and the man I hit with a bag less than an hour ago and now impersonated as my boyfriend.
With such a set of participants, we will only have to order a cake and invite a family psychologist.
Lera, who has been watching what is happening from behind her glass all this time, slowly turns her eyes to me. The request to disagree is clearly visible on her face. I’m sure if Cyril had been standing a little further away, she would have already voiced this request out loud and using a couple of very convincing expressions.
“Thanks, but Lera and I haven’t seen each other for a long time,” I reply, deciding to take at least one sensible action on my own tonight. โ I just arrived today, we didn’t even have time to talk properly.
“Of course,โ Vika responds first.
She lightly touches Cyril’s forearm, as if to remind him that they actually came here together, and smiles at me.
“Let’s not get in the way. I already want to eat properly before everything gets cold.
It’s normal.
Polite.
She’s pretty.
Damn her.
It would be much more convenient if she turned out to be an arrogant fool who looks down at me and defiantly hangs on Cyril at every opportunity. Then I could wholeheartedly dislike her and not feel any remorse about it at all.
And so I have to admit an unpleasant thing: the ex found a very nice girl.
Timur’s hand is still on my waist.
I feel it all too clearly.
He’s standing on my right, a little behind my shoulder. With his height, even in my heels, I have to raise my head a little when I look at him. At the same time, Timur behaves so calmly, as if portraying random blonde boyfriends in front of their exes is part of his usual evening routine.
His fingers don’t move or squeeze me for no reason, but his palm is big and warm, and the thin fabric of the pink dress doesn’t help at all.
It makes it very difficult to think.
What makes it even more difficult is that I don’t want to move away myself yet.
โ How long have you been together? Cyril asks.
Well.
It’s started.
I notice how his gaze briefly drops to Timur’s hand on my waist.
Lera sees it too. The friend slowly brings the glass to her mouth, clearly deciding not to interfere and get the most out of what is happening.
Traitress.
I’m about to respond with something safe like “recently,” but Timur gets ahead of me.
“Not long enough for her to start annoying me,โ he says calmly.
I turn my head.
He looks at Kirill quite seriously.
He doesn’t even raise an eyebrow.
For a second, I think I misheard.
“But he’s actively working on it,” Timur adds, and only then does he look at me.
The corner of my lips twitches treacherously.
That bastard.
And if I get indignant now, it will look like we are constantly exchanging similar phrases.
“He has his flaws, too,” I say with a soft smile. โ For example, sometimes he is very persistent.
Understanding instantly appears in Timur’s dark eyes.
Yeah.
I remembered the hospital.
โAlina just doesn’t immediately understand when she’s being taken care of,” he deadpans.
His thumb barely moves over the fabric of the dress at my waist.
Just one short movement.
I feel it all over my body and immediately mentally get angry at myself.
What kind of nervous system is so responsive?
“Because some forms of caring are more like abduction,” I reply in the same calm tone.
Kirill looks from me to Timur, puzzled.
Vika raises her eyebrows slightly.
Lera lowers her face to the glass.
I can see her lips starting to tremble.
Timur pauses, as if considering his answer. Then he looks down at my small pink purse hanging on the back of the chair.
“But you’re still good with a bag.”
All.
Lera chokes on her wine.
She abruptly puts the glass down on the table, covers her mouth with her palm and turns to the window, coughing and at the same time trying not to laugh.
I slowly turn to Timur.
He meets my gaze with a completely innocent face.
“With a bag?” โ Vika can’t stand it.
“It’s a long story,” I answer quickly, before the man decides to tell me everything in detail.
โFor about twenty minutes,โ Timur clarifies.
I narrow my eyes.
โ You are now at great risk of becoming a participant in this story again.
His gaze drops to his purse.
“She’s far away.
“I’ll make it.”
This time Timur is smiling.
And I notice again how much his face is changing. His hard features become softer, faint wrinkles appear near his eyes, and he looks much younger at this moment.
Why am I even noticing this?
Kirill looks at us in a completely different way.
That’s exactly what I was trying to achieve when I walked through the hall to a strange man and asked him to save my suddenly awakened ego. I wanted my ex to believe that everything was fine with me. That I didn’t spend the first weeks after the breakup in the state of a person who had a huge familiar piece taken out of his life and forgot to explain how to fill it now. That I didn’t delete Cyril’s number twice, and then for some reason returned it back. That one night I didn’t look at the Wiki page and didn’t sit there for forty minutes, comparing myself to a woman who wasn’t guilty of anything in front of me.
Now Kirill, judging by his face, believed it.
And suddenly I feel awkward.
Not in front of him.
In front of you.
I’m twenty-seven years old. I absolutely don’t have to prove to an ex-man that after him my life turned into a queue of handsome men with rings.
It was worth admitting this before I dragged my best friend’s fiance’s relative into my own stupidity.
