“Why?”
“Because we’re going to Nizhny Novgorod. I’ve already made arrangements with the director of the orphanage.”
Viktor tried to say something, but she had already turned away, wrapping herself in the blanket. A minute later, her breathing steadied—as always, she could easily fall asleep, as if flipping a switch.
He, however, continued to lie there, staring into the darkness, pondering how astonishingly life was unfolding.
The next morning, their wake-up call came from Katya:
“Mom, Dad, I’ve packed my things! I’ll be there in an hour!”
“What things?” mumbled a still-sleepy Viktor.
“What things?!” the daughter’s voice was impatient. “We’re going for the weekend! We need to prepare a room for Kirill. I read that boys his age love superheroes. Maybe we can buy Spider-Man bedding?”
“Katya,” Viktor said, sitting up on the bed and looking at his wife in confusion, “do you know?”
“Of course I know!” the daughter exclaimed. “Mom and I have been looking for him for six months. And besides, Dad, do you really think I wouldn’t notice that I have a brother? We look exactly alike! I’ve seen your old photos.”
There were shuffling sounds over the phone.
