— You haven’t given my mother so much as a single flower, and now you’re telling me I should give your mother a food processor? Isn’t that a bit rich?
— Here. Mom wants this one. Andrey’s voice—lazy and self-satisfied—burst into the cozy quiet of the evening, ripping it apart like a blunt needle piercing thin fabric. Yulia slowly lifted her eyes from the book. He was looming over her chair, thrusting his phone at her, the screen glowing with a cold, deathly light. She […]
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