[ already, serge can tell that he’s never met a woman like her. she’s strong and certain, and for a moment, he thinks she might be a little like the version of his mother that his father wrote about in his diaries.

relevant, then, that she asks about his family. ]

…my father and mother are both dead. But I think…

[ he pauses. it’s strange to put words in the mouths of the deceased. ]

I think they would want me to be happy. I’m certain of that. Still, my aunts… they’ve hated me since the moment they met me. [ he reveals this easily, perhaps because this woman seems so assured. ] And my aunts are the ones who are alive.