Olesya stepped off the bus, her movements slow and heavy.
The journey had passed in silence, her tears the only sign of life. Her world had crumbled the day Andrey died. She would give birth to their daughter in two months—the only reason she kept going.
They had met two years after she left the orphanage.
Life had been difficult—days spent in vocational school and nights at the factory. She was used to hardship. Andrey came to the factory to install new machinery, and from that moment on, they were inseparable.
When Olesya found out she was pregnant, Andrey proposed right away.
He wanted her to meet his family and start their life together.
But Olesya, shaped by years of rejection, feared his wealthy family would never accept her background. Though Andrey didn’t understand her worry, she wasn’t ready.
Then, three months ago, Andrey left to visit his family, promising to return soon.
She waited for days, then weeks.
People whispered he’d abandoned her, but she couldn’t believe it. Not him.
Then, by chance, she overheard someone at work mention the man who’d installed their equipment had d!ed.
In a daze, she went to the accountant’s office, where the older woman confirmed it: Andrey had been attacked by three men after returning home.
He never made it back.
Olesya was crushed. The pain hollowed her out.
Now, in the rain, she walked through the cemetery, seeking his grave. She had to say goodbye.
And maybe, to forgive herself. He had gone home to prepare his family to meet her, and she had let fear hold her back.
His grave was fresh, covered in flowers. An old mausoleum stood nearby.
His photo, smiling, hung from the cross above.
“Hi, my love,” she whispered, kneeling. Tears came fast and didn’t stop.
Eventually, soaked and chilled, she stirred.
Her phone was missing. She needed shelter.
She pushed open the heavy crypt door and stepped inside.
“Please forgive me. I just need to rest a bit.”
She sat down, leaving the door ajar. Then came a buzz.
A phone, sleek and unfamiliar, was vibrating nearby.
She picked it up, trembling. “Hello?”
A voice answered. “Hi, that’s my phone.
I lost it yesterday.”
“I just found it.”
“Could you return it? I’ll pay—there’s important stuff on it.”
“I’m at the cemetery,” she said softly.
“Oh, right. I was working there yesterday.
The story doesn’t end here –
it continues on the next page.
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