Good morning, darling.
He woke, as always, a minute before the alarm a habit from his army days. Sliding from the bed to the floor without opening his eyes, he dropped to the floor for a few pushups. His blood throbbed pleasantly, driving the last vestiges of sleep away.
Ill go wake the boys, Len, he muttered.
The boys were his tenyearold twin sons, sleeping in the next room. Two tiny copies of their father, mouths halfopen as if sharing a single dream.
The houses heating had sputtered all night, so he skipped his morning jog, afraid to disturb the quiet. He admired the nowstrengthened figures of his boys.
At their age their father was their exact opposite: thin, awkward, hunched, shytraits his peers mistook for cowardice. Studies came easily; the teasing of classmates was a constant pain. He never fought back; he knew he was weaker. In PE he gave his all, only to be mocked by the coach, which crushed his spirit. As for sports clubs, his mother was adamant:
I didnt give birth to an educated Jewish boy so hed go around breaking noses.
Shyness held him back there too, and his dream of strength fell apart once more. His mother rarely showed a hard edge; she mostly swaddled him in care, tenderness, and affectionso much that after school he ran straight to the army. Two years later he returned, trained and promising as an athlete. The timid, delicate Jewish child had become a solid candidate for masterlevel boxing. Yet, to his mothers disappointment and the joy of the physicalculture institute, he chose to continue his sporting career.
University life opened a new chapter: frequent competitions, dormitory living, new friends. A fresh problem appearedgirls. Despite his boxing successes, his innate shyness never left. Courting, asking a girl out, even just talking to one at twenty was no easier than it had been at ten. Then she arrived.
Elena was the institutes rising stara champion in springboard diving, a slim blond beauty with green eyes. Smart, smiling, yet oddly silent, she earned the nickname the Alien. They became friends instantly.
Together they drifted through hours without a word, cheered each other at meets, and after their first kiss he immediately proposed.
The whole class celebrated their Martian wedding, loving their kindness and openness.
A year later Lena announced she was academically pregnant. He began taking night shifts as a loader at Kursk station. Strangely, those days he first felt truly strongnot because of heavy sacks, but because he realized he could provide for his family and raise children. He was strong, and she was his.
Lena worried a lot, but the doctor reassured her, joking:
I can only upset you with one fact: if you dont like kids, youll get twins, which is twice the trouble.
At night they dreamed together, picturing their future children, the houses theyd buy by the sea, the lives theyd lead. Night was made for dreaming.
On the eve of the birth she clasped his hand, looked into his eyes, and asked:
Promise me youll never leave them, no matter what!
He was stunned, considered sulking, but after seeing her gaze he simply nodded. The next day contractions began. Labor was long and arduous; Lena spent almost a day unconscious, doctors unable to pinpoint the source of the bleeding until it was too late.
He cant recall what happened that night; everything seemed like a haze. He awoke at dawn on the platform of Kursk station, lying in a puddle among empty bottles. A nightshift loader shook his shoulder, cursing: Hey, boxer, get up, the shifts starting. He staggered up, as if after a twelfthround knockout, and headed to unload wagons. His hands remembered the work; his head did not. One thought looped endlessly like a scratched record: Promise you wont leave Promise you wont leave
He didnt cry then. He wept later, at night, when he first entered the empty apartment and saw two tiny onesies Lena had smoothed the night before, humming softly. He sank onto the nursery floor and wailed like a wounded animal until his neighbor Aunt Raya knocked on the wall: Son, I get it, but the babies are asleep
The babies slepttwo warm bundles in a cribrunway theyd picked together at the Childrens World store, arguing over blue versus green. They took both, one for each. Now the little mounds cooed quietly, unaware their mother was gone.
He cant remember the first month. He only knows he didnt sleep at night, fearing hed miss a cry. He fed on the hour, changed diapers, sterilized bottles, and ate once a day when memory returned. Lena visited daily, bringing food, hugging him wordlessly, then leaving because he couldnt speak. He merely nodded when she asked, Should I take the boys to my place for a while? He promised. He wouldnt abandon them.
