Masha, please listen to me. Just hold on, don’t cry. The job I’m going to pays well. It wasn’t planned this way, but we can’t give up now. I’ll earn the money, and we’ll start fresh,” Ivan tried to comfort her.
But Masha shook her head, defeated.
“No, Ivan. No amount of money is worth risking our lives.”
“What do you mean? Things are different now. There’s no hand-to-hand fighting. Don’t worry so much. Do you think I’d throw myself into certain death and leave you alone? No. Just hang in there until my paycheck comes through. We have a roof over our heads. At least the apartment is still ours.”
Masha sighed deeply.
“Ivan, this business—it’s over. Let it go. Lose everything again in a week? We had to sell all our belongings…”
Ivan sighed too, knowing she understood him perfectly but firmly disapproved.
He was desperate to prove to himself that he still mattered.
Masha knew there was no calming him. The whole situation had been devastating. They had worked for nearly a decade building their business, everything was going smoothly, until they fell victim to foreign scammers—like naïve children. There was no way to track them down now.
Two days later, Ivan left to serve his contract.
For Masha, it felt like half her heart was ripped away. Every phone ring made her flinch, every knock at the door filled her with panic.
Weeks passed, and her anxiety only grew worse. She was certain something terrible was looming.
One early morning, the doorbell rang. She glanced at the clock, and her legs felt weak. She barely made it to the door and opened it. Seeing a man in uniform, she knew instantly.
Before he could speak, she collapsed against the wall, losing consciousness.
She awoke days later in the hospital, confused about where she was. Then it all hit her, and she screamed.
It turned out she had hovered between life and death for a whole week.
After a week, she was discharged and went straight to the cemetery. A simple cross marked the spot—no photo, no memorial, nothing. No compensation—an investigation was ongoing, everything remained uncertain.
Back home, she paced restlessly for a day before deciding things couldn’t continue like this.
She managed to sell their small apartment quickly but for little. Then she instructed her agent to find a modest house far from civilization. They found one, 300 kilometers away.
When the taxi pulled up, Masha stared in shock at the dilapidated shack she had bought without ever seeing it.
“Is this really where you plan to live?” the driver asked, incredulous.
“Yes. How much do I owe you?” she gathered her courage.
He accepted the fare, watching her walk away muttering, “Some people have lost their minds living high, no clue what else to do.”
Masha didn’t hear him. She stood in front of the old house, thinking: I don’t have to live here—but I have to survive.
She gathered wood for a fire and hauled out the old junk inside. There wasn’t much. While the fire smoked, she grabbed a rag to start cleaning.
“Good evening. I was wondering about that fire,” a voice called out.
Startled, Masha turned to see an elderly woman standing nearby—a kind face straight from a fairy tale.
“Did I scare you? Don’t worry, I live next door—or rather, I’m just passing my days here,” the woman said, smiling warmly. “What brings you out to these remote parts?”
Masha shook off her shock.
“I wanted to be closer to nature. Nothing holds me in the city anymore. My husband died…”
“So you’ve come to heal your wounds,” the woman nodded knowingly.
“Please come in. Why stand out there?” Masha invited her inside.
The woman settled in comfortably.
“Well done, the house is already starting to feel like home. I’m Klavdiya Nikolaevna.”
“I’m Masha,” she replied.
“And why are you alone, Masha? Haven’t you called anyone to help? We may be old, but we can help,” Klavdiya offered. “I’ll get the girls. We’ll have this place in order in no time.”
Masha shook her head, amazed at their swift kindness. Twenty minutes later, Klavdiya returned with three other grandmothers, all about the same age.
Listening to their lively chatter and nostalgic stories, Masha’s hunger grew. As night fell, they gathered for tea, sharing all kinds of food.
“Don’t worry, Masha. Our homes may be remote, but they’re peaceful. Everyone’s forgotten about us—the authorities, our children. We get a mobile store once a week; that’s where we buy bread,” one grandmother explained.
“And how do you manage to live?”
“This is how we live. Some raise chickens or rabbits. We tend gardens and share our harvest,” another added.
“And where’s the nearest store or clinic?” Masha asked.
“Ten kilometers away. Sometimes our children or grandchildren visit. Klavdiya’s grandson has tried to take her away many times, but she won’t leave. Says she won’t abandon us,” said another grandmother.
Klavdiya smiled.
“He’s a good grandson, but unlucky in life. Twice married and it didn’t work out.”
Masha pictured a self-centered young man.
“I know what you’re thinking,” Klavdiya chuckled. “But you’ll see for yourself. He’s coming in two weeks to help with firewood.”
