we have some idiots sending us gifts to our own home. Well, let’s open it, let’s see what’s inside,” said Sargel, arrogantly putting his hands behind his back. Malika went up to the picture and began to untie the packaging. From the way the nylon thread was skilfully tied, how clean the drawing paper was, how carefully the picture was wrapped, she realised that the unfamiliar artist did all this with a special disposition. Before them stood a large portrait in a gilded frame, dazzlingly shining in the electric light. It was a portrait of a beauty, painted with oil paints. At the bottom right were the artist’s initials “E. I.” Sargel and Malika, not hiding their admiration, involuntarily held their breaths and looked at the picture. Deep, black eyes, like a moonless night, eyebrows raised, as if asking questions that were born in the figure’s curly, charming head. And the look… This is how a person who has made a discovery looks. And to that person, this discovery, as if in the very next moment, is about to be told through the childish tender lips, the opening gleaming with dense snow-white teeth. This is what the artist saw. “It’s… Bagel!” Sargel yelled, recoiling from the portrait. A blush broke out on his lean, high-cheeked face, and he looked dumbfounded at Malika. “Did you find out just now?” “I thought it was you…” “Oh, what a disappointment that must be! Trust me, I would die of happiness if someone drew me like this…” Sargel noticed how excited his wife was. “Ha!” He looked furiously at Malika with sudden anger. “Then let’s invite this artist! This is the same guy who sent you half a litre at the restaurant on Medeo! Let’s find him, and for good money he will paint you in any form.” “He can’t draw me like this…” “What do mean ‘like this?!’ What kind of portrait must he paint for you to die of happiness? Malika looked up at her husband for a moment. “Like this one, exactly like this!” “But that’s Bagila…!” The words of her husband, uttered with obvious mockery, inflamed whirlwinds of rage in Malika’s chest, but trying not to give herself away, she called on all of her self-control to help. “Sar,” she said with a tremble in her voice, almost a growl. “Go and check on the children for a moment. Go,
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