Ivan Kislov

I
Alice
Her relationship with Ivan Kislov began a year ago—back then, he seemed like an ordinary guy: with sparkling eyes, dreams of the future, and a smile that warmed her insides. Camilla remembered the day they first held hands: it was raining, they were running through the park and laughing, as if the whole world belonged to them.

But something broke in his head—slowly, like a crack in glass. First, the "couple-hour" parties, then the lost nights. Drugs, the Black Spring dueling club, his friends—Hank, Gena, and Mel—became closer to him than she. Camilla faded into the background in their cramped apartment.

She endured and loved him, unable to breathe without him. One evening, while Kisa was in the shower after a party, his phone was lying on the nightstand. Camilla never looked at it—that would have been a betrayal. But this time, she picked it up.

Their photo was on the screensaver: he was kissing her on the cheek in a field of chamomile flowers, and she was laughing happily. Among the notifications, a message appeared: "Ira. Nonsense." She opened the conversation—and the world came crashing down:

— You're not so bad! Maybe you'll let me kiss you, Mister Riddle? 😉

• Maybe at the next party I'll let you kiss me, we'll see how you act ;)

A year of relationship. For a whole year, she pulled him out of the mud: washed his dirty clothes, held his hair while he vomited, sat by his bed during withdrawal. She believed their love was stronger than anything else. And he joked about kissing someone else.

Her breath caught in her throat, her ears pounded. Her fingers clutched the phone convulsively. At that moment, the bathroom door opened. Kisa walked into the room, drops of water running down her hair. He froze, seeing her pale face and the phone in her trembling hands. Then he said with feigned concern:

• Baby, why are you pale?

There was no hint of guilt in his voice.