Matvey abruptly halted, as if a sudden realization had jolted him awake. Over the years, he had often intended to revisit this place, yet neither in life nor in death had he made the time. Always preoccupied, caught up in his own significance, he now found his past self unbearable. The memories of who he once was now sickened him.
He required a profound shock—one that could shake his soul to its core—to finally understand that the world he had constructed around himself was nothing but a mirage. No word spoken or gesture made in that world held any true meaning.
“It was a cruel irony: he even felt gratitude toward Natasha, his ex-wife, for shattering that fragile glass castle. In an instant, everything crumbled to dust.”
The ideal family everyone admired revealed itself as nothing more than a facade. Countless feelings, endless promises: yet, in the end, there was emptiness.
His wife, his closest friend, and his circle of acquaintances—all those who knew his deepest truths—chose silence over loyalty. It was not merely a collapse; it felt like the death of his entire world. Those surrounding him had turned out to be betrayers.
Shortly after their divorce, Matvey drove toward his hometown. It had been eight years since he buried his mother, a woman he never once visited during all that time. He never even attempted to. This belated awareness made him realize that his mother had probably been the only person who would never have betrayed him.
Matvey’s marriage came late—he was thirty-three, Natasha twenty-five. He had once been proud of having a beautiful, elegant, always-on-the-go wife. Then, she yelled that she detested every moment of their life together, confiding that being intimate with him had been torture. At the time, he hadn’t grasped the depth of his illusion, the extent of what he had missed.
Her face twisted in hatred was merely a mask. Moments before, she wept earnestly, begging for forgiveness, claiming she would always remain alone. Yet, when he declared the end, Natasha dropped her facade, revealing her true self.
Carrying a large bouquet, Matvey exited the car and slowly stepped onto the cemetery path. He had braced himself to find his mother’s grave neglected; after all, he hadn’t even attended her headstone installation—the arrangements had been made online effortlessly. Now, he realized one could live an entire lifetime without truly seeing it pass.
To his amazement, the grave looked immaculate, well-tended with no signs of abandonment. Someone visited regularly—perhaps friends of his mother or those who remembered her. But not her son—he never once had the time.
Opening the creaky gate, Matvey whispered:
— “Hello, Mom…”
His throat tightened, eyes stung, and his voice faltered. Warm tears ran down the cheeks of this successful businessman, known for his cold, calculating gaze. Yet here he was, sobbing like a child, with no desire to stop. Those tears seemed to cleanse all the anguish and bitterness, everything tied to Natasha and his disappointments. It felt as though his mother was beside him, gently stroking his hair while whispering:
— “Come, my son, everything will be alright, you’ll see.”
He stayed silent for a long while, memories flowing through his mind—his childhood falls, tears, and his mother applying green dye to his knees, murmuring:
— “Don’t worry, son, it will heal before the wedding.”
She had added:
— “One can get used to everything except betrayal.”
Now, he truly understood the wisdom behind her words. Once simplistic, her sayings echoed with the depth of a remarkable spirit. Raising him alone, without a father, she had not coddled him but instead instilled strength.
Though he paid the neighbor well to watch over the house, for how much longer could it remain empty?
- Matvey recalled the first time he met the neighbor and her daughter, Nina. During a difficult phase, Nina’s kindness had eased his burden.
- They talked all evening, and their connection unfolded naturally.
- Without promises, she agreed to help; both had endured pain and found solace in each other.
— “Sir?” a child’s voice suddenly interrupted his thoughts.
He turned sharply to find a little girl around seven or eight, holding a bucket. She explained:
— “I need water to water the flowers. Mom planted them recently but is sick today. It’s so hot the flowers might die. Water is nearby, but I can’t carry a full bucket. If I make multiple trips, my mom might realize I came alone.”
Matvey smiled warmly:
— “Of course, I’ll help. Show me where.”
The girl chatted non-stop as they walked. Within minutes, Matvey learned that her mother rarely followed advice, avoided cold water when feverish, and that her temperature was high. She had come to tend her grandmother’s grave, who had passed a year earlier. The girl was anxious about her own mother’s reaction if she had gone alone. Nina excelled in school and aspired to win a medal.
With every word, Matvey felt relief washing over him. Children, he thought, possess a unique kind of light. He wished for a simple family that would receive him with unconditional affection.
Natasha, contrarily, had been merely a doll—beautiful but soulless. She once said:
— “Only a fool would sacrifice beauty for a child.”
Five years of marriage had left no joyful memories, just a void.
They soon arrived at the house. The girl, named Macha, carefully placed the bucket and started watering the plants. Then Matvey’s gaze locked onto the headstone—a photograph of the neighbor, mother to Nina. He looked at Macha, surprised:
— “Zoia Petrovna was your grandmother?”
— “Yes. Did you know her?” the girl asked. “But why ask? You were at Grandma Anya’s. We always come here to clean and bring flowers.”
— “You say ‘we’ with your mother?”
— “Of course! Mom doesn’t let me come to the cemetery alone; it’s dangerous.”
