“Keep the door locked.”
He steps out. A moment later, his keys turn in the lock.
I stay at the table, eyes on the screen, tapping just enough to pass for routine.
The door opens again.
“Forgot the wallet.” He grabs it off the shelf and gives me a quick look. “Don’t open the door without checking.”
Then he’s gone.
When the door closes behind him, the apartment changes. The silence turns watchful. It starts working.
I pick up the phone and call Irina. “Wait at the station,” I tell her. She knows which one. I don’t repeat it.
There’s nothing to pack. Everything I need is already in a locker at the station. I check my handbag. Passport. Keys. Two phones. Chargers. Some loose cash. A small makeup kit. A folded handkerchief. That’s it.
I shower and dress. My clothes are plain, chosen for movement, not memory. The apartment feels like someone else’s place now. I walk through it like a guest, careful not to disturb anything. I leave the cushions untouched. The toothbrush in its holder. No dishes out. No signs of absence.
Irina knows where I'm going. She’ll buy the tickets.
When I step into the hallway, I don’t pause. I don’t look back. There’s no note. No voice message. Nothing for Dominik to find and take apart. If I leave even a sentence, he’ll turn it over until he pulls a clue from it. Silence gives him nothing.
He’ll notice the chargers first. By their absence.
I cover my face, pull the scarf higher, and keep my eyes hidden behind dark glasses. When the cleaning woman crosses to the far end of the hall, I move. Fast steps. No sound. I take the stairs and exit through the side. A taxi’s already waiting, booked a minute before.
I get out near the intersection where we agreed. The taxi doesn’t idle and pulls away without hesitation. I wait until the rear lights vanish into morning traffic, then cross the street, cut through a row of shuttered kiosks, and wait near the bus stop. I take the next northbound line headed straight for the station.
By the time the bus drops me off at Ladozhsky Station, I’m no longer replaying anything. I’m counting steps. At the station, my first stop is the locker section tucked behind a row of kiosks. A key from my coat pocket fits the lock, and the door swings open to reveal the bag with papers, jewelry, documents, everything I couldn’t afford to carry home that night.
Across the concourse, I spot Irina almost instantly. She’s wearing the blue frock we agreed on, the hem edged with lace,red pumps under her feet. A blue scarf is tied around her face and huge sunglasses cover her eyes.
She’s near a magazine kiosk when my eyes find her. She looks at me once, then past me, like she’s scanning for someone else in the crowd. She pays the shop owner, folds the magazine under her arm, and moves toward platform five where the overnight sleeper trains gather, the announcements calling destinations over the speakers and people pulling bags behind them.
I follow her across the station, the sound of rolling wheels and conductor calls around us. The train is already at the platform, sleeper cars lined up, doors open, people boarding or settling into their compartments.
Irina steps into akupe, just the two of us in our own compartment and a sliding door that locks. I step in behind her.
Once we’re inside, she slides the compartment door shut and hands me our ticket. She takes my luggage, drops it into the storage area above the bunks, and then pulls off her parka. She swaps it for a black windcheater, loosens her hair from where it was pinned, and hands me a phone, some cash, and a SIM card.
I don’t say anything. She holds my gaze for a moment, then steps off the train.
She has the other ticket. I don’t expect anyone to join me in this compartment. Once she’s past the platform edge, she walks forward without looking back.
The train lurches forward with a hard pull. Metal grinds against metal, followed by a long mechanical breath. The platform starts to slide away, and with it goes the last clear chance to turn back. The city I grew up in disappears fast. What lies ahead isn’t fixed yet. I’ll figure it out as I go.
I sit on the lower bunk and keep my hands in my lap. The station fades from a structure to a line, then a point, then nothing. Only when the train clears the edge of the city and starts gaining speed do I lean back. My head touches the wall.
The compartment smells of detergent, metal, and the kind of floor cleaner they use in places that are supposed to feel neutral. I think about Dominik again.
He won’t come for me just because I’m gone. He’ll come when he understands why. That’s the risk. Not his temper. His certainty. He’ll search with everything he has, and every step will pull more eyes to him. If I leave a trail, they’ll follow him down it.
Irina doesn’t get a call or a message. She’ll understand soon enough.
The first phone goes dead before we clear the outskirts. I pull the SIM, snap it in half, and drop both pieces into the toilet. I flush twice and don’t look back. The new SIM goes into the spare phone Irina gave me. This one will be used for as little time as possible. For now, it stays powered on but silent, buried deep in my bag.
When the conductor comes through, I change seats. At the next stop, I do it again. I don’t try to vanish. I try to blend. People shift, settle, nod off. I blend into the flow, another passenger killing time.
