A Postage Stamp… When Ilya Left Katya: A Tale of Lost Love, Heartbreak, and Healing—How One Family Faced Betrayal, Age-Defying Passion, and Life’s Unpredictable Second Chances

Author Walton MerrittReading 8 minViews 2

THE POSTAGE STAMP

Ians left Katie, my mother sighed heavily, her eyes tired with worry.

What do you mean? I asked, confused and anxious.

I hardly believe it myself. He was away on business for a month, and when he came back, he was like someone else. He told Katie he was sorry, but hed fallen for another woman, Mum paused, staring off into the distance in deep thought.

He actually said that? This must be some terrible misunderstanding. Its dreadful, I said, anger starting to bubble towards Katies husband.

Sophie rang me, said your aunt felt unwell, and she had to call for the ambulance, Mums voice trembled. Turns out Katie had a nervous swallowing disorder, or something like that, she added, blinking away tears.

Dont worry, Mum. Honestly, Katie was always too attentive to Ian, putting him on a pedestal, always dancing around to please him. Now shes left with nothing but heartache. I pity her. I do hope Ian isnt serious about this other woman He loves Katie and Sophie, surely, I clung to hope, refusing to accept the truth.

Ian and Katie used to be swept up by wild passion and love. They married just two months after meeting and soon had a daughter, Sophie. Their life ticked along calmly and steadily, until suddenlyeverything collapsed like a cart tumbling down a hill.

Of course, I rushed over to my sister as soon as I could. Its hard to talk about such aches, especially with your own flesh and blood.

Katie, how did this happen? Did Ian even explain? Has he gone mad? I bombarded my sister with questions.

Oh, Nina, Im still stunned. Where did that woman even come from? Did she bewitch him or something? Ian seemed possessed, running straight to her. There was no stopping him. He just told me, Katie, life should flow, not drain away. Packed his things and left. I feel like Ive had my face dragged over gravel. I cant make sense of any of it Katies tears ran freely down her cheeks.

Lets just wait, Katie. Maybe your runaway will come to his senses. Who knows? I murmured, hugging her tightly as she sobbed in my arms.

But the runaway never returned.

Ian set himself up in another city. He married again.

Christine, his new wife, was eighteen years Ians senior, but the age gap did nothing to dim their happiness. The soul knows no age, Christine often remarked.

Ian, dazzled by Christine, called her his guiding starthe beacon hed searched half his life for.

Her character was a force: fiercely loving when she chose, but could be cuttingly cold. Christine was wild, free-spiritedone moment sweet as honey, the next sharp as a knife. Ian adored her, time and time again marvelling, Where were you before, my Christine? Ive been searching for you forever

Meanwhile, Katie began her own bitter crusade against men at large.

She was a striking beauty, always turning heads in the streetmen and women alike could not help but stare.

At work, she struck up a brief romance with her boss. She soon became the object of his fascination.

Katie, marry me, hed plead. Ill make you a queen. I mean it. Ill give you anything you wish.

I dont fancy the idea of marriage anymore, Mr. Richards. Ive had enough of it, Katie would reply, her smile mischievous.

Lets just go to the seaside together. Id like to give Sophie a bit of fresh air, shed wink at Mr. Richards.

Anything for you, love

Then there was Sam, an easier sort. He was always lending a hand with household jobs, once even redecorating Katies flat. He never proposedhe was already well and truly married.

Katie strung them both along, neither giving her love nor taking any. They patched up her lonely days, nothing more.

But Katie missed Ian terribly. He haunted her dreams, and she would wake in tears, drowning in hopeless longing and memories that tugged at her heart.

How does one simply let go of someone? What did I do wrong as a wife? I was patient, caring, gave him everything he fancied. We never even argued

Years drifted by.

Katies life fell into its own rhythm: sometimes flashing enigmatic smiles at Mr. Richards, sometimes returning Sam to his waiting wife.

When Sophie turned twenty, she made the momentous decision to visit her father.

She bought a train ticket and fretted on the journey, wondering how she might introduce herself to the formidable Christine.

At last, she reached the new city. She rang the bell.

I suppose youre Sophia, said the interesting woman who opened the door.

Mum is far prettier, thought Sophie with a flicker of pride.

You must be Christine, she said.

Yes, come in. Your fathers not home yet, but he wont be long, Christine ushered her into the kitchen.

How have you been? Hows your mother? Tea? Coffee? Christine fluttered around, hospitable.

Christine, tell me honestlyhow did you manage to lure my father away from his family? Sophie asked, staring Christine straight in the eye. He loved Mum, I know that for certain.

