The bus hissed to a stop at the edge of the village. Olesya stepped off into the drizzle, one hand cradling her pregnant belly, the other clutching her coat. She was the only passenger to get off. The driver gave her a sympathetic look before the bus pulled away.

The village was quiet—bare trees, rain-slicked branches, and the steady patter of raindrops on her umbrella. Olesya walked in silence, her thoughts full of Andrey: his laugh, his calloused hands, the way he spoke her name like it was something precious.

Life before him had been hard—growing up in an orphanage, vocational school, long night shifts at the metalworks. Then Andrey came into her life, an engineer who wasn’t afraid of hard work. He saw her—really saw her. They connected over shared lunches and late-night conversations. When she found out she was pregnant, he was overjoyed. He proposed under the dim light of their dorm.

“I want you to meet my family,” he said. But Olesya hesitated, worried she wouldn’t be accepted. So Andrey went alone. “Just a few days,” he promised.

He never came back.

Rumors spread—he’d run off, couldn’t handle the responsibility. But Olesya couldn’t believe that. Then she overheard the truth: he’d been mugged near a train station. He didn’t survive.

Now, she walked slowly along the cemetery path, chrysanthemums in hand. She reached his grave and fell to her knees, her tears mixing with the cold rain.

As the chill settled into her bones, she realized her phone was gone. She looked around, disoriented, searching for shelter. Then she saw a nearby mausoleum and stepped inside.

“I just need a minute,” she whispered.

Then—buzzing. A phone, not hers, vibrating on the stone floor.

She picked it up.

A man’s voice on the other end: “Hey! That’s my phone—I lost it yesterday.”

“I’m in the cemetery,” she said faintly.

“I was doing some work there. Must’ve dropped it,” he replied.

“I wasn’t feeling well…”

Her vision blurred. The phone slipped from her hand as darkness crept in.