“Andrey, promise me you won’t abandon Larisa,” Nina pleaded with weak, trembling hands. “You know how fragile she is… She needs care, constant attention. I know it won’t be easy, but I can’t bear the thought of leaving her alone. You’ll only need to look after her for two more years. Please… just do the right thing.”
Andrey nodded solemnly, but deep down, he felt no real obligation. He knew it wouldn’t last forever. When Nina had first fallen ill, he had been devastated. He held onto hope that she could recover. But as the years passed, exhaustion replaced sympathy. And Larisa—Nina’s sickly daughter—was another burden he never signed up for. She spent most of her time in her room, silent, withdrawn.
Eventually, frustration crept into his thoughts. He longed for a normal life, a healthy partner by his side—not a frail, fading woman and her permanently ill daughter. At times, he considered leaving Nina, but he feared judgment from others. Yet, when doctors predicted she had less than a year to live, he resolved to endure just a little longer.
At stake was a spacious four-bedroom apartment, a valuable inheritance from Nina’s late husband. But Larisa remained an obstacle, a shadow in the corner of his future plans. Getting rid of her wouldn’t be difficult—at least, not in a way that would leave him guilty of a crime.
Nina’s funeral was quiet. During her long illness, friends had drifted away.
That day, Andrey wasn’t alone. He crossed paths with a woman named Liza—a free-spirited, carefree 30-year-old. She had just fought with her boyfriend and was hitchhiking home. Andrey, craving the lightness she exuded, gave her a ride. One thing led to another, and soon, Liza filled his thoughts. Within weeks, she was living in his apartment.
But there was a problem—Larisa.
She didn’t openly oppose Liza, but her mere presence disrupted the illusion of a fresh start. She was quiet, but when she spoke, her words carried sharpness. She refused to be ignored.
One evening, Liza turned to Andrey, irritation in her voice.
“Either you do something about her, or I’m leaving.”
Andrey frowned. “What do you expect me to do?”
Liza’s lips curled into a smirk. “I don’t know, Andrey. Figure it out. I thought you were a man who could handle his problems.”
He hesitated. “You’re not suggesting…?”
“Relax,” she interrupted, rolling her eyes. “I’m not talking about anything extreme. But I remember you mentioned an old house she owns, somewhere in a village.”
“Yeah, Nina mentioned it once. It belonged to Larisa’s grandmother.”
“Perfect. Tell everyone the doctor prescribed fresh air for her recovery. Say you hired a caretaker. Drop her off there and let time do the rest.”
Andrey pondered her words. It wasn’t a crime—he was simply relocating Larisa. No one would suspect a thing.
Three days later, everything was arranged.
“Larisa, we’re going to the countryside,” he informed her.
The girl sat up slowly, eyes studying him. “The countryside?”
“The doctor says fresh air will do you good,” he replied.
Larisa smirked. “Is the doctor’s name Liza, by any chance?”
Andrey’s expression darkened. “You really should be more grateful.”
Three hours later, they were on the road. Andrey had packed her things himself, only allowing her to point out what she wanted to take. She even insisted on bringing an old doll—something that seemed absurd for a 16-year-old girl.
It was a long drive. As night fell, rain began to pour, forcing them to pull over for a while. Later, they stopped at a roadside market, where an old woman selling herbs caught Larisa’s attention.
The woman spoke to Larisa about the healing properties of her plants. Then she turned to Andrey and, in a hushed tone, said, “No herb can cure your illness.”
Andrey scoffed. “And what illness is that?”
“Greed,” she replied simply.
Annoyed, Andrey shook his head and turned back to Larisa. “You understand I’m doing this for you, right? You need a proper caretaker.”
The old woman suddenly interjected. “I’ll go with her,” she offered. “I have nowhere else to be. I can take care of the girl.”
Before Andrey could react, the woman climbed into the car.
The house was much bigger than he remembered. The landscape surrounding it—a peaceful lake and a thick forest—made him realize something: this property was valuable.
A new thought formed in his mind—perhaps he could sell it. But that would have to wait. He just needed to leave quickly.
As soon as the last of Larisa’s bags was unloaded, Andrey got in his car and sped off.
The old woman squinted at the disappearing vehicle.
“He left in a hurry,” she muttered.
Larisa exhaled. “He didn’t bring me here to recover. He brought me here to die.”
The old woman chuckled. “Well, we’ll see about that. Come inside, child. You’re not going anywhere just yet.”
Over the next few months, life changed. Larisa regained strength, thanks to the old woman’s care and the kindness of the village folk. A young man named Dimka often visited, bringing fresh milk and chatting with her.
Two years passed.
One day, Andrey returned, this time with Liza by his side. His financial situation had taken a turn for the worse, and he remembered the house he had abandoned.
“Let’s just sell it,” Liza snapped. “She’s probably long gone.”
As they arrived, they noticed something strange—paths had been cleared in the snow, smoke curled from the chimney. Someone lived there.
Before they could approach, two figures skied toward them.
A tall young man. And a young woman.
Andrey’s breath caught in his throat.
“Larisa?”
She crossed her arms. “Surprised to see me alive?”
“You were supposed to—”
“Disappear?” she interrupted. “Not quite. In two months, I turn eighteen, which means I own this house. So, pack up your little girlfriend and leave.”
Liza pulled at Andrey’s sleeve. “Let’s go.”
Andrey hesitated, but there was nothing left to say. His last chance at financial salvation had slipped through his fingers.
As their car disappeared down the road, Grandmother Alyona stepped onto the porch.
“Who was that?” she asked.
“No one important,” Larisa replied, slipping an arm around Dimka. “Let’s go inside. I think I smell pancakes.”
The old woman smiled. “Then we better hurry before they get cold.”
And with that, they stepped back into the warmth of their home, leaving the past behind.