The first few days in the house were quiet. Grigory stayed in the guest room, moving slowly with the help of a walker. I did the bare minimum: I brought him food and helped him with his bandages.
One afternoon, he suddenly asked:
‘Do you play chess?’
I blinked, surprised by his question.
‘I used to, many years ago.’
‘Well,’ he said with a slight smile, ‘perhaps you could refresh my memory.’
From then on, we spent every day at the chessboard. Grigory began to open up to me, revealing character traits I had not expected. There was refinement in his manners, and behind his outward bravado was a surprisingly kind man.
Once, after a long pause in our game, he looked out at the sea and sighed heavily.
“You know… I lost my wife when we were young. She was everything to me. After she left, I just drifted through life.
— That must have been difficult.
— It left a void that I couldn’t fill. Not with work, not with travel… not with people. — He looked at me with a slight, sad smile. — Young girls… they were never what I needed.
His candour was genuine. I saw before me a man who had spent years running away from the pain of loss, while I myself had built walls so as not to feel anything too deeply.
Time passed, and by the time Grigory had fully recovered, I could no longer imagine my life without him. He was a man who simply needed real intimacy — just like me.
One day he suggested:
‘Let’s go into town and talk to Marina together.’
Part of me was afraid of her reaction, but with Grigory by my side, I felt ready for anything.
We found Marina in a small café that her friend had told her about.
‘What are you doing here?’ she asked coldly.
Grigory smiled calmly.
‘We just wanted to talk. Would you like to have a coffee with us?’
Marina rolled her eyes, but didn’t leave.
‘Fine. You have five minutes.’
We sat down at a table, and she listened, her gaze darting between us.
‘What are you doing here, Grigory?’ she suddenly blurted out. ‘Is this an attempt to become a father?’
‘No, Marina,’ he replied. ‘I’m here because I care. And because you deserve the right to decide what you really want, without pressure from me or your mother.’
A few days later, Marina called me.
‘Mum… maybe you were right. I no longer have access to Grigory’s card, and I can’t find a stable place to live. None of these men take me seriously. I… miss my old life, my friends, university.’
She paused, then added:
‘I’m sorry.’ I want to go back to university. This time I’ll try, Mum.
From that moment on, I felt that my daughter was coming back to me. Grigory helped me convey to her what I couldn’t do on my own.
When I hung up the phone, he looked at me with a warm smile.
“I love you. We’ll get through this together.”
And at that moment, I felt a quiet peace wash over me. For the first time, I was ready to let go of control and trust in what the future held. We stood there, holding hands, watching the waves crash against the shore, knowing that life would bring its challenges, but that we would face them together.