The doorbell rang just as I was unpacking the last box of dishes. Three years after the divorce, I finally had a place of my own. A small but cozy two-bedroom apartment on the fourteenth floor of a new residential building. A view of the park, morning light in the bedroom, and the kind of silence I had missed so much in all those rented apartments.
The bell rang again, insistent and demanding. I brushed the dust off my hands and went to the door, wondering who on earth it could be. I was not planning a housewarming until the following week, when everything would at least be in place.
The moment I opened the door, I froze.
Andrey, my ex-husband, was standing on the threshold, breathing hard as though he had run the entire way instead of driving his usual black Volkswagen.
“So, you bought it,” he blurted out instead of saying hello, looking me up and down.
Without thinking, I ran a hand over my hair, twisted into a messy bun, and tugged at my stretched-out T-shirt. I was not exactly looking my best.
“Hello, Andrey,” I said calmly, though inside I was seething. “What brings you here?”
“Mashka told me,” he said, naming our mutual friend, who had obviously failed to keep her mouth shut. “You couldn’t call and tell me yourself?”
“Was I supposed to?” I crossed my arms over my chest, making no move to invite him in.
Andrey frowned and raked a hand through his dark hair, a gesture I had once found charming and now found only irritating.
“No, of course not. I just…” He faltered, clearly unsure how to explain his sudden appearance. “Can I come in?”
I hesitated. On the one hand, seeing him was the last thing I wanted that day. On the other, we had barely spoken in almost a year, and he had not shown up here by accident.
“For five minutes,” I said at last, stepping aside. “I still have a lot to do.”
He walked in and glanced around the half-empty rooms, the boxes, the hurriedly arranged furniture.
“Not bad,” he said, with a strange expression on his face. “How big is it?”
“Fifty-eight square meters. It’s enough for me.”
“And where did you get the money?” The question came out sharper than anything he had said so far.
I felt my face grow hot with anger. So that was it. He had not come to congratulate me on the apartment. He had rushed over to find out how his ex-wife, the one he had left with nothing three years ago, had managed to buy a home.
“Why does it matter?” I asked coldly.
“It matters if you took out a loan. You know what rates are like now. You’ll drown in the payments.”
“Andrey,” I said, taking a deep breath to steady myself, “we divorced three years ago. My financial situation is none of your business.”
“I’m worried about you, Lena,” he said, his voice suddenly softer. “You’ve always been impulsive. Remember when you nearly bought that plot of land without even checking the documents?”
“That was ten years ago!” I snapped. “And what is all this concern about? When you left me for your… what was her name… Veronika, I don’t remember you being this worried.”
Andrey winced as if he had a toothache.
“Veronika and I broke up.”
Was that supposed to matter to me? I shrugged.
“I’m sorry to hear that. But it doesn’t explain why you’re here.”
He wandered into the living room without waiting for permission and stopped by the window, looking out at the view.
“Nice neighborhood. Is there good transport nearby?”
“Andrey,” I said, losing patience, “what do you want?”
He turned toward me, and for the first time since he had arrived, I noticed how much he had changed over the years. The lines around his eyes were deeper. There was gray at his temples. He looked tired and somehow… lost.
“Do you remember how we used to dream about having our own apartment?” he asked unexpectedly. “Making plans, sketching layouts on napkins, arguing about wall colors…”
“I remember,” I said quietly. “And then you decided you wanted another woman, not another apartment.”
“I made a mistake,” he said simply.
I laughed, hardly believing what I was hearing.
“Seriously? You barge into my home three years after our divorce and tell me you made a mistake? What exactly do you expect me to say to that?”
“I don’t know.” He lowered himself onto the only chair standing in the middle of the room. “I really don’t know, Lena. When Masha told me you had bought an apartment, it hit me like electricity. This was supposed to be us. Together.”
“But we are not together,” I said firmly. “And that was your choice, not mine.”
“And if I wanted to fix everything?” He looked up at me with open hope.
“Fix it?” I shook my head. “Some things cannot be fixed. You can only let them go and move on. Which is exactly what I did.”
“So there’s someone else?” There was jealousy in his voice.
“No. But even if there were, it would still be none of your business.”
Andrey got to his feet and moved a little closer.
“Lena, I’m serious. I’ve been thinking about us a lot lately. About what I lost.”
