Claudia, as usual with the first rays of the sun, went out to the garden. There was no shortage of tasks: she needed to water the beds, weed the grass, check the chicken coop, and inspect the fruit trees — all of which required attention and time. And she had no helpers. No one nearby. She had long grown used to loneliness, although sometimes it made itself felt as a heavy lump in her chest.
By evening, Claudia planned to go hunting — a necessity, since the meat supplies wouldn’t last long, and the nearest store was quite far. But before that, she wanted to rest a little, take a walk, or just sit under the old oak tree that grew right by the porch. At that moment, her faithful dog ran up to her — a large, stately dog named Bars. He was not only a friend but also a protector and companion in all his mistress’s affairs.
“Well, my good boy, want to go for a walk? Let’s go, let’s go, we’ll have time by evening,” she said kindly, ruffling the dog’s ear. Bars wagged his tail as if understanding that rest was important before the difficult day ahead. He lay down nearby, resting his head on his paws as if to say, “I’ll wait, I’m always here.”
Claudia took the buckets and headed to the well. This year, summer was especially hot and dry — even for these parts, where rains usually started by July. The flowers were wilting, the leaves on the trees dried early, and the earth cracked like old glass. She had to water the garden frequently to save at least something. She had been living alone for many years, completely alone. At first, there was her mother, then she passed away, leaving Klava alone in the house where her grandfather once lived.
Her grandfather was a stern, withdrawn man, almost a hermit. He lived far from people, in a remote forest, in a house he built with his own hands. One thing was known — he was offended at the whole world. He was bitter because no one helped his wife when she was giving birth. If someone had helped back then, if doctors had arrived on time, if only there had been a car or a horse, Tamara would have lived. Maybe she would have had grandchildren, maybe they would be playing in the yard, and the grandfather would be sitting on a bench telling them stories. But none of that happened.
Claudia remembered how many times she asked her grandfather to tell her what happened. But he was silent for a long time. Only when she became an adult, when she started dating Sergey and talked about marriage, did her grandfather finally decide to reveal the truth. His face grew stern, his eyes darkened as before a storm.
“You don’t need to marry him,” he said quietly but firmly.
“Why, grandpa? He’s a good guy, and his family doesn’t drink, which is rare in our village.”
“No need, that’s all. They’re rotten in that family, bad.”
“No, grandpa! It’s not the fifteenth century anymore, things are different now. It’s you who lives here, shut away from people. But why? Maybe you’ve already forgotten yourself.”
Then grandfather sighed as if the whole world lay on his shoulders and said:
“Sit down, I’ll tell you how long your grandmother was dying.”
Claudia sat down nearby, holding her breath. She knew she would hear something important, something that would change a lot.
He began his story from a distant winter when the village had no cars yet, only tractors and horses. Blizzards raged every day, roads were snowed in, and connection with the city was almost lost. Grandma Tamara didn’t want to leave early, afraid to leave her husband alone in a cold house without help. When labor began, the blizzard was so strong that no horse could leave the barn. Grandfather ran to neighbors, but all mares were covered, and no one agreed to risk it.
The paramedic said the hospital was waiting on the main road, but it was impossible to get there. Then grandfather turned to Petya — a man who once loved Tamara but lost her. He fell to his knees, begged, cried. Petya responded with mockery: “Can’t you even take your wife to the hospital?”
In rage, grandfather grabbed him by the chest, but they were separated. Together with his late brother, he loaded Tamara onto a sled and took her himself. Four long hours they went through snowdrifts, through the wind. But at the hospital, it was already too late. Only the child was saved — the future mother of Claudia.
When grandfather finished the story, Klava sat pale, clenching her fists.
“Grandpa, that’s very sad and terrible, of course. But what does it have to do with Sergey and our wedding?”
“That Petka — he’s Sergey’s grandfather.”
This news hit Klava like a thunderbolt out of a clear sky. She felt uneasy. Sergey… did he know? After all, his grandfather welcomed her warmly, even admired her. Did he know whose granddaughter stood before him?
Claudia’s parents were also against the union but did not express their opinion openly. Now the girl wondered: did Sergey himself know the history of their grandfathers? She decided to find out.
But first she asked her grandfather:
“Is that why you live here?”
“Yes, granddaughter. After all that, I couldn’t forgive people. So I built a house here, away from everyone, so I wouldn’t have to see anyone. I like it better this way — I rely on myself. Your mother, when she grew up, moved to her aunt’s. But I’m not offended — everyone has their own life.”
