“I don’t understand what you’re asking, Step,” Katya said, confused.
“Nothing serious,” Stepan replied. “I just want some time alone, to go to the country house, unwind, lose a few pounds. You’re getting a bit too comfortable.”
He glanced dismissively at Katya’s figure. She knew her weight had increased due to her treatment, but she chose not to respond.
“Where is this country house?” she asked.
“It’s in a really beautiful spot,” Stepan said with a smile. “You’ll like it.”
Katya decided not to argue. She too needed some space. *Maybe we’re just tired of each other,* she thought. *Let him miss me. I won’t come back until he asks.*
She began to pack.
“Aren’t you upset?” Stepan asked, looking at her. “It’s just for a little while.”
“No, it’s fine,” Katya said, forcing a smile.
“Alright, I’m off then,” Stepan said, kissing her on the cheek as he left.
Katya sighed deeply. Their kisses had long since lost their warmth.
The drive took much longer than expected. Katya got lost twice—the GPS failed, and there was no signal. Eventually, she saw a sign with the name of the village. The place seemed isolated, with neat wooden houses adorned with carved window frames.
“Clearly, there are no modern amenities here,” Katya thought.
She wasn’t wrong. The house was a dilapidated hut. Without a car or a phone, it felt like stepping back in time. Katya pulled out her phone, but there was still no signal.
As the sun began to set, Katya grew tired. She couldn’t stay in the car, and she wasn’t eager to head back to the city either. *I’ll just wait for Stepan to ask me to come back,* she thought.
She got out of the car, her bright red jacket standing out against the rural landscape. She smiled to herself.
“Well, Katya, we won’t be forgotten,” she said aloud.
The next morning, the loud crowing of a rooster at her car window woke her. She had fallen asleep there.
“What’s all this noise?” Katya grumbled as she rolled down the window.
The rooster stared at her, then crowed again.
“Why are you shouting so loudly?” Katya complained. Then, a broom flew past the window, and the rooster went silent.
An elderly man appeared at the doorstep.
“Good morning!” he greeted her.
Katya was surprised. He seemed like someone straight out of a storybook.
“Don’t be mad at our rooster,” the old man said. “He’s a good one, just crows like he’s being chopped.”
Katya laughed, and her tiredness quickly faded. The old man smiled too.
“Are you staying long, or just visiting?” he asked.
“Just on vacation, for as long as I can stand it,” Katya replied.
“Come in, dear. Join us for breakfast. You’ll meet the old lady. She bakes pies… but no one eats them. The grandchildren come once a year, and the kids too…”
Katya didn’t hesitate. It was time to meet the neighbors.
Pyotr Ilyich’s wife turned out to be a real fairy-tale grandmother—wearing an apron, a headscarf, a toothless smile, and kind, weathered wrinkles. The house smelled of cleanliness and warmth.
“Your place is wonderful!” Katya exclaimed. “Why don’t the children visit more often?”
Anna Matveyevna waved dismissively.
“We ask them not to come. The roads are terrible. After the rain, you can’t leave for a week. There used to be a bridge, but it collapsed about five years ago. We live like hermits now. Every week, Stepanovich goes to the store. The boat can’t take much. Stepanovich is strong, but he’s getting older…”
“These pies are divine!” Katya praised. “Doesn’t anyone care about you here? Someone should be doing something.”
“Who would care about us? Only fifty people live here now. There used to be a thousand. Now everyone’s gone.”
Katya thought for a moment.
“Where’s the administration?”
“On the other side of the bridge. If you take the detour, it’s 60 kilometers. Do you think we haven’t walked that far? The answer is simple: there’s no money.”
Katya’s mind clicked into action.
“Where can I find the administration? Or will you come with me? The forecast says no rain.”
The old-timers exchanged looks.
“Are you serious? You came here to relax.”
“Absolutely serious. Vacation can be different. What if it rains? I have to do something for myself too.”
The old-timers smiled warmly.
At the city administration, Katya was met with resistance.
“How long will you keep bothering us? Look at the roads here! Who would spend money on a bridge for a village with only fifty people? Try Sokolovsky. He’s the only one left with money,” they told her.
