The little girl at the station sang a song only he knewand the man realized hed found his missing daughter.
*”Could you give me a ride? Ill sing for you!”*
A girl of about ten stood right in front of the carthin, in an old coat that had clearly seen better days. A gray scarf covered her up to her eyes, but beneath it gleamed big blue ones. God, where do kids like this even come from?
Sergey Viktorovich took a slow drag of his cigarette and glanced wearily at her. The day had been hard, his mood even worse.
*”What? Where do you need to go?”*
*”To Rozhkovo village!”* She waved confidently in her tattered woolen glove. *”Its not farjust down this road to the right. Ill show you! I dont have money but I can sing!”*
Sergey Viktorovich winced. What an unbearable day.
*”What are you doing out here?”* he asked, unsure why he even bothered. *”Its getting dark. Cold autumn night alone at the station. Arent you scared to get in a strangers car? Where are your parents?”*
The girl sighed like an adult.
*”Mamas sick. Theres no father. Shes weak, always lying down. I went to the district for medicine. The bus was late, and I missed mine. Now its either walk or sleep here. But I wasnt scared to get inyou have kind eyes. And a nice car!”*
He smirked despite himself. *”Howd you even see my eyes? Its dark.”*
*”Not that dark!”* She shrugged. *”I see and notice a lot. Like how youre in a bad mood.”*
Observant little thing.
*”Yeah. Always am.”*
*”How can you be in a bad mood with a car like this? And probably money too? Doesnt make sense”* She burrowed deeper into her scarf.
*”Some money. Not a fortune, but enough. Doesnt mean much when youre alone in the world.”* The words slipped out before he noticed.
*”Completely alone?”* she asked, oddly serious.
*”Feels like it. Maybe not entirely Youre too nosy.”*
*”Heres your coffee!”* Misha finally emerged from the station with two steaming cups. *”Ready to go!”*
*”Took you long enough,”* Sergey Viktorovichs voice held an edge. *”I said immediately.”*
*”Sorry Place was chaos. Had to wait for water to boil, then the coffee. Service was awful.”*
*”Fine. Lets go.”*
*”So, will you take me?”* The girl still stood there, shifting from foot to foot. Her thin shoes were no match for the autumn chill.
*”Get in.”*
He opened the door for her.
*”Misha, were making a stopRozhkovo. Then home.”*
*”Understood.”*
Misha had learned not to ask questions. The boss saidit got done. Sergey Viktorovich valued obedience, loyalty, honesty. Slackers were fired on the spot. Business, lifeeverything ran his way.
That discipline built his empire. Large-scale construction wasnt for the weak. Though he had deputies, he oversaw much personally. An engineer by training, he knew every process. This wasnt inherited wealthhed worked relentlessly.
In college, hed hauled bricks and mixed mortar in all weather. What else could he do? Elka was pregnant; rent for their communal room was due. The landlady had warned: one day late, theyd be out.
After graduation, he climbed the ranks, then started his own firm. Grueling, often unbearablebut he pushed forward. He had to provide for Elka and their daughter, Katya.
He slept little, stressed constantly. Maybe thats why his hair turned snow-white by thirty-five.
*”Family lifes hard on you,”* Elka laughed, ruffling his hair.
*”Hard. But happy.”* And hed meant it.
His favorite moments: coming home, holding Katya, singing her to sleep. He never missed a night, whether she was sick, teething, or just fussy. Hed rock her, humming the same songabout Princess Katya, the golden-haired beauty princes and kings longed to see.
*”Whats that weird song? Did you make it up?”* Elka smiled.
*”Yeah. For Princess Katyusha. About her being the happiest.”*
*”She will be Im exhausted. Can you stay with her? Ill rest.”*
*”Go ahead.”*
Elka was always weary. Shed sleep through the night, then wake drained. At first, she blamed the baby and chores. But time didnt help. Maybe she lacked vitamins? Or water? She postponed doctor visits, inventing excusesweather, magnetic storms. She fainted at the sight of blood.
When Sergey Viktorovich finally insisted on tests, it was too late. The disease had advanced. Doctors were powerless. Earlier treatment mightve helped. Now? Nothing.
He borrowed, begged, sought specialistsall useless. Elka faded painfully. When she died, Katya was fourteen.
Katya adored her mother and raged at the injustice. The obedient child became a rebellate nights, shady friends, alcohol, smoking. Sergey tried disciplinetalks, punishments, even locking her in. Nothing worked.
*”Im going to English, then the movies!”*
*”English. No movies.”*
*”Why?! I promised!”*
*”My life! Why wont you listen?!”*
*”As long as you live here, you follow my rules!”*
Fights erupted daily. Even at university, Katya didnt matureshe just got taller. More aggressive.
Then she announced shed found a job.
*”Where? Youre in your third year!”*
*”A store. Cashier.”*
*”What?! Thats absurd! You need your degree!”*
*”I dont need it! Or anything from you! Ill work, live on my own!”*
*”No! Youll graduate! A cashier?! Do you know what your tuition costs?!”*
*”I dont care! Always with the money!”*
*”Yes, money! It takes work to live well!”*
*”What good was yours if it didnt save Mom?!”* Katya screamed.
Silence.
*”She was sick. We did everything”*
*”Not enough! You were always working! She was alone! If not for you, shed be alive!”*
*”Dont say that”*
*”I hate you and your money!”*
Stunned, Sergey couldnt believe his daughters words. Hed tried so hard. But to Katya, it was simple: Dad was absent; Mom suffered; now she was gone.
*”If youd wanted, youd have saved her! But you built houses and made money! Whats the point?! I hate you! Never want to see you again!”*
*”Dont say things you dont mean!”*
Katya slammed her door. By morning, shed packed and left. A note: *”Dont look for me. I want nothing from you.”*
At first, Sergey thought shed cool off. But weeks passed. Calls went unanswered. Shed dropped out. Thennothing.
Months later, he searched. Police couldnt help. Maybe shed left town. Changed her name. Or worse.
Now he was alone. Wife gone. Daughter vanished. His life felt over.
Business thrived, projects succeededbut inside, emptiness. Colleagues respected and feared him. Work was all he had left.
He drowned in it. No restonly painful memories of Katya. He told friends shed gone abroad to study.
*”Can I sing now?”*
Sergey Viktorovich snapped back to the presentthe girl was beside him, straight-backed, hands folded. Shed removed her scarf, revealing long golden hair. Just like Katyas.
*”If you want. Ill take you without it.”*
*”No! A deals a deal!”*
*”Fine. Whats your name?”*
*”Elya.”*
*”Pretty name. Go ahead.”*
And she sang.
A song he hadnt heard in years. About Princess Katyathe happiest, most beautiful girl, with princes riding from afar just to glimpse her.
His song. His melody. His story for his daughter.
His heart stalled. Tears welled. He stared at the girl, singing so boldly.
*”Where did you learn that? Tell me!”* he rasped.
*”Mama sang it to me,”* she said, puzzledAs the final notes of the song faded, Sergey Viktorovich held his daughter and granddaughter close, knowing that after all the years of loss and silence, his family was finally whole again.
