The woman took out a worn fabric purse. She slowly removed the neatly folded banknotes, her fingers trembling noticeably.
After thanking him, she began carrying the heavy packages to the door one by one. Ostap offered to help, but she firmly refused and continued on her own.
Each package weighed heavily on her arms. Every step seemed to require an effort, yet she never complained or asked to rest. Ostap watched her disappear down the street, feeling his ordinary surprise gradually turn into a vague sense of unease.
That evening, over dinner, Ostap told his wife, Marina, everything that had happened.
“Just imagine, Lydia Stepanovna bought sixty kilograms of beef today. She said her son had come home.”
Marina froze with her fork halfway to her mouth.
“Which son?”
“Bohdan. She mentioned him herself.”
Marina slowly placed her fork on her plate. She clearly did not want to continue the conversation, but after hearing what her husband had said, she could not remain silent.
