— Please give me a ride! And I’ll sing for you!
A girl of about ten stood right in front of the car — thin, wearing an old coat that had clearly seen better days. A gray scarf wrapped her up to her eyes, and from beneath it peered big blue eyes. My God, where do such children even come from?
Sergey Viktorovich slowly took a drag of his cigarette and looked at her tiredly. The day had been hard, and his mood even worse.
— What? Where to give you a ride?
— To the village of Rozhkovo! — she confidently waved her hand, clad in a torn wool glove. — It’s not far, just turn right along this road. I’ll show you! But I have no money… I can sing though!
Well, that’s something… Sergey Viktorovich grimaced. What an unbearably difficult day this had been.
— What are you doing here? — he asked, not quite sure why. — It’s getting dark. It’s autumn, cold… And you’re alone at the station. Aren’t you afraid to get into a car with strangers? Where are your parents?
The girl sighed like an adult:
— Mom is sick. We haven’t had a dad for a long time. She’s lying down almost all the time, very weak. I went to the district center to get medicine. The bus arrived late, and I missed mine. Now I either have to walk or spend the night here. But I wasn’t afraid to get in with you! You have kind eyes. And a nice car!
Sergey Viktorovich involuntarily smiled:
— How did you see my eyes? It’s already dark.
— It’s not that dark! — the girl shrugged. — I see and notice a lot. For example, I noticed you’re in a bad mood.
Wow, how observant…
— That’s right. I’m always like this.
— How can you be in a bad mood when you have such a car? And you probably have money? Strange… — she burrowed deeper into her scarf.
— I have a little. Not much, but something. But what good are they if you’re all alone in the whole wide world, — he said without realizing the words slipped out.
— All alone? — the girl asked very seriously.
— Completely. Although, maybe not completely… It just feels that way. You’re too curious.
— Here’s your coffee! — Misha finally came out of the station building with two steaming cups. — We can go now!
— Took you long, Misha, — Sergey Viktorovich’s voice had a metallic edge. — I told you — immediately!
— Sorry… But it’s not a station, it’s some kind of hell! Had to wait for water to heat up, then prepare coffee. Service was just awful…
— Alright, Misha, I got it. Let’s go.
— So, will you give me a ride? — the girl was still standing, shifting from foot to foot. Her thin boots clearly couldn’t protect from the autumn cold.
— Come on, let’s go.
He opened the door and let her in.
— Misha, we need to stop by a village — Rozhkovo. Then home.
— Got it.
Over the years, Misha had learned not to ask unnecessary questions. The boss said — so it would be. Sergey Viktorovich valued this in his employees: diligence, loyalty, honesty. Those who slacked off were immediately let go. Everything had to be exactly as he said. This applied both to business and personal life.
Thanks to this approach, he was able to build his empire. Construction of large-scale projects was serious business. Although he had assistants and deputies, he preferred to control many processes personally. By training an engineer-builder, he understood everything well. This wasn’t a case of inheriting a ready business. No, he worked tirelessly.
Even in university, he worked construction — carrying bricks, mixing mortar, in any weather. What could he do? Elka was pregnant, they had to pay for a room in a communal apartment. The landlady agreed to take them in but warned immediately: a delay of even one day and they’d be out on the street.
After university, he kept working, developing, and growing professionally. Quickly reached a good position in a local construction firm, then started his own business. It was not easy. Sometimes unbearable. But he kept moving forward. He had to provide Elia, his wife, and little daughter Katya with the best.
He slept little, often worried and stressed… Perhaps that’s why his hair turned white so early. By thirty-five, it was as white as snow.
“Family life is hard on you,” Elia joked, stroking his head.
“Not easy. But it’s a very happy life,” he replied and truly was happy.
His favorite moment was coming home after work, hugging his daughter and rocking her to sleep. He never slept when Katya was sick, teething, or just fussy. He’d take her in his arms, rock, and hum the same song — about Princess Katya, the most beautiful, golden-haired princess whom kings and princes from all countries wanted to see.
