Yes, Sanya, hi. Everything’s fine. Plans? We’re getting ready here…” Igor swept his gaze over the entryway, where his six-year-old son Tyoma—already fully dressed—was shifting impatiently from foot to foot.
Ver, what—did you lock yourself in? Open up!” Igor’s voice was hoarse, irritated. Vera didn’t move. She set her book aside and simply stared at the door that separated her new life from his old one. “Vera! I’m talking to you! What, are you deaf in there? Open up—I said open!” Silence was her answer. […]
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