They hugged. The faint smell of fresh linen, the soft rustle of curtains, the quiet city outside. Their first night as husband and wife passed without grand words. They weren’t in the mood for theatrics. They lay quietly side by side, doing what people do when words have said enough.
In the morning, Alina wrote to the manager, accepting the offer, specifying dates, and asking about housing. Andrei emailed his partners about a transition period, requesting two months to hand over tasks. His father sent a short message: «I support you.» Lyudmila Sergeyevna stayed silent.
A week later, Alina met her at the parents’ apartment. The house smelled faintly of laundry detergent. Clean towels lay on the table. «You’re leaving,» Lyudmila Sergeyevna said, not looking at Alina. «You’re taking my son away.»
«I’m not taking anyone,» Alina replied. «I’m going with him. He’s an adult. It’s his choice.»
«You always speak so beautifully,» Lyudmila Sergeyevna said. «But when it all falls apart, you’ll come back to our house asking for help.»
«If it falls apart, we’ll get back up ourselves,» Alina said calmly. «I know how to live on little money. I know how to work with my hands and my head. I’m not leaving to return empty-handed. But even if things go wrong, I won’t ask you for money. Not because I’m proud, but because I don’t want to hear again that I’m not in your league.»
Lyudmila Sergeyevna pushed her chair back sharply. «Are you insulting me?» she said.
«No,» Alina replied. «I just don’t want to keep justifying myself. You don’t have to love me, but you can’t control me through pain.»
They fell silent. Andrei’s father entered, put the kettle on, and stayed out of it. His silence held understanding. Sometimes silence is better than words.
The apartment emptied as things were packed. Books went into boxes, dresses into vacuum bags, documents into clear folders. Andrei handed over his tasks, meeting after meeting. Sometimes he came home late and sat on the floor by the boxes. Alina sat beside him. They just sat. It helped.
Friends hosted farewell dinners, each bringing something: books, small amulets. Marina gave Alina a soft-covered notebook, saying it was «good for living.» Alina smiled. She understood.
Lyudmila Sergeyevna called rarely, keeping her distance. Once, she invited them for lunch, making Andrei’s favorite salad. She sat across, listening to his voice, trying to accept the change. At the end, she said quietly, looking at her plate, «I don’t know how to live without your Sunday visits.»
«Mom,» Andrei said, «we’ll stay in touch. I’ll call. We’ll visit for holidays. It’s not a break. It’s a step. Give us a year.» Her eyes were wet, and she nodded. Letting children go is always painful, and distance makes it unbearable. But holding tighter only hurts more.
At the airport, they arrived three hours early. The departure hall was crowded. Andrei checked the luggage. Alina reviewed the documents. The flight board flickered. Lyudmila Sergeyevna and her husband came to see them off. She stood straight, but her shoulders betrayed her exhaustion.
His father spoke little but hugged them tightly. «Live,» he said. «You only get one life. Don’t waste it on others’ decisions.»
Lyudmila Sergeyevna approached Alina, as if to say something sharp, but stopped. Her eyes showed a rare vulnerability. She sighed. «Take care of him,» she said. «He doesn’t always know how to say when he needs something.»
«I will,» Alina replied, «and he takes care of me, too.»
They passed through security. In the plane, Alina took Andrei’s hand. He smiled. Clouds floated below, leaving behind cities, roads, fir trees in yards, warm kitchens, the clink of spoons in cups. Above, it was bright. She felt no euphoria, just calm. That was enough.
Milan greeted them with a soft breeze and light noise. The company manager met them at the exit, helping with the luggage. The apartment was small but bright, with empty flower boxes on the balcony. The landlady left plates, a pan, and a kettle. The first night, they slept on fresh sheets, waking to the sound of trams.
Alina went to the office in the morning. Andrei stayed to unpack and email colleagues. At the office, they welcomed her warmly, gave her a desk by the window, introduced her to the team, and handed her a task plan. At noon, they took her to the city hall to sort out paperwork.
The first weeks were like a textbook: new words, faces, routes. Alina kept her head steady, didn’t pretend to understand when she didn’t, and wasn’t shy to ask. Evenings, she told Andrei about meetings and mistakes. He laughed, sharing his own slip-ups. He managed to shift some projects to remote work and was finding his footing.
On weekends, they walked along the waterfront, ate simple pasta, learned to pick cheese at the market, debated coffee, and chatted with neighbors. The neighbor downstairs gave Alina rosemary. The old man on the corner always nodded as they passed.
One evening, Alina got a message from Lyudmila Sergeyevna. «How are you?» She replied briefly, «Working, trying.» A week later, a photo came: Andrei’s father at the stove with a pot, captioned, «Learning to cook your soup.» Alina smiled and sent a heart. Sometimes small letters are enough.
Andrei found local clients, consulting on numbers. He enjoyed starting from scratch, teaching how to build reports, face taxes, and set simple team rules. Small offices warmed to him. He brought home short stories. They listened to each other like news, and it felt good.
In December, a paper letter arrived from Lyudmila Sergeyevna in a thick envelope, her handwriting neat. Alina opened it in the kitchen. Two pages. The first said she was struggling but trying to adjust, that Andrei was her anchor, and she feared losing him forever. She admitted her words at the dinner were foolish. The second page asked if they’d come for Christmas, even for a few days.
Alina read it aloud. Andrei sat, hands on the table, and thought. «Let’s go,» he said. «If you’re okay with it. I want Mom to see we’re fine, that we’re alive with a life, work, plans. Not running from her, just living.»
They booked tickets for a week. Home smelled of oranges. Andrei’s father brought out a box of decorations. Lyudmila Sergeyevna listened to their stories, asked questions, and sometimes smiled. The awkwardness didn’t vanish, but it softened.
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