Spring was confidently taking hold. Outside the window, the sun shone brightly, filling the air with a sense of freshness and warmth. Yet inside the old train station waiting hall, everything remained the same — heavy, musty, as if time had frozen there many years ago.
The walls, covered with peeling paint, wooden benches, and the worn floor held a mix of scents: fatigue, loneliness, bitterness of broken destinies. Even the draft slipping through the open windows couldn’t chase away this persistent smell — it had become part of the hall itself, like the old clock on the wall or the radio speaker crackling with age.
An elderly cleaning lady with a rag in her hand diligently tried to combat the stuffiness — opening the doors wide, wedging them with wooden blocks, hoping to air out the space. But the smell was in no hurry to disappear. It was everywhere — in every crack, in every corner. It accompanied everyone who came inside: the homeless, lonely mothers with strollers, wandering musicians, restless souls, and those who had simply lost their way.
Those who had to leave on business tried to stay here as little as possible. They arrived just before the train’s departure, preferring to hide under the platform’s canopy even in the heaviest rain or blizzard, just to avoid breathing that air.
Today the hall was almost empty. The duty woman, a middle-aged lady accustomed to this environment, quickly scanned the room and immediately noticed her — the very woman she had seen yesterday. Then she sat in the corner by the window; today — again in the same place. It seemed she hadn’t gone anywhere.
Katerina Nikolaevna sat, almost blending with the bench, her shoulder pressed to the window frame, her gaze directed somewhere inward. Either at the empty platform or deep inside her own thoughts. The duty woman frowned: “Did she spend the night here? Or did she come back so early?”
Curiosity got the better of her. Passing by, the woman cast a sidelong glance — the woman wasn’t sleeping. She turned her head, met eyes, and gave a slight nod. So — she was awake. But why spend so much time in this hall?
Her name was Katerina Nikolaevna. She really wanted to leave. But there was no specific destination. No ticket, no plan, no clear route — only the desire to be as far away from the past as possible. She thought that the very act of leaving could cleanse her of the pain accumulated over the years.
For the last few months, her thoughts revolved around one thing: to find an abandoned house somewhere in the countryside — empty, but still standing. To live quietly, without noise, quarrels, or grievances. Like in the old good cartoon about Prostokvashino — only instead of a cat, dog, and postman — just her. And no one else.
This idea seemed possible to her. After all, there really are plenty of abandoned houses in Russian villages. People left, died, and the houses remained — deserted but alive. Why not start over?
But as soon as she stepped on the cold station tiles, her confidence began to crumble. What if all this was just a dream? What if there is no such place to go? What if she returns… but to what? To a life that had long ceased to be life?
No one was waiting for her at home. Vladislav, her son, had long become a stranger. This thought was especially bitter. In her youth, Katerina fell madly in love — he was handsome, charismatic, confident. She was a school beauty. They married quickly. He offered his hand; she said yes. It seemed a fairy tale was beginning.
He made a career, succeeded in business. And she became his support: caring, patient, loving. “Why do you need to study?” he said. “You’re the wife of a serious man. Take care of the house, I’ll provide the rest.”
When she found out she was pregnant, her heart rejoiced. Her husband was also happy — at least it seemed so then. A healthy boy was born, and the first years of her life belonged entirely to the family. She cooked porridge, sang songs, washed, cooked, cleaned until it shone. All for the two of them.
But over time, the husband changed. “Housekeepers” appeared, who, as it turned out, were not who they pretended to be. His gaze became cold, words cutting. He began to ignore her as if she ceased to exist. She realized: fighting was pointless.
Now she sat in the waiting hall with a worn-out bag on her lap, as if clutching the last scrap of reality. There was no anger or pain in her eyes — only exhaustion. Maybe this is what freedom looks like — when there is nothing left to lose.
Vladislav became a tool in his father’s hands. Her ex-husband did everything possible to erase her from their son’s life. The divorce was finalized quickly. Custody was granted to him. At court he said coldly:
“Who to entrust the child to? A woman without work, education, or a future?”
She was allowed to see Vladik only on weekends and under supervision. She cherished every moment. But over time, these meetings stopped. The boy forgot his mother’s face. He cried, not understanding why mom leaves and why she doesn’t return.
