Fifteen years after abandoning his family, Vasily crossed paths with his ex-wife—and was left stunned.

Vasily strolled slowly through the park, savoring the warmth of the May sun. The trees, now fully adorned with lush green leaves, rustled gently in the light breeze. The air carried the sweet scent of blooming apple trees and lilacs. In the distance, the laughter of children echoed through the park.
“Mine are all grown now,” Vasily thought with a tinge of sadness, reminiscing about his twins, Lera and Denis.
Fifteen years had passed since he had left his family. Yet, he remembered that day as vividly as if it had happened yesterday. The packed suitcase, the tense silence, the finality in his voice as he told his wife he was leaving. That he couldn’t do it anymore. That he had found someone else. At the time, it had seemed like the right choice. He told himself he deserved love, passion, happiness. Their marriage had grown stale, their connection fading into routine. What was the point of staying?
And yet, once upon a time, he had believed they would last forever. He was a young lieutenant, freshly assigned to a remote garrison. She, a student teacher on internship in that same quiet town. Their love had sparked like something out of a movie. He, tall and confident in his dress uniform. She, delicate and radiant in a lilac dress with tiny flowers. The whirlwind romance quickly turned into marriage, and soon after, their twins, Lera and Denis, were born. Vasily had once been the kind of man who would lift Olya off her feet just to see her laugh.
But time changed everything. The naive young officer became hardened by military discipline, his life consumed by rigid schedules and duty. Olya, once full of life, became absorbed in motherhood and household chores. And between them, an invisible chasm formed. They no longer spoke the same language, no longer saw each other the way they once had.
Then he met Irina.
She was everything Olya no longer was—lively, spontaneous, full of admiration for him. She looked at him as if he were the most fascinating man in the world, something he hadn’t felt in years. It was intoxicating. So, he let go of the life he had built and jumped headfirst into this new love, believing it would bring him the happiness he longed for.
Leaving Olya and the children had been surprisingly easy. He convinced himself that they would be fine. He gave them the apartment, paid child support for a while, and assumed Olya would eventually find someone else. That she would move on. He never stopped to think about how she would manage alone with two children, how much hurt he had caused.
At first, life with Irina was everything he had imagined—passionate, exciting, filled with grand gestures and romance. But soon, reality set in. Irina was not Olya. She had never been a housewife, never lived modestly. She wanted luxury, expensive vacations, the best of everything. And Vasily, no longer a young officer with stars in his eyes, found himself struggling to keep up. He worked extra shifts, took on more responsibilities, but it was never enough.
Arguments became frequent. Irina grew impatient, blaming him for not providing the life she wanted. She compared him to others, wealthier men. No matter how hard he tried, he was never enough.
And then, one evening, Vasily came home early and found her in bed with another man.
Irina didn’t bother to hide it, didn’t apologize or make excuses. Instead, she simply shrugged. She was tired of him. She had found someone better. Someone richer.
And just like that, Vasily was alone again.
For the first time, he truly saw what he had done. He had sacrificed his family for a fleeting illusion. He had walked away from his wife, his children, for a love that was nothing more than a mirage. And now, standing in this park where he had once played with his twins, he felt the full weight of his choices.
He traced his fingers along the old wooden bench. How many times had he sat here, watching his children run and laugh? He glanced at a tree nearby—Denis had once tried to climb it, only to fall and scrape his knee. Olya had scolded him that day, telling him to be more careful. At the time, Vasily had been annoyed with her fussing, but now, he could only smile at the memory.
Lost in thought, he barely registered the soft voice calling out to him.
“Dad?”
He turned sharply.
A young woman stood before him—tall, slender, with long brown hair. Her wide eyes, filled with surprise and something else… joy?
“Lera?” Vasily’s voice trembled.
She nodded, dimples appearing on her cheeks—Olya’s dimples.
“It’s really you!” Vasily exclaimed.
He hadn’t seen his children in years. At first, he had tried, visiting them while still paying child support. But Irina had grown irritated. Why waste money on “them”? Eventually, Vasily gave in. He stopped calling, stopped visiting. Convinced himself that Olya would find a way to manage without him.
Lera moved closer and, to his shock, embraced him.
“We’re just walking here,” she said with a soft smile. “You haven’t changed much.” She playfully touched his hair. “Just… a little grayer.”
“I can afford a few gray hairs after fifteen years,” Vasily attempted a joke, but his voice was strained. “Lera… can you forgive me?”
“For what?” she asked, tilting her head.
“For everything. For leaving. For not calling. For not being there.”
Lera’s smile faltered.
“We were angry at first. But then… we let it go. Mom never spoke badly about you. She just… moved on.”
Vasily stared at her, astonished. Olya had never poisoned them against him?
“And your mom… how is she?”
“She’s happy,” Lera said simply. “Works at a kindergarten. Loves it.”
Vasily hesitated. “Is she… alone?”
“No,” Lera answered. “She has someone. A good man.”
The words hit him harder than he expected. He had no right to feel betrayed, and yet, an ache settled in his chest.
Lera continued, “Denis is getting married soon. You should call him. I’ll give you his number.”
Vasily did. Denis was less enthusiastic, but they spoke. And in the end, he invited Vasily to the wedding.
Standing at the reception, Vasily felt out of place. Laughter filled the air, the clinking of glasses, the buzz of conversation. Then, he saw her.
Olya stood by the window, elegant in a blue dress. She had hardly changed. Their eyes met, and for a moment, time rewound.
“Hello, Vasya.” Her voice was calm, as if their history had never happened.
“You look wonderful,” he said.
“You’ve held up well yourself.”
A man approached her, draping a gentle arm around her shoulder.
“Ol, aren’t you cold?”
“No, dear, I’m fine,” she said, smiling warmly. “Meet Vasya—Denis and Lera’s father.”
The man extended a hand. “Sergey.”
Vasily shook it, feeling a strange hollowness in his chest.
He looked around—at his grown children, at the woman he once loved, at the life he had lost.
And he realized—some mistakes could never be undone.