There was a time when being the family troublemaker was all I wanted. Back then, I wholeheartedly believed that my father, brothers and mother would always protect me. I thought I would grow up safely under their protection, untouched by the outside world, living a life that would never be shattered.

But that time is gone. Now it is my turn to protect my brothers. Just as my family once stood guard over me, I must stand guard for them. I cannot cry like a child any longer. I must stop crying and start making concrete plans. Because if I don’t, no one else will.

“Let’s go, Svyeta. It’s far too cold to stand here in the middle of the street weeping.”

Georgi stepped forward, ahead of Roman and me. At first, I hardly recognised him — he was so thin that it seemed as though every bone was straining to break through his skin. I gasped at the sight.

Yet despite the horror, I felt grateful. However wasted and altered he was, he was here. Alive. And for now, that was enough.

“Shall we eat first? We must all be hungry. I’ll treat you to something good. There’s a fine restaurant nearby.”

It snowed heavily that day. By the time we reached the restaurant, the snow was up to our calves.

We ordered expensive dishes that I would never have dared to order before, and we started talking about how we had managed to live all this time.

“My work is manageable. It’s stable, too. I’ve been told I’ll never starve. My supervisor, Mr Smirnov, is very kind. He even overlooked the times I recently missed work.”

I had already written about all this in my letters, so surely it couldn’t have been news to them. And yet my brothers listened intently, as though each word mattered.

“And I won’t be contacting Mr. Aslankovsky anymore. He’s getting married—it wouldn’t be right to stay in touch.”

“Oh? Didn’t you once say you liked that man? Are you all right?”

“When did I ever?”

Feigning ignorance, I sipped my wine. I had written about Archum so often in my letters that there was no way my brothers hadn’t caught the lie. Yet both of them chose to let it pass.

“I’ve saved some money. I put it aside for our family.”

At that moment, the waiter brought bread and soup. I took a spoonful of the soup before continuing.

“It’s not much. I scrimped and saved, but with such a small salary, I couldn’t save very much.”

“You don’t need to help us.”

“I’m not expecting your help.”

Both Georgi and Roman refused my offer.

“Don’t reject it. Accept it gladly.”

“Svyeta.”

“We’re family.”

I muttered with firm resolve.

“It’s only natural we help each other. Just like when those village boys used to bully me—you beat them bloody for my sake. Now I want to help you the same way.”

Georgi burst out laughing.

Seeing him laugh again brought back memories of happier times. Times when we could laugh and chat without a care in the world. I had nearly forgotten those times, which were so long ago, but they had existed. They were ours once.

I ate, drank and chatted with my brothers. Before long, all three of us were thoroughly drunk. We had tried vodka, wine and whisky.

With a cigarette between my lips, I listened to Roman speak.

“Sentences were often lengthened without reason, so it’s not surprising that they might shorten them for no reason either. But it is strange that Gosha and I should be released at the same time.”

“They say the secretary-general is releasing political prisoners. That must be why you were released.”

“Poor Seryozha. If only he’d held out a little longer…”

Unaware of the truth, Georgi muttered absently.

I never intended to tell my family anything about what had happened with Jürgen. The suffering was mine alone to bear.

I longed to cry out and demand that my family recognise all that I had sacrificed for them. But even if I did, nothing would change. So I swallowed my words and forced myself to remain silent.

Still, there was one truth I could not hide forever: Sooner or later, they would have to know that I was going to marry Jürgen and leave Elkinsky behind. My lips trembled as I tried to form words that refused to be spoken. For a long moment, I was unable to move, caught between fear and duty.

“I… I’m getting married.”

It was only after the liquor had thoroughly dulled me that I could confess.

“I met a good man. He first came as a customer to have his car repaired… For three years we saw each other, shared meals, he even visited my home a few times… and I came to love him. So I accepted his proposal.”

“My God, Svyeta. Truly?”

I stared blankly at my family as they broke into delighted smiles. I had only just been reunited with them, and now I would have to part again. I had lived only for this moment, and now it might already be the last.

“He’s a foreigner.”

“A foreigner?”