Through lawyers, the ex-husband achieved a complete severance of ties between them. Under the pretext “for the child’s benefit.” New wives diligently fit into the role of mothers: spoiled him, spoiled him too much, sometimes humiliating themselves before the boy. But the result was the upbringing of a capricious, selfish teenager. Katerina knew: no woman can replace a child’s real mother.
After the divorce, she had to return to her parents — to an old apartment with peeling walls and creaky floors. Finding work was difficult: no education, experience limited to the kitchen. First, she worked as an assistant, then became a confectioner. Personal life was a closed topic. Almost all her strength went to caring for her sick parents.
At night, Katerina lay awake, remembering her son’s face. She didn’t even know he married his schoolmate. Found out by chance — from a former acquaintance.
Time changes everything. Her ex-husband began to have problems: business collapsed, debts grew. The last wife disappeared, leaving debt. He tried to save the situation, but his heart couldn’t take it — he was struck by a stroke.
After all the formalities, Vlad was left almost with nothing. All valuables went to the banks. They ended up on the street. It was then he remembered his mother.
He came as a son seeking forgiveness. Katerina cried seeing him on the threshold. But her joy did not find a response in her son’s and his wife’s eyes — they coldly looked around the shabby walls, inhaled the smell of the old apartment.
She became a mother again — cooked his favorite dishes, ironed shirts, asked about his days. But for him, it was taken for granted. He grew up thinking the world revolved around him. And in his head were his father’s words — distorted, full of reproaches and lies about his mother.
“Do you remember how you cried every time she came? You didn’t want to walk with her, you threw tantrums every time!” his mother’s words echoed in his mind.
But no one told him that he cried not from fear or dislike, but from the pain of parting. That he clung to his mother’s clothes, unwilling to let go. No one explained to him that it was love that caused his tears and pain, not absence of feelings.
Over the years Vladislav grew colder. Indifference he learned from his father awoke in him. He began openly expressing dissatisfaction:
“How long can you live at my expense? I work from morning till night, and you both just ‘hang’ on me!”
His wife supported him, increasing the pressure:
“Couldn’t you do anything useful? The pension goes to utilities, and you’re useless! Neither feed properly nor clean properly!”
Katerina painfully watched how her son slipped from her life again. As if the little boy who once called her mom disappeared without a trace, replaced by a stranger, a rude man. This happened even before he started drinking. And alcohol only made his cruelty more obvious. Drunk, he could scream, throw something at the wall, hit. Bruises increasingly appeared on Katerina’s face.
Kick out her son? She couldn’t even imagine that. It would be betrayal. But inside her grew another desire: “Maybe I should leave myself? Quietly, without extra words… Just disappear.”
One night, when the house fell into a dead sleep after yet another drunken binge, Katerina packed a few things: some clothes, documents, a little food and money. She put it all in an old basket inherited from her mother and stepped out the door. Stepped into the darkness, not knowing where the road led, but with one thought — never again to be a stranger in her own home.
At the station, she sat as if petrified, staring into emptiness. In her eyes — emptiness, in her soul — longing and desperate confusion. Where to go now? Where to find a corner where she could quietly lean against a wall and not flinch at every rustle? In her thoughts arose the image of an old house in the village — even without light or water, with cobwebs in corners and creaky floors, but with a roof over her head and walls behind which no one would scream or hit.
Katerina seemed frozen in this waiting space. She didn’t know what she was waiting for — a miracle, help from above, a sign? But she believed: somewhere there is a place where she would be accepted, not judged or driven away.
“Excuse me, could you help me? To lift this latch on the window?” the station attendant addressed her.
“Of course, I’ll help,” Katerina replied, rising easily and reaching for the window sash.
The woman involuntarily held her gaze. Before her stood a woman about fifty — still beautiful, but with a dimmed look and a tired face. Her clothes were old, her movements cautious, as if afraid to step on the wrong floor. And in every gesture read a story full of pain and grievances.
An announcement sounded over the speakers — the train to the capital was departing. The hall came to life: people gathered, rustled bags, moved to the exit. The train slowly started, gaining speed. Carriages flashed by, changing numbers on the glass. The last signal. A foreign life was leaving. And with it — the chance to start over.
Katerina watched the train leave, not daring to buy a ticket. Her heart tightened — this road was no longer for her.
