Chapter 10

She was awake before everybody else, helping the cook place dishes on the table that was seldom used. When she walked into the kitchen and requested that a hearty breakfast be prepared for all of them, the cook’s eyes had widened in surprise.

A special occasion was her excuse.


“Katya? What are you doing?” She heard Luyeva’s voice before she even saw the woman.

*The woman had a very keen sense of smell. Or maybe she just guessed correctly. Judging from the number of years, Katie would have to pick the former.


“Come, come. I had the cook make breakfast for us this morning,” she beckoned.

The sound of Luyeva’s footsteps drew closer until she got to the dining room.

“What is this? You usually have breakfast brought up to your room.”

With a smile, Katya drew a chair out and gently lowered her governess onto it. “Maybe I want things to be different for a change. I mean, I get tired of eating breakfast all by myself.”

Luyeva shrugged. “Okay. But why did you set the table for three?”

“Michal? I was hoping he would join us too.”

“Michal?” Luyeva voiced her question. “He left very early this morning. He has some business to take care of. Said he might not be back today.”

*Did he leave? Was he avoiding her? Coming from a man who refused to leave her alone no matter how much she tried, he had no trouble going miles away without telling her beforehand .

“But we can’t have food waste. I’ll take it with me later to the church,” Luyeva said.


The church had an orphanage where Luyeva every volunteered now and then. Her father- as a result of constant persistence by her governess, was one of their most significant contributors. However, she had been forbidden from visiting the children. One of the rules she had no idea why it existed.

“Okay.”






After breakfast, there was nothing to do. There was always nothing on. She wasn’t in the mood to read, and Luyeva had so many things to work out.
Which left Katya- alone and restless.

She went around the house, picking odd stuff and placing them in other places. She found pictures, memorabilia, and playthings she had outgrown over the years.
*Her father gave gifts and presents instead of attention.

She had boxes unopened, toys used once and then discarded, clothes that she had no recollection of even buying. Whatever she wanted, her father gave. And he gave more when he knew he was about to disappoint her.
Like on her ninth birthday. Her father had been involved in a minor crash weeks before and the doctor ordered him to stay at home for a bit longer. Excited that her father would be present for her birthday, Katya included him in the planning- making sure to seek his opinion at every stage.

The night before her birthday, she walked into his room. She could still remember, holding up two dresses, eager to hear what he thought about them.

He was packing.

*“Daddy? Why are you packing your things?”

*“Katya,” he crouched in front of her,” daddy has to attend a crucial meeting tomorrow.”

*“Aren’t you forgetting something?”

*“What, Katya?”

*“It’s my birthday tomorrow.”

*“Oh. Oh. I’m sorry, but I have to attend this meeting. Your governess will take care of it, okay? I’ll send you presents. Lots of it.”

And he did.

After that birthday and the next one and the one after, she spent it without him, receiving packages that she never opened and gifts that did not reflect her taste.

She was bored out of her mind. Why not check in his office? See what the man was hiding. But it was more likely that she would find it locked. Her father was a secretive man.

She walked to his door and tried to turn the polished door handle. It opened. Wait- it wasn’t opened the last time she tried, which was three years ago.

Maybe her father had asked Luyeva to tidy up his office and she forgot to lock up after her. She was the only one who could enter and leave her father’s private sanctuary with ease.


Taking a deep breath, she walked into the large office, taking in the décor. It was the one space that defined her father’s taste- simple, bland, and modern.
A bookshelf dominated the north corner, books piled on each other in neat stacks. Her father’s table- polished and intimidating, was in the middle of the room, more books in neat arrangements. There was a couch at the south end, same color as the walls and center rug.

The primary color was a dull grey, the same color since she was a child. He had no family photos or even single pictures of her or her mother. Some men would have added a little bit of home to their workspace, but her father preferred to be detached.


She tried reading a book or two- business ethics, economics, law, and gave up. The goal was not to bore herself to death.


Katya walked around his table and sat on the chair. Her eye caught a tiny key in a black box on the table. She picked the key and tried opening the desk drawers but it wasn’t the right fit for any of them.
It had to be another box somewhere in the office.

Thanks to the absence of clutter- she found the right box easily. It was a black box, the length of an envelope and some. It was also surprisingly thinner than what she expected.
Was this how safety boxes came nowadays?


She opened the box and took out envelopes, bringing them out one after the other. Why was her father hiding letters? Unopened letters for that matter. She was about to return them- she had no interest in leaving trails her father could follow, when her eye caught a set of words.

A very familiar address and her name boldly written on the back of an envelope. It read-
*To Katya, from your mother. Remember that the stars appear closer than they really are, so you can always make a wish.

Her mother. But the address was from Russia. She brought out another envelope, and it had the same address. Another envelope, the same. All were enmarked to the same address.

Why would her mother be sending letters from Russia. Wasn’t she dead?