“Why do you always sing that? It’s strange… Did you make it up?” Elia smiled.
“Made it up myself. About Princess Katyusha. And how she will be the happiest.”
“She will be, definitely… I’m so tired. Will you sit with her? I’ll lie down.”
“Go rest.”
Elia often felt tired and exhausted. She could sleep soundly all night but wake up weak. At first, she thought it was because of the child and household chores. But over time nothing improved. Maybe vitamins were lacking? Or not enough water? She reasoned like that, repeatedly postponing a doctor’s visit. Weather, magnetic storms… She found a million excuses for her condition. She was just afraid of doctors. At the sight of blood, she fainted.
When Sergey Viktorovich finally insisted on an examination, it was already too late. The disease progressed, slowly destroying the body. Doctors were powerless. They said — time was lost. If treatment had started earlier, maybe it would have helped. But now… no.
Sergey gathered money, borrowed, negotiated, looked for the best specialists. It was all useless. Elia was fading before their eyes. She passed away painfully.
Katya was fourteen when her mother died.
Katya loved her mother immensely and couldn’t accept the injustice. After her death, the obedient girl turned into an uncontrollable teenager. Night outings, suspicious company, alcohol, cigarettes, friends of dubious character…
Sergey tried to maintain control — punished, talked, persuaded. Even locked her in the house. It was all in vain. Katya literally slipped out of control. From a gentle and understanding father, he became a strict, determined man. He set conditions and demanded compliance.
— I’m going to English class, then we’ll go to the movies!
— You’ll go to English. Forget the movies.
— Why?! I promised!
— This is my life! Why don’t you listen?!
— As long as you live here and I support you, you’ll do as I say!
Scandals happened almost daily. Even when Katya entered university, she didn’t mature. She just grew physically. But problems grew with her. She became more aggressive and demanding.
One day she said she found a job.
— Where are you going to work? You’re only in your third year!
— In a store. As a cashier.
— What?! What nonsense? You need to study! Get an education!
— I don’t need your education! I don’t need anything from you! I’ll live, work, and be independent of you!
— No! You’ll graduate university with a diploma! As a cashier?! Do you know how much your place in the university costs?
— I don’t need your university! And I don’t want to know how much it cost! You’re always talking about your money!
— Yes, money! To live well, you have to work hard! Do you even realize how hard I worked for you?
— What good are your money if they didn’t save mom! — Katya screamed.
An overwhelming silence followed.
— Mom was sick. We did everything possible…
— Then not everything! You were always at work! Mom had no one to take care of her! If not for you, she would be alive!
— Don’t say that…
— What? I hate you and your money!
Sergey was stunned. Couldn’t believe his own daughter could think that way. He remembered how hard he tried. But for Katya, in her childish perception, it looked different: Dad was always busy, and mom suffered and died when she was home alone.
It was impossible to convince her.
— If you wanted, you would have saved her! Come up with something! But you built your houses and made money! And what good is it! I hate you! I don’t want to see you anymore!
— Don’t dare say that! Don’t say what you don’t know!
Katya didn’t listen. She slammed the door and went to her room. And in the morning, while her father was sleeping, she left home. Packed her things and disappeared. She left only a note: “Don’t look for me. I don’t need anything from you.”
Sergey was sure she would come to her senses and return. But after a while, he started to worry. Called — phone was off. Found out — she dropped out of university. After that, the trail was lost.
A few months later, he began searching. The police didn’t help either. Maybe she left. Maybe changed her name. Or maybe… worse.
So Sergey was left alone. Wife dead. Daughter gone after a foolish scandal. His life seemed to have ended.
He had everything: a thriving business, new projects being realized, good earnings. But inside — emptiness. Colleagues and subordinates respected and feared him. Considered a man with an iron reputation who built the business honestly. So work became the only thing left.