A tall man in a strict coat passed by. He was late for the train but suddenly stopped by the window where Katerina sat. Something about her face seemed familiar. He turned around and confidently headed into the hall.
“Katia? Is that you? Katerina Svetlova?”
She frowned, squinting:
“Sorry… do we know each other?”
“Of course! I’m Dima! Dmitry! Remember? We sat at the same desk. You even called me ‘Spring’ — I wrote you poems about April…”
She looked intently at him — and suddenly remembered. The very boy-poet with ink on his sleeve, who always read her lines between lessons. For the first time in a long time, a sincere smile flickered on Katerina’s face — bright, almost childish. For a moment she was herself again — alive, real, undefeated.
“Tell me, what happened to you?” Dmitry asked softly, sitting beside her.
And she told him. Without hiding anything. About her son who became a stranger. About humiliation, beatings, fear, constant tension. About how ashamed she was to show her face to the neighbors. As if a dam had burst, releasing years of silence and grief.
“Maybe you could stay with me?” he suddenly offered.
Katerina hesitated shyly:
“It’s awkward somehow…”
“Come on. I just need someone to sit and talk with. Like there’s a lot of everything, but no one nearby.”
“What do you do now?”
“I’m now the mayor of the city. For two years already.”
Katerina was amazed:
“No way… I didn’t recognize you. Ever since Vlad came back to me, it’s like I fell out of life. No TV, no news… Just walls and silence.”
Dmitry took her suitcase, she picked up the basket. They went out together. And the attendant, standing behind a column, whispered to a colleague:
“So that’s his beloved… No wonder she didn’t leave. Probably waiting…”
The townspeople respected Dmitry. Not for his position or loud promises. For results. He didn’t like showy luxury, didn’t ride with guards, didn’t demand preparation for meetings in advance. He came unexpectedly, checked personally.
Once he visited a school. To assess not paperwork, but the real situation. Entered the canteen unannounced. The stench hit immediately — spoiled cabbage, burnt porridge. Dmitry sat down next to the children, tried the casserole — dry, tough, almost inedible.
The result was swift: the principal and the head were fired before evening. And in a couple of days, the school kitchen changed radically — children began returning from school full and happy. It hadn’t happened since their own childhood.
Such stories circulated in the city. People trusted their mayor. And now, when he led the woman from the station, no one was surprised. Perhaps this was also a reason to change someone’s life.
These changes affected not only one school — as if other institutions started to stir in a chain reaction. Staff were cut, budgets slashed, unnecessary departments eliminated. Those who remained were strictly forbidden to come to work by car. No official transport, no drivers — only on foot or public transit. Dmitry Alekseevich was the first to refuse an official car, setting an example for all. For many, this became a sign: he speaks seriously and acts decisively.
Katerina Nikolaevna silently examined the house they approached. A two-story mansion with a neat yard, wide windows, and carved trims made an impression. It looked solid, durable — as if built to last centuries. She hadn’t said anything when Dmitry, noticing her look, softly said:
“Don’t think I got this position easily. My father and I built it ourselves — stone by stone. He… didn’t live to the end. Now I live here alone. So, shall we go in?”
He swung the gate open, letting her go first. In the hall, he calmly added:
“My wife left long ago. Ran off abroad with her new lover. Period.”
Katerina slowed down, gave him a scrutinizing look. There was no pain in his voice — only calm acceptance, as if recounting someone else’s story.
“Don’t look like that,” he smiled. “We just turned out to be different people. No love, no understanding. Just a mistake.”
Dmitry helped her take off her coat, hung it on a rack. Katerina hesitated a bit but took off her scarf. Then he saw. Saw what he didn’t want to see.
Carefully taking her by the shoulders, he looked into her face:
“God, Katya… What did they do to you?.. Who did this?”
He remembered the other Katya — cheerful, lively, full of light. And before him was a woman broken by life. Her features had hardened, her eyes darkened, her voice lowered. He wouldn’t have recognized her at the station if not for that look — deep inside the old soul still glowed.
He just hugged her. Silently. Not like a man to a woman, but like an old friend who sees how many years have worn down someone close.
“It’s over. You’ll never go back there. Never.”
Since then, Katerina stayed in his house. Dmitry worked a lot — meetings, documents, city affairs. And she seemed to dissolve into this place. Hardly went out, stayed in the yard as if feeling safe here.