โOkay, we’ll go,โ Cyril says after a short pause.
He smiles, but more cautiously.
โ It was good to see you, Alin.
I look at a familiar face and suddenly realize that I can answer quite calmly.
โ I’m glad too.
This time, without any desire to prove anything.
The encounter turned out to be unpleasant, but not fatal. My heart didn’t break a second time, I didn’t have to pour the wine over my head, and Kirill no longer looks like the person I want to return to.
That’s already a good result.
“Have a good evening,โ says Vika.
She nods to me, then to Lera and Timur.
โAnd you,โ I reply.
Cyril also says goodbye, after which they return to their table.
I watch them go until Vika sits down in her seat, and Kirill pushes the glass away for her.
Only then do I remember the man next to me.
More precisely, about his hand.
It’s still on my waist.
I turn my head.
โ It’s already possible to let go.
Timur looks at my face.
“You can,” he agrees.
But the fingers do not open immediately.
Second.
Maybe two.
Then the warm palm disappears, and I feel it through my dress for a while.
It’s a very strange effect.
I take a small step towards the table, putting more distance between us, and take my purse off the back of the chair.
โThank you,โ I say without joking. โ You really helped me out. And I’m sorry again for all this.
Timur looks from her purse to me.
โYou again?”
I frown a little.
โ We’ve known each other for less than an hour.
“You just told your ex that I’m your man.”
โ First of all, I reported it before I found out your name. Secondly, no one has ever asked you to get into the role so convincingly.
โ So you did it badly?
โ On the contrary.
The response is too fast.
I stop myself.
Timur raises an eyebrow slightly.
“Then why are you complaining?”
“I’m not complaining.
- OK.
He’s clearly enjoying the conversation.
That’s what’s particularly annoying.
Lera finally stops pretending to be a person who is terribly interested in the view outside the window, and turns to us.
โOkay,โ she says, pushing the glass away. “Now that I can breathe again, can someone explain to me what happened here?”
“It’s nothing serious,โ I reply.
My friend looks at me.
โ You were hugging my fiance’s cousin and telling your ex that he was your boyfriend.
- yes.
“After I hit this guy with the bag.”
I close my eyes.
โ A very brief but accurate summary.
“She hit me outside the cafe,” Timur clarifies calmly.
I open my eyes and slowly turn towards him.
โ Did you have to add the geography of the incident?
โ Lera asked me to explain.
โ I can explain myself.
โ So far it’s been interesting.
My friend looks at me with a dumbfounded look.
“Did you really hit him?”
โWith a bag,” I say, and adjust the strap on my shoulder. He took my elbow as I left. I was nervous after the car and reacted sooner than I thought.
Timur looks down at my hand.
โ A very strong reaction.
โ Does that make any difference? Lera asks, already starting to smile again.
- of course. I didn’t load him with brass knuckles.
Timur looks at the small handbag.
โ If there was a brick inside, I wouldn’t have felt the difference.
“There’s a wallet, a makeup bag, a charger, and keys.
โ The keys explain a lot.
I exhale slowly through my nose.
Is that why some people get used to someone else’s life so quickly? Until recently, we were talking about “you”, and now Timur is standing next to our table and mocking me as if he had been training for several years.
And he does it calmly, without loud jokes and the desire to attract the attention of the whole audience. He just says another nasty thing in his low, even voice and watches how I will react.
A dangerous guy.
For my patience.
Timur tilts his head slightly, looking at me as if I had just said something controversial.
- why?
“Because I’m going to have to fake a relationship with you.”
There’s a dark twinkle in his eyes.
“Is it that hard?”
โ I’m still assessing the damage.
โ I did it yesterday.
I’m silent.
That’s exactly what annoys me the most.
He’s not trying to persuade me. He doesn’t tell me what a wonderful plan he came up with. He doesn’t push for pity or try to convince me that I owe him something.
I just calmly listed the facts and now I’m standing in front of him, looking like the question is no longer whether I’ll agree, but what conditions I’ll set.
And, quite unpleasantly, my head is already dealing with the conditions.
On the one hand, the idea is idiotic.
On the other hand, we’ll be crossing paths for the next week anyway. Timur is a relative of the groom. I’m the bride’s best friend. Kirill has been invited to the wedding and will be in Kazan for a few more days. Timur’s family is now sure that we are dating.
And after a week, you can just say that nothing worked out.
People disperse.
It happens every day.
God.
Mom would be proud of me.
I came to a friend’s wedding.
I almost got run over by a car in a day and am now seriously considering a fictitious relationship with the driver.
โ Up to what point? I ask.
Timur is not smiling.
But I can see in his eyes that he understands perfectly well.: this is no longer a rejection.
โ Until the end of the wedding.
I’m counting fast.
Today is Saturday.
The wedding is next Saturday.
“Seven days.”
“Seven.”
At least the chronology is clear.