“And what exactly is troubling you?” I asked, taking a step back. “The fact that you lost something, or the fact that I gained something? Do you remember what you told me when we divorced? That I’d never stand on my own without you. That without your support I’d fall apart. Maybe what really bothers you is that I managed just fine by myself.”
He looked offended.
“You think I’m that petty?”
“I don’t know what kind of man you are now, Andrey. We’re strangers.”
He stood in silence for a long moment, absorbing my words. Then he nodded slowly.
“You’re probably right. I just… I didn’t expect to miss you this much.”
His words hurt more than I wanted to admit. There had been so many nights when I cried into my pillow, missing him, missing the life we had shared. And now, just when I was finally moving on, he appeared out of nowhere with confessions.
“You should go,” I said quietly. “I really do have a lot to do.”
“Yes, of course.” He headed for the door, then stopped. “Can I at least ask where the money came from? Just so I won’t worry.”
I hesitated, then decided the information was hardly secret.
“My grandmother’s inheritance. My savings. And maternity capital after Misha was born.”
His face changed instantly.
“Misha? You… you have a child?”
Damn. That was exactly what I had not wanted to talk about.
“Yes, Andrey. I have a son. He’s a year and seven months old.”
“A year and…” He did the math in his head. “So you weren’t pregnant when we…”
“No,” I cut him off sharply. “I wasn’t pregnant when we got divorced. That happened later.”
“And who’s the father?” His voice had gone tense.
“That’s none of your business.”
“Lena, please. I just want to know.”
I sighed.
“His name is Dmitry. We met through work. But we’re not together, if that’s what you’re wondering.”
“Is he involved in raising him?”
“Financially, yes. Otherwise, no. He was transferred to another city. He’s a good man, Andrey, just not ready for a family.”
Andrey nodded, taking it all in.
“And where is Misha now?”
“With my parents. I’m picking him up tomorrow, once I finish the main things in the apartment.”
He was quiet for a moment, then suddenly asked:
“Would it be possible for me to meet him sometime?”
The question caught me completely off guard.
“Why?”
“I don’t know.” He lifted one shoulder. “I just want to.”
I had no idea what to say. Part of me wanted to throw him out immediately and forget the conversation had ever happened. Another part, the part that still remembered the good times we had shared, wavered.
“I’ll think about it,” I said at last. “But right now, please leave.”
He nodded, opened the door, then turned back before stepping out.
“Thank you for talking to me. And… congratulations on the apartment. You did well.”
When the door closed behind him, I leaned against the wall and shut my eyes. What on earth had that been? Why had he come? And what was I supposed to do with his strange request to meet Misha?
My phone rang at half past six the next morning. I fumbled for it without opening my eyes and answered before even checking the screen.
“Hello?”
“Good morning, Lena,” Andrey said brightly, as though he had not slept all night. “Sorry for calling so early.”
I sat bolt upright in bed.
“Andrey? Have you lost your mind? It’s seven in the morning!”
“Half past six, actually,” he corrected. “Listen, I was thinking… maybe you need help with the apartment? Shelves, light fixtures, that kind of thing?”
I rubbed my temples, trying to process what was happening.
“You called me at six-thirty in the morning to offer to hang shelves?”
“Well, yes.” I could hear the smile in his voice. “You’ve probably got a million things to do, and I’m off today. I could bring my tools.”
“Andrey,” I said, trying to stay calm, “I appreciate the offer, but I can manage. I have friends helping me.”
“Friends are great,” he said after a short pause. “What about lunch? I could bring something good. You probably haven’t had time to stock the fridge yet.”
His persistence was starting to annoy me.
“Thank you, but no. I already have plans.”
“Plans with Misha?” he asked immediately.
“Yes. I’m picking him up from my mother’s after lunch.”
“Perfect!” he exclaimed with such enthusiasm that I had to pull the phone away from my ear. “Then I can come over in the morning, help with whatever you need, and maybe we can go get him together?”
“Andrey, stop,” I said, the irritation rising in me. “I did not invite you to help, and I definitely did not agree to introduce you to Misha. What is going on with you?”
There was silence on the line.
“I’m sorry,” he finally said. “I’m rushing things, aren’t I?”
“Yes!” I burst out. “We haven’t seen each other in forever, and now all of a sudden you want to jump back into my life, meet my child… it’s strange, Andrey.”
