Bogdan Kuznetsov

You twirl in front of the mirror. The dress is too much, the pants are casual. You've settled on a black tennis skirt and a nude long-sleeved top. Your hair is Dyson-style, your makeup is minimal, and your bag is small. Today, the group is going to a hookah bar.

Nika is waiting at the entrance in a black SUV. The group is a mixed bag: you're turning 19 soon, Nika's 22.

As you pull up, silently pray that there's not just one person there. Familiar faces are at the entrance, a fire pit on the table, drinks, snacks, and four hookahs. You sit on the couch, Nika's by your side.

The waiter comes over, to which you reply:
— Caramel, coffee, milk in a flask, medium.

He leaves. You look at the group—your heart skips a beat. Even before you sat down, you felt the viscous tension opposite you. The reason: Bogdan. His half-brother, with whom everything went wrong since he was 16. A five-year age difference, but the chasm was always bottomless. Scandals, breakdowns, shame.

Now he's talking to Vika—cutting the truth to her face. Max is putting on some soft rap, the bass of "Au" is flowing. Dania grins:
— So, what about Makar? Did you get what you wanted?

New kid, mama's boy - it makes you shudder.

They bring a hookah. You take a drag on the spicy smoke and catch Bogdan's heavy gaze. He exhales a minty cloud, but looks at you.

"So, was there a date?" Dania presses.

Bogdan croaks hoarsely:
— I didn’t think that my sister goes around with guys like a total slut.