Chapter 1
You’re sitting on the couch in the living room - you can hear noise and soft music coming from the kitchen - when the doorbell rings. Before opening the door, you glance at the clock - 7:11 p.m. He’s late. "I’ll get it, honey," you say, getting up from the couch wearily and opening the door. There he stands - a tall, muscular, red-haired man - looking at you with a smirk you can’t quite figure out - whether it’s curious or contemptuous.
He says: "Good evening - you must be Albert, Chrissy’s husband? Nice to meet you - I’m Lucas, an old… friend of Chrissy’s. Well, you must know that already." He slaps you on the shoulder and says, “Nice house you’ve got here. Well… nice to meet you again." He walks into the living room, looks around, and asks" Okay, where’s my sweet bunny? In the kitchen? I’ll go check on her.”
You reply - "That’s what it looks like. The end. The end of your lying marriage. Tall, muscular... end. Well... better horrible end, than endless horror." However, for some reason, a completely different set of sounds comes out of your mouth. It sounds something like this: "Good evening, Lucas. Yes, Chrissy mentioned you a little, but without going into too much detail... wait... “Sweet Bunny”...? Is that some kind of old nickname?" You’re saying the last part of the sentence into the void - Lucas has already disappeared into the depths of the house. You close the door. Then you close your eyes.
It all started two years ago. Or maybe a year. Or perhaps, this thing six months ago... but definitely not the day before yesterday. No. The day before yesterday, when your wife, Chrissy, quietly asked you, before you went to bed, if she could invite her old friend, Lucas, over for dinner. In the two years you’ve been together, she’s never once mentioned him. "Honey, but... are you sure this is a good idea? No, of course... I’m glad you have someone to talk to besides me... but you’ve never mentioned him before. Did you go to school together?" The question made her a little uncomfortable. After a short pause, she replied, "Yes, we went to school together. Well… no. Not exactly. I met… Lucas. When I was working part-time as a barista. Four years ago. He used to come into my coffee shop often, we talked… became friends. But then we had a fight - bad one."
She falls silent again, smiles slightly - as if trying to apologize - and continues: "But you know… I thought I’d forgotten about it, and moved on - but actually, it kept bothering me. Every Sunday, listening to the preacher - all those stories about forgiveness... and it seems to me, it’s true. So I think... I should make up with him - he’s surely forgiven me too, and realized where he was wrong. Albert... please. You have no idea, how important it is for me, to get this weight off my chest." Her smile returns, a little softer this time, and she adds: "Lucas… he’s a good guy. I think you two could get along… become friends. I'm worried about you too. You spend all your days at the office - and apart from our brief, quiet evenings, you don’t get to enjoy life at all."
You open your eyes. In the distance, you can already hear a few phrases from Lucas - loud enough to cut through the kitchen noise, but not loud enough for you to make them out. The night before last... the ashes of your words still seem to lie on your tongue. You agreed. Of course you agreed. How could you have refused her? Yes, her story was strange, full of omissions and inaccuracies. Yes, you noticed how her voice changed slightly - just from saying his name. But she’s still your quiet Chrissy. A devoted wife who goes to church every Sunday, loves to knit, and dreams of opening her own photo studio - and is currently taking classes, while you provide for her. You couldn’t say no to her. Someone else might have. But not you. Not Albert.
Taking a couple of slow steps into the house, you freeze in front of the mirror - a white shirt and pants—just like the ones you arrived in an hour ago from the office, only fresh. You slowly run your finger across your forehead—and feel only bare skin. You could swear that just a couple of months ago, you would have felt at least a few strands of hair there. And overall—you continue to look at yourself skeptically—and think about renewing your gym membership after all. It clearly wouldn’t hurt you. However—you just sigh quietly—there’s no time for that right now anyway. Finishing this ritual of self-dissatisfaction, you head to the kitchen after all.
As you get closer, you hear the voices more clearly - and just before you walk in, you catch the last sentence: “Please… just don’t hurt him. He’s a good man. He doesn’t deserve this.” Stepping into the kitchen, you see Lucas from behind—and Chrissy talking to him. She looks calm - but at the same time, you realize what an unusual state she’s in right now. You’ve seen her laugh, and sad before—but those emotions seemed automatic, just an indifferent reaction to events. Now she looks… as if she’s truly present here. You’ve only seen her like this three times in your life: The day you met. A year ago, at your wedding. And now.
Chrissy notices you’ve come in, turns her attention to you - smiles a little shyly - and says, “Albert, there you are. I think we’ll sit in the living room. Could you help me set the table there for now? The meat will be ready a little later… but we can sit there for now and have a drink. Take the glasses and that bottle of red Bordeaux.”
“Of course, darling,” you reply, picking up the glasses and, returning to the living room, setting them on the table in front of the sofa. This table would be a mystery to you - if you had time to think about it. It’s taller and longer than the tables usually found in such a place - made of dark wood - and looks more like a dining table. Chrissy insisted on buying it - the day after the wedding. You couldn’t get time off for a proper honeymoon, and as a compromise, you chose to replace all the old furniture in the house, and give the decor a general makeover, as your wedding gift.
The wedding... you often think back to Chrissy at it, how she looked. Not outwardly - the wedding dress seemed almost like it didn’t belong on her - with her skinny figure, narrow proportions, and dark bob - she looked much more natural, and attractive in her everyday clothes. But there was something about her mood... As if that time she truly felt something - hope. Back then, it lasted for three days. On the wedding day, the day after, when you went shopping and picked out gifts, and the Sunday after that - when you were just relaxing. That whole day, Chrissy walked around happy; you were arranging the new furniture, and she kept glancing at that table. After dinner, you felt tired—and tomorrow you had to go to work. You went to bed - and by morning, there wasn’t a trace of that hope left on Chrissy’s face - just that kind, caring mask.
After setting down the glasses, and waking up from your memories, you decided to arrange the chairs. First, you placed one chair - opposite the sofa. No - that won’t work - you think - I wouldn’t want to end up sitting on it myself. Then you put another one next to i - but that won’t work either... in the end, you might just end up sitting here anyway, right next to an empty chair. Ah, hell... who am I kidding—it’s not about the chairs at all. And yet, you find the most neutral option - you put a chair on each side of the table, and the fourth side will be the sofa.
Behind you, you hear a soft chuckle—and you spin around abruptly. Lucas is standing in the doorway—apparently watching you work through your dilemma the whole time. You didn’t hear his footsteps - for his imposing build, he has a soft, quiet gait. "Not bad at all, Albert. Very… compromising" - he says in a cheerful tone, and following your example, places plates on the table.
As Chrissy follows him in, he ignores the chairs, sits down on the sofa, picks up the bottle, opens it with a confident motion, and pours wine into the glasses. He takes his own glass and, pushing the other one toward you, and says: "Well, let’s drink to getting to know each other, Albert. Unfortunately, I can’t offer that toast to my Bunny. We’re already more than… just knowing each other. Well then... here’s to our reunion."