“I know,” he said, his voice turning serious. “It’s just that when I saw your apartment yesterday, I realized how much I’d missed. How far you had moved on without me. You have a new life now, a child… and I’m still exactly where I was three years ago.”
His words softened me a little.
“Listen,” I said, “I’m not against talking. Maybe, in time, we can even become friends. But not like this, okay? And Misha… that’s too serious. He’s little. He’s impressionable. I can’t just bring new people into his life for no reason.”
“I understand,” he said again. “I really do. Just think about it, all right? I’m not in a hurry.”
Not in a hurry? Calling me at half past six in the morning certainly said otherwise. But aloud I only said:
“Fine. I’ll think about it. And now please let me sleep for another hour.”
“Of course,” he said, that smile returning to his voice. “Sweet dreams, Lenochka.”
That old pet name, unused for years, struck my heart in a way I did not expect. I ended the call quickly.
I could not fall back asleep. I lay there staring at the ceiling, thinking about our conversation, about his unexpected call, about the fact that he had broken up with Veronika. For three years I had carefully avoided all thoughts of him, and now he had barged back into my life, and I had no idea what I felt about it.
By eight, I got up, showered, and began unpacking the remaining boxes. Work helped keep my mind off my ex-husband and his strange behavior. By ten, I had almost finished and was trying to decide where to put the bookcase when the doorbell rang again.
Please not him, I thought.
But when I opened the door, my mother stood there, carrying a large bag.
“Hi, sweetheart!” she said, hugging me. “I thought I’d come early and help. Then we can go get Mishenka together. He’s with Grandpa now.”
“Mom, you’re the best,” I said, letting her in.
“Wow, you’ve done almost everything already!” she said, looking around. “I thought this place would still be chaos.”
“I got up early,” I said vaguely, not wanting to explain the call from Andrey.
“And that’s a good thing,” she said, pulling containers of food out of her bag. “I made pies and cooked some borscht. I knew you wouldn’t have time to cook.”
“Thank you,” I said, my eyes suddenly stinging with tears at such simple care.
She looked at me closely.
“What’s wrong? You’re jumpy.”
I sighed. There was no hiding anything from her.
“Andrey showed up.”
She froze with a container in her hands.
“I see. What does he want?”
“I honestly don’t know,” I said, sitting down at the table. “He rushed over yesterday as soon as he heard about the apartment. Then he called at six-thirty this morning offering to help. And he wants to meet Misha.”
“Why on earth?” my mother snapped. “He disappeared for three years, and now all of a sudden he’s interested?”
“He said he and Veronika broke up. And that he misses me.”
My mother snorted.
“Of course he misses you. He ended up alone, so now he remembered you. I hope you told him exactly where to go.”
“Not exactly,” I admitted. “I told him I’d think about letting him meet Misha.”
“Lena!” my mother threw up her hands. “Have you lost your mind? Why would your child need that… that…”
“Mom, I didn’t promise anything,” I said quickly. “I just didn’t want a scene. Besides…” I hesitated. “Maybe this is stupid, but sometimes I think Misha is missing a male presence in his life.”
My mother sat down across from me.
“Darling, I understand how you feel. But Andrey is not the man who should influence your son. He left you when you needed him most.”
“He didn’t know I needed him,” I said softly. “I never told him about my problems. About my illness.”
She took my hand.
“That doesn’t excuse him. A real man does not leave a woman for the first pretty face that comes along. And now that pretty face left him, so he came running back? And you’re seriously thinking of bringing him into Misha’s life?”
“I’m not seriously thinking anything,” I said wearily. “I just don’t know what the right thing is.”
“Do what’s best for you and for Misha,” she said firmly. “Not what’s best for Andrey.”
I nodded, because I knew she was right. I just didn’t know what “best” looked like anymore.
By the time we came back with Misha, it was nearly five. My son, a fair-haired little boy with curious brown eyes, immediately began exploring the new apartment, peeking into every corner and every cupboard.
“Home,” he said seriously, stopping in the middle of the living room. “Our home?”
“Yes, sweetheart,” I said, crouching in front of him. “This is our new home. Do you like it?”
Misha nodded, then ran to the window and pressed his nose against the glass.
“Trees! Birds!”
