When Valentina married Artyom, she was only twenty-two girl. She believed he is her desitny.
From the first days, the mother-in-law greeted him with caution. Her look spoke for itself: “You are not a match for my son.” Valya tried her best – she cleaned, cooked, adjusted.
Artyom was silent. He grew up in a family where his mother’s word was law. Even when she began to feel weak, she attributed it to fatigue.
The diagnosis happened suddenly.
The doctors shook their heads. That night, Valya cried into her pillow, hiding the pain from her husband.
One day his mother-in-law came to him and quietly said:
– You’re young, you have a long life ahead of you. And with this one… she’s just a burden. Why do you need her? Take her to the village, to Aunt Dunya. It’s quiet there, no one will judge you there. You’ll have some rest. And then you’ll begin a new life.
He didn’t answer.
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Valya was silent the whole way.
“It will be quiet here,” he said. “You will feel better.”
“Will you come back?” she muttered.
He didn’t answer. He just nodded briefly and left.
But d3ath was in no hurry.
Three months passed. Six. And one day a paramedic came to the village. Young, with a kind look. He started visiting her, putting in IVs, fiddling with medicines. Valya didn’t ask for help – she just didn’t want to pass away anymore.
And a miracle occured. First, a little bit – she got out of bed. Then she went out onto the porch. Then she reached the store. People were amazed:
– Are you coming back to life, Valyusha?
“I don’t know,” she responded. “I just want to live.”
A year passed. One day a car arrived in the village. Artem got out.
Valentina was sitting on the porch, in a blanket, with a cup of tea. Rosy, lively, with clear eyes. He was stunned.
– Are you… are you alive?
She looked calmly.
— Did you predict something different?
– I thought you…
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“D3ad?” she finished. “Yes, almost. But that’s what you wanted, right?”
He was silent.
— I really wanted to leave. In that house where the roof was leaking, where my hands were freezing from the cold, where no one was around — I wanted to pass away. But someone came every evening. Someone wasn’t afraid of the snowstorm, didn’t expect gratitude. He just did his job. And you left me. Not because you couldn’t be there — but because you didn’t want to.
“I’m confused,” he whispered. “Mom…”
– Your mother won’t save you, Artyom, – Valya spoke softly but firmly.
– Not before God, not before yourself. Take your documents. You won’t get an inheritance. I brought the house to the man who saved my life.
Aunt Dunya watched from her doorstep.
– Go, son, and don’t come back.
A week passed after Artyom left. He didn’t say anything – he just left. Valentina didn’t cry.
But fate commanded otherwise.
One day, a stranger appeared at the porch – in a black jacket, with a shabby briefcase in his hands. He asked if Valentina Mezentseva lived there.
“I,” she answered cautiously.
The notary sheepishly handed over a folder with documents.
— You have… a will. Your father passed away. According to the papers, you are the sole heir to an apartment in the city and a bank account. A large sum is due.
Valya froze. A thought flashed through her mind: “I don’t have a father.”
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My heart sank.
— A memorial service?
– Yes. He gathered everyone himself, said that you left in terrible agony. And a month later he sold your apartment. He said that he could not live there anymore.
Two days later she left for the city. Everything was confirmed. The apartment, the money, the documents – everything was transferred to her by law. She entered a new life no longer as a woman who was left to pass away in an abandoned house, but as a person capable of deciding her own fate.
But the story doesn’t end there.
One day, Valya was walking through the market and suddenly saw him – Artyom. Next to another woman. Pregnant.
Their eyes met. Artyom froze.
– Valya…
“You didn’t expect that?” she asked calmly.
“Did you really think that I would remain d3ad to the whole world?”
His companion looked at him questioningly.
– Who is this?
“An old friend,” he answered informally.
Valya smiled slightly:
– Yes, very old. The kind you buried long ago.
“Is everything okay?” he asked.
“Now yes,” answered Valya. “I got my name back.”
But life, as always, was arranging new directions.
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Ilya often dropped by. He didn’t rush her, didn’t pressure her. He brought her groceries, helped her with the housework, cooked borscht, and was silent next to her when she just needed to be with herself.
One quiet winter evening, while snow was falling outside the window, Valya said:
– You know, for the first time I feel alive. How strange, isn’t it?
Ilya smiled:
– Sometimes, to start breathing, you have to suffocate.
She looked at him for a long moment. Then, for the first time in a long time, she leaned against his shoulder.
A month later, Valya felt weak. At first she thought it was a cold. Then she thought it was fatigue. But the doctor, with a friendly smile, said something else:
– Congratulations, Valentina. You’re pregnant.
She froze.
During the ultrasound the doctor showed the screen:
– Everything is fine. One baby.
Ilya hugged her without asking any unnecessary questions. He just held her tightly.
“We can do this,” he said. “Together.”
And one day, while looking through the local newspaper, Valya came across a note:
“Man arrested for fraud. Accused of forging documents, organizing the fictitious death of his ex-wife and selling her property”
Name: Artem Mezentsev.
My heart sank sharply.
