The cold light of the stairwell lingered on Vadim’s face for a long time, as if it couldn’t decide whether to let him in or push him away. His phone vibrated once in his hand, then fell silent. He didn’t look at it. He knew who it was. Nina. Or maybe Zhanna. Or someone else who had always handled the consequences for him.
Now there was no one left to handle them.Zhanna’s door let out a faint stream of music. Children’s voices, clinking dishes, life. Not his life.— Do you seriously think you can stay here? — Zhanna asked, crossing her arms. — Vadim, there are already six of us in this apartment. This isn’t a shelter.
— Nina kicked me out — the man repeated, as if that alone justified everything.Zhanna sighed.— And? Have you thought about why?The question wasn’t aggressive, more tired. As if the same story had already been told many times before, only by different women, in different apartments, with different excuses.
Vadim didn’t answer right away. He sat down on the edge of an old shoe cabinet in the hallway. His body suddenly felt heavy, as if every decision he had ever avoided had now fallen on him all at once.— I just… wanted to help — he said finally.
Zhanna laughed, but there was no amusement in it.— That’s what you always say. And every time, someone else pays for it.The man lowered his head. Nina’s face appeared in his mind. Not the angry one, but that quiet moment when she was packing her things. Her movements weren’t rushed.
There was no hesitation in them. As if she had made this decision long ago, and only now allowed it to surface.And Katya.The little girl’s yellow swimming goggles they hadn’t even bought yet.The thought stabbed into him suddenly.
— I… didn’t think it would be such a big deal — he said quietly.Zhanna shrugged.— It’s always this big of a deal. It’s just never been on you before.From the other end of the apartment, a door slammed. A child started crying. Someone told them to be quiet. Life went on without him.
Vadim took out his phone. Nina’s name was on the screen. One touch away from calling her. But his thumb froze in the air.What would he say?That he was wrong? That he’d undo it? That Katya could go to the camp?And what would be the next decision he would again make on someone else’s behalf?
He put the phone down.— I can’t stay here — he said finally.Zhanna nodded, as if she had expected it.— At least you see that correctly.The man stood up. His body felt empty, but not light. More like a room poorly cleared out, where all the objects remained in place, only their meaning had disappeared.
He went out into the street.The city was cold and indifferent. People hurried past, shopping bags, trams, lights. Everyone was going somewhere. He wasn’t.He started walking.He didn’t know where.His thoughts slowly came together, like pieces of a scattered puzzle finally realizing they were supposed to form a picture.
Nina’s voice. Katya’s laughter. The camp name on the website he had changed.One click.That was all it had been.And yet everything depended on it.He stopped on a bridge. Below, the water flowed darkly, slowly, as if it was in no hurry to go anywhere. The keys in his pocket clinked together.
The keys to a home that no longer meant home.He took out his phone again.This time he didn’t call Nina.He wrote a message instead.“I will restore Katya’s name. And I will take care of everything. I don’t want anything in return.”His finger hovered over the send button for a moment.
Then he pressed it.After the phone vibrated, there was silence.And in that silence, for the first time, he didn’t hear other people’s decisions.But the weight of his own.