“Yes, honey, there’s a park out there. We’ll go walking there.”
My mother started unpacking his things while I went into the kitchen to put the kettle on. At that moment, the doorbell rang.
Please not Andrey, flashed through my mind, but when I opened the door, it was Masha, the same friend who had told my ex-husband about the apartment.
“Hi!” she cried cheerfully, holding out a cake box. “I thought I’d drop by for the housewarming! Oh, is Mishanya already here? Hi, little guy!”
She breezed past me without waiting for an invitation and immediately started hugging Misha, who squealed with delight. He adored his “Aunt Masha.”
“What a cute little apartment!” she chirped, looking around. “Did you decorate it all yourself? And where did you get those curtains? I need the same ones!”
I looked at her, unsure whether I wanted to be angry or not. On the one hand, it was because of her that Andrey had shown up yesterday. On the other, we had been friends since kindergarten, and I knew she had never been capable of keeping a secret. It was almost surprising that when she told Andrey about the apartment, she somehow forgot to mention that I had a son.
“Masha,” I finally said when she released Misha from her embrace, “I need to talk to you.”
“Of course!” She instantly put on a serious face. “Did something happen?”
I led her into the kitchen, away from my mother’s ears.
“Why did you tell Andrey about my apartment?”
Her eyes widened.
“Was I not supposed to? We ran into each other at the mall, started talking… He asked how you were doing, so I said you’d bought a place and were moving. What’s the big deal?”
“He came here yesterday,” I whispered. “And he called this morning at six-thirty. Offered help. Wants to meet Misha…”
“Wow!” Masha looked genuinely impressed. “And what did you say?”
“I told him I’d think about it. What else was I supposed to say?”
“And you don’t want to… I don’t know… maybe try again?” she asked carefully. “You were together for so many years. And Misha needs a father.”
“Misha has a father,” I said sharply. “That’s not the issue. The issue is that he lives far away.”
“Oh, come on, Lenka,” Masha waved a hand. “What kind of father is Dima? He sends money once a month and thinks that’s enough. But Andrey… he always wanted children.”
“Then why did he leave me when he found out about my diagnosis?” I asked bitterly.
Masha stared at me in confusion.
“What diagnosis? He told me you split up because of disagreements, and then he met Veronika…”
I went still. She did not know. I had never told her. Which meant Andrey hadn’t either.
“Yes,” I muttered. “Something like that. Look, Masha, I’m not angry with you. Just… don’t tell him anything else about me or Misha, okay? It’s complicated.”
“Of course,” she said, nodding. “I’m sorry if I caused trouble. I thought you two were on normal terms.”
“We barely spoke after the divorce.”
“Or maybe it’s a sign,” she said suddenly with a smile. “Maybe fate is bringing you back together now, right when you’ve finally found your footing. Maybe you should give him a chance.”
I shook my head.
“No, Masha. That train left a long time ago.”
But somewhere deep inside, a tiny treacherous voice whispered, What if she’s right? What if it really is a sign?
After Masha and my mother left, Misha and I were alone in the new apartment. He had already claimed his room and was now building a tower of blocks in the middle of the living room, while I sat on the couch watching him and thinking about Andrey.
What had he really meant by showing up so suddenly? Did he simply miss me, or did he truly regret leaving? And was I doing the right thing by considering letting him meet my son?
My phone rang again. Andrey’s name flashed across the screen.
“Hello,” I answered on the fourth ring, still unsure whether I wanted to talk.
“Hi,” he said, sounding uncertain. “Did I wake you?”
“No, we’re still up.”
“We?” he asked at once. “So Misha’s already with you?”
“Yes. I picked him up this afternoon.”
There was a pause.
“And how is he? Does he like the new place?”
I looked at my son, who had just knocked down his tower with a crash and was laughing his head off.
“I think so. He’s settling in.”
“That’s good,” Andrey said. He fell silent again, then spoke more firmly. “Lena, I want to apologize for the morning call. And for barging in yesterday. You were right. I was rushing everything.”
That admission caught me off guard.
“It’s fine,” I said awkwardly.
“No, it isn’t,” he said. “I acted like an idiot. It’s just… when I heard about the apartment, something in me snapped. I remembered how we used to dream about exactly that, and I realized it could all have been ours. If not for me.”
