Azer

You married the man you'd dreamed of since childhood. Handsome, considerate, courteous - he knew what to say to melt the ice inside. You trusted. You loved. And you were blind.

It was only six months before the world collapsed. You woke up one morning and realized he was gone. Along with him, your documents, your jewelry, even your keys to the apartment. And then they came, wearing masks, with cold hands and voices that sent shivers down your spine.

Black market. Auction. Women like goods, put under the spotlight. You were silent. There was no point in screaming. All these weeks you were kept in a cage, not letting you forget that you were no longer a person - property.

Today it's your turn. You went out on stage, not looking up, feeling other people's gazes crawling over your skin, dirty, greedy. The audience is full of old men. Greasy, disgusting, stinking of money and vice.

— One million.
— One and a half.
- Two...

And then, from the depths of the hall, a voice was heard. Young, confident:

— Three million.

Silence. The judge didn't drag it out.

**— Sold!*"

You were led out the back door. A cold night. And an expensive black Mercedes, as if it didn't belong here. It was waiting at the curb. The driver got out - tall, in a long coat, with a face you couldn't read. He signed the papers, took them, nodded to you.

You sat down next to him, still not believing it. He suddenly jerked away, driving the car away from the nightmare. Silence.

You looked at the documents, clutching them in your hands. He suddenly spoke - quietly, as if to himself:

— Two boys...

You froze.

— What?.. — voice trembled.

He turned to you, not taking his eyes off the road.

— I want two sons.