1. The Call He Feared

Vadim sat at the kitchen table, elbows on the cool wood, staring at his phone as though it were something alive. The screen glowed faintly in the half-light of evening, reflecting in his tired eyes.
He had been putting it off for weeks—no, months. He’d always found a reason not to call. Too late. Too early. Too busy. Too tired. Lies all of them.

The phone felt heavier than it should have, as though filled with all the words he’d never said.

Finally, he inhaled, thumb hovering over the green icon. Enough. He pressed.

One ring. Two. His pulse hammered in his ears.

Hang up, coward, a voice in his head whispered.

Then, suddenly—

“Hey, you devil! Where’d you vanish to?”

The familiar voice burst through the receiver, bright, warm, painfully alive.

“Misha…” Vadim exhaled. “Yeah. I’ve been… swamped.”

“Everything okay? You need anything? You sound weird.”

“No, no. Everything’s fine. How are you guys?”

“We’re all right. Natasha’s good. Lera’s…” Misha chuckled. “God, Lera’s driving us crazy. She’s in love, can you believe it? One moment she’s crying, next she’s laughing, next she’s sneaking off somewhere and coming home at midnight. Won’t say a word about who the lucky guy is. A partisan!”

He laughed again, proud and worried all at once. “And what about you, Vadim? You still not married? You’re not getting any younger, my friend.”

Vadim swallowed. There it was—the slippery question.

“No,” he said finally, his voice low. “But… I’m going to.”

“What? Someone finally tamed the wolf?” Misha crowed. “It’s about time! Don’t forget to invite me to the wedding. I’ll be offended if you don’t.”

“Of course. I wouldn’t dream of it.”

“And when are you coming to see us? Natasha will be thrilled.”

Vadim had been waiting for that. The moment he couldn’t take back.

“Actually… I’m already here.”

“What?!” Misha barked a laugh. “You’re in town? And you didn’t tell me, you bastard? Did you book a hotel? Natasha will murder you. When are you coming over?”

“Hey, slow down,” Vadim laughed, trying to sound natural. “Tomorrow. I’ll come tomorrow.”

“You’d better. I’ll tell Natasha right now—she’ll bake your favorite pie. See you tomorrow!”

The line clicked off.

Vadim sat for a long while in silence, staring at the blank phone screen.

The first step was taken. There was no turning back.

He smiled bitterly. “If you only knew, Misha,” he murmured. “If you only knew what I’m about to do to your peace.”

2. Three Friends

He could still see it as clearly as if it were yesterday. The university courtyard, bright with spring. Three inseparable friends—him, Misha, and Natasha.

They’d been a trio since their first year. Two hopelessly smitten men and one radiant woman who seemed made of sunlight and kindness.

They competed for her attention shamelessly, though they’d made a pact: if Natasha chose one of them, the other would step aside.

For a while, she chose neither. She treated them both gently, evenly—never cruel, never teasing. She’d smile, brush a strand of hair behind her ear, and both men would lose their breath.

By the third year, though, something changed. Natasha began to linger longer when she talked to Vadim. Her laughter came more easily. Her eyes searched for him in crowded rooms.

Misha noticed. His smile faltered.

He stopped showing up to class.

Vadim went to his friend’s dorm one evening, a bottle under his arm.

They sat for hours, drinking and talking. Misha was broken—utterly.

By the end of the night, Vadim understood something: Natasha would never love him the way she could love Misha. And Misha… Misha would die for her.

So Vadim made a choice. He invented a romance, pretended to have fallen for another girl. Natasha took the bait. She was hurt, furious, jealous—and in her anger, she ran to Misha.

And Misha, trembling with love and gratitude, caught her.

Within months they were inseparable. Vadim had done it. He had given them to each other.

He never told them. He never regretted it.

He was their best man at the wedding. He smiled until his cheeks ached, toasted their happiness, and afterward, he went home and drank alone.

3. The Daughter

Nine months later, the call came. “She’s here!” Misha had shouted. “It’s a girl!”

At the maternity ward, the two men had stood side by side, grinning like fools, flowers in hand.

The nurse hesitated, unsure which of the two new fathers to hand the baby to.

“Go ahead,” Misha said softly, passing the bundle to Vadim. “My hands are shaking.”

Vadim took her carefully. A tiny face peeked out from the lace—a button nose, soft cheeks, lips like rose petals. His heart melted.

“Hello there,” he whispered, eyes stinging.

It was ridiculous, impossible, but he loved her in that instant—as though she were his own.

And maybe, in some secret way, she was.

Her name was Lera.

4. The Return

Years blurred. Vadim drifted north for work—Yaroslavl, then Murmansk. He sent letters, photos, birthday cards. He built a career, but not a life. Women came and went. None stayed.

When he came home on leave, Misha and Natasha were thriving. And Lera—little Lera—was growing into a mirror of her mother.

By her teens she was beautiful, poised, clever. The same spark in her eyes.

Vadim tried not to notice how his chest tightened when she smiled.

He told himself it was affection. Pride. Nostalgia. Nothing more.

But when she turned seventeen and he saw her on the train platform that morning—everything changed.

5. The Train

He’d been half-asleep when he felt her eyes on him.