Claudia had remembered since childhood how her grandfather lived in the forest. At first, she and her mother rarely visited him — too far and dangerous. But when the girl got a bicycle, she often visited him, delighting the old man with her presence.
One day, returning home, Claudia saw smoke. A lot of smoke. It was coming from their house. Her heart froze. She rushed forward, pedaling harder than ever before. What happened? Where was Mom? Where was Dad?
She was stopped. People stood around, looking down. Someone quietly said:
“Stay strong, girl. Mom ran in after the cat, something collapsed there, father rushed in… and that’s it. No one.”
“Well, why are you standing there? Why aren’t you doing anything?”
“What can be done now?”
“Let me through! Let me through!”
But they held her tight. Claudia screamed, bit, scratched. Tears blinded her eyes, her heart tore with pain.
Grandfather didn’t survive the news. After the funeral, he went to bed and never got up again. Klava stayed by his bedside, read him books, cooked soup, sang old songs he loved. And Sergey came. Once, twice, three times.
“Let’s go for a walk. I miss you.”
Klava looked at him with pain and distrust:
“You miss me? And what I feel — you don’t care?”
“Why wouldn’t I care? I just wanted you to distract yourself, to cheer up.”
“Cheer up? Yeah, in your family, losing other people doesn’t concern anyone.”
Sergey grew dark:
“I suppose you mean that story from a hundred years ago. But what does it have to do with us?”
“What does it have to do with anything? None of you matter. And those people who could have saved my parents don’t either. You know what — go away and don’t come to me anymore.”
Sergey squinted at her:
“Klava, you’re upset now, that’s why you’re saying nonsense.”
“I’m saying — go away! I can’t stand you and don’t want to see you!”
“Are you sure?”
“Absolutely.”
“Okay. I won’t see you again.”
When he left, Claudia stood by the gate, watched him walk toward the village, and wanted to shout: “Sorry! Stop!” But she didn’t. She just locked the gate tight and returned to her grandfather.
Claudia was left alone. A week after her parents’ funeral, when the earth hadn’t yet settled on the graves, her grandfather quietly passed away. As if he waited until his granddaughter became strong enough to be without support, and only then allowed himself to rest — forever.
After the last memorial service, Claudia’s aunt, her mother’s sister, who came from the village, approached her:
“Klava, come stay with me? The house is big, there’s room for everyone.”
“No, I’ll stay here.”
“Well, living like a hermit? Grandpa was right — people are worse than animals.”
“You can’t say that, Klava! You’re a young girl; you need to be more tolerant. You probably said something to Sergey. The old feud between the grandfathers still haunts your life.”
Claudia remained silent, turning slightly so her aunt wouldn’t see her eyes. She knew there was some truth in every word but wasn’t ready to admit it even to herself. Her thoughts returned to Sergey again. Did he really know all this time?
That evening she realized for the first time: she had no place in the village. Not because strangers or cold people lived there, but because every glance, every word reminded her of a past she tried to forget. And forgetting was impossible — too much pain, too many offenses.
So she remained alone. Completely alone. With the house, the garden, the dog Bars, and memories. Ten years passed before the village reentered her life — suddenly and painfully.
A year ago, when Claudia went to the village for groceries, she suddenly saw Sergey. He stood by the porch of his house, next to him — a woman clearly pregnant. But the most terrible thing for Klava was that instead of his left leg, he had a prosthesis, neat, with a rubber tip like a crutch.
Sergey felt her gaze, turned around. Their eyes met. A moment. Time slowed down. Then Claudia ran away. Only after closing the gate behind her could she catch her breath. After that, she stopped showing up in the village. If she needed to shop — she went to the district center. No one there knew her story, no one whispered behind her back, no one pitied her.
But recently fate again brought her face to face with the past. At the bus station, Claudia met her childhood friend — Tonya. She was always talkative and curious, and now, seeing Klava, immediately sat beside her.
On the way, Tonya chattered nonstop, telling village news. It turned out Sergey brought his wife with him — a nurse from the hospital where he was treated after the injury. This woman was unhappy with life, thinking she married a hero but got a disabled man living in a half-ruined house. Sergey’s father died while he was serving, and his mother did not live long without her husband. Now he returned to an empty house, alone, without family.
