“— Ramis, I’m pregnant… — You will get an abortion, Aileen. And let’s without hysterics. We’re getting divorced,” I told her once, sending a copy of the divorce certificate by mail. From that day on, we never met again—until I was told they had seen my ex-wife with a child, exactly four years old.
On the table they lay a personal file. I take out the photograph of a little girl and feel my blood start to race in my veins.
— The copy is yours. One to one. Her name is Celine.
— Celine… How old is she?
— Four years, Mr. Ramis Azyazovich. Tomorrow is her birthday. They’ll celebrate at the “Lama” café. Would you like to be among the guests?