Irina stood by the window of the tiny kitchen, watching her seven-year-old twins, Dima and Maxim, play in the yard as the setting sun painted the sky in soft pink hues. Their home on the outskirts of the city was modest but cozytwo floors, a small garden, and an old apple tree outside the window. They had lived there for six months, ever since burying Pavel.
“Mom, when is Dad coming back?” Dima asked, entering the kitchen and hugging her.
Her heart clenched, but she forced a smile, ruffling his hair.
“Dad wont come back. Hes in heaven now, watching over us. Remember?”
Maxim ran up too, and Irina pulled both close. They looked so much like Paveldark hair, gray eyes. Sometimes the resemblance hurt, but mostly it warmed her.
“Mom, whats for dinner?” Maxim asked.
“Potatoes and cutlets,” she lied. The fridge was nearly empty.
Money was disappearing fast. Her pension was tiny, and finding work with two small kids was nearly impossible. The thought gnawed at her daily, but she stayed strong for them.
Thena sharp knock at the door. Visitors were rare. Unease prickled her skin.
“Boys, go to your room,” she urged.
“Who is it?” Dima asked.
“I dont know. Go play.”
Once they left, she peeked through the peephole. Two men in dark suitsone tall, the other stockystood outside.
“Who are you?” she asked without opening.
“Alexei Viktorovich and Sergei Nikolaevich. We need to talk about your husband.”
“My husband is dead.”
“Thats why were here. Open up.”
After a pause, she unlatched the chain. They introduced themselves and stepped inside.
“Your husband, Pavel Sergeyevich, was our client,” the tall one, Alexei, said. “He owes us.”
“Owes what?” Her body went cold.
“Gambling debts. A large sum.” Sergei handed her a slip of paper.
Her hands shook as she read the staggering amount.
“This cant be! Pavel gambled sometimes, but not like this”
“He did,” Alexei cut in. “Now you pay.”
“I dont have this kind of money! I have kids, no job”
“Your problem,” Sergei shrugged. “You have a month.”
“And if I cant…?”
“Then you *will*,” Alexei said. “We strongly advise it.”
They left, leaving fear in their wake.
—
Months later, Irina stood at Pavels grave with chrysanthemums in hand. The twins stood quietly beside her, autumn leaves drifting onto the fresh stone.
“Dad, we love you,” Dima whispered, placing a drawing on the grave.
“And miss you,” Maxim added.
Pavel smiled in the photohappy, before the debts, before addiction consumed him. She remembered his last monthsirritable, absent, lying about “meeting friends.” Shed suspected drinking, never *this*.
“Forgive me, she murmured. I didnt know how bad it was.”
Alexei and Sergei waited at the cemetery gates, smoking.
“Boys, go to the car,” she told the twins.
They obeyed.
“Condolences,” Alexei said.
“What do you want?”
“A reminder. Three months have passed.”
“Im trying to find work!”
“Try harder,” Sergei said. “Or well find a way.” Alexei pulled out the contract. “This house is collateral.”
“The *house*? Its all we have!”
“*Had*,” Sergei corrected. “Three more weeks. Think carefully.”
At home, Irina counted her meager savingslaughably small. She stared at Pavels photo on the fridge.
“Why did you do this?”
No answer.
—
Next morning, a friend in the store called out:
“Irina! Heard youre job hunting. A wealthy woman needs help with her disabled son. Pays well.”
“Where?”
“A gated community. Heres her number.”
That evening, she called Anna Mikhailovna, who invited her over.
The mansion smelled of antiques and expensive perfume.
“Lara told me about you,” Anna began. “Widow, two children, desperate. I need more than a nurseI need a *wife* for my son.”
“A… wife?”
“A sham marriage. Stanislavs been in a coma for six months. If he wakes, hell need familylove, support. Your boys could be his.”
Irina hesitated.
“Why *me*?”
“A nurse is hired help. *Family* is different. Hell feel hes been waited for.”
“But its a lie!”
“Its mutual aid. You get security; we get hope.”
The offer was insane, but she had no choice.
At home, she paced. The twins hugged her.
“Mom, well help!” Maxim said.
“What if we moved?” she tested. “To help a sick manlike a sleeping prince.”
“Can we wake him up?” Dima asked brightly.
That night, Irina called Anna.
“Ill do it. But the boys keep their school, and I *see* Stanislav first.”
—
Stanislav lay surrounded by machineshandsome even in sleep.
“His fiancée left when he fell ill,” Anna said bitterly.
Irina touched his hand.
“Hello,” she whispered. “Ill take care of you.”
Did his fingers twitch?
A week later, they moved in. The boys adored their new rooms, playground, toysand “sleeping Uncle Stas,” reading to him, drawing pictures.
Irina learned his care routinefeeding tubes, massages, monitoring. She talked to him, shared stories.
Then, one morninghis eyes opened. *Aware*.
“Stanislav?” she breathed.
He croaked, straining to speak. She gave him water.
“Dont talk. Youre home.”
The boys burst in.
“Hes *awake*!”
Stanislav smiledhis first in half a year.
Anna wept.
“You brought him back.”
“*We* did,” Irina said.
As Stanislav recoveredspeech, movementthey grew close. Not romantic, but deeply human.
His father visited, studying Irina.
“So, youre the wife Ive heard about.”
Stanislav took her hand. “Yes. My wife.”
Vladimir nodded. “You changed him. Thank you.”
That night in the garden, Stanislav joined her.
“Thinking?”
“How much changed. I thought there was no way out.”
“Now we have a future,” he said.
She listened to the boys laughter inside. A *family*flawed but loving.
Life was beautiful in its simplicity. The strangest turns, she realized, sometimes led to the brightest ends.