โ Everything ends after the wedding.
“If we want to.”
I immediately raise my finger.
- no. Don’t start that now. Close.
His gaze drops to my finger, then returns to my face.
- OK.
Too calm.
I don’t believe him anymore.
โ And we need rules.
Timur raises an eyebrow.
“Rules?”
- yes.
โ With points?
- Necessarily.
A smile slowly appears on his face.
“Are you always like this?”
“Which one?”
โ You even want to formalize a fictitious relationship with a technical assignment.
โ I’ve been working with clients for seven years. If you don’t specify the conditions in advance, it turns out in the end that everyone imagined the result differently.
“I’m not a client.
โ While you’re behaving worse.
He laughs softly.
And it’s changing again.
This is the third time I’ve noticed this.
Without a serious expression, the face becomes younger, the sharp cheekbones no longer make it so stiff, and the eyes become warmer.
A very harmful observation.
It would have been better if he had been frowning all the time.
“Good,โ Timur agrees. โ Let’s make a deal.
I fold my arms over my chest.
โ The first one. You don’t announce anything else for both of us without warning.
“I don’t promise.”
โ Then the contract is over.
I immediately turn back to the house.
โ Alina.
His fingers lightly touch my wrist.
I’m stopping.
I look down at his hand.
Timur is watching too.
She remembers yesterday.
And immediately lets go.
No reminders.
Without trying to hold on.
That’s what I’m celebrating.
โOkay,” he says, no longer smiling. “I’m warning you first.
I turn back to him.
“Here.” You already know how to negotiate.
โ I’m a fast learner.
โ The second one. No scenes of jealousy.
“I wasn’t going to.
โThat’s fine. So, there will be no problems with this item.
For a few seconds, his gaze becomes strange.
Timur narrows his eyes a little, but doesn’t say anything.
I decide not to elaborate.
โ The third. No kissing.
That’s where he stops talking.
I’m waiting.
Timur slowly looks from my eyes to my lips.
Not for long.
But it’s too noticeable.
- what?ย I ask.
โ I think so.
“There’s nothing to think about.
“It’s a bad rule.
- why?
โ We will pose as a couple.
“And?”
โ People who meet sometimes kiss.
โ We will be one of those lucky exceptions who know how to show feelings without exchanging saliva.
The corner of his lips twitches.
โ Very romantic.
“But it’s safe.”
โ Cyril may reappear.
โ We’ll manage.
Timur is silent.
His gaze drops to my lips again.
I notice.
And I immediately remember last night. How he stood next to me in the cafe, putting his hand on my waist. How he leaned towards me to keep his voice down. How close his face was at that moment.
Completely unnecessary memories.
Warmth passes over the skin of the neck.
“Good,โ Timur says. “No kissing yet.”
I immediately frown.
“What do you mean, bye?”
โThat you can change the rule.”
โ I won’t change it.
โ Then why are you worried?
Self-confident.
It’s unbearable.
โAnd the fourth,โ I continue. โ The bed is not included in the contract.
Timur looks at me.
Just a second.
Then another one.
And he starts laughing.
Not loudly. He just lowers his head and runs his palm over his chin.
I’m frowning.
“What’s so funny?”
“Nothing.”
โ Timur…
He looks up.
โ Have you decided to prescribe sex separately after the ban on kissing?
- yes.
โ Are you afraid that I will find a loophole?
“I’ve known you for twentyโfour hours. How do I know what you think is a loophole?
He laughs softly again.
“Fair enough.
Then the face becomes more serious.
- OK. There is no sex.
โ great.
“Can I hold your ass?”
I look at him slowly.
I check my face.
No.
Absolutely serious.
That’s the worst part.
- no.
“At all?”
โ Timur.
โ I’m clarifying the boundaries of the agreement.
โ Now you know. Must not.
He nods.
“By the waist?”
His gaze falls exactly there.
And as luck would have it, I immediately remember yesterday’s palm on top of a thin pink dress.
It’s very inappropriate.
“You can grab me by the waist,โ I say. “You’ve done it before, and no one got hurt.”
“By the hand?”
โ Also.
He nods as if he’s actually entering information into an invisible spreadsheet.
“By the hip?”
I slowly look up at him.
โ Are you specifically checking at which point I will hit you?
A smile appears at the corner of his lips.
โ I want to understand the conditions.
โ The hip is outside the conditions.
“Got it.”
I’m about to finish this absurd survey, but Timur continues:
“Hair?”
“What about the hair?”
“Can I touch it?”
I look at him.
The wind moves the long blond strands near my face, and Timur’s gaze glides there for a moment.
“Why would you touch my hair?”
โ I don’t know. I might want to.
I’m getting hotter.
And it’s definitely not about the weather right now.
- no.
โ A tough contract.
โ You can refuse.
Timur is silent.
The smile gradually disappears.
