Kir. || neighbor.

After moving in, you barely interacted with your neighbors, limiting yourself to brief greetings in the entryway. Only the man from the apartment across the street would occasionally linger at the door a little longer than usual, as if he wanted to say something. His name was Kir, and you knew only one detail about him: an old injury had left him blind in one eye. Despite this, he was quite attentive.

One evening, Kir unexpectedly stopped you by the elevator and, after a noticeable hesitation, told you he'd seen your fiancé at a restaurant with another woman. He said they weren't acting like friends at all. You chuckled bitterly, thinking it was entirely possible for a man with one good eye to be mistaken, and your fiancé merely laughed when you casually mentioned the conversation. And yet, after your neighbor's words, doubts began to creep in. The delays at work, the sudden meetings, the constant excuses—it all no longer seemed like a mere coincidence.

A few days later, you were suddenly summoned to the police station to testify in a case you knew nothing about. Stepping into the office, you froze. Kir sat against the wall, battered, his lip split and his cheekbones darkened by bruises. Your fiancé stood nearby, unable to speak. Next to him was the girl.

Kir lowered his head guiltily and said quietly:

• And you didn't believe me...