Ignat sat by the window, tapping his fingers nervously against the sill. Outside, a gentle rain blurred the evening into a wash of gray. The apartment was heavy with silence, broken only by the faint rustling of bags as Marina hurriedly packed her things.
“Make sure this place is empty in an hour,” Ignat said coldly without turning around. “And take the child with you.”
Marina’s voice wavered, filled with fear and despair. “Where are we supposed to go? I don’t even have the money for a place to stay.”
“That’s not my concern,” he snapped. “Maybe you should have thought about that before sneaking around with your friends.”
Their five-year-old son, Sasha, clung to his mother’s leg, his wide eyes filled with confusion and fear.
“Dad, please don’t make us leave,” the boy whispered softly.
Finally, Ignat turned, his gaze as icy as steel.
“I’ve said all I have to say. Leave now.”
Clutching Sasha close, Marina took a final, sorrowful look at her husband.
“You’ll regret this, Ignat. Mark my words.”
The door slammed behind them. Ignat poured himself a glass of cognac and smiled bitterly. Regret? Not a chance. She’d be back in a month, crawling back to him. But he would stay firm.
He never imagined just how wrong he was.
Five years later.
Ignat sat at a small table in the upscale “Metropol” restaurant, distractedly scanning the wine list. Across from him, his business partner Viktor was deep in discussion about a new deal.
Suddenly, Viktor whistled and nodded toward the entrance.
“Look who’s here.”
Ignat turned, and his breath caught. Marina was walking in—radiant in a sleek black dress that highlighted her graceful figure, her jewelry sparkling under the chandeliers. She carried herself with undeniable confidence and poise. Beside her was a boy of about ten, dressed in a crisp suit—Sasha.
“Good evening, gentlemen,” greeted the maître d’, with a respectful smile. “Marina Alexandrovna, your table is ready.”
Ignat muttered, stunned. “You know her?”
“Of course!” Viktor chuckled. “Marina Alexandrovna owns the ‘Zhemchuzhina’ luxury spa chain. She built it from nothing, and now her business is worth millions. The smartest woman you’ll ever meet!”
Ignat felt the floor shift beneath him. That same Marina—the one he had thrown out with just a single bag. The one he thought was destined to struggle forever.
He excused himself and, as if in a daze, approached their table.
“Marina…” he started.
She met his gaze with calm detachment, no hint of surprise or fear—only measured composure.
“Hello, Ignat. It’s been a long time.”
“Mom, who’s this?” Sasha asked, eyes curious but unafraid.
Ignat recoiled inwardly. His own son didn’t even recognize him. Could he blame him? Five years is a lifetime to a child.
“This is… just someone I know,” Marina replied carefully. “Now, shall we order?”
“Just someone?” Ignat’s voice trembled with anger. “I’m his father!”
Sasha looked up from the menu with polite indifference.
“So, you’re the one who kicked us out?” he asked quietly. “Mom says it was because you weren’t ready for a real family.”
“Shh, Sasha,” Marina gently cautioned. “Let’s not discuss that now.”
Ignat pulled out a chair and sat down uninvited.
“We’re actually waiting for Uncle Andrey,” Sasha said brightly. “He promised to show me his new 3-D modeling software. I want to be an architect like him.”
“Uncle Andrey?” Ignat glanced at Marina, who adjusted her napkin with calm confidence.
“Yes, my husband. We’ve been together three years.”
A heavy lump formed in Ignat’s throat. Three years… While he was busy with his own pride, his son had found a new father.
“Marina, can we speak privately?” he asked, his voice fragile.
“I don’t think that’s wise,” she replied firmly. “Everything that needed to be said was said five years ago. You chose your path; we chose ours.”
At that moment, a tall man with kind eyes and a warm smile approached.
“Sorry I’m late, everyone,” he said cheerfully.
“Andrey!” Sasha jumped up excitedly. “Did you bring the program?”
“Of course, champ,” Andrey ruffled his hair and nodded politely at Ignat. “Good evening.”