When the twins turned three months old, he stepped onto the ring for the first time after the funeral. The coach urged patience, but he went and lost in the opening roundnot because hed forgotten how to punch, but because he simply didnt want to fight. The opponent threw punches while he stared at a spot beyond the ropes where Lena once stood, flag in hand, whispering, Come on, my Martian!
After the bout the coach led him to the locker room and said plainly:
Either you get your head together, or you quit boxing. Youre dangerous nownot to your opponent, but to yourself.
He quit. That evening he returned his gloves to the storage and never wore them again.
Instead, he began running each morning. First three kilometres, gasping, cursing everything. Then five, then ten, pushing until his legs felt like cotton, his mind empty save for heartbeat and breath. Hed return home drenched, collapse in the hallway, stare at the ceiling until one of the boys began to cry. Then hed sit up, scoop the child into his arms, hold him tight, and simply breathe.
A year passed.
When the boys turned two, he took them to a pool for the first time. Hed feared water since childhoodLena laughed that Martians apparently cant swim. She promised to teach both him and the children, but didnt get the chance. So he hired the best coach he could find and sat on the edge every lesson, clutching her old swimsuit in his pocket, never discarding it.
The boys splashed like ducklings, laughing in unison, and he thought, If only you could see this
At five he enrolled them in boxingnot to forge champions, but because he knew strength isnt just muscle. Strength is the ability to protect, to stay unbroken even when the world pushes back.
By then he himself worked as a childrenssection coach. The pay was modest, but the schedule fit: he could attend daycare, train his sons, and go to parent meetings. Evenings he cooked dinner, checked homework, read Harry Potter aloud in varied voices. The boys knew their mother went to the sky, but they didnt yet ask for details. He waited for the moment they would, preparing his answers.
Sometimes, as they fell asleep, hed sit at the kitchen table with a mug of tea, pull out an old photo album, and flip through pictures of his wedding, early competitions, the ultrasound with two dots that later became his sons. Hed stare at Lenas smile and whisper:
See, Len? I didnt leave. I kept my word.
Then hed tiptoe into their room, straighten blankets, kiss each forehead gentlycareful not to wake themand murmur:
Sleep, boys. Daddys here.
Only then could he finally lie down, knowing he could truly rest because any cry would be heard.
Ten years later, this morning unfolded exactly as it always had: he rose a minute before the alarm, did his pushups, counting to twenty, feeling the familiar, pleasant rush of blood.
Ill go wake the boys, Len, he said to the empty air, the phrase hes repeated every morning for eleven years.
He stretched, walked into the adjacent room. Two tenyearold boys lay sprawled like stars, identical faces, mouths halfopen. Now they were no longer tiny bundles but real athletesbroad shoulders, strong arms. One was a boxing masters candidate, the other a regional junior swimming champion. Both top students, both with her green eyes.
He stood, watching them, and suddenly felt a warm, light presence in his chestno pain, just presence.
Thank you, he whispered softly. Thank you for giving me them and staying with me.
He leaned over, kissed one then the other.
Up, champions. Breakfast wont eat itself.
They rolled over, smiling through sleep.
Dad, can we go to the movies after training? The new SpiderMan is out!
Sure, but first a run. Five kilometres, together.
Uuu
No uuu. Martians dont whine.
They laughed, bright and synchronized.
He headed to the kitchen, put the kettle on, and gazed out the window. The morning was clear, frosty, the sun just cresting over the rooftops. In that instant he realized he hadnt merely survivedhe was truly living.
Because he had kept his promise.
And because she was still therein their laughter, in their eyes, in their strength, in his own.
He smiled at his reflection in the window, whispered low so the boys wouldnt hear:
Good morning, my love.
Then he began frying pancakes the way she taught himapple and cinnamon, because the kids loved them, and because it was the right thing to do.
Everything else he had already done. All that remained was to keep livingfor himself, for her, for the three of them.
And he lives. Every day. Every morning. With every breath.
Because he promised.
