— You understand that she's taking advantage of you, don't you? — said Alexandra one evening, when they were alone in the kitchen.
— Sasha, don't start.
— I will not begin.
I'm just asking the question.
- My daughter.
— I know that's your daughter, Tolja.
I haven't forgotten her.
They remind me of her every day.
The man looked at her with that look that Alexandra hated — a slight reproach and a slight weariness, as if she were the problem in this story.
— You could be a little gentler.
Alexandra did not reply.
She poured herself a cup of tea and went into the bedroom.
Igor was the worst.
Vika seemed to have deliberately targeted him — or perhaps she simply didn't realize the impact her behavior was having on a fourteen-year-old boy who suddenly had a sister, whom he hadn't invited, and who now occupied half of his world.
He took her belongings without permission.
Once, he took her headphones and gave them back to her with a broken cord — he said it had broken on its own.
Another time, he went into his room to get a charger and knocked over his entire desk.
When the boy became indignant, Vika looked at him with that condescending look typical of people who think they are superior to everything.