He looks at me calmly, attentively, and in that second something very small suddenly changes between us.
Just a pause.
But it takes longer than necessary.
“I don’t even think so,โ he says.
The voice is no longer mocking.
I have a confused next thought.
I’m the first to avert my eyes to the house.
Through the leaves, I see part of the terrace, white curtains, and Leroy, who is putting a dessert dish on the table. Razilya Rinatovna appears next to her, says something to her and looks back towards the garden.
It’s time to get back.
โSeven days,โ I remind him.
“Seven.”
โ That’s all after the wedding.
- OK.
I look at him again.
Timur nods slowly.
And it’s quite clear from his face that he believes in this part of our agreement the least.
Chapter 7
We don’t reach the terrace.
I take three steps down the path, then stop so abruptly that Timur, who is walking next to me, slows down too.
“Wait a minute.
He looks at me questioningly.
- what?
“We didn’t write anything down.
There’s an expression on his face that I’m beginning to recognize.
It’s funny to him.
“Are you serious?”
โ Absolutely.
I take my phone out of my light pants pocket, unlock the screen, and open my notes. Timur remains standing next to me, towering over me and looking over my shoulder.
“Don’t peek.
โ This is my contract too.
โ When you get a copy, then read it.
He chuckles softly, but takes a half step back.
I’m typing fast.:
Seven days. Until the end of the wedding.
I’ll put the number one below.
โ That’s it. No new details about our relationship without warning.
โ It has already happened.
โ That’s why I’m recording.
“Don’t you trust me?”
I look up at him.
โ You informed your family less than an hour ago that we were dating. Yourself. Without discussion. What do you think?
Timur holds my gaze.
“Fair enough.
Here.
He knows how to admit the obvious.
Sometimes.
I’m writing down the second point.
No jealousy or scenes.
Third.
No kissing.
Fourth.
No more sex.
At this point, Timur looks at the screen again.
“You even wrote that.”
โ What surprises you?
“Nothing.” I’m just admiring your thoroughness.
โ Admire in silence.
He’s smiling.
I’m adding the allowed touches.
Arm. Waist.
Everything else that we have already discussed near the apple tree is prohibited.
Then I think about it and put another point.
โ The fifth. Photos and publications only with the consent of the second person.
Timur frowns slightly.
“Publications?”
โ Social networks exist.
“I’m aware of that.
โ Then you understand perfectly well that I don’t want to wake up one day and find a family photo with the caption “Timur finally brought a girl.”
He’s laughing openly now.
โ Mom is capable.
“Exactly.
I finish writing the last sentence and hand him the phone.
“Read it.”
Timur takes the smartphone from my hand.
His fingers move across the screen, his gaze moving slowly along the lines.
Then he raises his head.
โ Are there no fines?
“Don’t give me any ideas.
โ For violating every point.
โ Timur.
โ I’m silent.
He returns the phone to me.
โ Send it.
I look at him.
“Where to?”
“For me.”
“I don’t have your number.”
โ We’ll fix it.
He takes out his own smartphone, calls the number, and I type it into my contacts.
I stop at the name.
Timur Safin.
I’ll leave it that way. That’s quite enough.
โ It’s done.
“Call me.”
“Why?”
“So I can have your number, too.”
Logically.
I press the call button.
The phone in his hand lights up immediately, and Timur looks at the screen.
โAlina,” he reads.
โ Very unexpected.
“No last name.”
“Why do you need it?”
Timur puts his smartphone in his pocket.
“I’ll find out.”
Timur turns around and walks back to the house. I watch him go.
โ Is this a threat now?
โ Interest.
โ Very reassuring.
We return to the terrace.
Dessert is already on the table. A large tray with chak-chak appeared in the center, along with plates of fruit, small bowls with nuts and dried fruits. The air smells of honey, fresh tea and warm dough.
Razilya Rinatovna is sitting next to her sister and is the first to notice our appearance.
Her gaze goes from me to Timur.
“Agreed?”
I freeze for a second.
On Tuesday at half past five, I go to a small cafe on Kremlevskaya Street, which Kirill suggested.
It’s cool inside after the warm weather. Dark wooden tables, green sofas against the wall, large windows with a busy sidewalk stretching behind them. It smells of coffee, fresh pastries and cinnamon.
The place is unfamiliar to me, and that’s just as well. I have enough memories of Cyril as it is.
“Alina?”
I turn towards the voice.
Kirill had already got up from the table.
He is wearing a light shirt and dark trousers. There’s a cup in front of him.
- hello.
- hello.
I walk over and sit down across from him.
Today I dressed specially so that after the meeting I would go straight to Timur’s parents: a dark blue dress below the knees, a thin belt at the waist, light pumps. Her hair was down, and she wore small earrings.
Kirill looks at me a little longer than usual.
“You look beautiful.”
- thanks.
He already said that on Friday.
But now the phrase doesn’t do anything inside anymore.
