The music playing in the club was so loud that it felt like it wasn’t just filling the room but literally pressing against my ears. The bass throbbed in my chest, making my heart beat in time with the rhythm, and it was even hard to think through the deafening noise. I stood in the middle of the dance floor, lost in the whirl of light and movement, when a young man approached me. He was tall, confident, with a slight smile on his face as if he knew he looked attractive. Confidence shone in his eyes, as if he already knew how this meeting would end.
“What’s your name?” he shouted, leaning almost right into my ear to overcome the music.
“Anya,” I answered, continuing to move to the beat, not intending to stop just for a conversation.
“Maxim. Let’s get some fresh air, it’s impossible to talk here,” he suggested, holding out his hand.
I hesitated a little, but curiosity and intuition pushed me to agree. We made our way through the dense crowd, which smelled of sweat and alcohol, and went outside where it was immediately quieter. The cold night air hit my face, refreshing me and allowing me to breathe deeply. Stars twinkled overhead, and the street was lit by soft lamplight.
“At least we can talk here,” Maxim laughed, squinting at me.
Indeed, in that quiet, far from the roar of the music, words began to sound different — more honest, more natural. And then I realized that this was not just another guy drawn to pretty girls. He was charming, well-spoken, able to talk — not too much, but always to the point. His appearance, expensive watch, and confident movements clearly indicated he came from a well-off family. Usually, I tried to keep such people at a distance — they were often superficial, selfish, lived by their own rules. But Maxim somehow didn’t annoy me. He was different — or at least it seemed that way to me.
After two years of loneliness, after my ex-boyfriend cheated on me with my best friend, I almost stopped trusting men. The pain was so sharp that I locked my heart away. I didn’t want meetings, romances, or even casual dates. But now I was sitting outside next to Maxim, listening to his stories, laughing at his jokes, and I felt… light. This feeling was so unexpected it even scared me.
“Let’s go for a drive,” he suggested after we talked a little. “The city is beautiful at night, especially this time of year.”
“You’ve been drinking, haven’t you?” I asked with a hint of worry.
“The cocktail was non-alcoholic, don’t worry,” he assured me with a slight smile.
And we went. The car was amazing — smooth ride, leather seats, pleasant interior lighting. I had never ridden in such a car before, and inside I had a strange feeling: as if I was in another life where everything was beautiful, expensive, and cozy. I wanted to believe this was the beginning of something bigger.
“Where did you get such a car?” I asked, running my hand over the seat.
“My father gave it to me. He’s the president of a company, and I’m listed there as an advisor,” he replied proudly.
“I work at a school, teaching drawing in elementary grades.”
“Cool,” Maxim smirked. “I’ve never had teacher girlfriends.”
From that evening, we started seeing each other more often. He picked me up from work, took me to trendy cafes, booked tables in expensive restaurants, bought spa memberships. His attention was generous, as were his finances. I felt like a princess taken from a simple life and transported into a fairy tale. But deep down, I knew this might be temporary.
Colleagues at work started asking:
“Anya, when’s the wedding? How long can you stay a fiancée?”
“He’s very wealthy, right? Where will you live?”
But I didn’t think about marriage. Even if I wanted to, I couldn’t imagine Maxim marrying a simple teacher. However, everything changed when his father, tired of his son’s idleness, gave him an ultimatum: “Either you settle down, or I’ll block all your cards.”
That moment was a turning point. After another car accident, when Maxim wrecked a new car, his father gave him a real dressing down:
“You’re twenty-eight!” he yelled. “Others have kids at this age, and you’re just drifting like a log in the water!”
That same day, Maxim proposed to me. At first, I thought he was joking, but he took me to the registry office where he told the clerk:
“We want to file an application.”
Then it hit me — he was serious. This was no game, no joke. He wanted to get married.
After submitting the papers, we sat in a cafe. Usually, I stayed at his place, but that evening I wanted to be alone to think everything over.
“I’ll go home, need to collect my thoughts,” I said.
Maxim kissed me but decided not to come back with me. He went to a nightclub — “to party one last time,” as he said.
The next day, I couldn’t reach him by phone. I decided to visit him myself. The door was unlocked. The apartment smelled strange. Entering the bedroom, I froze. Maxim was lying on the bed, and next to him was an unfamiliar girl. They were both undressed. It was a blow that destroyed everything I was trying to believe in.
He woke up, saw me, and whispered:
“Anya…”
The girl in her sleep wrapped her arm around him. I ran out of the apartment, tears streaming down my cheeks.
“What a fool I am! I believed he loved me…”
I don’t remember how I got to the train station. I approached the suburban train ticket window:
“One ticket to the last stop, please.”
I needed to think it all over. I needed to run away, even if only for a few hours.
“Miss, hurry, the train leaves in three minutes!” the cashier shouted.
I dashed onto the platform and barely managed to jump into the car. I sat by the window, away from the other passengers, staring out, lost in thought.
Suddenly, I noticed two young men trying to deceive an elderly woman. One distracted her, the other stole her purse. Everyone else was busy with their own affairs. I stood up and shouted loudly:
“Hands off!”