The child skipped away, laughing, while Matvey returned to his mother’s grave, puzzled. He thought Nina only looked after the house, but now learned she lived there with a daughter. He didn’t dwell on how long it had been—too much had shaken him to ask.
After a while, he rose—indifferent to who he paid, as long as the house never remained unoccupied.
Upon arriving at his mother’s home, Matvey felt a knot in his stomach approaching the threshold. The house remained untouched, as though awaiting its owner’s return. He lingered in the car, hoping she would appear to open the door. Nothing happened.
Stepping into the tidy, flower-filled courtyard, Matvey thought:
— “Well done, Nina. I must thank you.”
Inside, everything shone, as if the residents had just stepped out briefly.
He sat at the table but was restless—he needed to contact the neighbor. Suddenly, the door opened; there stood Macha.
— “Oh, it’s you!” she whispered. “But promise not to tell Mom we met at the cemetery, okay?”
Matvey nodded silently, making her laugh.
— “Come in, but stay away from Mom—she’s got a fever.”
Inside, Nina lay on the couch, eyes wide as she noticed him.
— “You?” she breathed.
Matvey smiled.
— “Hello.”
His glance swept the room—no men’s clothes, everything frozen in time.
— “Nina…” he began.
— “Don’t tell me…” she interrupted, sitting up. “I’m taking care of the house. I work in the city, but rarely, so I look after the place.”
— “I’m sorry about your mother,” he said gently. “And thank you for keeping the house—it looks like she’s only stepped out for a moment, but all is preserved.”
— “Will you stay long?”
— “A few days.”
— “Are you selling the house?”
— “I haven’t decided yet.”
He placed a wad of cash on the table:
— “For upkeep—as a thank you.”
— “Thank you, Uncle Matvey!” Macha exclaimed. “Mom wants a new dress, and I want a bike!”
Matvey laughed heartily.
— “Good job, Macha; money has never slipped through my fingers.”
Soon, Matvey fell ill—likely infected by Nina. His fever rose, thoughts blurred. He searched for his mother’s old thermometer, measured his temperature, and realized it was time to act. He’d forgotten much of what he’d learned, and texted the neighbor: “What to take for high fever?”
Within ten minutes, Nina and Macha arrived at his place.
— “My God,” Nina gasped seeing his condition. “Why did you come in? I’m the one who infected you…”
— “You were sick; why get close?”
— “It’s nothing, I’ll recover.”
She handed him pills while Macha brought hot tea.
— “She’ll burn herself,” Matvey worried.
— “Who?” Nina laughed. “No way—she’s an expert at avoiding burns.”
Looking at Nina, Matvey felt clarity dawn. Suddenly, a lightning bolt struck him:
— “Nin…” he began.
— “What?” she asked nervously.
— “When was Macha born?”
Nina paled and sat down heavily.
— “Why ask?”
She turned to Macha:
— “Go to the store for lemons and something to drink, okay?”
— “Okay, Mom!” the girl answered, dashing off with money.
Nina regained composure, voice firm:
— “Matvey, let’s be clear: Macha isn’t related to you. Not at all. We don’t need anything from you. Forget it.”
— “How can you say that?” he shouted, standing abruptly. “What do you mean ‘forget it’? Why didn’t you tell me? Why no call?”
— “Listen, Matvey,” she said, looking him straight in the eyes. “I decided to have this baby on my own. You were never involved. I didn’t intend to tell you—I didn’t expect you back, much less that you’d care.”
Matvey stood frozen; his world had turned upside down. He realized he’d lived a false life until now. Genuine happiness stood before him in this woman and child who had raised him.
— “Nin…” His voice softened. “Don’t do this; I don’t know what to do.”
That night, he dreamt of his mother, smiling as she said she’d always wished for a granddaughter like Macha.
Three days later, Matvey began his journey back. Nina sat silent at the table.
— “Well,” he said, “I have a few more errands in town and then I’ll come back—within a week or so. I promise. I’m coming back to win you over,” he added sincerely. “Tell me there’s a chance: a chance for family, for happiness?”
She shrugged away a tear.
— “I don’t know, Matvey…”
Three weeks later, he returned, carrying large bags and gifts to Nina’s house.
— “Hello,” he greeted, heart pounding.
Nina looked up from her sewing, faintly smiling.
— “You’re back.”
— “I promised,” he said with a broad grin. “Where’s Macha?”
The girl appeared, still groggy.
— “Hello, Uncle Matvey,” she said.
Nina rose, voice steady:
— “Matvey, I’ve thought it through.”
She took Macha’s hand.
— “Masha, I want you to meet your father.”
Matvey dropped his bags, trembling.
— “Thank you,” he whispered.
One week later, the three left together, having placed both their homes up for sale to begin anew. Macha still found it hard to believe she was now calling Matvey both “Dad” and “Uncle Matvey.” He laughed, embraced them, and truly believed that now, everything would be exactly as it ought to have been.
Key Insight: This story reveals that even amid disillusionment and betrayal, rediscovery and genuine connection can transform a fractured life into one filled with hope and true family bonds.
Ultimately, Matvey’s journey teaches that acknowledging past mistakes and embracing new beginnings pave the way for authentic happiness.