When he looked up, she was sitting across the aisle, hair loose, face flushed from the cold.

“Lera?” he asked, startled. “What are you doing here?”

She smiled nervously. “I came to see you off.”

He frowned. “Your parents—do they know?”

She shook her head. Then, before he could speak, she said it.

“I love you.”

The train seemed to fall silent.

He blinked, certain he’d misheard.

“I love you,” she repeated.

He tried to laugh, failed. “Lera… I love you too. As my friends’ daughter.”

“No,” she said calmly. “That’s not what I mean.”

“Lera, listen to me—”

“No, you listen.” Her eyes flashed. “I know how it sounds. I know how it looks. But I’ve thought about it for a long time. You understand me better than anyone. You’re kind. You see me.”

He sighed heavily. “You’re a child.”

“I’m not,” she said quietly.

The train rumbled on.

Vadim leaned forward, hands clasped. “I was in love with your mother once. You know that, don’t you?”

She nodded.

“Then you must understand—I can’t do this. You’d regret it. In ten years, you’d look at me and see an old man. People would whisper. You’d find someone younger, someone—”

“And if I die before then?” she cut in. “If life doesn’t give me those ten years? Shouldn’t I spend them being happy?”

He stared at her, speechless.

The train began to slow. She stood, moved to his side, and kissed him—light, sure, devastating.

Before he could react, she was gone.

The platform blurred past.

Had he dreamed her?

But the taste of her kiss remained.

6. Between Right and Wrong

She called him later—when he was boarding his flight, when he landed, when he tried to forget.

He told her to move on. To forget him. He even lied that he had met someone else.

For a while, she went silent. The relief was sharp, but so was the emptiness.

Then she called again. And this time, he didn’t stop her.

They spoke often. Wrote letters. Video calls. She’d spin in her prom dress, ask for his opinion. “You look beautiful,” he’d say, heart aching.

And when his father fell ill, she was the first to call, to comfort him.

She had grown up, and he had fallen hopelessly behind.

7. The Return

When he finally returned to his hometown, his father frail but recovering, Vadim avoided Misha’s family for as long as he could.

But fate never respected restraint.

He met Lera by chance near the old park. One look, and six years of resistance vanished.

She had become a woman. And she looked at him with the same unwavering eyes.

They began to meet quietly. Long walks, cautious laughter. No one knew.

When she made him promise he would talk to her parents himself, he agreed.

And that was how, a week later, he found himself walking toward Misha’s door with a bottle of wine, roses for Natasha, and violets for Lera.

8. The Confession

Dinner began warmly. Nostalgia flowed easily. Natasha laughed; Misha poured wine.

Only Lera sat quietly, her gaze soft but constant on Vadim.

Misha caught it. He saw too much.

“Come on,” he said suddenly. “Let’s have a smoke.”

On the landing, under the dim bulb, Misha’s voice dropped. “Tell me what’s going on.”

Vadim’s heart pounded. Then he told him everything.

When he finished, Misha stood still, breathing hard. “Are you getting back at me?” he asked finally. “Because of Natasha? Is Lera pregnant?”

“What do you take me for?” Vadim’s voice broke. “Everything’s pure. I’ve never touched her. But I love her. And I can’t fight it anymore.”

He turned to go. “I’ll leave. Just… don’t hate her.”

Misha said nothing.

9. The Decision

At midnight, Vadim heard a knock.

Lera stood in the doorway, tears streaking her face. She told him what had happened—her father’s anger, her mother’s silence.

He gave her tea, drove her home himself.

Misha met them at the door, pale, exhausted.

“Come in,” he said quietly.

They sat in the kitchen until dawn.

Finally, Misha sighed. “She’s stubborn like her mother. I can’t stop her. So fine—get married. But she finishes university first.”

Lera burst into tears and hugged him. “You’re the best, Dad!”

10. The Life After

Their wedding was small but full of light.

Lera glowed. Vadim could barely believe she was real.

When they danced their first dance, even Natasha wept.

For Vadim, it felt like stepping into the life he’d been denied thirty years ago—except this time, it was right.

They were happy. Simply, quietly, completely.

Then Natasha fell ill.

Misha was shattered. Vadim sold his car, his savings, pulled every string, and sent them to Germany for treatment.

The cancer retreated. Hope returned.

And then, not long after, Lera announced she was pregnant.

Natasha cried with joy.

“You gave me a reason to live,” she said, stroking her daughter’s hair.

11. Full Circle

When Lera gave birth to a son, the family gathered at the maternity ward.

This time there was no hesitation over who would hold the baby first.

Vadim cradled the boy, eyes shining, and everyone saw it—this was his miracle, his redemption.

Natasha and Misha watched them, smiling through tears.

“Take care of them,” Misha whispered.

“I will,” Vadim said. And he meant it.

12. What We Know

Sometimes, when the house fell quiet at night, Vadim would watch Lera sleeping, their child breathing softly between them, and think of the years gone by.

How strange, how circular, how merciful life could be.

He had loved her mother. Then her. And through that love, somehow, they had all been saved.

Love.
What do we really know about it?

Only that it finds us where it shouldn’t, and saves us when we least deserve it.