He fully immersed himself in it. Spent all his energy and time on work. Feared being alone. Feared resting — immediately thought of his daughter. No, he didn’t consider her dead. Though he understood anything could happen. But he still hoped she was okay. He told friends — Katya went abroad to study and stayed there.
— So, can I sing?
Sergey Viktorovich snapped out of his memories — nearby on the back seat of the car sat the girl from the station. Back straight, hands neatly folded on her knees, nose slightly upturned. She had already taken off the scarf, and now her long golden hair spilled over her shoulders. Just like Katya’s.
— Well, as you wish. I was going to drive you to Rozhkovo anyway.
— No, no, can’t go without a song! I have no money, but I want to thank you. We agreed! A promise is worth more than money!
— Yes, right. How could I forget… Okay, then sing. To keep it fair. What’s your name?
— Elia.
— Nice name. Sounds good… Well, sing.
And she sang.
It was a song Sergey hadn’t heard for many years. A song about Princess Katya — the most beautiful and happiest girl in the world, to whom princes from all countries came riding white horses just to catch a glimpse.
It was his song. His melody. His own story about his beloved daughter.
His heart seemed to stop. His breath caught. Tears welled up in his eyes. He looked anxiously at the girl who sang more confidently.
— Where did you learn this song? — he asked hoarsely. — Tell me the truth!
— Mom always sang it to me, — the girl answered, looking at him with confusion and curiosity. — Why are you crying?
— What’s your mom’s name?
— Katya.
— This song was once sung to her by her dad when she was little. But he died.
— Died? Why?
Sergey Viktorovich felt as if his heart stopped.
— Sergey Viktorovich, are you feeling bad? Maybe we should stop? — Misha asked anxiously, watching his boss in the rearview mirror.
— No, it’s fine. Just hurry up. Is it far to Rozhkovo?
— About twenty kilometers. We’ll get there fast!
They arrived quickly. The girl asked to stop the car on the outskirts of the village, near an old small house.
— Is this your home? — Sergey Viktorovich looked out the window. — Looks more like a shed…
— Yes, this is where we live. We rent a room from Grandma Lena.
— Who is Grandma Lena?
— Mom’s friend. They used to work together on a farm. When mom got sick, Grandma Lena took us in. We’re all alone, you understand?
— I understand… What’s wrong with your mom?
— I don’t know exactly. Something hurts inside. I bought medicine for injections; Grandma Lena can give them. Sometimes she lets me do it myself — but not always, she’s afraid. Though I’m almost grown up, right? And soon I’ll start working on the farm, so we have money!
— How old are you to work on a farm? You’re still a child! You need to study, play with toys, watch cartoons! What kind of work?
— Oh, you’re funny! — the girl laughed. — How else to live? Grandma Lena says there’s always work on the farm. I can clean, wash, take care of animals. Only little kids watch cartoons! And I’m grown up, by the way!
— Yeah… grown up and very responsible. Can I meet your mom?
— Why?
— Just curious how she raised such an amazing daughter. I really want to talk to her.
— Okay, let’s go.
— Misha, wait here. I’ll be back soon.
Sergey Viktorovich got out of the car and walked along the muddy gravel road. The ground squelched under his feet.
— Please take off your shoes! — the girl warned. — I washed the floors yesterday!
He wasn’t used to taking orders but didn’t argue for some reason. Something about this small serious girl reminded him of himself.
— Mom! Mom, I’m home! — Elia shouted, pulling off her boots. — But I’m not alone, we have a guest!
— Elia, come in, — a woman’s voice came from another room.
The girl entered first, then motioned Sergey in.
— Hello, — the woman said weakly, lying on the bed by the window. — Sorry, it’s messy… I have no strength at all.
— Hello, — he said quietly. — Don’t you recognize me?
The woman squinted, looked at him closely.
— Elia, bring my glasses. And turn on more light, I can’t see anything.
Her daughter handed her the glasses and flicked the switch. Now the woman’s face was clearer. Sergey Viktorovich immediately recognized her.
