Vadim threw open the window and climbed onto the sill. The dark asphalt below both called to him and filled him with dread.
Life, at times, is like a winding forest path—never knowing where it might lead or what waits beyond the next bend. Vadim Seregin could never have guessed he would lose his happiness, only to find it again in the most unexpected way.
He had never rushed into marriage, waiting instead for a true kindred spirit. When he first spotted Eliza in that café, his heart leapt—*she was the one*. Without hesitation, he approached her, and before long, they found they shared the same books, the same films, even the same love of ice skating. Both dreamed of a strong, loving family—of children.
And so it came to pass, just as they’d hoped. Only the children never arrived. Eliza saw doctors, sought treatments, even made pilgrimages to holy sites, refusing to abandon hope. Then, one day, she was certain she was pregnant. She waited, unwilling to rush to the hospital, lest she be wrong. Only when her belly began to swell did she finally go to the clinic.
But it wasn’t the child they’d longed for. It was a tumour. Each time Vadim accompanied Eliza to the oncology ward, he saw the hollow gazes of the patients, as though they were listening for something within. Soon, that same look settled in Eliza’s eyes.
Vadim never left her side. First, he took his leave, then unpaid time, then a sympathetic doctor signed him off sick. But his boss summoned him—return to work or resign. Vadim wrote his resignation.
Day and night, he tended to Eliza. He held her hand when she struggled for breath, begged God not to part them, to take him with her.
Nothing helped. Three months later, Eliza was gone.
After the funeral, Vadim returned to their empty flat. Eliza’s dressing gown still hung on the chair, untouched for a month. He half-expected her to slip into it any moment. Her boots stood by the door, the shearling coat they’d snatched up on sale last spring still on its hook. Every corner whispered her name—his beloved, his only, taken from him too soon.
He buried his face in her pillow, still faintly scented with her, and wept. Then he went out and bought two bottles of vodka. By morning, the pain had dulled, only to return sharper than before. He poured the unfinished drink down the sink. What did it matter what became of him? Without Eliza, he didn’t care to live.
Days were bearable, but nights were merciless. One evening, he stood at the window, staring at the city below. What held him here? The flat? Let it rot. No job, no wife, no children. He pushed the window wider and stepped onto the ledge. The black pavement far below beckoned. Fourth floor—not so high. And if he didn’t die?
A knock at the door. For one heartbeat, he stared down. Then he stepped back inside and went to answer.
His neighbour stood there.
“Trouble sleeping, eh? Came to check on you. Too quiet in here. And why’s there a draught? Window open? You weren’t thinking of—?” Her sharp eyes searched his face.
“Just needed air,” he said evenly.
“Well, don’t you dare do anything foolish. Jump out that window, and you’ll never see Eliza again. A sin like that—taking your own life—God won’t let you be with her in Heaven.”
“I’m fine, Aunt Rose.”
He barely managed to usher her out. But the urge to jump had faded. He’d heard the same—suicide was an unforgivable sin.
The night passed without sleep, his mind racing. By dawn, he stuffed a bag with a few belongings and took the photo where he and Eliza would forever be together. Savings gone, all spent on her treatment. His gaze caught on the gown draped over the chair. He turned away and left.
At the neighbour’s door, he knocked.
“Off somewhere?” she asked, eyeing his bag.
“To my mother’s. Can’t stay here. I’ll drink myself to death.”
“Right you are. How long?” She narrowed her eyes.
“Dunno. Mind the flat?” He handed her the keys. “You’ve got my number if needed. Time to go.” With a wave, he hurried downstairs.
In the car, he sat gathering his thoughts before turning the ignition and pulling away. On the motorway, he floored the accelerator, a wild thought flickering—let go of the wheel and— But then, innocent others might pay.
Two hundred miles passed in a blur, the first lightness he’d felt in months. His hometown seemed shabbier than he remembered—narrow, grimy streets. Summer visits, with leaves masking the grime, had softened the truth. He’d forgotten the mud-choked spring of a provincial town.
