“Okay, I’ll do it,” I whisper back, picking up my phone and highlighting all of his messages. My finger is trembling, but I force myself to hit "delete" and "permanently delete."

“Everything is ready,” I show him the phone, as if reporting.

“That’s great,” he breathes. - Have a nice day at work.

- I can go? I ask his permission.

“Of course you can,” he smiles.

I rise from my chair and stagger towards the door.

“If you have any questions, please contact me,” he says after me.

“Of course,” I answer him with the feeling of saying goodbye. I don't want to leave. Zotov, stop me, it doesn't...