"Must be some kind of star. Have you seen it before?" – I heard a quiet female voice say.

– "Must be a model… Or a millionaire's wife. Yeah, well, look how much plastic surgery she has on her face!" – a second female voice replied in an affirmative tone.

Aha! Mistaking my vampire perfect beauty for plastic! Let them! Pathetic envious mortals!

But, fortunately, my person did not cause much of a furore, and the voices subsided as quickly as they had raised a low rumble of surprise.

"Coming to see you," I wrote to Misha, now safe from the sun. After thinking for a moment, I sent: "Is Fredrik with you? I hope I'm not disturbing you?".

"He's leaving. I'm waiting for you!!!" – Misha replied.

"He's leaving… Of course, he suddenly had some very important business to attend to! Misha should have only had to inform him of my upcoming visit!" – I smirked.

I left the limo at a small station near the lake. Misha came to pick me up in Fredrik's Mustang. Same old Mustang. It was high time to change it for something better and more modern. But of course Fredrik would never do that.

Thanks to a small cloud that covered the sun for a few seconds, I quickly slipped into Misha 's car, and we left the station, heading for a lake house I'd never been to before. Of course, I'd been invited a long time ago, and more than once, but I'd always failed to make the flight – my career had grown too fast over the past eight years.

Misha was beautiful: dressed in tight black jeans, her husband's long dark green T-shirt and sneakers. Her hair was damp and braided into a long shaggy braid, which, however, suited her pretty face.

– Since when did you start wearing your boring husband's clothes? – I asked with a laugh.

– When you wrote, I was swimming in the lake. There was no time to think about wardrobe, you know! – laughed at this Misha laughed. – So I wore the first thing I saw. Fredrik had just changed his shirt before he left, and left this one on the back of a chair in the living room.

– Where did he go?

– Stockholm.

– Did he have business there? – I grinned.

Wow, he didn't want to see me so badly that he didn't even bother to throw his T-shirt in the wash, just left it in the living room! That's not nice.

– No, he's just giving me time and space to be with you," Misha replied with a smile, not taking her eyes off the road.

– What do you mean? – I asked in a nonchalant tone.

– I'd known for a long time that you can't stand each other's company. Don't deny it," Misha said cheerfully, glancing at me.

– Shit. I'm sorry, but that's the way it is. But I was hoping you didn't realise that. How long have you known? – I was honest. I was embarrassed that she'd known all along. Knew and pretended not to notice.

– A long time. You've been avoiding each other so obviously! But it's okay. I've accepted it. I love my husband and I love you, and since you can't be in the same room without disliking each other, well… I'm fine with that system. – Misha smiled a calm smile and shrugged her shoulders.

I looked at my little sister and I found it hard to believe. Is that my Misha?

She's grown up so much. No longer the hyper-emotional girl who'd gone off to study at Oxford. In the eight years she's been married to Fredrik, she's changed. Why didn't I notice it before? I was used to thinking of her as a little sister – reckless, inexperienced, impulsive. But now I realised clearly that that little girl was gone. And it was a little hard for me to accept that. To accept that she had changed, while I was still the same.

– What?" she smiled, probably noticing my confusion.

– Nothing. I just think you've changed a lot," I replied with a smile.

– For the better, I hope?

– You've become calm and sensible. My little girl has grown up all of a sudden! – I patted her cheek. – No more tantrums?

– No, Fredrik's not that lucky so far. Sometimes I can't hold back my emotions. I try very hard, but I guess it's my nature!

We laughed good-naturedly. She was so sweet, my Misha. She was making jokes about herself. Marvellous.

"That's my nature," she said. What is my nature then? To be an evil bitch, ruining the lives of my own sister and mother? Oh, God. How does Misha tolerate my company? She's so beautiful, so innocent. An angel. I guess it's true that dirt is most noticeable when white shoes are shining clean next to them.

That's how we drove: me – dirt and lies, and Misha – beautiful snow-white sneakers. Riding along a beautiful clear lake, in the heart of a magical Swedish forest.

– Do you still drive the poor Mustang? – I changed the subject, for it was unbearable. For me.

– Yes. Fredrik loves it. He drives it. I have a motorbike.

– What? A motorbike? – I was pleasantly surprised. – Somehow I thought you'd have the Volvo Fredrik would have chosen for you!

– No, I didn't. This time his displeasure doesn't bother me. In everything else, of course, I'm always inferior to him. I know it's bad. But I love him so much. I don't know how to express it! But I'm not that naive girl anymore, and he has to accept that I have an opinion. I can feel that strength in me – the strength to say no," Misha said in a serious tone.

– That's right. No one should be in charge of your life but you, and I'm glad you're beginning to realise that. – Her words pleasantly surprised me. I was proud of her.

– But really, I don't feel like he's disadvantaging me. I just trust his judgement because he's lived so many years and I'm just starting to learn about life. But it won't last forever. I'll grow up and be independent in my judgement. In the meantime, I have one small victory – my motorbike.

– Exactly. You've got a lot more ahead of you, my darling. Just live and learn. What kind of motorbike?

– Bajaj Pulsar 2000.

– You'll show me, because I prefer cars.

– Of course I do. Where's your luggage?

– In Reykjavik,' I answered without going into details.

– I have a lot of clothes. Take whatever you want," Misha said with a smile.

– Oh, I know that. Thank you, sweetheart. It's like old times.

We used to swap clothes whenever we had the chance to be around each other. But, out of my entire wardrobe, Misha always took only modest clothes. If I had any. I knew that after another visit to Prague, she often brought Mariszka's clothes with her, as if she was too lazy to buy them for herself. Or Misha so trusted the "impeccable", as everyone said, taste of our saint. Boring, if you ask me.

– And what are you doing at the lake? – I asked.

– I got tired of living in Stockholm, so we came back here, – Misha informed me.

– For how long?

– A couple of months. I'm so glad you're here! But why and for how long?

– I'm tired, too. Mentally. Decided to spend time with my beloved sister. – I smiled quite a bit. And it was almost true. – How long? Three weeks.

– That short? – Misha grumbled unhappily.

– Yes, I'm sorry. But I have an exhibition, an opening.

– Oh yes! Mum told me! – cheerfully chirped her little sister.

– I'm sure she did," I grinned. – Are you coming to the opening?

– When?

– The tenth of October.

– Still asking? Of course! And Fredrik will come with me, even if he refuses!

– Oh, gods, poor Fredrik! – I laughed.

Misha suddenly turned off the road onto a narrow, gravel path that led somewhere in the forest.

– We'll be home soon! – Misha said cheerfully.

– Remind me again: Did Fredrik build your house himself? – I asked.

– Yes, and in just a fortnight. We also have a jetty and a boat. And a swing.

– How nice. And how wonderful to see you happy, my darling.

– Oh, thank you. And I hope you're happy too.