I jumped at them, grabbed the purse, and placed it back on the woman’s lap.
“Be more careful, or you’ll be left with nothing.”
Turning to the thieves, I added:
“You two, get out of here!”
Seeing my determination, the guys quickly moved to another car.
When I returned to my seat, a stranger sat next to me.
“Did something happen to you?” she asked, looking straight into my eyes.
“Why do you think that?” I tried to brush it off.
“I see a heaviness in your heart. Someone hurt you badly,” she continued. “But that wasn’t your fate.”
“Who is my fate then? The always-drunk tractor driver?” I asked sarcastically.
“You shouldn’t laugh. You don’t need to marry daddy’s boy. Cheated once — will cheat many more times.”
Her words hurt, but there was truth in them.
“How do you know?”
“It happens to me. In very stressful situations. And today is exactly one of those. I just got my pension in my purse. Those two probably followed me from the post office. Good thing you were there in time.”
The woman spoke calmly, as if this was a common story. She said she sometimes sees the recent past and possible future — especially in difficult moments.
“It’s like a third eye opens. Too bad it’s not my own future. A shoemaker without shoes,” she smiled sadly.
She closed her eyes as if diving into the depths of her consciousness and gently took my hand in hers. Her touch felt confident, even something more — predestination.
“Wooden steps down… dark, but not scary. You must go, don’t be afraid,” she said as if reading aloud pages from an invisible book.
Her gaze became intense, almost hypnotic. She looked at me as if she saw not only me but what awaited ahead.
“If you believe me, your fate will change,” she said firmly, without a hint of doubt in her voice.
Then she patted my hand like an elder encouraging a younger.
“Get off at the next station. There’s only one road to the village. Follow it — not far. You’ll find an abandoned house. Nothing evil there — just one fool made it up, others believed it. Go in, don’t be afraid. You’ll find a cellar. You’ll need to go down there. I can’t see further — it’s pitch dark. But if you’re not scared…”
I hesitated a little, feeling a mix of anxiety and curiosity growing inside.
“That sounds too mysterious,” I muttered aloud, more to myself than to her.
“Hurry, the station will be in five minutes. Decide. And then you’ll be able to teach children to draw,” the seer smiled.
Those words touched me. What she knew — or just guessed — about my destiny, about who I am and who I could become. That was the last straw that made me decide.
“Then I’ll go,” I said resolutely.
I stood up, adjusted my bag on my shoulder, and headed to the exit. The woman, still smiling, waved as if seeing me off not on a simple trip, but to a new life.
The train stopped. I jumped off onto the platform, looked around, and found the window where the fortune-teller had sat. Raising my hand, I silently mouthed “Thank you.” I don’t know if she heard me, but I felt lighter.
The village was really close. It was impossible to get lost — the only road I walked led right there. The locals seemed not to notice me, as if I had always lived there and my arrival was only a matter of time.
The abandoned house stood on the outskirts. Its plaster had fallen off in places, windows were shuttered, and nettles and weeds grew around it. It was as if nature itself decided to hide it from the world.
Pushing aside the thorny bushes with a stick I found near the fence, I reached the front door. It creaked as it gave way, letting me inside.
The house smelled of dampness and dust. I slowly walked around the empty room, looking at the floor. Where was the cellar?
Looking closely, I noticed a barely visible metal ring sticking out between the floorboards.
“Well, hello cellar,” I muttered to myself.
I pulled hard on the ring. The cover was so heavy I barely held it. Placing my phone on the windowsill so it wouldn’t get in the way, I pulled the cover again and left it standing upright.
Turning back for my phone to use its light, I didn’t have time to react — the cover slammed down with a loud clang, closing the hole again.
I had to lift it once more, this time propping it up with an old bench.
“I can only imagine if it had fallen on my head,” I shivered and began carefully descending the steps.
The cellar was an ordinary village cellar — once used for winter preserves. Now it had only empty shelves, rusty barrels, and wooden boxes for potatoes.
Shining my light into one such box, I suddenly screamed loudly and almost dropped the phone. My heart was about to jump out of my chest.
In the corner of the box, pressed against the wall, sat a boy about five years old. He looked at me with wide eyes, filled with fear… and at the same time hope.
“God, kid! How did you get here? You scared me, my heart almost stopped!”
I climbed over the edge of the box and squatted down in front of him.
“You’re okay? Are you alright?”
The boy nodded and, unable to hold back, rushed to me. I hugged him, feeling his little heart pounding hard.
“Little one, it’s okay. We’ll get out now and go home.”
He hugged me tightly and only sobbed, pressing his face against my neck.
Finally, we climbed back into the light. Here I could see the child better: small, freckled, with hair as thick as mine but lighter. His clothes were covered in cobwebs, dust, and dirt.
“What’s your name?”
“Yegorka,” he replied softly.
“Let’s find your parents, and then we’ll talk, okay?”
He nodded. I picked him up; he hugged my neck, and we left the strange house.
Locals had already noticed us outside.
