“For Vera. Only when I can’t tell her myself anymore.”
My hands were shaking.
I opened the envelope.
There were a few leaves inside.
“Vera,
If you're reading this, then I've finally run out of time to tell you the truth.
First I want you to know that Dimitar never owed me money.
I owed it to him.
Twenty-seven years ago, I had done something that I thought would have no consequences for. I worked in the corporate credit department. A man I loved asked me to help him transfer documents on a deal. He said it was temporary, that nothing would happen, that something had to be signed, and then everything would be fine.
I believed him.
I didn't understand that he was using my name to cover up a scam.
When the scheme began to fall apart, Dimitar understood. He was at the accounting firm that was doing the check. He could have betrayed me. He could have let me get fired and investigated.
Instead, he helped me gather evidence against the real guilty.
But that wasn't the most important thing.
Most importantly, because of my stupidity, you and your children could have been left without him.”
I stopped reading.
I looked up at Georgi Markov.
- What does that mean?
He was looking down.
– Dimitar participated as a witness in the internal inspection. There was pressure on him. It wasn't safe.
I went back to the letter.
“The night before the accident, Dimitar called me. He said he had papers to hand over. He told me that if anything happened to him, I wouldn't let his family run homeless.
The next day, his car went off the road.
They all said it was an accident.
I didn't believe it.
But I didn't have evidence.
He had transferred a small amount to my name. He said it was the beginning of a fund for you. I added my money. Then I started importing every month. Not because he gave me a debt. But because I would never have been able to pay back that he paid the price for me.”
The sheet smeared in front of my eyes.
I wasn't crying loudly.
Tears were just falling on the paper.
Dimitar.
My Dimitar, who had told me that he had “problems at work” but did not want to worry me.
My Dimitar, who had come home last night, kissed Elitsa on the forehead, covered Kaloyan with the duvet and said to me:
If it ever gets hard, don’t be ashamed to accept help.
That's when I had a fight.
I told him not to talk like that.
I told him we'd be fine.
I didn't know how little time we had left.
I kept reading.
“The money I brought you was not from the bill. That was my money. I worked extra. I didn't buy a lot of things I wanted. I didn't start a family. Not because I was a saint, but because every first Monday I wanted to be able to look your children in the eye.
The account is separate. She's for you.
And don't let Victor, Tsveta or anyone instill in you that you've taken anything from them. You're not.
What remains is my decision.
And my decision is to finally get at least some of the peace that Dimitar and I took from you.”
I've read the last lines a few times.
Then I left the letter.
"So Dimitar died because of this fraud?" I asked.
Georgi Markov shook his head.
- I can't say that. The old investigation did not establish such a thing. It was officially a road accident.
Mary thought...
Maria has been to blame for a long time. Guilt sometimes sees connections that no one else can prove.
That was an honest answer.
And yet it didn't bring me peace.
I left the bank with the folder, the letter and the account documents.
I didn't come home right away.
I walked the streets without direction.
I went through Slaveykov, then through the garden in front of the National Theatre. I sat on a bench where Dimitar and I were once, when we were still young and we were fighting over whether to buy a cheap car or save for a home.
He wanted us to save.
I wanted a car.
In the end, we didn't buy either immediately.
But we laughed.
We had almost nothing then.
And we thought that was enough because we had.
Kaloyan called me in the evening.
- Mom, where are you?
- I'm home.
- You're not. I've been through you. The lights are off.
I didn't want to lie.