Together, the grandmothers helped Masha with the garden. They didn’t do much, but every little bit helped.
Who would have thought she’d be digging garden beds herself? Even in her worst dreams, she never imagined this. But now, it felt natural—planting seeds in the earth.
Every evening, the women gathered at someone’s home for tea. Masha eagerly soaked up their stories.
“Remember when we caught the bandits here?” Klavdiya waved her arms.
“Oh, how could I forget! They hid in my attic, and I had no idea.”
Masha’s eyes widened.
“Please tell me more.”
“That was about fifteen years ago. Many had already left the village, but some homes remained. The police arrived early one morning. We all rushed outside, confused. Turns out, bandits had robbed someone and were passing through. They got lost and ended up hiding in Klavdiya’s attic. We were terrified. There was gunfire. Klavdiya couldn’t leave the house.”
“And did they catch them?”
“Yes, but no money or car was found. After that, most residents left. People say this place is forgotten by God.”
“Still, people used to flock here. We have a clean, healing spring with many legends passed down by our great-grandmothers,” another grandmother added.
“Yes. Women who couldn’t have children would come and stay by the spring, and miracles would happen,” she said.
That night, Masha dreamed of bandits and hopeful women. The next morning, recalling the spring and stories, she decided to visit.
She thought she was good at navigating forests but quickly got lost among the berries and beauty.
Fear crept in as darkness fell.
“Well, this is just what I needed—to get lost in the woods,” she muttered, realizing that after Vanya’s death, she truly wanted to live.
Suddenly, an owl hooted. Panic rising, Masha ran, feeling surrounded by wolves. She ran until she found herself in a moonlit glade, where a car sat oddly among bushes.
She remembered the grandmothers’ tale. Could this be the abandoned bandits’ car?
A branch snapped. She shrieked and jumped into the car, not caring what was inside—just that she was safe from the forest.
By morning, she dozed off, waking to sunshine streaming through cracked windows. On the back seat lay a bag filled with money.
Leaning forward, she saw the grandmothers gathered outside.
“My dears, how glad I am to see you!” she cried joyfully.
Klavdiya Nikolaevna said, “I’ve called my grandson—he’s on his way.”
The women gathered at Masha’s home, where she recounted her adventure.
“We’ll turn this place around! But let’s keep the source of the money a secret.”
“We’ll clear the road, beautify the spring, and people will come,” they planned.
“Exactly! Does anyone realize how special this place is?”
Suddenly, a young man appeared at the door, smiling warmly.
“Vanechka, the grandson is here!” Klavdiya exclaimed.
Though calling this nearly two-meter-tall man “grandson” seemed odd, Masha flinched hearing the name.
Ivan was nothing like she imagined—cheerful, honest, and smart. In two days, he mowed yards and stacked wood.
Meanwhile, Masha pondered how to improve the village. Ivan caught her deep in thought.
“Can I help? I know a bit about business plans,” he offered.
Three years later…
“Maria Anatolievna, the waiting list is two months long, and people keep calling,” Masha sighed.
Ivan stood and said, “Mash, maybe it’s time to think about expanding?”
She smiled, “Of course, but you’ll have to lead it alone.”
“Without you?” he asked, surprised.
“Yes, because I’ll be busy with other things,” she said.
Klavdiya Nikolaevna smiled knowingly.
“I always say: this isn’t a legend—it’s real.”
Ivan frowned. “I don’t follow.”
“People come because the spring heals. And because we live here,” Klavdiya explained.
“So?” Ivan asked, still puzzled.
“Mash, don’t keep us hanging,” Klavdiya urged with a wink.
Ivan looked to Masha.
She nodded.
He stood slowly, bewildered, then joyfully lifted her into his arms.
That evening, they stood on the porch of their new home, overlooking the village—transformed with new houses, lights, and paths. The sanatorium was visible in the distance, bustling with visitors.
“See, Mash? We did good,” Klavdiya beamed.
“And those bandits who left the car in the forest…”
“Let’s not dwell on that—just live here and now.”
“But we must remember something,” Ivan said. “Mash, I’ve been applying for years… Your husband—he’s a hero. The medal they’re awarding him posthumously means a lot.”
Masha was silent, leaning into Ivan.
“Thank you. That means so much.”
Ivan gently stroked her hair.
“So, what do you think we’ll have?”
“I don’t care, as long as everyone’s healthy.”
Ivan sighed.
“Maybe it’s time to build a school.”
Masha laughed softly.
“What, not a university right away?”
They embraced, looking out at the village they were helping to rebuild, determined to make it flourish and bring happiness to its people.