I said nothing. Three years ago I had dreamed of hearing those words. But now?
“Andrey,” I said at last, “you can’t bring the past back. We’ve both changed. I have a different life now.”
“I know,” he said quietly. “And I’m not asking to bring it back. I just… maybe we could see each other now and then? As friends. I’d really like to meet your son. Not as a father, obviously, just as a family friend.”
I looked at Misha gathering his blocks to build another tower. What would I actually be risking? If Andrey just wanted friendship, there was nothing wrong with that. And maybe a male role model would not be such a bad thing for Misha.
“All right,” I said finally. “We can try. But only as friends, Andrey. No hints at anything more.”
“Of course!” The relief in his voice was so obvious that I found myself smiling. “Thank you, Lena. Really.”
“There’s nothing to thank me for yet. We can meet in the park this weekend. Misha loves parks.”
“Great! Saturday?”
“Saturday,” I confirmed. “Two o’clock, by the main entrance.”
After the call, I sat for a long time looking at my phone, wondering whether I had made a mistake. But something told me it was the right decision. People do change. Maybe Andrey really had understood what he’d done.
Saturday turned out unusually warm and sunny for late September. Misha and I arrived at the park a little early. He was thrilled by the place. There were not just ordinary swings and slides, but a whole play area with climbing ropes and maze-like structures for older children.
“Look, Mama!” Misha pointed at everything that caught his eye: a squirrel darting through the branches, bright red maple leaves, a dog racing after a stick.
I smiled, soaking in his joy and trying not to think about the meeting ahead. But when ten minutes passed after two and Andrey still had not arrived, I began to feel anxious. Had he changed his mind? Or had something happened?
“Lena!” I heard a familiar voice and turned.
Andrey was running toward us down the path, carrying an enormous teddy bear and a bunch of balloons.
“Sorry I’m late,” he blurted out, stopping in front of me. “I couldn’t decide what to buy, so I got both.”
I stared at him.
“Andrey, we agreed this would just be a simple meeting. What is all this for?”
“Well…” He shrugged. “A first meeting should feel special.”
Misha, who had been hiding behind my leg until then, peeked out curiously at the strange man with the toys.
“Hi there, little man,” Andrey said, crouching down. “My name’s Andrey. And I know your name is Misha.”
Misha eyed him suspiciously, then shifted his gaze to the teddy bear.
“This is for you,” Andrey said, holding it out. “Think you two could be friends?”
Misha looked at me as if asking permission. I nodded, and he carefully took the bear, which was nearly as tall as he was.
“Thank you,” he said quietly, hugging it.
“And the balloons?” Andrey offered them too. “They’re for you.”
Misha broke into a grin and grabbed the balloons with his free hand.
“Mama, look!” he cried, turning toward me.
“Yes, sweetheart, they’re beautiful,” I said, smiling at him before turning back to Andrey. “You didn’t need to spend money on all this.”
“It’s nothing,” he said with a wave of his hand. “I just wanted the first meeting to be memorable.”
We started walking slowly down the path. Misha trotted between us, clutching his bear and balloons. Andrey kept glancing at him with an expression I couldn’t quite read.
“He looks like you,” he said suddenly. “Same eyes.”
“Everyone says that,” I said with a small smile. “Though I think he looks more like my father. Same stubborn streak.”
“And his father?” Andrey asked carefully. “What’s he like?”
I stiffened.
“We agreed this would be a friendly meeting, Andrey. No personal questions.”
“Sorry,” he said at once, raising his hands. “Just curious. But you’re right. It’s none of my business.”
We reached the playground, and Misha immediately tugged me toward it.
“Swings!” he shouted, pointing to an empty set.
“Go ahead,” I said. “But you’ll have to leave the bear and balloons. I’ll hold them.”
Reluctantly, he handed over his treasures and ran off. Andrey watched him with a smile.
“He’s amazing,” he said. “So… alive.”
“Yes,” I said. “He never stops moving. Sometimes I can barely keep up with him.”
“Do you need help?” Andrey asked immediately. “I could babysit sometimes if you need rest or have to run errands.”
I looked at him doubtfully.
“Thank you, but you two just met. It’s too early to talk about that.”
“Of course,” he said. “I was only offering.”
We stopped near the swings and watched Misha pump his legs impatiently.