Darling, life cant be mapped out, Christine replied, sinking wearily onto a chair. In love there are no guarantees. Sometimes unexpected passion sweeps you away. One encounter can decide it all. Its as though fate brings souls togetherand you never quite know why. Sometimes, you just have to change partners in the dance, so to speak. Theres no explaining it.

Couldnt you have stopped yourself for the sake of his family? Sophie pressed, her voice hard.

No, dear. You cant, Christine answered shortly.

Thank you for your honesty, Sophie turned down the tea and stood to go.

Shall I give you a playful tip, Sophie? Christine grinned. A man is like a postage stamp: the more you spit on him, the tighter he sticks. And, anyway, with men, one moment you must be steel, the next, velvet. Incidentally, your father and I had a frightful row just now, she added with a chuckle.

Thank you for the advice. Should I wait for my dad? Sophie asked, trying to hide her nerves.

Im not sure. Hes been staying at a hotel all week. Heres the address, Christine scribbled on a scrap of paper.

Sophie was almost relievedit meant she could talk to her father privately.

Goodbye, and thank you for the tea, Sophie said, making a quick exit.

She found the hotel and knocked at her fathers room.

Ian was delighted, if a little awkward, to see his daughter.

Soph, I was planning to come home today you know, after our quarrel and everything.

Its all right, Dad. I just wanted to see you, Sophie said gently, taking his hand.

Hows your mum? Ian asked, hesitating.

All fine. Weve managed all right without you, Sophie replied, sighing.

Father and daughter spent a quiet evening at the hotel: talking, laughing, sharing a few tears.

Dad, do you love Christine? Sophie asked suddenly.

Very much. Im sorry, love, Ian replied, without hesitation.

I see. Well, I must be going. My train leaves soon, said Sophie, gathering her things.

Do come again, Soph. Youre always my daughter, Ian said, lowering his eyes.

Of course of course Sophie said, flitting out into the night.

Arriving home, Sophie decided to take Christines advice to heart.

No love. No trust. No more falling for hollow words. She resolved to simply not care.

But three years later, a remarkable man appeared. Charleshe seemed tailor-made for Sophie, as if heaven itself had sent him.

She felt it at once, deep in her bones.

When you find your own, everything else loses its taste.

Charles embraced her heart completelyhe touched her soul in ways no one else could. And Sophie, for perhaps the first time, fell in love, utterly and without reservation.