There was the house. He parked by the garden gate, its hinges groaning. His mother burst onto the porch, squinting at the unexpected guest, then rushed forward.
“Vadim, love! No warning? You’re alone?”
He embraced her, breathing in the familiar scent, warmth flooding his chest. He’d thought no tears remained—all shed at the funeral—yet his eyes grew damp.
They talked long into the night, sharing news. His mother grieved for Eliza, comforted him, fussing with food.
“Good you came. Home heals. What’s there for you alone? Remember when you’d sprint home from school—”
Her soothing voice calmed him. This house held no ties to Eliza; here, memories of her lost their sting.
That evening, he noticed lights in the neighbour’s window.
“Who lives there now? Didn’t Aunt Lucy pass?”
“Lena’s back. Returned a year ago, divorced. Husband gambled or worse—locked up now. Came with her little boy. And there’s another lad, ten, tagged along. Ran from drunken parents. No papers, no school.” She caught herself. “Sorry, love. Rambling.”
“Don’t mind.”
That night, sleep eluded him, thoughts veering between Eliza and Lena—his first love. Back in sixth form, she’d chosen Steve from the year above.
The next day, he spotted her through the window. Lena hadn’t changed much. Yet his heart stayed quiet.
Then, days later, he woke to a flickering glow beyond the pane—like the sun had fallen to earth.
“Trouble—the neighbour’s house is on fire!” His mother burst in.
He bolted outside, barely pausing for boots. Townsfolk already ran with buckets. Sirens wailed in the distance. By the fence stood Lena in a nightdress, clutching her trembling toddler. Another boy clung to her side.
“Lena, come inside. You can’t help here.” He led them to his mother’s house.
His mother fussed, lending Lena a robe, putting the kettle on. “What happened?”
“No idea. Woke coughing, smoke everywhere. Grabbed the boys, ran out. Left everything. All our papers—gone.” Lena wept, her son joining in.
“Let me take him. You’ll stay with us.” His mother glanced at the older boy.
“Not tired,” the child muttered.
“Was the house insured?” Vadim asked once they were alone.
Lena shrugged.
“We’ll sort it. Stay here for now. Cramped, but better than nothing. My flat in the city’s empty. We’ll get your papers, and if you want, we’ll register the boy as yours—give him your name.”
“Won’t they check?”
“Dunno. Worth trying. He needs school.” He nearly added that only death was irreversible but stopped himself.
Days passed in limbo. Police inspected the ruins. Then Vadim drove Lena and the boys to his flat, his mother loading them with preserves.
The whole way, he thought of finding work—anything to care for them. Purpose had returned. As the saying goes, misfortune sometimes brings…
He opened the flat door, ushering them in. Laughter and footfalls filled the rooms; silence shrank like shadows before light.
He showed Lena around. “You take the big room—kids need space. I’ll take the small one.”
“This was a mistake,” she said guiltily.
“Nonsense. Flat was rotting empty. You’ve nowhere else.”
He took Eliza’s gown from the chair, tucking it away.
“Can’t believe she’s gone. Left this out like she’d slip back into it.” He hesitated. “You’ve nothing to wear. Eliza’s clothes are still here—”
“I can’t.” Lena shook her head sharply.
“Settle in. I’ll fetch the spare key.” Relief coloured his tone as he left.
“Found a replacement quick, didn’t you?” The neighbour’s voice dripped reproach.
“Not like that. Her house burned. Where else would she go? I couldn’t stay here alone.”
“Well, if you say so. Need help, just ask.” She shut the door coldly.
Once the boys slept, he and LenaThat night, as the children slept soundly in their new home, Vadim and Lena sat in the quiet kitchen, their hands touching hesitantly across the table, and for the first time in years, he felt the weight of grief ease just enough to let a sliver of hope slip through.