One evening, after a hearty dinner, he relaxed in a chair and smirked:
“Katya, if you keep cooking this well, I’ll have to order new doors — no way to squeeze through with such an appetite.”
She laughed — light, ringing. It was the first real laughter in a long time.
But soon Dmitry became serious:
“I think you should file a complaint against Vladislav and his wife. What they did — a crime. Let them answer for it.”
“I can’t, Dima… He’s my son. How can I go against my own?”
“Does he even consider you his mother? He’s an adult. He should understand what’s right and wrong.”
“He was taught from childhood that I’m nobody. Father pushed me away. They simply don’t know me. I became a stranger in their life.”
“But if you let them continue, they’ll become monsters. And monsters must be fought. Before it’s too late.”
After that, they never spoke about it again.
Day by day, Katerina changed. The house gleamed with cleanliness, and after a week she decided to decorate the yard with flowers. Bare flower beds and gray earth no longer pleased the eye.
One evening Dmitry entered the gate and froze. Katerina was standing by a flower bed, planting something fragrant, humming to herself. In his old T-shirt and a simple skirt, she looked completely different. No more bruises. Her face had cleared. He suddenly remembered: yes, he once loved her.
“Sorry, I got carried away,” she smiled, turning. “I’ll warm up dinner now.”
“No need. Let’s go to a restaurant.”
“To a restaurant?” she was surprised. “I don’t even have a dress!”
“Then it’s time to fix that. You’ve been home like in exile for a month. I’m the mayor; I have a right to a little luxury. Elena — my assistant — will come on Friday. She’ll help with the outfit. Done.”
Katerina looked confused ahead. Thoughts tangled, replacing each other like a whirlwind. And suddenly — a revelation: Dmitry mattered to her. This thought knocked the ground from under her feet. After all, she had long accepted that romance was the past. After her ex-husband kicked her out of the family, she closed that chapter with a bold cross.
And here — he was. Completely different. Sensitive, attentive, strong. Not one who commands, but one who listens. Dmitry seemed almost a myth to her — a man from the distant past whom she did not expect to meet again.
The next morning there was a light, confident knock on the door. Elena stood on the threshold — young, slender, with an open smile and kind, lively eyes.
“Hello! I’m Elena, Dmitry’s colleague. He asked me to help you with clothes for Friday’s dinner.”
Katerina nodded, studying the guest. Elena’s gaze was kind, without a hint of arrogance. She radiated genuine care.
“Maybe we’ll go together?” Katerina offered hesitantly. “I’m afraid to leave the house alone. Afraid of everything… But maybe it’s time.”
Elena smiled warmly:
“Of course, we’ll go together. Dmitry said: no compromises. Only the best and without doubts.”
A few hours later, they returned — tired, happy, with a whole pile of bags. The shopping was a success. Over tea, Elena involuntarily thought: the mayor didn’t choose this woman by chance. There was something real about her — warm, human, almost forgotten in the modern world.
“Lenochka, now you won’t leave me! Sit down for at least some tea,” joked Katerina.
“With pleasure,” Elena smiled.
After a hearty dinner in a warm atmosphere, Elena suddenly became serious.
“Katerina Nikolaevna, may I ask a personal question?” Elena began uncertainly.
“Of course, Lenochka. Speak, don’t be afraid,” the woman replied gently, encouraging her with her gaze.
“Do you like Dmitry Alekseevich?”
Katerina lowered her eyes for a moment, as if weighing her feelings.
“Don’t think I’m building castles in the air… It’s just scary to admit it to myself. Yes, I like him. Very much. But who am I to him? What can he see in me?”
Elena laughed, a little ironically:
“Ha, you just don’t know our mayor! And, before you can recover, she briskly added: Tomorrow you go to the restaurant. I’ll book you a salon appointment, come at four — we’ll get ready together. Plan set!”
Katerina laughed — it really felt like a warm conspiracy. As if the world was becoming kind again.
The next morning Elena had to work hard to get time off from Dmitry Alekseevich. He didn’t understand at first where she suddenly rushed off. Had to invent a story about an urgent dentist visit.