“You’ve changed,” Andrey said unexpectedly. “You seem… stronger. More confident.”
I gave a short laugh.
“Life made me that way.”
“Lena,” he said, turning to me, “I need to ask. What happened with your diagnosis?”
“It was a long time ago, Andrey. It doesn’t matter anymore.”
“It matters to me,” he insisted. “If I ignored something serious, then I need to know now.”
I sighed, realizing he was not going to let it go.
“Do you remember how I started getting sick a couple of months before the divorce? Constant exhaustion, weakness…”
He frowned, thinking back.
“Yes. You kept going to doctors, but they couldn’t find anything.”
“They found it later,” I said, staring ahead instead of at him. “A month after the divorce. An autoimmune disease. Rare. Not pleasant. The doctors said my chances of getting pregnant were almost zero.”
Andrey went pale.
“My God, Lena… But I didn’t know that. I mean… I didn’t know it was that serious.”
“What would have been the point of telling you?” I asked. “You had already chosen Veronika. And you always wanted children. Lots of them. Why would you want a wife who couldn’t give you that?”
“Lena,” he said, taking my hand, “if I had known…”
I pulled my hand away.
“What? You would have stayed out of pity? No thank you.”
“Not out of pity,” he said. “Because I loved you. In spite of everything.”
“You didn’t love me, Andrey,” I said quietly. “If you had, you wouldn’t have left for someone else the first chance you got.”
He lowered his head.
“I was an idiot. A selfish idiot who couldn’t see past his own nose. Veronika… it was like some kind of obsession. I thought life with her would be simpler, easier. No problems, no responsibilities.”
“And was it?” I asked before I could stop myself.
“No.” He gave a bitter smile. “She turned out to be even more difficult than you. Jealousy, hysterics, endless complaints… and then she found someone richer and more interesting.”
I stayed silent. Part of me felt grim satisfaction. Another part felt sorry for him. I knew what it was like to be left behind.
“And what about Misha?” Andrey asked after a moment. “The doctors said you had almost no chance, but somehow he happened.”
“A miracle.” I smiled as I looked at my son, now digging in the sandbox. “The doctors are still amazed. They say it’s one case in a thousand. I got lucky.”
“We got lucky,” Andrey said without thinking.
I turned sharply toward him.
“What do you mean ‘we’?”
He flushed.
“Sorry, that came out wrong. I just mean… I’m happy for you. That things turned out well. That you’re happy.”
At that moment Misha came running up to us, covered in sand.
“Mama! Andrey! Let’s go feed the ducks!”
“He remembered my name,” Andrey whispered with almost childlike delight, then said aloud, “Of course! I even brought bread!”
He pulled a small bag of crumbs from his jacket pocket, and Misha clapped in excitement.
“You came prepared,” I said.
“I wanted everything to go perfectly,” he replied simply.
On the way home, Misha was fast asleep in Andrey’s arms, hugging his new teddy bear. I had tied the balloons to the stroller handle. Misha had refused to ride in it earlier, insisting on walking by himself, but by the end of the day he had grown tired and cranky, and Andrey had offered to carry him.
“He’s heavy,” I said, watching how easily Andrey held him.
“It’s fine,” he said with a smile. “I have nephews. I’m used to it.”
We walked in silence, enjoying the warm evening. The meeting had turned out to be… not nearly as awful as I had expected. In some ways, it had even been nice. Misha had warmed to Andrey quickly, and by the end of the walk he had been chattering away, showing him his toys and telling him all about his little adventures in toddler language.
“Well, here we are,” I said when we reached my building. “Thank you for the walk. And for the bear.”
“Thank you for agreeing to this,” he said, carefully handing me my sleeping son. “Can I… can I come again?”
I hesitated. On one hand, the day had gone well. On the other, I was not sure I was ready to start seeing my ex-husband regularly.
“Let’s do it this way,” I said at last. “If Misha asks about you tomorrow, then he liked you and we can meet again. If he doesn’t… then I suppose it wasn’t meant to be.”
Andrey nodded, accepting the condition.
“Fair enough. Then maybe… until next time?”
“Maybe,” I said with a small smile, and headed toward the entrance.
The next morning, Misha woke up earlier than usual and immediately ran to hug the giant teddy bear we had barely managed to get into the apartment the day before.
