They were halfway through the movie. The credits were still a long way off, but a quiet scene was playing on the screen. Viktor leaned back against the couch, his breathing even and deep. His hand still rested near hers.
Anya felt his shoulder lightly against hers. She waited a minute. Then another. Slowly, holding her breath, she reached for the touchpad. Her fingers barely brushed it. The cursor came alive.
She clicked Pause. The sound cut out, leaving a ringing silence in the basement. She minimized the player window.
The desktop showed the default mountain landscape. A few folders: “Projects,” “Bills,” “Misc.” And one unnamed folder—just an underscore.
Anya looked at it. The temptation to click and see what was inside was overwhelming. But she stopped. Too easy. He was an engineer. He would have anticipated that.
Instead, she started clicking the minimized player icon. The window popped up full-screen, then vanished into the taskbar again. Up—down. Up—down. Like she was hypnotized by the animation itself.
“Interesting hobby,” his voice came suddenly—dry and completely awake. He hadn’t been asleep for a second. “Were you always that easy to distract with shiny pictures?”
She didn’t flinch. She’d been ready. She only turned her head toward him, keeping her hand on the touchpad.
“Oh. You woke up. Sorry.”
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He straightened. A cold, appraising gleam appeared in his eyes.
“I asked what you’re doing, Anya. Did the movie get boring? Or did my computer’s desktop seem more promising?”
“I’m just watching how smoothly it moves,” she said calmly, with a hint of childlike curiosity. “There’s so little movement down here… everything’s frozen. And this—this is like something alive.”
She clicked the icon again.
“See? There—gone. There—back. It’s calming.”
He watched her closely, trying to catch even the slightest sign of deceit.
“You didn’t open the browser. You didn’t open a single folder. Why? Anyone in your position would try to find something on me. Or call for help, if I forgot to disable the Wi-Fi.”
She let out a quiet breath and removed her hand.
“What would be the point? You’re not stupid, Viktor. You wouldn’t leave me an open door if there wasn’t another one behind it—locked. And besides… why would I look for anything about you? In time you’ll tell me everything yourself. We’re family…”
A pause hung between them. He clearly hadn’t expected that; his suspicion wrestled with his vanity.
“You think I was testing you?”
“I think you’re very afraid I’ll turn out to be as ‘ordinary’ as the people from the office. That I’ll just take advantage of the opportunity. But I… I just want to stop being afraid. And those folders…” she nodded at the screen, “…they’re just numbers and diagrams. They’re not you.”
Something like respect appeared in his eyes, mixed with a frightening tenderness.
“You’re smarter than I thought. Much smarter.”
He closed the laptop.
“Another girl would already be crying after sticking her nose where she shouldn’t. But you… you value our trust.”
“Trust is all we have in this darkness, Viktor. Isn’t it?”
“Yes. Exactly. Tomorrow I’ll bring you a mirror. A big one, full-length. You’ve earned it.”
He left. Anya heard him going up the stairs. She sat in the dimness, a delayed shiver running through her. She’d walked along the edge of an abyss. He really had been testing her, and her little animation trick had saved—if not her life, then at least her sanity. But now she knew: he would only give her “freedom” to tighten the noose even more.