In a couple of hours, another woman was standing in front of the mirror. Not the exhausted, harassed Katerina, but confident, glowing, almost young. Her gaze became lively, hair neatly styled, skin radiant. She seemed to have returned to her former self — but now with new strength and awareness of her own worth.
At home, she and Elena picked out a dress — elegant, tasteful. On high heels, Katerina moved easily, as if she had always lived in that image. Grace awoke in her that years of humiliation could not kill.
Elena suddenly looked at the clock and jumped up:
“Oh, I’m late!”
Meanwhile, Dmitry was already waiting for them in the car. Around the corner, it seemed to him he recognized a familiar figure, but he quickly pushed the thought away: “No, Elena said — at the doctor’s.”
He entered the house with a bouquet in his hands but froze after crossing the threshold. Katerina stood before him — transformed, radiant. As if she stepped out of a painting. He immediately realized: it was her. The one for whom it’s worth stopping time.
A heavy, meaningful silence hung between them. It contained more than words could say.
“Are these flowers… for me?” she asked playfully, tilting her head.
Dmitry bent down, picked up the fallen bouquet, and handed it to her with a smile:
“You amazed me,” he admitted sincerely.
They spent the evening in a cozy restaurant. The conversation flowed freely — they recalled school years, joked, laughed. Between them awoke again that very, almost forgotten feeling — warmth, trust, connection.
At the end of dinner, Dmitry unexpectedly asked:
“Have you ever thought about marrying again?”
Katerina froze shyly:
“Is that a proposal?”
He didn’t answer directly, only smiled, signaling the conversation wasn’t over yet. They went outside. The air was warm, like the first spring breeze.
“Shall we take a walk? Such a night — a sin not to enjoy it,” he suggested.
“With pleasure,” she answered, feeling a strange but pleasant lightness inside. Long years of loneliness seemed to be retreating.
They slowly walked down the alley, and suddenly Dmitry, with a sly smile, said:
“Let’s buy ice cream? Imagine: two adults, a night walk, ice cream on the go…”
“That’s madness… and wonderful,” she laughed.
He ran to a kiosk, leaving her alone under the flickering streetlights. Katerina closed her eyes, soaking in the moment. The pain of the past receded. For the first time in a long time, she felt alive.
“Mom, is that you?..” A drunken voice cut through the silence.
She shuddered. Before her stood Vladislav — her son, with red eyes and unsteady gait. Next to him — his girlfriend, with a provocative expression.
“Well, look at that, I thought you died somewhere,” he sneered maliciously. “No calls, no news. I was waiting to get your apartment. And you, it turns out, here — all dressed up, with a lover…”
“I have nothing, Vlad. And even if I did — you wouldn’t get a penny. Stop living at my expense. Find a job. You’re a man after all.”
“A job?! Why did you even give birth to me?! You couldn’t feed me!” he growled, stepping forward. His companion pushed Katerina, she barely kept her balance.
“Step away from her immediately!” a sharp voice rang out.
Before them stood Dmitry. Calm but firm as a wall.
“So, here’s the hero-lover,” Vlad mocked. “Decided to brighten up old age?”
“Get out before it’s too late,” Dmitry said calmly but firmly.
“Does she have no money? And you, apparently, have plenty? That suit’s not from the market, huh?” the son continued angrily.
But Dmitry did not flinch. When Vladislav lunged forward, he managed to grab his hand and sharply twisted it back. The son howled in pain.
Then everything happened quickly. Vlad’s girlfriend pulled out a knife and threw it at Dmitry. The blade pierced his side. Katerina screamed.
The criminals disappeared, leaving her alone with the wounded man. People ran towards the screams. Katerina knelt beside him, pressing his head to her, all in tears and blood:
“Please, don’t leave… I need you… I can’t manage without you…”
He struggled to open his eyes, searching for her gaze. Seeing her face — tearful, beloved — he smiled:
“Wait… I didn’t get to ask… Will you agree?”
Katerina nodded, repeating through tears:
“Yes… Yes… Just don’t leave. You are my hero…”
After that was the trial. Dmitry gave full testimony after recovering from the injury. Katerina also spoke, telling everything — about beatings, humiliation, fear, tension. Vladislav and his girlfriend were sentenced.
She stood firm. Didn’t falter, didn’t cry in court. Only in her eyes burned what could not be taken away — dignity, pain, and love that doesn’t disappear even in the darkest days.