Asshole.
But not enough of one to bring me here for no reason.
I look down at the flowers instead. White lilies drooping slightly, ribbon tied around the stems with careful hands.
“You come here every time you visit?” I ask.
“No.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Liar.”
That gets another brief glance from him.
Then, after a pause, “Yes.”
Which is as close to honesty as I’m probably getting.
I let the silence settle again. It doesn’t feel bad this time. Just strange. Heavy in a different way.
I study the stone, then glance sideways at him. “Were you close to them?”
His jaw shifts.
“Yes.”
I nod once.
That, somehow, I understand immediately.
“Why?”
“They saw… me.”
I rub my thumb over the seam of my pocket. “Did they know?”
The question leaves my mouth before I can decide not to ask it.
Maksim goes still beside me. Really still. When he speaks, his voice is lower.
“Everything.”
I look up at him sharply. His face gives me nothing. But there’s something under it. Something bitter enough to stain the air.
Everything.
Not suspected.
Not guessed.
Not learned too late.
Everything.
I exhale slowly and look away again, out across the graves, the bare trees, the city hidden beyond the walls. There’s something about getting family history in pieces that makes it worse. Every answer opens up three more ugly questions.
“So,” I say after a second, trying for lighter and only half making it there, “your family tree is—.”
“Liars.” He huffs once through his nose.
