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"Well Nastush, we'll leave you alone soon," Kirill began.

And Nastya was already guessing what he was getting at.

"So, bear with us one more time, okay?" – Kirill asked, as if it was just something so innocuous.

"It's quite possible that this may be our last time in life at all," he went on as if coaxing.

Nastya sighed, tears coming to her eyes. She was tired.

But it didn't change anything.

Naturally they were already in an even more agitated state than before. It was good that Oleg hadn't brought alcohol, although it was in the store.

"Nastyush, we'll honestly help you with absolutely everything, you can have no doubt about that," Kirill continued.

Oleg offered to open an account for Nastya on a cryptocurrency exchange, and they spent three hours with the account and authorization.

All three of them wrote down the data, in case anything happened.

But the account was made out to Nastya and transferred the crypto there, Ivan didn't have crypto, so Oleg transferred it for him.

They explained to her how she could convert them into real money.

And by evening, that "last time" had begun, which was both hard and long and somehow endless. Again and again they did not let her go.

In the end, everyone fell asleep, because no one thought about Nastya going somewhere else.

In the morning, the guys' comrades-in-arms showed up. The guys suggested that Nastya pack her things so that she could evacuate at once.

The commander was suspicious that they were here "chilling" so to speak, but understanding.

Alexei Vadimovich, a middle-aged man, dense with a belly and a little gray hair, looked carefully at the boys and Nastya. He noted to himself that Nastya was very tense, and they … slightly averted their eyes, though they tried to look straight ahead, constantly throwing glances at her, not wanting to go far away. Somehow a bad feeling crept up on his soul, even something prickled in his subcostal region. He pressed a hand to his right side. He grimaced a little at the unpleasant pain.

"Okay, get out of here, I need to talk to .... what's your middle name?"

"Anastasia Ilinichna," Nastya replied. She tensed up even more. She didn't really want to talk about anything. All three of them left. Alexei Vadimovich noticed that they did turn around.

"Anastasia Ilinichna, do you have any complaints about our soldiers?" – he asked Nastya, trying to look into her eyes.

"No, I don't have any complaints, everything is fine," replied a tired Nastya, trying not to look into his eyes but somewhere on the bridge of his nose.

He wanted to put a hand on her shoulder, but then he thought that if anything, she'd be more likely to take it as a threat than a friendly engagement. The hand lifted slightly and then lowered.

"Are you feeling well, do you need medical attention?" – he decided to ask a clarifying question.

"No, it's alright, it didn't reach us, thank God" – Nastya meant that not a single shell reached their village.

"This I know…" – Alexei Vadimovich said thoughtfully.

He continued to look at her intently. He could feel her tension. He realized that it probably could have been. But he didn't want to hear about it at all, or dig in that direction. If she said no, she said no.

"Anastasia Ilyinichna, it's okay, you're safe now, you can rest assured," he made one last attempt.

"Yes, thank you very much, I'm just thinking of leaving at once, as it happens," Nastya changed the subject.

"Sure – sure, the car will be on its way soon, do you have everything packed?" – He was actually glad she hadn't said anything. Or maybe there really wasn't anything?

Even if there was something, the guys seemed to figure it out on their own and sort it out.

Just in case, he approached them separately and quietly said, "Well, you guys, somehow help the girl there, after all, you've been staying at her place for so long."

He was hinting at something they'd already taken care of. If there was anything, at least make it up to them with money. Once again, he looked at them closely. If Kirill, in principle, was good at hiding his emotions, Oleg and Ivan were less so, and Alexei Vadimovich suspected from their faces that the case might not be as smooth as everyone would like to imagine.

"I really hope it's alright" at this he turned and walked away, he didn't want to discuss it all anymore, they were good fighters, he needed them.

Nastya could barely stand, literally everything hurt. Even standing and sitting was uncomfortable. But she pretended, as best she could, that everything was normal.

Artem came too.

"What a resort you've made for yourself here, and in the company of such a girl," he also hinted.

They decided not to fill Artem in on the details.

Nastya was still questioned additionally, it was necessary to write down when they came to her house, whether they left for a long time.

They should have eliminated the possibility of recruiting with the other side.

Since she confirmed that they had not left, the suspicions were put to rest. Just in case, they questioned Nadia's grandmother and Aunt Galya, but they also confirmed that they had seen them several days in a row.

"Well, you certainly gave, rushed so rushed" – the commander remarked on their desperate breakthrough ahead of the column of the whole, so to speak.

"We didn't think you were alive, the tank was hit."

"Lucky," said Oleg, "It got under the caterpillar somehow."

"We didn't even realize how we got out ourselves," Ivan added.

And so it was, at times like this it happens that the body acts faster than the mind realizes, what to do.

All three of them wrote down Nastya's phone number and asked her to write, if possible, how she got there. They looked at her so much that Artem also suspected "hotness".

They asked her to write if she needed help. And then it's up to her.

Artem approached Kirill when Nastya got into the car and tried to clarify the situation:

"Look, come on, admit it, did you get busted?" – Artem would certainly be very jealous if he found out that yes.

"Artem, well maybe if I was alone, then maybe, yeah, I'd probably talk her into it, I guess," Kirill smiled. He could always think of something that could look plausible. Like, yeah, well, of course I wanted to, but it didn't work out.

They were determined to keep their mouths shut because things might not turn out as well as they would like.