Wife and Father Karina only pretended that she wanted to meet Vadim’s parents. What did she need them for, anyway? She wasn’t planning to live with them, and as for his father—supposedly well-off—the only thing to expect from him was trouble and suspicion. But if you’re playing the game, you have to see it through—especially when you’re getting married. Karina dressed up, but kept it simple—she wanted to be seen as a sweet, unpretentious girl. Meeting your fiancé’s parents is always a minefield; meeting clever parents is a full-blown trial by fire. Vadik, thinking she needed reassurance, said, “Don’t worry, Karin, honestly. Dad’s a grump, but he’s reasonable. They won’t say anything terrible to you. And they’ll love you. Dad’s a bit odd, but Mum’s the life of any party.” He gave her a pep talk outside the family home. Karina just smiled, flicking a strand of hair off her shoulder. A grumpy dad and a social butterfly mum—a combination, if ever there was one. An inward smirk. The house didn’t surprise her. She’d been in fancier ones. They were greeted at the door. Karina wasn’t particularly anxious. Why should she be? They were just people. Nina—Vadim’s mum—was a long-time homemaker, vaguely familiar from stories, sometimes going on trips with her friends, but nothing out of the ordinary. The father, Valery—aloof, but silent. But the name—there was something familiar about it… They met face to face. And Karina froze, not setting foot across the threshold. This was the end… She didn’t know her future mother-in-law, but her future father-in-law she recognised in an instant. They’d met before. Three years ago. Not often, but for their mutual benefit. In bars. Hotels. Restaurants. No one—least of all his wife or son—knew about that. Well, this was it. Valery recognised her, too. There was a flash in his eyes—could have been surprise, shock, or something darker, some scheme already taking shape—but he kept silent. Vadim, blissfully unaware, introduced her. “Mum, Dad, meet Karina. My fiancée. I’d have brought her sooner, but she’s a bit shy.” Oh dear… Valery shook her hand. A firm, almost hard grip. “Pleased to meet you, Karina,” he said, with a subtle undertone she couldn’t quite place. Anger? Warning? Or…? Karina wondered how she’d get out of this, half-expecting Valery to reveal everything. “Delighted to meet you too, Mr. Matthews,” she replied, keeping up appearances, heart pounding with adrenaline. What next? But… nothing. Valery even gave a strained smile and pulled out her chair at the dining table. Perhaps he was saving the embarrassment for later. But nothing happened. That’s when it dawned on Karina—he wouldn’t reveal her. If he did, he’d be exposing himself, too. Once she relaxed, the evening was almost easy-going. Nina recounted childhood anecdotes about Vadim, while Valery, unexpectedly attentive, asked Karina about her job—he already knew more than he let on, but his subtle irony didn’t unsettle her. He even cracked a few jokes, and to her surprise, she laughed. But the jokes were laced with meanings only they could decode. Like when, looking at Karina, he remarked, “You know, you remind me of an old… colleague. She was clever. Good with people—all kinds of people.” Karina didn’t skip a beat. “Talents come in all shapes, Mr. Matthews.” Vadim, as a besotted fiancé should, gazed at her adoringly, hearing no subtext. He truly loved her. That was both the sweetest and the saddest part—at least, for him. Later, the conversation turned to travel. Valery, looking smoothly at Karina, said, “Me—I like remote places. No fuss. Peace to sit and think, with a good book. What about you, Karina?” He was baiting her. “I like crowds—life, noise, fun,” Karina answered, not playing along. “Though, I’ll admit, extra ears can be dangerous sometimes.” Briefly, just a flicker, Nina seemed to notice something. Karina caught her future mother-in-law frown, but she dismissed it. Valery knew Karina was never one for peace and quiet. He knew why. At evening’s end, as they prepared for bed, Valery hugged Vadim. “Son, look after her. She’s… special.” It sounded like both a compliment and a warning, though only Karina got it. She felt a sudden chill at the word “special.” Only he could have chosen that word. *** That night, Karina lay sleepless, replaying their fateful encounter and pondering how to live with their newfound secret. Odds weren’t great. She imagined Valery was just as sleepless—for the same reason, plus the coming showdown. Honestly, for everything. She slipped out of bed, pulled a sweatshirt over her shorts and tee, and tiptoed downstairs. For effect, she made sure her steps were audible enough to be noticed. She slipped outside to the veranda, positive Valery would find her there. She didn’t have to wait long. “Can’t sleep?” he asked, coming up behind her. “Not tonight,” Karina replied. A breeze carried the familiar scent of his cologne. He studied her. “What do you want from my son, Karina? I know what you’re capable of. I know how many like me have been in your life. And I know you’ve only ever cared about money. You never hid your price. So, why Vadim?” If he wasn’t going to get sentimental about their past, neither was Karina. She bared her teeth in a fake smile. “I love him, Mr. Matthews,” she sang. “Why shouldn’t I?” He was unconvinced. “You? Love? It’s laughable. I know you, Karina. And I’ll tell Vadim everything—what you did, who you really are. Do you think he’ll still want to marry you?” Karina stepped closer, barely an arm’s length between them. She tilted her head, studying him. As if she hadn’t seen enough over the years. “Go