“I think I’m going to be late. The traffic is insane! Ugh, I should have left earlier,” Elena said into her phone, calling her husband from the back of a taxi.
Viktor couldn’t exactly help her from where he was, but she just needed to hear his voice—to feel some kind of support or a quick pep talk.
“Don’t worry, you’ll make it. No point in panicking before you have to. And definitely no point in getting upset,” Viktor replied, his voice a picture of calm as always. “You still have plenty of time to spare.”
“Oh, I hope so! You know Tanya will never forgive me if I miss her daughter’s wedding.”
Elena stared out the window at the gridlocked streets, searching for any sign of movement.
“Don’t you worry, ma’am. We’ll get there,” the taxi driver said, seemingly unbothered by her anxiety. “This spot is always a mess, but it clears up ahead.”
“Well, alright. The train won’t wait for me, though. Vitya, the driver says we’ll make it. I’m going to trust him,” Lena said into the receiver.
“That’s the spirit! Now, honey, stop worrying and start getting excited about seeing your best friend. I’ll see you soon. Love you, my little alarmist. Have a safe trip!”
Her husband’s voice was so familiar and warm that she felt an immediate wave of relief. She hadn’t even left the city yet, and she was already starting to miss him.
How did she get so lucky? Men as caring as Viktor were hard to find, yet she had ended up with him. She truly was blessed.
Viktor loved her, adored their son, Petya, and was such a devoted family man that it sometimes scared her. She lived in a state of constant, immense happiness, and she often worried that something might accidentally shatter the life they had built. She fell asleep and woke up with those thoughts, terrified of jinxing her good fortune.
Elena was headed to a neighboring city for the wedding of her long-time friend’s daughter. She planned to stay for only three days, even though Tatyana had begged her to stay for a full week.
“What’s the point of rushing in and out? With all the wedding chaos, we won’t even have time for a real heart-to-heart,” her friend had joked over the phone. “We haven’t seen each other in ten years! Why the rush? Are you afraid someone’s going to steal Viktor if you’re gone too long?”
“Honestly? Yes. And I’m not even hiding it,” Elena had joked back, before offering a white lie. “Plus, work wouldn’t give me the time off. They only gave me one day. So, I’m yours for the weekend, but I’m heading back Monday afternoon. I’ll be home by Tuesday and straight back to work.”
In reality, she just didn’t like being away from home. She worried her husband might actually enjoy the peace and quiet without her—best not to let him get used to it. Besides, she felt warmest and safest when she was with her men. No matter where she went, she was always pulled back home.
Their son was an adult now with his own life; Petya would be perfectly fine without her for a few days. Even Viktor hadn’t quite understood her urgency to return.
“Maybe you shouldn’t rush, Len. Take a few extra days and stay the week. I don’t mind at all, if that’s what’s bothering you,” Viktor had told her the night before.
“No, I’m fine. I decided on three days, and there’s no reason to overstay my welcome. I’d just have a mountain of work waiting for me anyway,” she replied evasively.
Finally, the train station came into view. She exhaled in relief. They had made it, though it was going to be close—she only had a few minutes to spare.
“Okay, just have to make it to the platform!” Elena sprinted through the station like an Olympic sprinter.
She barely made it into the compartment, breathless and dragging bags full of gifts behind her. She took a deep breath. She was on.
An older woman, appearing to be in her sixties, sat on the opposite berth. She gave Lena a sympathetic, knowing smile.
“There you go. You can breathe now,” she said kindly.
“Oh, I am completely winded!” Elena blurted out, fanning herself with a crossword magazine she’d bought for the trip.
“Ah, you young people, always rushing somewhere and still barely making it,” the woman said with a smile. “I’m Galina Leonidovna, by the way.”
“I’m Lena. Nice to meet you!”
Elena changed into a light tracksuit, finally relaxing and settling in for the long haul. Despite the occasional stress, she actually enjoyed traveling.
“So, Lenochka, are you heading home or going to visit someone?” her neighbor asked.
“Visiting a friend. We haven’t seen each other in forever, and her daughter is getting married.”
“And I’m doing the opposite—heading home after visiting my daughter.”
Galina Leonidovna turned out to be quite the talker. She happily began sharing stories about her family.