Nice.
“Would you like some coffee?”
- yes.
I order a cappuccino.
There’s a pause between us as the waiter leaves.
Silence with Kirill had never been awkward before.
We could drive for an hour in the car, each thinking about his own, and feel normal.
Now I can hear every sound around me.
A spoon in the next cup.
The rustle of the menu.
Music under the ceiling.
โThanks for coming,โ he says.
“You wanted to talk.”
Kirill nods.
He runs his finger along the edge of the cup.
โ I’ve been thinking a lot since Saturday.
Well of course.
“About what?”
He looks up.
“About us.”
I’m silent.
Inside, only caution remains.
โ Kirill, you have Vika.
“I know.”
โ Then let’s agree right away that this conversation should not hurt a person who is not to blame for anything.
He frowns slightly.
“I’m not going to cheat on her.”
- OK.
โ And I’m not calling you back either.
For some reason, after these words, I relax.
โThen I’m listening.”
He exhales.
“I wanted to apologize.”
That’s what I expected less.
“For what?”
โ For the way we broke up.
I look at him.
Kirill looks away to the window.
โ I convinced myself then that if I had already decided everything, it was better to say it quickly and finish it. I thought it was more honest that way.
โ It was fair.
“But it’s cruel.
I don’t say anything.
The waiter brings coffee.
I thank him, wait until he leaves, and take the cup.
“For several months I lived with the idea that our relationship was over,” Kirill continues. “You didn’t know that.” Now I understand what it looked like.
โ It’s bad.
- yes.
โ Very much.
He smiles crookedly.
“He deserved it.”
I take a sip.
The coffee is hot.
โ Why did you decide to say this now?
Kirill does not respond immediately.
He looks away to the window, runs his thumb over the handle of the cup.
And I already understand.
“Timur?”
He winces a little.
โ Including.
Well.
โ Saw you with another person and suddenly decided to work on your mistakes?
Cyril exhales through his nose.
“That sounds lousy.”
“Because it is?”
He leans back on the couch and stares over my shoulder for a few seconds.
โ I didn’t like my reaction.
“Which one?”
โ Jealousy.
I look at him.
โ Cyril.
“I know.”
“You left on your own.
“I know.”
โ You’re with Vika now.
He nods slowly.
โ I know too.
I put the cup down.
“Then why should I do anything about your jealousy?”
“Nothing.”
He answers immediately and looks up at me.
โ That’s not why I called. I just saw you with Timur and realized for the first time that you were really going to move on. Before that, I knew it in my head. And on Saturday I saw it.
That’s more honest.
I slowly run my finger along the edge of the saucer.
โ And what did you feel?
Kirill looks at me.
“That it hurts me.”
We are silent for a while.
I’m waiting inside for at least a little satisfaction.
That’s it.
Four months ago, that’s exactly what I wanted.
To make him regret it.
To understand.
To make him feel bad too.
And now he’s sitting across from me and saying exactly what I wanted to hear back then.
But I don’t feel anything.
Just fatigue.
“I’m sorry,โ I say.
Kirill laughs softly and lowers his eyes.
โ Very sympathetic.
“What should I say?”
“Nothing.”
He shakes his head.
“I wasn’t expecting an answer.” I just wanted to apologize properly. Not by message or anywhere in between.
I’m nodding.
- thanks.
“Are you happy with him?”
This question is more complicated.
Because formally, there is no answer at all.
I lean back a little in my chair and look at Cyril.
“I’m fine.”
It’s not a lie.
I feel really good with Timur.
Surprisingly fast.
Suspiciously easy.
But it’s good.
Kirill nods.
“He’s different.
โ Very much.
“I noticed.”
I’m smiling.
โ You’ve known each other for five minutes.
โ That’s enough.
God.
Men have a separate way of evaluating each other.
โVika is good,โ I say.
Cyril is a little tense.
“I know.”
“Then don’t hurt her because of the memories of me.”
He looks away.
โ I won’t do it.
I hope.
An hour after the start of our meeting, we leave the cafe.
The conversation is over.
It’s a strange feeling.
It was like I’d closed a door that I’d been keeping ajar for four months out of sheer habit.
It’s warm outside.
The sun is already lower, the traffic is dense.
Cyril is walking next to me.
“Where are you going now?”
I look at the clock.
Exactly half past six.
“They’ll pick me up.”
“Timur?”
- yes.
And at that moment I see a black SUV on the opposite side of the street.
Well of course.
Accuracy.
Timur is standing by the car.
Today he is wearing dark trousers, a black shirt with the top button unbuttoned and the sleeves rolled up.
Even from a distance, I can see where he’s looking.
At us.
Cyril notices it too.
โ On time.
“He likes schedules.
We’re crossing the road.
Timur stays by the car and waits calmly for us to approach. As the distance narrows, I see how his gaze first passes over my face, as if he wants to understand what mood I’m in, and only then moves to Cyril.