ahead, Mr. Matthews,” she purred, drawing out his name. “But then your wife will learn our little secret.” “That’s…” “It’s not blackmail. It’s fair warning. If you spill about my… ‘intentions,’ you’ll have to explain our relationship too. Trust me—I’ll fill in every detail.” “That’s different—” “Really? Will you tell your wife the same thing?” Valery froze. His threat had failed. He realised he was cornered. They were in it together. “What would you tell her?” he asked. “I’d tell everyone—Vadim most of all. I’ll tell him what a loyal husband you are, and just where those long nights at work really happened. The whole story. I’ll have nothing left to lose. You want to save your son from me? Go on then. Try.” A hard choice. Advising his son against the marriage would be signing his own marital death warrant. “You wouldn’t dare.” “I wouldn’t dare?” Karina laughed. “You would, but I wouldn’t? I’ll stay quiet if you do. But you know it—if I fall, you fall. Nina values loyalty above all else.” He remembered, blindingly drunk, confessing to Karina about his cheating. How kind his wife was, how loyal, how he was the scoundrel. Nina would never forgive him. Never. So he had to choose. He knew Karina wasn’t bluffing. “Fine,” he choked. “I won’t say a word. And you… keep quiet too. No one says anything. We’ll forget it ever happened.” That’s why Karina wasn’t worried. He’d lose more than she would. “As you wish, Mr. Matthews.” The next morning, they left Vadim’s parents’ house. With a stare of pure loathing from her future father-in-law, Karina said goodbye to his wife, who had already started calling her “my dear.” Valery’s eye twitched. He was torn—unable to warn his son about his cunning fiancée, for fear of exposing himself. Losing Nina would mean losing not just his wife, but a fair chunk of his fortune—and his son would probably never forgive him. On another visit—this time for a two-week stay—Valery kept his distance, always inventing errands. But one day, home alone, curiosity got the better of him. He decided to snoop through Karina’s things, hoping to find a weakness. He rifled through her make-up bag, diary, notebook—and found a white-and-blue item. A pregnancy test. Two pink lines. “I thought my son marrying someone like you was a disaster… But this… This is a catastrophe!” He put it back, trying to hastily close the bag. Karina caught him red-handed. “Tsk, tsk. Snooping isn’t very polite,” she chided with a sarcastic glint—but she didn’t seem too upset. Valery didn’t bother denying. “You’re pregnant with Vadim’s baby?” Karina walked over, took the bag, looked him in the eye, and said, “Congratulations, Mr. Matthews—you’ve spoiled the surprise.” Valery was livid. Now Karina truly had a grip on his son. If he spoke out, the fallout would be even worse. Now he really had to keep quiet. But it was torture—watching his son walk into a trap. *** Nine months passed… then half a year more. Vadim and Karina had a daughter, Alice. Valery avoided visiting altogether. He refused to see or even think about them. He didn’t see Alice as his real granddaughter. And Karina frightened him—with her indifference to Vadim, and her shadowy past. And now—again. Nina was planning a visit to Vadim and Karina. “Valer, are you coming?” “No, I’ve got a headache.” “Again? This is getting serious.” “It’s nothing. Go without me.” Fake migraines, colds, aching limbs—he always had an excuse. He even took tablets for good measure. He just couldn’t bear to see Karina. But neither could he tell the truth. The evening dragged by. He read. Relaxed. But then noticed Nina was very late. It was 11 p.m. No sign of his wife, and her phone went unanswered. He called Vadim. “Hi son—everything all right? Has Nina left? She’s not home yet.” “Dad, you’re the last person I want to talk to right now.” Click. Valery was about to set off to the house when Karina’s car pulled up outside. Seeing her, he nearly passed out. “What are you doing here?” he demanded, shaking her. “What happened?” Karina, cool as ever, poured herself a glass of wine and settled in. “We’ve crashed.” “What do you mean ‘crashed’?” “Our secret. It’s out. Vadim found our photos on a café website—remember that ‘Oasis’ party four years ago? He was booking the place for our anniversary and found their photo album online… We’re both in it, clear as day. Flipping photographer… Now Vadim’s in bits. Your Nina’s filing for divorce. And me? Well, you got what you wanted—I might just be leaving your son, after all.” Valery stared at her, his mind spinning. That website, that party… He remembered warning them not to take photos, but who could have predicted this? He slumped to the floor. “Why did you come here?” “I needed to get away for a bit,” Karina smiled. “It’s chaos at home. Alice is with her nanny. Fancy some wine?” She offered his favourite wine. They sat on the veranda, drinking, interrupted only by the droning of crickets—the only thing left in common. “This is all your fault,” Valery said. Karina nodded, staring at her glass. “It is.” “You’re unbearable.” “So they tell me.” “You don’t even pity Vadim.” “I do, but I pity myself more.” “You only love yourself.” “On that, we agree.” He reached out, turning her face to his. “You know I never loved you,” he whispered. “Glad to hear it,” she answered, deadpan. *** The next morning, when Nina did return, ready to forgive her husband even at the cost of her sanity, she found Karina and Valery asleep together. “Who’s there?” Karina stirred. “It’s me,” said Nina, staring at the wreckage of her life. Karina smiled softly. Valery woke up a little later, but didn’t follow his wife.

