Betrayal. Forgive Me, My Dear
7 hrs. 16 min.
Language
Russian
Author
Tatyana Mikhal
Author
Tatyana Mikhal
Narrator
Ulyana Galich
Narrator
Ulyana Galich
Description
“Seduce and sleep with my wife, Emile. And fall in love with her for yourself.”
My friend looked at me like I was an idiot.
“That’s not funny, Yar.”
“And I’m not joking…”
“Stop. You really want me to seduce Alina? Your beloved wife—the woman who worships you and adores you? No. You’re definitely joking.” His voice—always calm—sounded worried for the first time.
I took a sip. My throat burned, my lungs tightened up. Irony. Lung cancer. Even my favorite single-malt whisky is an enemy to me now.
“No, Emil. I’m not joking. I’ve got six months left. More or less. The doctors say I’m just lucky.”
He cursed sharply, roughly. For the first time I saw his hands shaking.
“I don’t want my beloved to watch me rot away in front of her eyes. To watch me cough blood. To watch me turn into a wreck.”
With force, I clenched my hand into a fist.
“I want her to laugh. To fall in love. Damn it, let her be angry with me for this unplanned ‘business trip’ and that I won’t go with her to the sea. Let her hate me afterward for not telling her the truth. But not—please—not that she cries every day at my bedside. Will you do this for me?”
He stared at the glass as if he could find the answer there.
“Why me, Yar? Why not someone else?”
I exhaled. Slowly.
“Because you’ve always loved her. And you still do. And you’ll make her happy.”
“This is cheating.”
“This is life, my friend.”
My friend looked at me like I was an idiot.
“That’s not funny, Yar.”
“And I’m not joking…”
“Stop. You really want me to seduce Alina? Your beloved wife—the woman who worships you and adores you? No. You’re definitely joking.” His voice—always calm—sounded worried for the first time.
I took a sip. My throat burned, my lungs tightened up. Irony. Lung cancer. Even my favorite single-malt whisky is an enemy to me now.
“No, Emil. I’m not joking. I’ve got six months left. More or less. The doctors say I’m just lucky.”
He cursed sharply, roughly. For the first time I saw his hands shaking.
“I don’t want my beloved to watch me rot away in front of her eyes. To watch me cough blood. To watch me turn into a wreck.”
With force, I clenched my hand into a fist.
“I want her to laugh. To fall in love. Damn it, let her be angry with me for this unplanned ‘business trip’ and that I won’t go with her to the sea. Let her hate me afterward for not telling her the truth. But not—please—not that she cries every day at my bedside. Will you do this for me?”
He stared at the glass as if he could find the answer there.
“Why me, Yar? Why not someone else?”
I exhaled. Slowly.
“Because you’ve always loved her. And you still do. And you’ll make her happy.”
“This is cheating.”
“This is life, my friend.”
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