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I followed him from a distance, my legs weak, as if I were walking through water.
I wasn’t thinking.
I was just walking.
The gray apartment blocks rose silently around us.
He entered an old building with peeling plaster.
I waited a few seconds and went in after him.
He climbed the stairs slowly.
He was limping slightly.
Andrei limped the same way, after a knee surgery paid for with a loan that still hadn’t been repaid.
He stopped on the second floor.
Unlocked an ordinary brown door.
Before he went in, I heard myself say:
“Andrei, please.”
He turned around, tired.
Not irritated.
Tired.
“Ma’am… I’m really not who you think I am.”
“Then let me come in. Five minutes. That’s all.”
He looked at me for a long time.
Sighed.
And opened the door.
The apartment was small.
Old furniture.
The smell of soup.
On the table, a bank debt notice and an envelope from the hospital.
On the wall, a photograph of a woman and a child.
“My wife,” he said. “And my son.”
Something cut deep inside me.
“Don’t you remember anything?” I whispered.
“Not the accident? Not the hospital? Not your own funeral?”
He sat down on a chair.
Rubbed his forehead.
“I had an accident seven months ago,” he said quietly.
“They found me by the side of the road, without any documents.
I was in a coma for three weeks.
When I woke up… I didn’t know who I was.”
I felt the air leave my lungs.
“The doctors told me I might never remember everything.
Then this woman appeared. She said she was my wife.
She had proof.
We tried to build something.”
I collapsed onto a chair.
On the day of the funeral, the coffin was closed.
The doctors told us the body was too badly damaged.
I paid.
I cried.
I let him go.
“They declared you dead,” I said.
“I signed the papers.”
He was silent for a long time.
Then he stood up.
Opened a drawer.
And took out a wedding ring.
Mine.
“I wear it sometimes,” he said.
“I don’t know why.”
I looked at him.
And for the first time, I understood.
It hadn’t been a lie.
It had been a rupture.
“Andrei,” I said calmly.
“Maybe you can’t be mine anymore.
But you once were.”
Tears ran down his face, untouched.
We parted without an embrace.
Without promises.
Two lives.
One man.
And the truth, finally spoken.
When I left the building, the air felt lighter.
I didn’t get my husband back.
But I got my peace back.
And sometimes, that’s all you can ask for.
This work is inspired by real events and people but has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to real persons, living or deceased, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended.
The author and publisher assume no responsibility for the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretations. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed belong to the characters and do not necessarily reflect the views of the author or publisher.
