Late in the evening, Viktor came back. He brought a small paper bag—apparently meant as his “atonement”. He stepped into the basement quietly, almost shyly, still unsure which Anya he would find: tearful or furious.
Anya was sitting on the floor beside the mirror. She wasn’t looking into it. She was just running her finger along the heavy frame.
“I brought you meringues,” he said, stopping a couple of steps away. “From that pastry shop you used to pass every morning. They’re still fresh.”
Anya looked up at him, her eyes soft and a little sad.
“Thank you, Viktor. Put them on the table. I… I wanted to show you something.”
He tensed instantly. His hand clenched around the bag.
“Show me what?”
“Look,” she pointed to the bottom corner of the mirror. “See that screw? It isn’t screwed in all the way. And I think the frame’s a little loose at the bottom because of that.”
Viktor froze. Suspicion flashed in his eyes. He moved quickly and crouched beside her.
“Where?”
He saw the screw protruding from the wood by a few millimeters.
“I noticed it when I was wiping dust off with the edge of my dress,” she said softly, with a hint of concern in her voice. “The mirror is very heavy, Viktor. If the frame shifts, it could slide and shatter. That would be such a shame—it’s so beautiful. And you worked so hard bringing it down here…”
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He looked at the screw, then at her. His mind raced.
“You… you noticed it and decided to tell me?”
“Of course,” she tilted her head slightly. “What else would I do? If it breaks, I could cut myself. And you’d be upset. I don’t want a repeat of what happened today. I want everything here to be perfect. The way you planned.”
He let out a slow breath. The tension left his shoulders, replaced by something close to ecstatic relief.
“You’re right. Completely right. That’s my mistake. I was in a hurry when I fixed the frame to the base…”
He ran a finger over the screw.
“I’ll bring a screwdriver right now.”
Anya gently stopped him, placing her hand on his.
“You’re tired. It’s late. You can fix it tomorrow. I just… I just wanted you to know: I’m helping maintain our order now too.”
He looked at her hand on his, and in that moment he finally swallowed the bait.
“‘Our order’… You have no idea how much it means to hear you say that. Anya…” His voice trembled with feeling. “You could’ve kept quiet. You could’ve tried to unscrew it when I left.”
“And what would I do with it, Viktor?” She gave a short, light laugh. “Scratch up the walls? Or try to take the lock off the door? That’s ridiculous. You’re an engineer—you know it’s pointless. And I’m just a woman who wants her mirror straight.”
He laughed with her—genuinely, with relief.
“Yes. Really. Nonsense.”
He stood and helped her up.
“You know… tomorrow I might bring you something else too. If these things matter so much to you… maybe you need supplies for hobbies? Paints? Or maybe you want me to bring your laptop? No internet, of course, but you could write or… whatever it was you used to do.”
Her heart skipped a beat, but she kept her face calm.
“A laptop would be wonderful. I really miss being able to write something.”
Viktor left, leaving the bag of meringues behind. He was almost glowing with the realization that his “training” was working.
Anya stayed in the basement. She picked up a meringue and took a bite—it was sickly sweet, almost nauseating. She looked at the screw. She knew he’d tighten it tomorrow. But today he’d promised her a laptop.
And a laptop meant options.
Most of all, she’d earned a “line of credit”—trust she could now spend to ask for more.