It was his daughter Katya. But very thin, pale, with visible wrinkles. Her eyes shone feverishly.
— Oh! — she exclaimed. — Dad? Is that you?
— It is.
Sergey Viktorovich was overwhelmed with emotion. He couldn’t hold back sobs.
— How come, Katya… how come…
He approached his daughter and hugged her tightly. She was crying too but couldn’t speak. Elia watched curiously but didn’t cry yet — first needed to understand what was happening.
Sergey stroked his daughter’s head. Now her hair was gray.
— Where are your golden curls, princess?
— Here, all from you. Heredity.
— And stubbornness is yours too — from me, — he smiled through tears.
It was hard to believe they were together again after so many years apart.
— Dad, I need an injection. It hurts a lot. Our landlady isn’t here now. Let Elia do it. Then we’ll talk.
Sergey was silent. Couldn’t come to terms with shock and joy.
— What’s wrong with you? How long?
— Several months. I haven’t been examined but suspect it’s the same as mom’s. I’m afraid I’ll die.
— No, daughter! You won’t die!
Elia gave the injection, then brought tea. They talked for a long time.
Misha peeked inside several times, checking if the boss was okay. But Sergey only motioned him back to the car.
Katya told how after leaving home, she wandered through rented apartments, searched for work. Then moved to another city, got a job at a store. Life was hard, but she didn’t want help from her father — hated him too much. But soon realized she couldn’t survive alone.
At some point, she met someone she wanted to be with. He was even there when she found out she was pregnant. But when hard times came, he just disappeared. She was left alone with the child.
Living in the city became impossible. She moved to the village to her old friend, in Rozhkovo. Found work on a farm, rented a room. Elia grew up among village children, went to kindergarten, then school.
It was hard for Katya, but she didn’t dare call her father. She was afraid of his reaction, thought he’d refuse. Wanted to stabilize her life first. Planned to buy a house, but plans collapsed when she got sick. The local hospital didn’t diagnose properly, and there was no money for a full exam. So she self-medicated and lay in bed.
— And even then you didn’t call me?
— I was afraid. Didn’t know how you’d react. Thought you’d abandon me and the granddaughter. I was ashamed to live in this shed, to deny the child a normal childhood, to make her travel at night for medicine. And to die in pain…
— You were ashamed? But not ashamed to ask your father for help? Look what you’ve done to yourself!
— Are you going to lecture me again?
— No. Not anymore. I want you to live long and happy. Elia, pack up! We’re leaving!
— Where?!
— To a better life!
Elia hurried, took a checkered bag and began packing her and her mom’s clothes, medicine, and books.
— Don’t take all that junk! Just documents and medicine. We’ll buy the rest, — Sergey Viktorovich ordered. — Call Misha, let him help.
— Dad, are we leaving right now?
— Are you planning to stay here?
— I owe for the room. Can’t just leave…
Sergey Viktorovich took some bills from his wallet.
— Will this be enough? Or add more?
— Wow, so much! — Elia exclaimed. — It’ll last a long time!
— Excellent. Everyone ready?
— Misha, let’s go!
They helped Katya get in the car. Elia showed which bags to take. Almost all their belongings fit in the trunk. They loaded up and left on a cold November night that soon began to dawn.
They settled in Sergey Viktorovich’s big house. Elia was enrolled in a good school, and Katya began treatment at one of the best clinics. The diagnosis was serious, but doctors gave hope. And indeed — after six months the illness went into remission.
One day, the three of them sat on the balcony, drinking coffee and talking. Elia was drawing — she had a clear talent. Sergey wondered if he should send his granddaughter to art school.
— Grandpa, do you know what I want to be?
Sergey Viktorovich was used to the word but always got a little nervous and smiled.
— What?
— A writer! For children!
— Wow! And what will you write about?
— I’ll write a fairy tale about a princess with golden hair, loved by all the princes of the world!
Katya sat watching them. They had become real friends. She drank coffee and was silent.
She was happy. And no longer felt pain.