โHi,โ Timur says.
โHi,โ he replies.
Pause.
Very masculine.
Very informative.
I’m standing between them and I’m about to say something when Timur raises his hand.
But it doesn’t concern me right away.
He holds his hand near my waist and looks into my eyes.
A question without words.
I understand.
And I take a half step closer myself.
A warm palm is placed on the permitted place.
This simple gesture suddenly makes you feel calmer inside.
โ Have you talked? Timur asks.
- yes.
His gaze lingers on my face for another second.
- OK.
Kirill looks at his hand.
Then at me.
“Then I’ll see you at the wedding.”
“See you later,” I reply.
He nods to Timur and leaves.
I watch him go for a few seconds and no longer think about whether he will turn around.
“Let’s go?” Timur asks next to me.
I look at him.
โ Let’s go.
โข โข โข
Timur’s parents’ house is located in another village.
The journey takes more than half an hour.
During this time, he never asks what Kirill and I were talking about.
Actually.
It begins to seem to me that the person is specifically testing how much I can withstand.
As a result, I can’t stand it myself.
“You’re not going to ask?”
Timur glances at me.
“About what?”
“You know perfectly well.
“You can tell me if you want to.”
I turn to the window.
“Very noble.”
“I’m trying.”
โAnd you’re not curious?”
“Interesting.”
“But you don’t ask.”
โ You tell me yourself when you stop waiting for a question.
I turn around slowly.
That’s right.
Has he already studied me?
โ Self-confident.
โ It’s working.
I’m shaking my head.
โ Kirill apologized.
Timur is silent, still looking at the road.
โTo breaking up,โ I add. โ More precisely, for the way he did it.
“And?”
“Nothing.” I accepted the apology.
“That’s it?”
โ That’s it.
Timur’s fingers relax a little on the steering wheel.
Very little movement.
I notice it anyway.
โ Are you happy now?
He glances at me briefly.
“We’re here.”
He evades the question.
The car turns into a bright two-story house.
The lanterns are already lit in the courtyard.
There are two cars at the entrance.
Timur parks, gets out first, and walks around the hood.
I already opened the door myself.
He stops next to me.
“Are you worried?”
- no.
“You’re lying.”
โ A little bit.
โ Mom has already seen you.
“I haven’t seen my father yet.”
โ He’s normal.
โ After your description of yourself as normal, I’m careful with that word.
Timur smiles.
โ let’s go.
Timur locks the car, and we walk down the path to the porch. At the door, he lets me go first, and I enter the house first.
The house inside turns out to be completely different from that of Ruslan’s parents.
More wood.
The light is warmer.
There is a long bench in the hallway, and there are several family photos on the walls.
The kitchen smells of meat, spices and fresh bread.
Razilya Rinatovna comes to us right away.
She’s wearing a light-colored house dress, and her hair is styled softer than at a family dinner.
โ Alina, good evening.
โ Good evening, Razilya Rinatovna.
She hugs her son, then warmly touches my hand.
“Come on in.” I was afraid Timur wouldn’t warn you.
I take off my shoes.
“He warned me.
“When?”
I glance at him.
โYesterday.
Razilya Rinatovna closes her eyes.
โ That’s already an achievement.
โ Mom.
โ I’m silent.
I have to hold back a smile.
A man in his mid-fifties is waiting for us in the living room.
Tall, sturdy, with gray hair at the temples. Timur’s features immediately become noticeable โ the line of his chin, the shape of his eyebrows.
He’s getting up.
“Alina?”
- yes. It’s a pleasure to meet you.
โ Marat Faridovich.
We shake hands.
โ Likewise. I’ve already heard about you.
I take a quick look at Timur.
โ I hope it’s good.
โ It depends on what is considered good.
Oh no.
Marat Faridovich smiles.
โ My son said that you met on the road.
I slowly turn to Timur.
He calmly takes off his watch and puts it on the console.
โ That’s what happened.
“It’s a very short version,” I say.
Razilya Rinatovna looks at us with interest.
“And the long one?”
I smile politely.
โ Timur almost hit me.
Silence.
Marat Faridovich looks at his son.
โ You should have started with that.
โ I didn’t hit it.
“That’s an important clarification,โ I agree.
Razilya Rinatovna puts her palm to her chest.
โ Timur!
โMom, she’s fine.
โ I see that it’s good. And if not?
โ I suggested a hospital.
I can’t stand it.
โ Many times.
Marat Faridovich starts laughing.
Razilya Rinatovna looks at her son with such an expression that it becomes clear where he got the habit of silently pressing his gaze.
I nudge him with my knee under the table.
He grins and finally returns to his plate.
Lera and Ruslan’s first dance starts after seven.
The lights in the hall are dimmed. The guests stand around the dance floor, the phones go up one by one.