“Yegorka! God, where have you been!” a woman shouted. “Your father is going crazy, can’t find peace!”
“Where can I find his father?” I interrupted her lament.
“At the administration. He ran there to ask the head for volunteers from the city to come help.”
I headed there. A man rushed out of the administration building. His face showed frantic worry and despair.
“Dad!” Yegor shouted.
The man shuddered and ran to us. I let go of the boy, and he ran into his father’s arms.
“My son!” the man hugged him tightly.
It seemed tears shone in his eyes.
“I was found,” the boy whispered into his father’s ear.
“How did you find him?” the father asked, approaching me.
I still didn’t understand how it happened.
“By accident.”
I wasn’t sure if I should tell him about the woman on the train.
“It doesn’t matter,” Alexander waved his hand. “The main thing is he’s found. How can we thank you?”
“Dad, show Vasily,” Yegor whispered in his father’s ear.
“Want to see?” the man asked surprised.
“I do,” I agreed unexpectedly.
They took me to a two-story house with a garage and a small shed.
“Come in quietly.”
I entered, barely breathing. The shed looked more like a stable. A red mare snorted at our arrival but didn’t get anxious and stretched toward the man and his son.
In a corner on the hay lay a small foal.
“This is Vasik,” Yegorka whispered. “He was born recently.”
“How cute!” I exclaimed. It was the first time in my life I saw horses so close.
“Let’s go inside,” Alexander invited.
In the house, the son finally got down from his father’s arms.
“What’s your name? I don’t even know how to address you,” the host sat opposite me.
“Anna.”
“I’m Alexander. So, Anna, how did you find him? Where?”
Alexander thirsted for answers. I had no choice but to tell the truth: about Maxim, the betrayal, the woman on the train, and the strange directions that led me to the cellar.
His eyes showed he didn’t believe me.
“Ask Yegor when he wakes up how he got there,” I didn’t try to convince him.
“Sorry, I have to go.”
“Sorry if I offended you. I nearly went mad when he disappeared. I’m raising my son alone. Yegor’s mother died three years ago — heart complications.”
A panic started in his office. They had a farm, a lot of work, little time for the son. And why did he go into that house? He didn’t even know it existed!
Alexander grabbed his head.
“It’s all behind us now, don’t worry,” I said.
“Where are you going? It’s late. Stay with us, there are many rooms. Tomorrow you can leave, I’ll take you myself. And Yegor will be glad to see you in the morning. You haven’t even said goodbye yet.”
“Well, I’ll go home, start sorting things out with my fiancé, get upset again…”
I thought and agreed to stay.
That’s when I realized Maxim hadn’t called even once all day, nor sent a single message. Although I didn’t want to talk to him — the scene in the bedroom still haunted me.
The night passed quietly. In the morning I woke up to Alexander bustling in the kitchen, and Yegor helping him cut bread.
“Good morning! Sorry, I overslept. You sleep so well here!”
At breakfast I learned that Yegor had followed a dog and accidentally wandered into that house. The cellar was open, curiosity overcame fear.
“Did the hatch fall when you went down?” I guessed.
“Yes, I tried to lift it but couldn’t. I shouted — no one heard me. Then I fell asleep, and when I woke, you came,” the boy sighed.
After breakfast, Yegor ran outside to play, promising his father he wouldn’t wander far anymore.
“Maybe you’ll stay?” Alexander suddenly asked. “I really need a helper. And you and Yegor got along immediately. The house is big, you saw.”
“And what about my job?”
Indeed, I couldn’t imagine how to explain to the school principal why I was leaving. But thoughts of the children still tormented me.
“I teach little kids to draw.”
“Believe me, you’ll have no fewer students here. You can even open a club, a studio, a school — whatever you want. I’ll help!”
Alexander spoke with such enthusiasm I even got confused.
“I need to go home, settle things, quit my job… In the end, I have to put a full stop.”
“I understand,” he was a little upset but pulled himself together. “The past must stay in the past.”
He took me to the station, got me on the train. From the window I saw them — just as tousled and freckled. I didn’t even want to compare them to Maxim. The difference was too big.
Back in the city, the first thing I did was go to the school and write a request — first for leave, then for dismissal. To all questions about the wedding, I only smiled mysteriously.
At home, I tidied up and packed my things. Maxim came when I was about to leave.
“Anya, let’s talk. I don’t understand what’s going on!”
“I have no idea how she got here. And I don’t care,” I tried to stay calm, though inside I was boiling.
I understood feelings wouldn’t disappear overnight, but that scene would always stand between us. And life with someone you don’t trust isn’t life; it’s torture.
“Leave me alone, please.”
“Sure, sure,” Maxim smirked, confident in his charm. “You’ll come running. It’ll be too late.”
He turned and left, slamming the door loudly.
I wanted to cry but changed my mind. It happens.
I went to bed and woke up a completely different person. Mentally wishing Max happiness, I took a ticket for the train and got off at the right station.
There, I was met by the father and son — both freckled and tousled.
And a year later, I had a daughter just like that — with my eyes, his hair, and his smile.