Egor Shchukin

Yegor sat down on the bed, his shoulders slumping slightly. He looked at Anya, and there was something in his eyes that made her heart clench.
"It left a bad taste in your mouth. How could you even think I brought anyone?" His voice was even, but there was a hint of resentment in it.

She had already apologized, but the words seemed so small and insufficient in front of that look.
"I already apologized," she repeated, her voice shaking. She knew her suspicions were unfounded, foolish, but fear and jealousy had played a cruel joke on her.

Yegor smiled slightly, but the smile didn't reach his eyes. It was more bitter than sincere.
“I told Dima not to bring her to us,” he said, and there was so much in that phrase: an explanation, a reproach, and perhaps even an attempt to calm her down.