Dimitri’s heart was heavy when the young sales analyst entered the office of his manager in Research and Development Department of a large renowned company that produced juices. Michael Vinogradov sat in a black armchair at the oak table decorated with statues of gymnasts. Dimitri heard that Michael’s daughter was a rhythmic gymnast who aspired to represent the country on the Olympics.

“Good afternoon,” Dima said in an unconfident quiet voice and looked at his boss in a begging manner akin to a dog scared of punishment.

Vinogradov’s chin was supported on his left hand, while his eyes were focused in one spot. His eyebrows were scrunched together revealing a deep engagement into some thoughts. The hair on his head was touched by greyness.

Michael did not return the greeting, which crashed the young man’s hopes on a miracle that would help him keep his job. Despite of the fact that yesterday Dimitri’s father told his son that Vinogradov refused to accept a large bribery, Dima hoped that his manager would change his mind.

However, the expression of the Michael’s face showed no hint of mercy. Looking at the man renowned for his impeccable reputation, Dimitri realized all absurdity of his hopes. How could Vinogradov who has never committed a single dishonest action throughout his 8-year long career, turn a blind eye to Dima’s outrageous action?

On his side, Vinogradov saw a youth who let him down and whose father tried to tempt him into breaking own moral principles. Dimitri allowed himself to arrive on a conference where a new juice was presented under the influence of drugs. This provoked a large-scale scandal that affected Michael’s reputation. Therefore, Vinogradov was merciless.

He watched in silence how Dimitri read and re-read documents pertaining to his dismissal. This time-stretching and the desperate appearance of the young man – his eyes were blinking often and his hands were shaking – irritated Michael to the extent that he sighed, stood up and approached the window. He felt that he could no longer observe the young man without insulting him. Vinogradov started to drum his fingers on the windowsill. The view of the grey joyless sky with rainy clouds set his mind into a wandering mode. Michael remembered that today was his 16-year-old daughter Ksenia’s participation in a decisive competition the results of which defined whether she would be accepted in the Olympics team or not. He thought of her with tenderness, having no doubts in her success. She has always been very nervous, but I believe she pulled herself together and showed the best of her skills, Vinogradov told himself.

Eventually Dimitri said in an unsteady voice: “I’m done.”

Michael turned around and said in a well-modulated cold manner: “You are free to go then.”

Michael met the last pleading sight with neither doubts or tinkling of compassion. When Dima left the office with ducked head and hands dropped in a powerless way, Vinogradov immediately returned to his duties, wishing to waste no more time on the graceless matter.

Later when Michael Vinogradov returned home from work, the first sound that he heard was that of his daughter’s sobbing in the quietness of the flat. The thought They didn’t accept her flashed in his mind. He touched the top button of his shirt when he noticed that his fingers were trembling. He glanced at his face in the mirror and saw how pale it was. Only then Vinogradov realized the high degree of his disappointment.

I can’t believe it, he told himself, and immediately felt anger with himself, she’s extremely hurt. I have to console her. Michael clenched his fists, trying to take control over his own emotions. He felt robbed of pride, yet he had to find words to support Ksenia. He changed his clothes slowly, using every second to achieve inner calmness and distance himself from crashed expectations. It was very hard to do because the vision of his daughter, holding the golden medal and smiling radiantly at a cheering crowd, kept appearing in his imagination.

Drop it! Vinogradov ordered himself and resolutely walked into Ksenia’s room. He was shocked when he saw his daughter’s body fallen on the desk with her right hand extended. Her palm was cut many times with a knife, and blood was streaming on the surface of the desk. Ksenia’s wet face with red puffy eyebrows had a trace of incurable depression and tear-soaked eyes did not react on Michael. He ran towards her.

“Ksusha, my sweetheart!” he mattered in an anxious voice and kissed her forehead, “please, calm down. Everything is alright.”

Michael grabbed the knife and rushed into his room to the shelf with medicine and bandages. He locked the knife in the drawer of his desk. Then he ran into the kitchen, took all knives and locked them away as well. Then Vinogradov almost carried his daughter into the bathroom – she had no will to walk –  and washed the blood away. Throughout this desperate activity, he kept mattering, “Please, honey, calm down. It’s not a tragedy.”