I’m standing next to Amira.
Lera laughs when Ruslan says something in her ear.
At some point, he spins her around, her skirt opens in a white circle, and the audience begins to applaud.
“They’re beautiful,โ Amira says.
โ Very much.
When the music ends, the newlyweds are surrounded by guests.
I step back to the table to set down my glass.
Timur’s voice comes from behind me.:
“Will you dance?”
I turn around.
He stands a step away from me and holds out his hand.
โ Is this part of the contract?
“Not anymore.
Right.
We agreed to pose as a couple until the end of the wedding, but what has been happening between us for a long time has nothing to do with Cyril or Timur’s family.
I put my hand in his.
“Then yes.”
He leads me to the dance floor.
The music is getting slower.
Timur puts his hand on my waist, holds my hand with his other hand. I put my free hand on his shoulder.
We’re moving slowly.
There are a lot of people around, but after a few seconds I stop looking at them.
“You’ve been frowning all evening,โ I say.
- no.
“I see it.
“I’m thinking.”
“Is it dangerous?”
“Sometimes.”
I’m smiling.
“About what?”
Timur looks into my eyes.
“About tomorrow.”
The smile disappears from my lips.
“And?”
“Nothing yet.
โ It’s amazing.
“What is it?”
โ You know how not to give out a ready-made solution.
Timur pulls me a little closer to let a couple pass by.
โ I’ve never given you a ready-made solution.
โ You proposed a fictitious relationship ten minutes after the conversation.
“You agreed.”
“In fifteen minutes.”
โ So it was a good decision.
I’m shaking my head.
Timur smiles.
The music continues. His thumb slowly traces my waist.
โ Alina.
- what?
“I’m not going to ask you to move.
I fall silent.
He continues:
โ And I’m not going to pretend that I don’t care if you leave tomorrow or next week.
โ I do not know how it works from a distance.
- me too.
โ Very encouraging.
โ But honestly.
I look at him.
Timur speaks calmly. There are no demands in his voice, no plans for me, or promises that cannot be fulfilled.
And it makes me feel better.
“We’ll talk after the wedding,โ I say.
โ Agreed.
The music ends.
He doesn’t immediately let go of my waist.
I’m not leaving either.
It’s only when a photographer appears nearby and invites everyone to a shared photo that you have to open your hands.
By eleven o’clock in the evening, I can’t feel my legs anymore.
At some point, I give up, return to our table, take ballet flats out of a cloth bag and change my shoes right under the tablecloth. I put the sandals back so that I don’t have to look for them in the hall.
Timur returns a minute later with two glasses of water.
He looks down.
“Gave up?”
“I chose life.
He puts one glass in front of me.
โ That’s right.
“You don’t have to be happy. I didn’t fall on the first date.
โ Are we already counting Sunday as the first date?
I’m taking the water.
“What was it?”
Timur sits on the next chair.
โ I thought it was the second one.
- why?
โ The first was a family dinner.
I start laughing.
“Which one I didn’t come to with you?”
โ Details.
โ Your parents, aunt, uncle, Ruslan, Lera, Amira and half the family were there.
โ A serious first date.
“It’s terrible.
โBut you stayed.
โ Lera brought me here.
“And then she agreed to date me.”
โ Fictitious.
Timur turns to me.
โFor now.”
I stop smiling.
Him too.
The word hangs between us.
While.
And this time I like it.
The presenter’s voice is heard from the side of the stage, the cake is announced. We have to get up.
Timur is the first to pull out my chair. I stand up and take his hand.
Then cake, photos, more toasts, laughter, music.
Lera finally takes off her veil.
Ruslan is already without a jacket.
Towards midnight, the older relatives begin to leave. Alfiya Nailevna hugs Lera, Marat Faridovich talks to the driver, Razilya Rinatovna comes up to me before leaving.
โ Alina, it was nice to meet you.
โ Me too, Razilya Rinatovna.
She takes my hand.
โ Come again.
- thanks. Necessarily.
โ And not only for weddings.
I’m smiling.
- OK.
Razilya Rinatovna looks over my shoulder.
I turn around.
Timur is standing about five meters away and talking to his father.
When I look at his mother again, she’s already smiling.
“Good night.”
“Good night.”
She’s leaving.
Before going outside, I grab my cloth bag from under the table and pull out my jacket. It got cooler at night, so I put it on over my dress. The sandals remain in the bag.
The wedding ends around half past one.
The last guests go outside. The staff is already collecting some of the dishes, the music in the hall is turned off, only the garlands continue to burn near the entrance.
Lera and Ruslan are standing by the car.
They stay overnight in another building of the complex, but it was decided to take them to it anyway โ Lera categorically refused to walk along the paths in her wedding dress for several hundred meters.
I hug her.
โ Congratulations again.
Lera snuggles up to me.
- thanks.
Then it’s quiet, just for me:
“Talk to him.