“Oh, I really lucked out with my husband. My Kostya is a simple man, but so kind and caring. When I get in, he’ll be standing right there on the platform waiting for me. He’ll probably have a warm jacket ready so I don’t catch a chill.”
“In this heat?” Lena smiled.
“Well, what if his ‘Galya’ gets cold? I don’t mind; his fussing doesn’t bother me. To live so many years in love and joy with one person—isn’t that true happiness? We celebrated our 40th anniversary last year,” she bragged gently.
“Congratulations! That’s a beautiful milestone. My Vitya and I have only been together for twenty, but I have no complaints either. He’s a good man,” Lena replied, matching her tone.
“Do you have children?”
“Yes, a son, Petya. He started college this year. He wants to be a pilot,” Lena said with a touch of pride.
“Kostya and I have two—a son and a daughter. And four grandkids! We’re rich in family,” Galina said proudly. “Our son, Vladimir, lives near us. He has a lovely wife and three kids. But our daughter, Dasha, moved to your city for school and never left.”
“Does your daughter have a family of her own?” Lena asked, mostly to be polite.
To be honest, she wasn’t particularly interested in the life stories of strangers, but on a long train ride, sharing stories was the standard way to pass the time.
“Dasha has a daughter. My granddaughter, Serafima, is seven now.”
“That’s a rare name! Was she named after someone?”
“Yes, my grandmother Serafima. She lived to be over a hundred. I remember her well; she was wise, if a bit stern. My Dasha went a long time without children, so when she finally had her, it felt like a miracle. She didn’t become a mother until after she was thirty. We had almost given up hope.”
“Health issues?” Elena asked, finally finding herself actually interested in the story.
“Honestly, I still don’t know what the problem was. She got married at nineteen—too young, if you ask me. But her husband, Lyonya, was a good man. Serious, ten years older than her, didn’t drink or smoke. He even had his own apartment from his parents. But they just couldn’t have children. Nothing worked.
They went to doctors, tried treatments, but it was no use. Eventually, Lyonya decided it was all her fault. He claimed Dasha was the reason they weren’t parents, even though the doctors couldn’t find anything wrong with her. They told them everything was normal.”
“So, what happened?”
“They divorced and went their separate ways after eight years of marriage. Dasha took it hard. But Lyonya? He remarried almost immediately. And he had a child right away—a little boy. Can you imagine? When my daughter found out, she was devastated. She became convinced she was the infertile one, even if the doctors couldn’t see why.”
“But eventually… later on… she got married and had a baby, right?” Lena could see how much these memories were affecting Galina Leonidovna.
“No… she never remarried. It didn’t happen like that.”
Darya had decided then and there that she was done with marriage. She felt there was no point in giving another man false hope when she believed she could never give him a child.
“But she did have a child, didn’t she? So she must have met someone?”
“Yes, she did, thank God! But that man—Simochka’s father—is married. He has no intention of leaving his family. He didn’t even put his name on the birth certificate, for obvious reasons. He helps out financially—I can’t complain about that—but that’s as far as it goes. And Dasha… she suffers because of it.”
“Well, at least she has the child. That’s what matters—a healthy, happy baby. And who knows? Maybe your daughter will find her own happiness later. So, it turns out she wasn’t infertile after all?”
“Exactly. It turns out she and Lyonya just weren’t a match—biologically or energetically. I read later that things like that actually happen.”
A silence fell between them. Both women were lost in their own thoughts.
“Oh, Lenochka, you know what? I have to show you pictures of my daughter and granddaughter. I have them right here! I took some fresh ones while I was visiting. I even have paper prints—I’m old-fashioned, I still love physical photos.”
“Oh, sure! Let me see,” Lena said, trying to sound enthusiastic.
From the bright, glossy photos, a sweet little girl with big blue eyes stared back at her. Some were of her alone, others with her mother—there were plenty to look at. Lena noted how much both the daughter and granddaughter resembled Galina Leonidovna.
“And look at this one—this is Sima’s father. It’s a rare shot of all three of them together.”
Elena took the photo. It showed two happy parents holding their daughter’s hands, all three of them laughing.
Suddenly, she felt something inside her snap. Her world shattered into a million jagged pieces. For a few seconds, her vision went dark. A strange ringing filled her ears—a distant, phantom tolling of bells, sounding a requiem for her happy life.