When he put her on her bed and sat besides her, a decision was formed in his mind.

“Ksusha, you will get into the team. I promise you.”

“They… rejected…” she spoke for the first time. Her voice was weak, breathless, liveless, “There is no hope… The decision is final…”

Michael felt his heart breaking.

“Nothing is final,” he told his daughter, “It can be changed. They will change their decision. Trust me. You will become the Olympics champion. Give me two days.”

She raised her exhausted eyes at him and whispered, “Can you do it?”

“Yes, of course,” Vinogradov kissed her forehead again, “try to sleep.”

He stayed in her room for the whole night. He sat slumped at her desk, watched the movement of the moon across the black sky and reflected on his moral principles and his daughter’s life. Ksusha was diagnosed with depression after her parents got divorced when she was 9 years old. Vinogradov recalled the hard time when she refused to eat and go to school. Shivers ran down his spine when he thought that the depression might return and this time push Ksusha to suicide.

I can’t risk her life, he told himself, she is so desperate that she can end her life. At these words he shuddered and with wide-opened unblinking eyes stared into the darkness, making sure that Ksusha’s chest was rising and falling in rhythm with breathing under the blanket. The heavy feeling of own guilt was clutching his throat. I shouldn’t have married that woman. An unhappy child wouldn’t have been born, he was thinking, while massaging his temples with cold fingertips. I have never bribed anyone, never… I was so proud of being successful and honest. What will it be like to betray own principles? I will condemn myself until the end of my days. When Ksusha grows up and realizes what happened, will she respect me? Even if I bribe them to pretend that a mistake happened, she will realize the truth later. It might be a shock for her. How do I make the choice?  Her life and future or my dignity and self-respect?

Michael dropped his head on his arm and remained motionless for a long time.

In the morning he phoned his sister to come and look after Ksusha who was still sleeping at 10 a.m. After she arrived, he left the house and drove to the academy of gymnastics. He was so nervous that he could hardly focus on the road and nearly caused a car accident. A beep of an outraged driver returned Vinogradov back to reality and he realized that his forehead was covered with large drops of sweat. When he went out of his car and headed to the large building where Ksusha took classes, he felt himself a thief who was robbing himself of an invaluable irreplaceable treasure. Half-way towards the entrance he stopped and turned around. With horror Michael realized that he was making sure that none of his colleagues saw him. Then the image of his depressed 9-year old daughter with arms as thin as branches of a young tree and eyes as empty as those of a dead person appeared in his memory. Vinogradov dropped his head and quickly walked into the sports academy.

When Michael was invited into the office of the director, he realized with horror that he forgot to prepare a speech and that he was now lost for words. Vinogradov felt that the air around him turned hot as if he was transported into a desert. The face of the director with a well-wishing smile was seen as if through some sort of a mist. Michael hardly grasped the meaning of the welcoming words, “I’m happy to see you, Michael. Please, take a seat. I believe you want to talk about your daughter’s yesterday’s performance.”

Vinogradov remained standing. His throat was dry, and for a single moment he felt that he would not be able to pronounce a single word. This sensation lasted for only a second. Then he said, “I want to offer you and members of the committee one million rubles each if you pretend that yesterday’s decision was a mistake and accept Ksenia into the Olympics team.”

The director’s face became pale, the smile vanished from his face. He frowned and leaned back in his armchair with his hands crossed on his chest. Unconsciously he pressed the cold tips of his fingers to his burning forehead and lowered his eyes, hiding the unbearable suffering that could be visible in their desperate expression.

“Please, take a seat,” the director repeated his request, but now it sounded not as an invitation for a friendly conversation but as invitation for discussion of the terms of the deal. Michael slowly lowered himself in the armchair and unbuttoned the collar of his shirt that seemed to be strangling him. Suddenly faces of Dimitri and his father appeared in Vinogradov’s memory, and the despair rose once again in him. There was no way back. There were no means for repent.

“You did everything right. You had no choice. The life of your daughter is more important than your moral principles,” Michael’s sister told him when he returned home and poured himself a glass of vodka that he bought on his way back. She patted him on the shoulder and peered into his empty eyes.

He responded in a bitter voice, “Even if one does not have a choice, one always has responsibility for one’s actions. I will carry mine until my death.”