Katya had heard of Sokolovsky—her husband worked for him. He had come from this village when he was a child.
She decided to call him, but not as Stepan’s wife. As a stranger.
The first time she couldn’t reach him. The second time, Sokolovsky listened, paused, and then laughed.
“I almost forgot I was born there. How’s it now?”
Katya felt a surge of hope.
“Very beautiful, peaceful, with wonderful people. I’ll send you photos and videos. Igor Borisovich, I’ve exhausted all the channels—no one wants to help the elderly. Only you remain.”
“I’ll think about it. Send the photos; I want to remember how it used to be.”
Katya sent photos and videos over the next two days. Sokolovsky read the messages but didn’t respond. Katya was ready to give up when he called her himself.
“Ekaterina Vasilievna, could you meet me at the Lenin office tomorrow at three? Please bring a preliminary plan.”
“Of course, thank you, Igor Borisovich!”
She hung up and smiled, realizing that this was the office where her husband worked. It would be an interesting surprise.
Arriving early the next day, she headed to her husband’s office. She found it empty, and as she walked toward the break room, she overheard voices. Stepan and his secretary were there.
Seeing Katya, they both froze. Stepan jumped up, trying to adjust his clothes.
“Katya, what are you doing here?”
She ran out of the office, bumping into Igor Borisovich in the hallway. She handed him the papers and, unable to hold back her tears, rushed out. She barely remembered how she returned to the village.
That night, she collapsed into bed, crying.
The next morning, there was a knock at the door. Igor Borisovich stood on the doorstep with a group of people.
“Good morning, Ekaterina Vasilievna. I saw you weren’t ready to talk yesterday, so I came myself. Would you like some tea?”
“Of course, come in.”
Igor didn’t mention the previous day. Over tea, most of the villagers gathered in the house. Igor looked out the window.
“Is that Ded Ilyich?” he asked.
Katya smiled. “Yes, it is.”
“Thirty years ago, he was already a grandfather, and his landlady used to feed us pies.”
The man looked at Katya with concern. “Is Anna Matveyevna well?”
“Yes, she’s fine and still bakes her famous pies,” Katya replied.
The day passed in a whirlwind of activity. Igor’s team measured, recorded, and made plans.
“Ekaterina Vasilievna, may I ask a question?” Igor began. “About your husband… Will you forgive him?”
Katya paused, then smiled. “No. But I’m actually grateful for how things turned out.”
Igor was silent. Katya stood up and looked around.
“If a bridge appears here, this place could become something beautiful. Repair the houses, create cozy spots for relaxation. The nature here is untouched. But there’s no one to take care of it. And what if you never want to return to the city?”
Igor admired her. She was a remarkable woman—determined and intelligent. He had never seen her like this before.
“Katya, may I come again?”
She met his gaze. “Yes, come, I’d be glad.”
The bridge was built quickly. The villagers thanked Katya, and young people began returning. Igor visited often.
Stepan called several times, but Katya ignored his calls and eventually blocked his number.
One morning, there was a knock. Katya opened the door, expecting trouble, but there stood Stepan.
“Hi, Katya. I’m here for you. Stop sulking. Sorry,” he said.
Katya laughed. “‘Sorry’? That’s it?”
“Alright then… Pack up, let’s go home. You’re not kicking me out, are you? And don’t forget—the house isn’t yours, remember?”
“I’ll kick you out right now!” Katya exclaimed.
The door creaked as Igor emerged in casual clothes. “This house was bought with funds from my company. Or do you, Stepan Alexandrovich, think I’m a fool? There’s an audit at the office, and you’ll have many questions to answer. I asked you to keep Katya calm—it’s bad for her health…”
Stepan stared, wide-eyed.
Igor embraced Katya. “She’s my fiancée. Please leave. The divorce papers have already been filed. Expect a notice.”
A wedding was held in the village. Igor admitted he had fallen in love with the place all over again. The bridge was built, the road repaired, and a store was opened. People began buying houses for vacation homes. Katya and Igor also decided to renovate their own home—so there would be a place for their children when they arrived.