The bus hissed to a stop at the village edge. Olesya stepped into the drizzle, one hand on her pregnant belly, the other gripping her coat. She was the only passenger to disembark. The driver offered a sympathetic glance before pulling away.

The village was quiet—bare trees, rain-slick branches, and the soft patter of droplets on her umbrella. Olesya walked in silence, lost in memories of Andrey: his laugh, his rough hands, the way he said her name like a secret.

Life before him had been hard—an orphanage, vocational school, night shifts at the metalworks. Then Andrey appeared, an engineer unafraid to get his hands dirty. Continues…