Ignat stood by the window, drumming his fingers on the windowsill. Outside, a light rain fell against the glass, turning the March evening into a gray shroud. A heavy silence hung in the apartment, broken only by Marina’s soft sobs and the rustle of bags as she hurriedly packed her belongings.
“Make sure there isn’t a soul left here in an hour,” he sneered without looking back. “And take the child with you.” “Ignat, pull yourself together!” Marina’s voice trembled. “Where are we going to go? I don’t even have money to rent a place!”
“Those are your problems,” he snapped. “You should have thought before sneaking around behind my back with your friends.”
Five-year-old Sasha, not understanding what was happening, clung to his mother’s leg and looked at his father with wide, frightened eyes.
“Dad, don’t chase us away,” the little boy mumbled.
Ignat finally turned. His gaze was as cold as ice:
“I’ve said everything. Get out of here.” Marina, clutching her son close, looked at her husband one last time:
“You’ll regret this, Ignat. I swear, you will.”
The front door slammed shut. Ignat poured himself a glass of cognac and smirked. Regret? Unlikely. That loser wasn’t going anywhere. After a month bouncing between rented apartments, she’d crawl back, begging to be let in. But he would remain unyielding.
He couldn’t have imagined how deeply he was mistaken.
Five years later.
Ignat was seated at a small table in the “Metropol” restaurant, distractedly studying the wine list. Across from him sat his business partner Viktor, with whom he was discussing yet another deal.
“Look at that woman!” Viktor suddenly whistled, nodding toward the entrance.
Ignat casually turned his head and froze. Marina was entering the restaurant. But what an entrance! A stylish black dress accentuated her perfect figure, and expensive jewelry shimmered in the light of the crystal chandeliers. She exuded confidence and dignity. Next to her walked a boy of about ten in a spotless suit – their son Sasha.
“Good evening, gentlemen,” came a melodious voice – that of the maître d’. “Madam Marina Alexandrovna, your table is ready.”
“Madam?” Ignat whispered in astonishment. “Do you know her?”
“Obviously!” Viktor snorted. “Marina Alexandrovna is the owner of the elite spa chain ‘Zhemchuzhina.’ She started from scratch, and now her business is valued in the millions. The smartest woman you’ll ever meet!”
Ignat felt the ground slip away beneath his feet. That very Marina—the one he had thrown out the door with just a bag of her things? The one who, in his opinion, was destined to languish in poverty?
“Pardon me,” he mumbled to Viktor and, as if hypnotized, walked to their table.
“Marina…” he began.
She looked up. In her eyes there was neither surprise nor fear – only cold composure:
“Hello, Ignat. Long time no see.”
“Mom, who’s this?” Sasha asked, curiously studying the stranger.
Those words struck Ignat like a slap in the face. His own son did not recognize him. And how could he? Five years is an entire lifetime for a child.
“This is…” Marina hesitated for a moment, “just an acquaintance, dear. Let’s place our order.”
“Just an acquaintance?” Ignat felt a fury boiling inside him. “I am his father!”
Sasha looked up from the menu:
“So, you’re the one who kicked us out?” the boy asked, his tone not showing any resentment or anger – only polite indifference. “Mom said you did that because you weren’t ready for a real family.”
“Sasha,” Marina softly hushed him, “let’s not talk about that now.”
“May I sit down?” Ignat pulled out a chair without waiting for permission.
“Actually, we’re expecting Uncle Andrey,” Sasha remarked. “He promised to show me his new 3-D modeling program. I want to be an architect like him.”
“Uncle Andrey?” Ignat shifted his gaze to Marina. She calmly adjusted her napkin:
“Yes, my husband. We’ve been together for three years now.”
Ignat felt a lump form in his throat. Three years… While he indulged his own ego, his son had found a new father.
“Marina, may we speak in private?” his voice betrayed a hint of vulnerability.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” she shook her head. “Everything that needed to be said was said five years ago. You made your choice; we made ours.”
At that moment, a tall man of about forty with kind eyes and a welcoming smile approached their table:
“Sorry I’m late, my dear. The traffic was awful.”
“Andrey!” Sasha joyfully jumped up. “Did you bring the program?”
“Of course, champ!” Andrey tousled the boy’s hair and then noticed Ignat. “Good evening.” “Ignat is already leaving,” Marina said firmly.
Slowly, Ignat rose from the table, feeling as though the ground were slipping away beneath him. Seeing his condition, Andrey displayed an unexpected largesse:
“Maybe you’d like to join us? I think you have a lot to talk about.”
“Thank you,” Ignat rasped and sank back into his chair.
