Maybe he found out that my parents were in an accident and came to support, but what does that have to do with Adam? I step out to them, causing Mr. Korniyov's attention to immediately shift to me.
- Amanda, long time no see. - he smiles, while Kelly even seems to stop breathing.
- About seven years, probably. - I approach Adam and try to take his hand. Feeling my touch, his fist instantly unclenches, and he wraps his fingers around my palm. The look from my parents' friend immediately glides down to our hands, and the smile disappears from his face.
- Mr. Korniyov, I understand you’ve already met Mr. Kelly. - The men look at each other as if they are ready to tear each other apart at any moment.
- Of course. We've known each other for a long time. He’s like a son to me. - At these words, Adam flinches, and I can’t hide my surprise.
- Maybe you could invite him inside? I think we have a lot to talk about. - I just nod, and the three of us head to the kitchen. Coffee definitely won't help today.
The men's gazes immediately fall onto the photos lying on the table, and I regret not hiding them better.
- What is this? - Kelly breaks the silence, looking carefully at the pictures, then back at me.
- I don’t know, I found it in my dad's safe, that’s why I called you. - He approaches the table, I follow him since our hands are still connected, and the first photo he picks up is the one where my heart broke.
Mr. Korniyov stands by the table drinking whiskey. Modesty is certainly not his strong suit. I turn my head to him, noticing how he watches Adam closely.
- Where is your wife? - Korniyov shifts his gaze to me, taking a sip of whiskey.
- Adam didn't tell you that his mom died six months ago? - and while his words start sinking in, Adam releases my hand and clenches his fists again. But right now, I can't calm him down; I need to figure out what I've just heard.
- I don't understand you. Adam? - the man doesn’t react to me, so I move closer to the table and pour two more glasses.
- Son, maybe you should tell Amanda about our family. You probably haven't even told her about your brother, who is currently in the hospital with two gunshot wounds? - the puzzle in my head keeps forming and disintegrating, making it difficult to breathe. Adam downs his whiskey in one gulp and strides over to Korniyov, grabbing him by the jacket and pressing him against the wall.
- You bastard, to me you're nobody. And the fact that my mom decided to live with you changes nothing. And your damn son should be grateful that he’s alive, for what he did to Amanda, he should be torn to pieces. - Kelly steps back, and the man turns his gaze to me. The only person in this room who has no idea what's going on at all.
- Amanda, what did Nazar do? - and at that moment, the puzzle fits together. This man is Nazar's father, and Adam is his wife's son. My head is a jumbled mess. Not only is it hard for me to believe this, I couldn’t have even imagined it in a horrible dream.
I sit on a chair and stare at the men, who are once again destroying my life. Again, I can only watch as the past comes with a big hammer to shatter my dreams of the future into tiny pieces.
- He tried to rape her. - Adam growls, and I just stare at one point. The only thing attracting my attention is Korniyov, who sits down on a chair with an expression as if it were his daughter being attacked.
- Ami, is this true? - why is he here at all? Why did he come? Or maybe Adam brought him? I don’t even know what to think. I just want them to leave. To finish with the funerals and just leave here, forgetting everything like a terrible nightmare. Korniyov continues to burn me with his gaze as I gulp down another half glass.
- Yes, your son tried to take her by force, for which he received two bullets. - I understand that if this man goes to the police, my life is over. But I’m tired of hiding and lying. I don’t want to live in fear of almost shooting the bastard who tried to rape me.
- I didn’t know this… - the man’s words sound with such pain that I lift my eyes to him again, meeting that familiar green gaze. In them, there is so much pain, fatigue, and something else I don’t understand.
- It doesn't matter. You can go to the police; I’m ready to take responsibility. - the words burst out in a scream, I jump up and try to leave the room, but I run into Adam, who wraps his arms around me. I have no strength to resist, so I just freeze and lay my head on his chest.
- Daughter, I would never... - the first word cuts my ears.
- What did you just say? - I can't believe what I heard. What the hell is happening now.
- You are my daughter, Amanda, and I should have told you this seven years ago when we first met. - I no longer hear any of his words. My ears are ringing, my body begins to shake. Adam holds me tighter against him and strokes my back. And the only thing I hear are Kelly’s words:
- Get out of here, because I won’t be responsible for the consequences. - I turn my head to Korniyov.
- It's not up to you to decide. You had a choice seven years ago, and then, if you don't remember, I'll remind you, you chose not Amanda. Am I wrong? - I find Adam's eyes. I want to hear that this is all nonsense, and he didn't do this, but I see in them pain and guilt that say much more than words. I break free from his embrace.
- Amanda... - I raise my hand, not allowing him to touch me.
- Get out. Both of you. - my voice is cold, completely devoid of emotion. They both look at me. - Right now, get the hell out. - I don't want to see either of them. I don't want to hear their stories. I don’t want to know what happened seven years ago, and especially I don't want to know what my mom did 25 years ago.
- Amanda, I always chose you, but... - Adam doesn’t manage to finish.
- No. I don’t want to hear or know anything. I've had enough. - I leave the room and head outside. I sit behind the wheel and drive. Just drive.
Memories of that strange morning resurface, like my mom crying, about the woman with the eyes I have definitely seen, about the overly intrusive behavior of my parents' friend. And while my thoughts fly back into the past, I drive alone, not knowing where to. I stop far from the city, in the middle of a field. I get out of the car and scream. I scream for a long time, not caring about my vocal cords. And as time passes, the pain becomes bearable. I can breathe again. I return to the car, grab my phone, and write a single text message:
"After the funeral, I want to know everything. We have no future, but I have the right to know what destroyed it."