Staring serenely back at her from the photograph was Viktor. Her loving husband, Petya’s father, the person she cherished most in the world.
Lena took several deep breaths. Her heart slowed its frantic pace, and the ringing in her ears began to fade. She realized her companion was still talking. Galina Leonidovna hadn’t noticed a thing, though a moment later she looked closer.
“Lena, are you alright? You’ve gone so pale. Is it too stuffy in here? I have some smelling salts if you need them, or something for blood pressure. Do you take anything?”
“No, no, thank you. I’m fine. I just… I feel a bit better now.”
“Anyway,” the woman continued, “they met at a conference—Dasha and Vitya.”
“Vitya?” Lena echoed.
“Yes, Sima’s father. Darya teaches at the university, and Viktor works in the same field, though I couldn’t tell you exactly what he does. That’s where they met. They started talking, though Darya was against it at first. It’s against her principles to see a married man.”
“Your daughter sounds like a good person. Someone with morals,” Lena whispered, her lips barely moving.
“She is. Almost too much so for this day and age. When Dasha realized she was pregnant, she decided not to tell him. She was just going to end it. But Viktor was persistent. He kept showing up at her house, her work, constantly looking for her. Eventually, he saw that she was expecting.”
“He told her then that he was thrilled about the baby, but that his family was also important to him. His son was a teenager then—such a difficult age. Viktor asked Dasha to let him be a part of their lives, to help out and watch Simochka grow up.”
“Yes… that’s right. A father should be involved,” Lena said, her voice barely audible.
“I’m worried about you; you really don’t look well. Let me open the window, and you should lie down,” Galina Leonidovna said anxiously.
“Yes… I’ll lie down. Of course.”
Elena turned toward the wall. She felt sick. She wanted to cry, to scream, but there were no tears. There was only a searing, hollow ache deep in her chest.
Everything she thought was solid, everything she was proud of, had collapsed like a house of cards. Viktor had been cheating on her for years. Worse, he had an entire second family—a daughter. It was impossible to wrap her head around. How? What about her? What about Petya? Did they just… not count anymore?
No, they did count. Viktor had told this «Dasha» that his family was important. He would never leave them. What a twisted way to live.
When it was time to say goodbye to her cabin mate, Lena asked for Dasha’s address.
“I’ve heard so many wonderful things about your daughter today. We live in the same city—why not meet up? Maybe we’ll even become friends,” she said, looking away to hide her eyes.
“Of course, Lenochka! Let me write it down for you.”
A week later, Lena stood in a quiet courtyard, hidden behind a row of trees. She watched as her husband, her Vitya, tenderly embraced the woman from the photograph. She watched the pure joy on the face of the little girl with the big blue eyes as she greeted her daddy. The child wasn’t to blame; she just loved her father.
Elena could see clearly how happy Viktor was in that moment. She realized she couldn’t remember the last time she had seen him look that genuinely happy with her.
The decision came to her instantly. It was so simple and clear that she didn’t doubt it for a second. You cannot give love out of a sense of duty, and you can’t be happy just because you’re supposed to be. Happiness either exists or it doesn’t. Duty and family are something else entirely.
That evening, when her husband came home, Elena told him she was filing for divorce.
“Our son is grown; he’ll be getting married himself soon. And I’m still a young woman. I don’t know, Viktor, if I’ll get another chance at a life of my own, and I’m not even thinking about that right now. I just refuse to live in a house built on lies and betrayal.”
“Len, why are you doing this?” Viktor stammered, trying to justify himself. “I understand my responsibility to this family—to you and Petya. That’s why I’m here. I’ve been here all these years. So you found out about Dasha and Sima. What’s actually changed? I’m still here, I still love and value you, I take care of you. I never planned on leaving.”
“You love and value me? The cynicism is unbelievable. Why all the lies, Viktor? Tell me—while your young daughter is somewhere out there suffering without you? And now, as it turns out, we’re all suffering.”
Elena and Viktor divorced. Shortly after, Viktor married Darya and officially recognized Serafima as his daughter.
Elena is still on her own, still healing from the betrayal of the man she trusted most. But she hasn’t given up hope that she will one day meet someone she can truly believe in again.