He Hated His Wife. Truly Hated Her… They Had Spent 15 Years Together—Fifteen Years of Waking to Her Every Morning, But Only This Past Year Did Her Habits Begin to Deeply Irritate Him, Especially One: Stretching Out Her Arms in Bed and Saying, “Good Morning, Sunshine! Today Will Be a Wonderful Day.” What Seemed an Ordinary Phrase and Her Thin Hands and Sleepy Face Only Filled Him With Aversion. She Would Rise, Walk to the Window and Gaze Out Before Undressing for Her Morning Routine. In the Early Days of Their Marriage, He Had Adored Her Body and the Freedom With Which She Moved, Yet Now the Sight of Her Awoke Only Anger. More Than Once, He’d Wanted to Urge Her to Hurry, But Managed Only to Snap: “Hurry Up, I’m Tired of This!” She Took Her Time, Living Each Moment With Awareness, Knowing About His Longstanding Affair—Even Knowing the Other Woman. Time Had Numbed the Sting of Betrayal, Leaving Only Sadness and a Lingering Sense of Her Own Unimportance. She Forgave His Aggression, His Carelessness, His Attempts to Relive His Youth—Yet She Refused to Let Him Disrupt Her Steady, Mindful Life. This Had Been Her Way Since Discovering She Was Ill. Month by Month the Illness Consumed Her, and Soon It Would Win. Her First Impulse Was to Tell Everyone the Truth—to Ease the Weight of It, To Share Out the Pain—But She Lived Through the Harshest Nights Alone, And the Next Day Decided to Remain Silent. With Each Passing Day, She Gained the Quiet Wisdom of Someone Who Faces the End. She Found Solace in a Little Village Library After a Ninety-Minute Journey, Slipping Each Day Between Shelves Labelled ‘Mysteries of Life and Death’ and Searching for Answers in the Books. He, Meanwhile, Went to His Mistress’s Home—A Place That Was Vibrant, Warm, Familiar. For Three Years He’d Loved Her Wildly, Jealously, and Felt He Couldn’t Breathe Without Her. That Day, He Made Up His Mind to Divorce: Why Torment All Three Any Longer? He Didn’t Love His Wife—He Hated Her. Here, He Thought, He’d Find Happiness Anew. He Tried to Recall What He’d Once Felt for His Wife and Failed—He Felt Sure She’d Always Irritated Him. As a Symbol of His Decision, He Tore Her Photo From His Wallet Into Tiny Pieces. They Agreed to Meet at a Restaurant—the One Where Six Months Ago They Had Celebrated Their Fifteenth Wedding Anniversary. She Arrived First. He Drove Home Before the Meeting, Hunting for the Divorce Papers, Growing More Agitated as He Searched. In One Drawer He Found a Dark Blue Folder, Sealed. He’d Never Seen It Before. Squatting on the Floor, He Ripped Off the Tape—Expecting Anything, Even Blackmail Material, But Found Instead a Stack of Medical Tests, Declarations, Hospital Letters—All in Her Name. A Jolt of Dread Ran Through Him: She Was Ill. He Googled Her Diagnosis, Staring at the Chilling Words: ‘Six to Eighteen Months.’ It Had Already Been Six Months Since the Tests. All He Could Hear Was ‘Six to Eighteen Months’ Rolling Over in His Mind. She Waited for Him Forty Minutes. Her Calls Went Unanswered. She Paid the Bill and Left. It Was a Glorious Autumn Day; The Sun Gentle, Warming Her Soul. “How Beautiful Life Is, How Wonderful It Feels to Be Alive Beneath This Sun, Beside the Woods.” For the First Time Since Discovery, She Allowed Herself to Feel Self-Pity. She’d Had the Strength to Hide the Awful Truth from Her Husband, Parents, Friends—Trying to Spare Them, Even at the Cost of Her Own Life. That Life Would Soon Only Be a Memory. As She Walked, She Watched the Joy in Other People’s Eyes—Ahead of Them Was Winter, but After Winter Always Came Spring. She Would Never Know That Feeling Again. Grief Swelled Within Her and Broke Free in Endless Tears… He Prowled Through the House. For the First Time in His Life, He Felt Sharply—Almost Physically—The Fleetingness of Life. He Remembered His Wife as a Young Woman, When They First Fell in Love and Held Such Hope. Had These Fifteen Years Ever Existed? Suddenly It Seemed They Had All Their Happiness Still Ahead of Them—Youth, Life, Joy… In Her Final Days He Showered Her With Tenderness, Stayed by Her Side Day and Night, and Knew an Extraordinary Happiness. Terrified That She Would Leave, He Felt He’d Trade His Own Life Just to Prolong Hers. If Anyone Had Reminded Him That a Month Ago He’d Hated Her and Planned to Leave, He Would Have Sworn, “That Wasn’t Me.” He Saw How Hard It Was For Her to Say Goodbye; How at Night She Cried, Believing Him Asleep. He Understood There Was No Crueller Fate Than Knowing One’s Own End. He Watched Her Battle for Life, Clinging to Any Hope, No Matter How Mad. She Died Two Months Later. He Covered the Road to the Cemetery With Flowers. He Wept Like a Child as Her Coffin Was Lowered—He Felt He’d Aged a Thousand Years… At Home, Beneath Her Pillow, He Found a Note—Her Wish for New Year’s: “To Be Happy With Him To the Last of My Days.” They Say New Year’s Wishes Always Come True. It Must Be So, For That Same Year He’d Written: “To Be Free.” Each Had Received Exactly What, Secretly, They Had Wished For…

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