The Road to Goodbye
The bus rattled to a stop at the edge of the village. Its brakes hissed, and with a soft creak, the doors opened. Olesya stepped down into the light drizzle, her coat pulled tightly around her pregnant belly. She moved slowly, her boots squelching in the wet gravel. No one else got off. The driver gave her a sympathetic glance in the rearview mirror before pulling away.
The village was still, the trees bare, their branches slick with rain. The only sounds were the soft thump of her footsteps and the rhythmic patter of droplets on her umbrella. She had not spoken a word the entire journey. She had barely moved, her eyes fixed on the window, watching the world blur past.
Her mind was trapped in the past, replaying every moment she had shared with Andrey. His laughter. His rough, calloused hands, always warm. The way he said her name—Olesya—in that low voice, like a secret only they shared.
The orphanage had been her first home. Then came the vocational school, followed by the night shift at the metalworks plant. Life was hard, but not unbearable. She had grown used to the rhythm of hunger, exhaustion, and loneliness. Then came Andrey.
He had arrived at the factory with a team of engineers to install new equipment. She remembered the first time she saw him—his confident stride, the way he rolled up his sleeves and dove into the greasy work like he wasn’t too good for it. He noticed her too. Not just noticed, but saw her, really saw her, as no one else had before.