The wife didn’t want to give birth under such conditions, but the child couldn’t be canceled anymore. Sergey tried, but there was less romance in his life, and his wife began to be disappointed. They said he started drinking. “And how not to drink,” added Tonya, “when such a wife works her head off?”
“Well, my stop. Bye, Klava!”
All the way, Claudia didn’t say a word. She knew if she spoke, the whole village would know about the meeting in a day. And she didn’t want that. Not for herself — she just saw no point. Her life had long become another place, another reality. And let the past stay where it belongs — behind.
That very evening, Claudia watered the garden and rested a bit. For several years she had been officially registered as a gamekeeper. She hunted not for the prey but for the cause: helping regulate the number of animals, collecting data for ecologists. She knew every bush, path, and turn. In this forest, she felt like the mistress.
She dozed off under the old oak tree when suddenly she heard Bars’s frantic barking. It was not an ordinary bark — not at an animal or a mushroom picker. It was a bark of alarm. Something happened. Klava instantly woke, grabbed her rifle, and ran out of the house.
The dog stood in the farthest corner of the garden, near the apple tree, barking as if the end of the world had come. Approaching closer, Claudia froze. On the grass, neatly laid in the shade, lay two newborn babies. Nearby — a bag.
“What on earth…”
She picked up the bag; inside was a note:
“Forgive me, Klav. Forgive me for everything. My wife left the children and left, and I can’t raise them. I know you will be a good mother to them, and I am a worthless man who can’t do anything.”
Klava shuddered. The note was from Sergey. She looked around the ground. The footprints led from one side — fresh, female. And from the other… no, it couldn’t be… — crutch marks.
Without hesitation, she rushed to the river. As if something invisible but very strong was leading her there. And indeed, at the very edge, the same place where she and Sergey once jumped into the water, Sergey stood. Behind him — an abyss, below — stones. He was about to jump.
“Sergei! Don’t do this!”
He flinched, turned around. Seeing her, he took a step forward.
“What will I tell your children?”
“The same thing I told you then: ‘Daddy’s a coward, daddy couldn’t do it.’”
“Now you want to take off all your obligations, ease your conscience?”
“And have you thought about the children? They will grow up knowing their mother left them, and now their father disappears too?”
Sergey burst into tears:
“Why do you tear my heart out? I can’t cope!”
“Have you tried? Or did you give up right away, like then when I drove you away?”
“Do you hate me that easily?”
“Did you believe me?”
Sergey fell to his knees, sobbing. Klava came closer, sat next to him, placed her hand on his shoulder.
“Come on. The children are alone there.”
At home, Bars sat over the babies, guarding them. Seeing Sergey, he snarled, ready to protect those who trusted him. But Klava quietly said:
“Fufu, he’s one of us.”
Bars relaxed, stood up, wagging his tail, as if agreeing with his mistress’s decision.
Claudia took one baby and handed it to Sergey. He pressed the child to his chest, hiding his face in the swaddling clothes:
“Forgive me, forgive me, bad daddy.”
She took the second baby herself:
“Well, let’s go inside. Your girls must be hungry. You’ll show me how to feed and diaper them.”
In the evening, watching the peacefully sleeping children, Claudia remembered she was supposed to go hunting. She went out, looked at Bars apologetically:
“Sorry, I lied to you.”
The dog licked her hand as if saying, “I understand everything. This is more important now.”
A month later, Sergey sat in front of Claudia:
“We need to talk.”
The children were asleep.
“Sooner or later this conversation will happen. I’m listening.”
He took her hand. Claudia trembled but didn’t pull away.
“Klava, it all turned out this way… I don’t even know how to say it. Don’t think it’s because of the kids… Well, can I do what I never did many years ago? I’m disabled now, but I can do almost everything. I’ll try… Well, if you’re not scared of life with someone like me…”
“I agree,” Claudia said quietly, not letting him finish.
Sergey even stood up in surprise:
“Are you sure you understood what I wanted to ask?”
But Klava didn’t explain. She just leaned to him, remembering how many years she dreamed of this moment.
Their return to the village caused a wave of gossip. People approached the house, tried to peek through the gate, to see how those once considered strangers lived. But most of all, Bars scared them — a huge dog, more like a wolf. He lay by the gate, lazily raising his lip, showing his teeth. And that was enough for curiosity to quickly turn to caution.
After all, happiness loves silence. And Claudia and Sergey found theirs — in the quiet of the forest, among children’s laughter and a loyal dog who guards their home like a fortress.