“I’m leaving Elkinsky with him.”

Roman’s smiling face froze in surprise.

“I’ve had enough of Elkinsky. I loathe the revolution, the communists. They cut down the tsar, purged the nobles one after another—and what changed? Where are freedom and equality?”

“Svyeta, lower your voice.”

The secret police lurked everywhere; even in a restaurant, it was too risky to speak carelessly. I realised my mistake too late and bit my bloodless lips.

“At the very least…If you’ve found a good man and can be happy, then that’s enough.”

“But…”

“When will you introduce him to us?”

I couldn’t hide my dismay. I had no wish whatsoever to introduce Jurgen.

“That…”

“Our little sister—we have to see what kind of man you’ve chosen.”

Georgi tapped ash into the tray, watching me with suspicion.

“Why that face? You didn’t fall in with some thug, did you?”

“N-no. It’s just… he’s busy… I don’t know if he can make the time.”

“No matter how busy, if he’s a good man, he’ll meet the woman’s family before marrying her.”

I downed a glass of vodka in one gulp. My relationship with Jurgen was far from normal; the thought of presenting him to my family filled me with dread. Utter dread.

“Svyeta?”

“I’m so tired. Let me sleep a little.”

“No, don’t sleep here. Svyeta, Svyeta.”

Their voices faded, Georgi’s and Roman’s, and the world dissolved into black.

✹✹ ✹✹ ✹✹ ✹✹ ✹✹

The hangover was unbearable. I woke to a headache like a hammer crushing my skull.

“Ugh…”

Blinking, I looked around. The place was all too familiar. It wasn’t the hotel room I had booked in advance for my brothers. It was Jurgen’s… house.

Why on earth was I here?

I remembered nothing. I must have drunk so much that my memory had cut out entirely.

First, I grabbed the receiver. In a daze, I spun the dial and called the hotel number I had written down. Someone picked up.

It was Georgi.

— “Hello?”

“Hello. Gosha? It’s Svyet—”

But before I could finish, my stomach lurched violently. I dropped the receiver and bolted for the bathroom.

I had suffered through hangovers before, but never one this wretched.

Only after vomiting up everything I had eaten at the restaurant did my stomach finally settle. The crushing headache and waves of nausea, however, remained.

I rinsed my mouth and came back out, then called the hotel again.

“Sorry… my stomach wasn’t feeling well…”

On the other end, Georgi let out a sigh.

— “It’s our fault for not stopping you. Are you all right now? You’re a girl, how could you…”

“I don’t remember a thing. How did I even get home?”

—”…”

“Why aren’t you answering?”

— “Because maybe it’s better you don’t remember. If you did, you’d probably wish you could crawl into a grave.”

“What? What happened?”

Horrified, I pressed Georgi for answers, but all I heard through the receiver was his laughter. A chill ran down my spine.

“Gosha! Don’t laugh—explain it to me. Brother? Brother?”

The line went dead. Calls often cut off when the network was busy.

No, this wouldn’t do. I had to go to the hotel myself.

After changing clothes, I left the house at once.

“Damn it, really!”

Jürgen’s house was located deep in the woods, at least two hours’ walk from the city centre. With a hangover weighing me down, the thought of walking for two hours made me feel dizzy.

However, Jürgen had already taken the car, so I had no choice but to walk. I set off on foot.

It was bitterly cold, and I didn’t have any cigarettes. Two hours to town — two hours without smoking. To me, it was nothing short of a disaster.

Just one cigarette would be enough to shake off this hangover. The craving grew unbearable. I found myself pressing my face almost to the ground as I walked, desperately hoping to spot someone’s discarded cigarette.

I was ashamed at the thought of doing such a thing, but I couldn’t ignore the craving.

As I trudged on, I heard the sound of a car. With no neighbours near Jürgen’s house, it could only be him. The horn sounded sharply and insistently. I lifted my head and squinted.

“Where are you going?”

“To the hotel.”

“Get in.”

At once, Georgi’s words echoed in my mind: “Maybe it’s better you don’t remember.”

What could have happened to be so terrible that forgetting it would be a mercy?