“Brother?! Do I have a brother??” “What kind of tone is that, Yaroslavna?” — her father squints sternly. — “Well, sorry, Dad. Life didn’t prepare me for this!” “Will he live with us?” “Of course. He’s my child.” I want to say this, but I keep forgetting that he isn’t his biological daughter. And yet—he’s my beloved father. And I don’t want to lose his love! — “So why not with his mother?” — “She died a long time ago. He lived in an orphanage.” — “Good Lord…” I roll my eyes in suffering. — “Have you ever talked to people from an orphanage? And I have! With your easy, deputy’s hand, when you sent me to a summer camp together with them! They’re disgusting— they brawl, drink, do drugs, cause trouble, steal, and constantly lie!” — “He is my son, Yaroslavna. His name is Ivan. He’s a good guy.” — “Yeah, and how would you know what he’s like?!”