An awkward silence settled over the table. The waiter brought the menus, and everyone pretended to be engrossed in studying them. Finally, Andrey broke the silence:
“Sasha, show me your latest sketches. You mentioned you have something interesting for a school project.”
The boy enthusiastically pulled a tablet from his backpack and moved closer to Andrey. They delved into discussion, leaving Ignat and Marina alone.
“I didn’t know…” Ignat began.
“What exactly didn’t you know?” Marina asked softly. “That we could survive without you? That I could build a business? Or that Sasha would grow into a wonderful boy without your involvement?”
“Everything,” he admitted honestly. “I was blind. I selfishly thought only of myself and my career.”
“You know, I actually have to thank you,” Marina said thoughtfully.
“Thank you?” Ignat was astonished.
“Yes. That night changed my life completely. I realized then that I would never let anyone else decide for me!”
She had started small – opening a little beauty salon. She worked sixteen hours a day. Sasha often fell asleep right there on a small couch in the corner.
She paused, looking at her son who was passionately explaining something to Andrey.
“Then, regular clients started coming, I took out a loan, and opened a second salon. I constantly learned new things, raising my level of expertise. And every evening as I tucked Sasha in, I promised him that everything would be alright. And you know what? I kept that promise.”
Ignat listened without interrupting. Every word hit him squarely, forcing him to face the depth of his mistake.
“And then I met Andrey,” Marina smiled. “He came to the salon as a client – can you believe it? A successful architect who takes such good care of himself. We started talking and found so much in common. He, too, started from scratch and worked hard. And most importantly – he accepted Sasha immediately.”
“He’s a good man,” Ignat had to admit.
“The best,” Marina stated firmly. “You know what he did when he found out that Sasha is interested in architecture? He began taking him into his studio, teaching him the fundamentals of design. Together, they create 3-D models and discuss modern trends. Andrey doesn’t see him merely as his wife’s child; he sees him as a person with interests and dreams.”
A lump rose in Ignat’s throat. He recalled how he used to shoo little Sasha away when he asked to play, how he grew irritated by his child’s questions and noise.
“Have I ruined everything?” he asked quietly.
“You only showed us that we deserve better,” Marina replied calmly. “And we have found that better.”
At that moment, Sasha and Andrey resumed their conversation. The boy beamed with pride:
“Mom, guess what? Uncle Andrey said my project could be showcased at a real architectural exhibition! Though, I need to refine some details first…”
“That’s wonderful, sweetheart!” Marina smiled.
“Sasha,” Ignat suddenly said, surprising even himself, “may I also see your project?”
For a moment, the boy hesitated, then looked questioningly at Andrey. He gave a barely perceptible nod.
“Okay,” Sasha agreed and handed over the tablet. “This is a project for an eco-friendly residential complex. See, here are solar panels on the roof and, over here, a rainwater collection system…”
Ignat listened intently as his son explained every detail, amazed by the depth of his knowledge and the thoughtfulness behind each decision. Every detail was in its place, every choice justified. At just eleven years old, Sasha reasoned like a true professional.
“That is truly impressive,” Ignat said sincerely. “You’re doing a great job.”
“Thank you,” Sasha replied, and for the first time that evening, Ignat saw his son smile at him. “Uncle Andrey told me that the key in architecture is attention to detail and caring about the people who will eventually live in your designs.”
“Your Uncle Andrey is absolutely right,” Ignat nodded, finding it hard to accept these words.
The evening was drawing to a close. The waiter brought the check, which Andrey promptly claimed for himself, dismissing Ignat’s offers to pay for everyone.
“You know,” Andrey said as they left the restaurant, “if Sasha doesn’t mind, perhaps you all could meet from time to time. Of course, in the company of one of us.”
Marina remained silent, not objecting. Sasha thought for a moment, then nodded:
“That’s fine. But no promises, alright? Let’s just see what happens.”
“No promises,” Ignat agreed, understanding that this was the most he could hope for.
They said their goodbyes. Ignat watched the family leave – Andrey holding Marina’s hand, while Sasha animatedly talked, gesturing broadly. They were happy and whole without him.
Taking out his phone, Ignat dialed the number of his psychotherapist:
“Hello, doctor. Do you remember saying that I need to learn to accept the consequences of my decisions? I think I’m ready to start working on that. Truly ready.”
The rain had stopped, and the starry sky was reflected in the puddles. Somewhere in the distance, the lights of skyscrapers twinkled – maybe one day, among them, there would be a building designed by his son. And that would be beautiful, even if Ignat could only watch from the sidelines.
