For Love
“Excuse me, love, any chance you know where Suvorov Street is? Been walking in circles—no one seems to have a clue.”
Tanya found herself face-to-face with a bloke carrying a large black duffel bag, looking genuinely lost.
“Is that your idea of a pickup line?” she teased.
“Name’s Russell. And you?”
“Margaret,” Tanya lied with a smirk, brushing past him. But Russell caught up.
“Honestly, I’m just trying to find this street. Mate’s getting married, and I’m hopeless with directions here.”
She finally took him in—checked shirt, relaxed-fit trousers (not those skinny jeans all the lads seemed to fancy), and a proper travel bag. Definitely not local.
“Keep straight, turn right at the traffic lights down the lane. That’s Suvorov Street,” she relented.
“Cheers.” His grin transformed his whole face. “So… what’s your real name?”
“Yours first.”
“Mum’s a proper Shakespeare nut—named me Russell. Could’ve been worse, right? Imagine being stuck as ‘Hamlet’.” He laughed, warm and unguarded. Tanya had never heard a laugh so effortlessly charming.
“Dunno if my mum fancies Shakespeare, but she went with Tatiana.” She chuckled.
“Fancy coming to the wedding with me tomorrow? It’s my mate’s big day. Don’t know a soul here.” His hopeful gaze pinned her.
She hesitated. He seemed decent.
“Sorry, got an exam tomorrow. Need to revise.” She edged away.
“Give me your number, and I’ll leave you be. How else will I tell you the time?”
“Did I say I’d go?” Tanya arched a brow.
“No, but… You’re a student, yeah? Let me guess—med school?”
“How’d you know?”
“Mum always says doctors and teachers are the kindest. Won’t budge till you give me your number. Might even camp outside your flat, shout your name at dawn.”
Rolling her eyes, Tanya relented.
“I’ll call!” Russell called after her.
His mum had begged him to stay in school, but Russell’s grades weren’t quite enough for university. The fees were steep, and football had always been more his speed than textbooks.
They lived in a quiet village, just him and his mum—the local English teacher. The nearest hospital was a trek for anything serious.
He’d taken a job at his dad’s old mate’s garage. University could wait till after national service. Girls fancied him, but none had ever struck a chord.
His dad had died a hero—a builder who’d crafted their sturdy two-storey home. One sweltering summer night, he’d sprinted into a burning house after a boy trapped inside. Got the kid out, but the collapsing beams took him. Turned out the boy’s drunk father had sparked the blaze.
The next day, Russell rang Tanya. Asked about her exam, nudged about the wedding.
It was Saturday. No lectures. She went.
May was lush, cherry blossoms littering the pavement like confetti. When Russell saw her, he froze mid-step, awestruck.
After the wedding, they lingered at her doorstep, talking, stealing kisses.
“I leave tomorrow. Come visit me. My village is gorgeous—the church tower view alone’ll knock your socks off. Dad built our house. River splits the place in two.”
He spoke of dawn fishing trips with his dad, mist curling over the water, the hush so deep you’d hear fish leap. “Caught perch, bream—even a pike this big.” He stretched his arms wide. “Alright, maybe a tad smaller. In basic training, I dreamt of that river. Missed it like mad…”
“Why not start uni part-time?” Tanya asked.
“Mum insisted on ‘proper education.’ Reckon she just wanted me out of the village. Jobs are scarce. Visit after your exams. You’ll see—it’s heaven.”
They talked till she shivered in the chill.
On the coach home, he texted: *Miss you already. Come soon.*
Tanya grinned over breakfast.
“That yesterday’s lad?” her mum probed.
“You saw us?”
“Obviously. Who is he? Another student?”
“Yeah, engineering,” she lied.
Mum wanted “the best” for her only daughter. A village mechanic wouldn’t cut it.
They talked for hours after—phone calls, late-night Zoom dates. One weekend, Russell sneaked away to see her. The garage was swamped with city weekender repairs. He left on the last bus.
“You promised to visit. I’m waiting,” he whispered at the station.
After finals, Tanya announced a trip to a “friend’s.”
“Since when do you have mates out of town?” Mum frowned.
“Since now. It’s beautiful—river, fishing.”
“Fishing? Pull the other one,” Mum scoffed.
“Leave her be. She’s grown,” Dad cut in.
At the station, Dad eyed her. “Not really visiting a friend, are you?”
“Don’t tell Mum. I’ll be fine.”
Russell met her, his broad hand swallowing hers as they walked to his house.
She’d expected a cottage. Instead, a two-storey home—his dad’s vision for a future family.
Tanya’s room was cosy. His mum showed her around: proper plumbing, gas, even a wood stove for nostalgia. A framed photo of his dad hung there. The resemblance was uncanny.
They talked for hours. That night, Tanya lay awake, replaying every word, listening to the house’s creaks like whispers of the past.
Russell took days off to stay with her. Work was chaos—a mechanic had broken his arm.
That afternoon, he finished a repair early.
“Mind dropping it off? Wife’s pregnant,” the client asked.
“No bother.”
On the bridge, teenagers loitered. One boy tumbled into the river. Russell braked, ready to scold them—until he saw the broken railing. The kid hadn’t surfaced.
He dove.
A concrete slab lurked below, jagged with rebar. A rusty spear grazed his spine. Gritting through pain, he hauled the boy up but couldn’t swim—his legs were numb. A teen helped drag them ashore.
The ambulance took ages.
At the hospital, doctors shrugged. “Needs a London specialist. Spinal implant. Costly. No guarantees.”
Russell’s mum wept. They’d never afford it.
“Get him to London. I’ll find the money,” Tanya vowed.
At home, Mum raged. “Knew this trip would end badly!”
Tanya fled to her dad’s office.
“Dad, I need help.” She spilled everything.
“That’s a fortune. And you barely know him.”
“But how can we not try? He saved a child! His mum’s got no one else.”
Her dad sighed, dialled a friend. “Remember that holiday cottage you fancied? It’s yours. Need the cash urgently… Life or death.”
At the hospital, he muttered, “Hope you know what you’re doing.”
The surgery worked. Recovery was uncertain. Russell pushed Tanya away, claiming he didn’t love her. She saw through it.
By September, he was home. Tanya took a gap year to help.
“Go back to uni,” his mum urged. “Living with a cripple’s no picnic.”
But Tanya stayed.
When her parents visited, Dad murmured, “Let’s go. Time to plan a wedding.”
Russell grew stronger. Tanya returned to med school, visiting weekends. He enrolled remotely.
A year later, they married—just as he ditched the crutches.
Russell knew he’d lucked out. Without Tanya and her dad’s sacrifice, he’d never have walked again.
Tanya became a trauma surgeon, inspired by his recovery. They moved to the city, visited his mum often.
Her parents made peace. Nothing mattered more than their daughter’s joy.
Help someone, and the universe returns the favour. And love? Well, that’s what makes the madness worth it.
