Irina stood by the window of her tiny kitchen, watching her seven-year-old twins, Dima and Maksim, play in the yard as the setting sun painted the sky soft pink. Their modest home on the outskirts of town was nothing specialtwo stories, a small garden, and an old apple tree by the windowbut it was warm and cozy. Theyd lived here for six months, ever since burying Pavel.
“Mom, when is Dad coming back?” Dima asked, walking into the kitchen and pressing against her.
Her heart clenched, but she hid it. Ruffling his hair, she answered, “He wont be coming back. Hes watching over us from heaven now, remember?”
Maksim ran over too, and Irina hugged them both. They looked so much like Pavelthe same dark hair and gray eyes. Sometimes it hurt, but mostly it brought comfort.
“Mom, whats for dinner?” Maksim asked.
“Potatoes and cutlets,” she lied. The fridge was nearly empty.
Money was running out. Her tiny pension wasnt enough, and finding work with two young kids was almost impossible. The thought gnawed at her daily, but she stayed strong for them.
A sharp knock startled her. Visitors were rare.
“Boys, go to your room,” she said.
“Who is it?” Dima asked.
“I dont know. Go play for now.”
When they left, she peered through the peephole. Two men in dark suits stood outsideone tall and thin, the other shorter and stockier.
“Who are you?” she asked without opening.
“Alexey Viktorovich and Sergey Nikolaevich. We need to talk about your husband.”
“My husband is dead.”
“Exactly why were here. Open up, please.”
Reluctantly, she undid the chain. They introduced themselves and asked to come in. She let them pass.
“Your late husband, Pavel Sergeyevich, owed us money,” the tall one, Alexey, said. “A gambling debt.”
“What debt?” Her blood ran cold.
“A large one.” Sergey handed her a paper. “Heres the IOU.”
Her hands shook as she read the staggering sum. “This cant be! He never gambled that much!”
“He did,” Alexey said flatly. “Now you pay.”
“But I dont have that kind of money! I have kidsI cant work!”
“Not our problem,” Sergey shrugged. “You have a month.”
“And if I cant?” she whispered.
The men exchanged glances.
“You will,” Alexey said. “We *strongly* suggest it.”
They left, leaving only fear behind.
—
Months later, Irina stood at Pavels grave, chrysanthemums in hand. The twins stood quietly beside her. Autumn leaves drifted onto the fresh headstone.
“We love you, Dad,” Dima whispered, placing a drawing on the grave.
“And we remember you,” Maksim added.
She stared at Pavels photohis smile, untouched by the debts, the addiction, the misery of his final months. Hed grown irritable, disappeared often, claimed he was with friends. Shed suspected drinking, but never this.
“Forgive me, Pavel I didnt know how bad it was”
On their way out, she spotted Alexey and Sergey smoking by the gates.
“Boys, go to the car,” she said.
They obeyed.
“Condolences,” Alexey began.
“What do you want?”
“Reminding you. Three months have passed.”
“Im looking for work, but with kids”
“Find a way,” Sergey cut in. “Or we will.”
Alexey showed her the IOU again.
“His signature. The house is collateral.”
“The *house*? Its all we have!”
“*Had*,” Sergey corrected. “If you dont pay, its ours.”
“Three more weeks,” Alexey said. “Think hard.”
At home, she counted her meager savings. Useless. She stared at Pavels photo on the fridge:
“Why did you do this? Why risk our home?”
No answer came.
—
The next morning, she took the boys to school and visited banks. All refused her. That night, after they slept, she finally broke down. Rain drummed against the windowas if the world wept with her.
The next day, her friend Lara approached her in the store.
“Irina! Heard youre job hunting. A womans looking for a caretaker for her disabled son. Pays well.”
“Where?”
“A gated community. Heres her number.”
That evening, Irina called Anna Mikhailovna. They agreed to meet.
—
The next day, she arrived at *Sosnovy Bor.* A refined woman in her fifties answered the door.
“Irina? Come in.”
The lavish living room smelled of antiques and expensive perfume.
“Lara told me about your situation,” Anna began. “Widowed, two children, in need. I need a caretaker for my son. But this isnt just any job.”
She paused.
“I need a *wife* for him.”
Irina stared.
“A what?”
“A marriageon paper,” Anna clarified. “Stanislavs been in a coma for six months. The doctors say he might wake or not. If he does, hell need family. A wife. Your boys could be his sons.”
Irina sat stunned.
“It pays *very* well,” Anna continued. “More than your debt. A roof over your head, food, healthcare for you and the boys.”
Irina whispered, “How much?”
The number made her gaspit was *triple* Pavels debt.
“But why *me*? You could hire a nurse”
“Nurses work,” Anna said. “Families *love.* If he wakes, hell need to feel *wanted.*”
“Its a lie”
“Mutual help,” Anna corrected. “You get safety, we get hope. No harm done.”
Irina hesitated. It sounded insane. But what choice did she have?
“I need time.”
“Dont take too long,” Anna said softly.
—
At home, she paced, torn between debt and conscience. The boys faces, the looming loss of their home, the hopeless futureit all spun in her head.
“Mom, youre sad?” Dima asked.
“Just tired, sweetheart.”
“Well help!” Maksim hugged her. “Were big now!”
She knelt and held them.
“Boys what if we moved? To a big, beautiful house. A sick man lives therehe needs our help.”
“Is he nice?” Maksim asked.
“I think so. Hes like a sleeping prince. Maybe one day hell wake up.”
“Well wake him!” Dima cheered.
She smiled. “Maybe youre exactly what he needs.”
That night, she barely slept. The next morning, she called Anna.
“Ill do it. But the boys stay in their school, and I meet Stanislav first.”
“Of course,” Anna agreed. “Come tomorrow.”
—
The next day, she saw Stanislav for the first timelying in a sunlit room, surrounded by machines. Handsome even now: high cheekbones, dark hair, long lashes.
“He was so full of life,” Anna murmured. “Athletic, worked in our family business. Was even engaged”
“What happened to his fiancée?”
“She left,” Anna said bitterly. “When she heard he might never wake.”
Irina took his handwarm, alive.
“Hello,” she whispered. “Ill take care of you.”
Did his fingers twitch?
A week later, they moved into the mansion. The boys adored ittheir own rooms, toys, playgrounds. They doted on “Sleeping Uncle,” reading to him, drawing pictures.
Irina learned his caretube feeding, massages, monitoring machines. She talked to him, told him about her past.
Then one morning, as she massaged his hands, his eyes opened. Clear, focused.
“Stanislav? Can you hear me?”
He rasped something. She gave him water.
“Dont speak. Youre home.”
Confusion flickered in his gaze.
“Im Irina. Ive been caring for you. You were in an accident, but youre safe now.”
The boys burst in.
“Mom, Uncle Stas” Dima froze.
“Hes awake!” Maksim yelled.
Stanislav looked at themand smiled.
Anna sobbed, hugging Irina.
“You brought him back. Your love did this.”
“We all did,” Irina said. “The boys too.”
—
Slowly, Stanislav relearned speech, movement. The boys became like sons to him.
One evening, alone, he told her:
“I remember your voice. When I couldnt answer, you talked to me.”
“I thought you heard me.”
Together, they built a new lifeimperfect, but full of love, laughter, and the quiet promise of brighter tomorrows.