“Ignat’s leaving already,” Marina stated clearly.
Ignat rose slowly, feeling the world slip away beneath him. But Andrey surprised him with an unexpected offer.
“Would you like to join us? I think there’s a lot you need to talk about.”
“Thank you,” Ignat whispered, sinking back into his chair.
The room fell into an uneasy silence. Menus arrived, and everyone pretended to study them. Finally, Andrey broke the quiet.
“Sasha, show me your latest sketches. You said you’re working on something special for school.”
The boy eagerly pulled a tablet from his bag and moved close to Andrey. They began discussing architectural designs, leaving Ignat and Marina alone.
“I never knew…” Ignat started.
“Knew what?” Marina asked softly. “That we could live without you? That I could build a business? Or that Sasha would grow up to be a wonderful boy without your presence?”
“Everything,” he admitted honestly. “I was blind, selfish, thinking only of myself and my career.”
“You know, I owe you thanks,” Marina said thoughtfully.
“Thanks? For what?”
“That night changed everything for me. I realized I would never let anyone control my life again.”
She started small, opening a modest beauty salon, working sixteen-hour days. Sasha often fell asleep on the small couch nearby.
“I slowly gained clients, took out a loan, opened a second salon. I kept learning and improving. Every night I promised Sasha that everything would be okay—and I kept that promise.”
Ignat listened, silenced by the weight of her words.
“Then I met Andrey,” Marina smiled. “He came as a client to the salon—an accomplished architect who takes great care of himself. We connected immediately. He started from nothing too. Most importantly, he accepted Sasha as his own.”
“He’s a good man,” Ignat acknowledged.
“The best,” Marina said firmly. “When Andrey found out Sasha loved architecture, he took him to his studio, teaching him design principles. They create 3-D models and discuss trends. Andrey doesn’t just see him as my son; he sees him as a young person with dreams.”
A lump tightened in Ignat’s throat. He remembered how he used to avoid little Sasha’s questions and grow irritated by his noise.
“Have I ruined everything?” he asked quietly.
“You showed us we deserve better,” Marina said calmly. “And we found it.”
Sasha and Andrey resumed their conversation. The boy’s eyes sparkled with pride.
“Mom, guess what? Uncle Andrey says my project might be showcased at a real architecture exhibition! But I have to polish a few things first.”
“That’s amazing, sweetheart!” Marina said with a smile.
“Sasha,” Ignat surprised himself by saying, “may I see your project?”
The boy hesitated, glanced at Andrey, and then nodded.
“Sure,” Sasha said, handing over the tablet. “It’s an eco-friendly housing complex with solar panels and a rainwater collection system.”
Ignat listened intently, amazed at the boy’s knowledge and thoughtful design. Every detail was carefully considered. At eleven, Sasha thought like a true architect.
“That’s impressive,” Ignat said sincerely. “You’re doing an excellent job.”
“Thank you,” Sasha replied, and for the first time that evening, smiled at Ignat. “Uncle Andrey says attention to detail and caring about people is key in architecture.”
“Your uncle is right,” Ignat nodded, still struggling to believe it.
As the evening wound down, the waiter brought the bill. Andrey insisted on paying, brushing off Ignat’s attempts to contribute.
“Maybe you all could get together more often,” Andrey suggested as they left. “Of course, with one of us there.”
Marina said nothing, and Sasha considered the idea before nodding.
“No promises. Let’s just see what happens.”
“No promises,” Ignat agreed, knowing that was all he could hope for.
They said their goodbyes. Ignat watched as Marina, Andrey, and Sasha left—happy, connected, and whole without him.
He took out his phone and dialed his therapist.
“Hello, doctor. Remember when you said I needed to face the consequences of my choices? I think I’m ready to start.”
Outside, the rain had stopped. The sky sparkled with stars reflecting in puddles. In the distance, the city lights twinkled. Maybe someday, among those towers, there’d be a building designed by his son. And that thought brought a bittersweet comfort, even if he could only watch from afar.