— Do you want to sell the dacha?
Kirill turned around, a hint of irritation crossing his face.
“Why not? The house is old and needs major renovations. I’ll sell it and buy an apartment in the city.”
— Dad built everything here with his own hands.
“I understand, but he doesn’t need this house anymore.” Kirill shrugged. “And the money, I could use it.”
Marina didn’t answer. She went outside, got back in the car, and called her mother.
— Kirill is putting his dacha up for sale!
“I know,” Tamara Sergeyevna said calmly. “The house belongs to him now. Let him decide.”
— Mom, he’s getting rid of the place that Dad spent ten years building.
— Kirill is an adult. I trust his decision.
Marina hung up. They were adults. Just the day before, her mother had spoken of him as a helpless boy who wouldn’t survive without her help.
Birthday.
