Naomi
“Can I ask you a question?” Katarina asked as the car finally pulled into a parking lot.
“Sure,” I answered, looking for my purse. “Anything.”
“Why do we call you Sveta when your name is Naomi?”
I froze, looking at both girls. “What?”
They exchanged glances themselves before Katarina rushed on. “We overheard that embassy worker that night. He called you Naomi.”
I swallowed, carefully considering how to answer her question. I wanted to scream at the top of my lungs that I was Naomi and that Sveta was dead. But I knew that the moment I did that, I would be betraying Gavril’s trust and opening his secret up to the world.
But I was tired of lying. I was tired of being the person who had this heavy secret on her shoulders and was forced to bear it alone.
“I tell you what,” I said,