“Are you even now?”
โ Especially now.
I pull away.
โ Go to your husband.
โ With pleasure.
She smiles and gets into the car.
Ruslan shakes Timur’s hand, then hugs him.
“I’ll call you tomorrow.”
Timur looks at his watch.
โ Today already.
Ruslan also looks down at the dial.
โToday, then. But not before lunch.
โ This is the right approach.
Ruslan sits down next to Leroy.
The car starts moving.
We stay near the entrance together.
There are still several staff cars in the parking lot. Dishes are clattering from the building, and water is rushing somewhere behind the trees.
I look after Lera’s car.
Then he looked at his watch.
Oh thirty-six.
The week ended with the wedding.
I slowly turn to Timur.
He stands next to me with one hand in his pants pocket. The jacket is unbuttoned, the collar of the white shirt is open.
“That’s it,โ I say.
Timur looks at me.
“That’s it?”
โ The contract is fulfilled.
Nothing changes on his face.
- no.
I raise an eyebrow.
“What do you mean, no?”
He takes a step towards me.
โ I don’t agree to break up.
My stomach freezes.
We discussed this phrase at the very beginning. The wedding ends and everyone goes their own way.
Then everything was very simple.
Not now.
โ Are you aware that the contract doesn’t work like that? I ask.
โ It’s over.
“Exactly.
โ So you can continue without him.
I look at Timur.
He’s standing very close, but he’s not touching me.
He’s waiting.
โ I’m leaving today.
โ I know.
โ To Moscow.
“I remember where you live.
โ It’s more than seven hundred kilometers.
“I can count.”
I can’t help but smile.
โ Timur.
- what?
“Do you even know what I mean?”
The smile disappears from his face.
“Better than you think.” You’re afraid of starting a relationship where we won’t be able to see each other every night. You’re afraid to get more attached, and then realize that one of us is tired of driving. And you’re also afraid that I’ll say in a month that it was too difficult.
I’m silent.
Because he lists my thoughts too precisely.
โYes,” I finally say.
“I can’t guarantee you any of this.
The answer takes me by surprise.
Timur continues:
โ I do not know what will happen in six months. You don’t know either. But I know I don’t want to end this right now just because you have a plane today.
I look down.
“I don’t want to either.”
His hand goes up to my face. Her fingers tuck a strand of hair behind her ear.
“Then what’s the problem?”
โ You always keep it simple.
โ It is usually there.
“He’s a terrible man.
“You already told me.”
I’m smiling.
Timur leans towards me, but stops a few centimeters away.
This time, I’m closing the distance myself.
I kiss him.
His hand immediately rests on the back of my head, the other one wraps around my waist. The kiss comes out slow and warm, without the haste that was in the kitchen yesterday.
When I pull away, Timur touches his forehead to my temple.
“Will you come with me?”
I open my eyes.
“Where to?”
โTo me.”
The question sounds calm.
It’s too calm for what’s going on inside me.
I know what he means.
And he understands that I know.
The contract is over.
And with it, all the points that we came up with a week ago ended.
But I want to undo one rule myself.
“And the fourth one doesn’t work anymore,โ I say quietly.
Timur looks at me more attentively.
“Are you sure?”
- yes.
That’s enough.
His eyes darken.
โ Then let’s go.
We walk side by side to the car.
Timur opens the passenger door for me. I sit down, place both bags at my feet, and adjust the hem of my dress.
He walks around the hood, gets behind the wheel, and starts the engine.
We are silent for the first few minutes.
There is a dark country road outside the windows. The headlights pick out markings, trees, and road signs.
There are few cars in the city anymore.
I look out the window, but I can feel Timur’s gaze whenever we stop at a traffic light.
“Watch the road,โ I say.
“I’m watching.”
“It doesn’t look like it.”
“You’re distracting.”
“I’m just sitting here.”
“Exactly.
I turn to him.
โ Very informative.
Timur smiles.
Half an hour later, we drive into the courtyard of a modern house near the center. The underground parking greets us with white light and silence.
Timur puts the car in its place and turns off the engine.
We sit for a few seconds.
He unbuckles his seat belt first.
Then he looks at me.
โ Alina.
I already know what he’s going to say.
“Don’t.
- what?
โ Make a serious face.
“I was wondering if you’d changed your mind.”
โ I haven’t changed my mind.
Pause.
- OK.
โ Timur.
He laughs.
We get out of the car. I pick up a small bag, Timur takes out my bag of sandals from the back seat and takes my hand.
We walk to the elevator through a quiet parking lot.
We go up to the twelfth floor.
The hallway is bright, and warm wall lamps are lit near the elevator.
Timur goes to the apartment door, takes out the keys and opens it.
I go in first.
The hallway is spacious. Dark wood, large mirror, low banquette. Then you can see the living room with panoramic windows and the night lights of the city.