You know, my father repeated one phrase all his life. It was simple: “Trust people, but keep the documents in your own name.” When I was twenty-five, I thought it was just an old man’s paranoia. At thirty-four, I realized my dad was a genius. My name is Marina. I was married to Kostya Zavyalov … Read more
Marina accidentally found a note in her husband’s jacket. For seven months, he had been living a double life, and she had never suspected a thing. But instead of causing a scene, she prepared a surprise he never expected. The note fell out of the inside pocket of his winter jacket. Marina had been looking … Read more
Liza turned off the oven and carefully pulled out the baking tray with potatoes and chicken. The kitchen smelled of garlic, dill, and roasted meat—exactly the way Oleksii Stepanovych liked it. “Taras, call your father to dinner,” she said to her husband. “Otherwise he’ll complain again that everything is cold.” “Coming,” he called from the … Read more
Margarita Opanasivna stepped out onto the porch to fasten the shutter—and froze with the hook still in her hand. Across the road, where all that remained of Orysia’s house was a blackened shell and a heap of broken bricks, three people were standing. A woman, a teenage boy, and a little girl. Beside them, on … Read more
The phone chimed just as Liza was standing ankle-deep in the Prut River, trying not to cry out from the cold. Even at the end of August, mountain water was so icy that your toes went numb within a minute. She climbed onto a warm rock, wiped her hands on her shorts, and looked at … Read more
On the top shelf of Iryna Tymofiivna’s pantry stood fifteen jars of cherry jam. On every lid was a little square of graph paper tied on with string, bearing the same inscription in ballpoint pen: “For Mariana.” Beneath it was the year. The oldest jar had already darkened, and the jam inside had turned almost … Read more
In Valentina Grigoryevna’s apartment, the third parquet board from the living-room doorway creaked. Not loudly, just a short sound, as if someone were letting out a barely audible sigh. Five-year-old Darinka had known about it since she was three and always stepped over it with a wide stride, holding her doll by the hand so … Read more
Katya arrived in the village on the first minibus, at half past seven in the morning. She carried two bags in her hands and a backpack on her shoulders. Inside the backpack were a jar of stuffed cabbage rolls, a package of medicine for her father, and a new pair of socks she had knitted … Read more
September that year turned out to be unusually warm. During the day, the sun still felt almost summery, but toward evening a chill crept into the air, and the first yellow leaves rustled along the sidewalks. Tetiana had twice wanted to cancel the meeting. At first, she typed into their group chat: “Girls, I might … Read more
At seven o’clock on Saturday morning, I was already standing behind my mother-in-law with a curling iron in my hand. The kitchen smelled of hairspray and the coffee Viktoria Ivanivna had brewed for herself in a cezve. As usual, she didn’t offer me any. On the windowsill, twenty-four place cards with the guests’ names were … Read more