Olesya stepped off the bus, her movements slow and heavy.
The journey had passed in silence, her tears the only sign of life. Her world had crumbled the day Andrey died. She would give birth to their daughter in two months—the only reason she kept going.
They had met two years after she left the orphanage. Life had been difficult—days spent in vocational school and nights at the factory. She was used to hardship. Andrey came to the factory to install new machinery, and from that moment on, they were inseparable.
When Olesya found out she was pregnant, Andrey proposed right away. He wanted her to meet his family and start their life together.
But Olesya, shaped by years of rejection, feared his wealthy family would never accept her background. Though Andrey didn’t understand her worry, she wasn’t ready.
Then, three months ago, Andrey left to visit his family, promising to return soon.
She waited for days, then weeks.
People whispered he’d abandoned her, but she couldn’t believe it. Not him.
Then, by chance, she overheard someone at work mention the man who’d installed their equipment had d!ed.
In a daze, she went to the accountant’s office, where the older woman confirmed it: Andrey had been attacked by three men after returning home. He never made it back.
Olesya was crushed. The pain hollowed her out.
Now, in the rain, she walked through the cemetery, seeking his grave. She had to say goodbye. And maybe, to forgive herself. He had gone home to prepare his family to meet her, and she had let fear hold her back.
His grave was fresh, covered in flowers. An old mausoleum stood nearby. His photo, smiling, hung from the cross above.
“Hi, my love,” she whispered, kneeling. Tears came fast and didn’t stop.
Eventually, soaked and chilled, she stirred.
Her phone was missing. She needed shelter. She pushed open the heavy crypt door and stepped inside.
“Please forgive me. I just need to rest a bit.”
She sat down, leaving the door ajar. Then came a buzz. A phone, sleek and unfamiliar, was vibrating nearby.
She picked it up, trembling. “Hello?”
A voice answered. “Hi, that’s my phone. I lost it yesterday.”
“I just found it.”
“Could you return it? I’ll pay—there’s important stuff on it.”
“I’m at the cemetery,” she said softly.
“Oh, right. I was working there yesterday. Must’ve left it.”
“I wasn’t feeling well, I—”
Olesya dropped the phone. The world went black.
A man shook her awake. “Miss! Are you okay?”
It was Dima—Andrey’s brother. He recognized her immediately from the stories Andrey had told. Without a second thought, he carried her to his car and called home.
“Mom, I found Andrey’s girlfriend at his grave.”
“Take her to the clinic,” Nina said. “I’ll meet you there.”
At the clinic, Olesya awoke to Nina and Dima at her bedside. She instinctively pulled back.
“I’m Andrey’s mother,” Nina said gently.
“I didn’t come for help. I just wanted to say goodbye,” Olesya whispered.
“Tell me about you and my son,” Nina said.
Olesya shared everything. When she finished, Nina asked, “Why didn’t you go with him?”
“I was scared,” she admitted.
“I grew up in an orphanage. I didn’t know how your family would react.”
“You’ve met the wrong people,” Nina said softly. “I’m not like that. Rest now. We’ll talk tomorrow.”
Later, Nina and Dima gathered Olesya’s things. Among them were photos of her and Andrey, smiling, happy. Nina’s eyes filled with tears.
“He really loved her,” she said. “We’ll take care of her and the baby.”
Dima nodded. “Of course.”
Two years later…
“Karinochka! Come to Grandma!” Nina called, arms open. Her granddaughter ran to her as Olesya looked on, smiling. She now lived in the city center, studying law, supported by Nina and a nanny.
But Nina sensed hesitation in her.
“Olesya, can we talk?”
She nodded, wary.
“Do you love Dima?”
“I do.”
“And he loves you. So what’s the problem?”
Olesya hesitated. “It’s Andrey… I still feel like I’m betraying him.”
Nina spoke gently but firmly. “He’s gone. But you’re alive. Andrey gave you love and a child. Now you have a future. The living belong with the living.”
Nina left her in silence. Olesya stared at her phone for a long time.
Then, slowly, she opened Dima’s contact and typed:
“I’m ready.”
