— Mom, when is Dad coming? — Petya stood by the window, pressing his nose against the cold glass.
Svetlana looked at the clock. Twenty-one minutes past ten.
Oleg had promised to be home by ten. The table was set, the Olivier salad in the fridge, the roasted chicken waiting on the stove. She had even bought some sparkling wine, though they usually saved money.
— Soon, sweetie — she said, but her voice trembled.
The blizzard outside grew wilder, snow covering the street lamps. Svetlana dialed her husband’s number for the fourth time. He had ignored the first three calls. Now at least it was ringing.
— What the…? — Oleg’s voice was hoarse, angry.
— Where are you? It’s almost eleven… We’re waiting!
— I told you I’d be late. The storm is terrible, the roads aren’t cleared. Don’t wait for me, go to bed.
“Don’t wait for me.” He said it so casually, as if he were talking about a missed breakfast, not New Year’s Eve. Svetlana clenched the phone.
— Oleg, it’s New Year! Petya has been at the window all evening…
— Svetka, don’t guilt me! I can’t right now! It’s deadly to go out in this weather, don’t you understand?!
But through his voice, on the other end of the line, she heard something else. Laughter. A woman’s voice. Then a man shouted something cheerfully. Music played in the background.
— Where are you?
— I said I’m stuck! Alright, bye!
She hung up. The screen with Oleg’s name lit up again — an incoming call. She answered but couldn’t get a word out.
— …Are you seriously going home? — a foreign voice, young, drunk.
— What? — Oleg was speaking, but not to her, to someone nearby, — why would I sit at home with my wife and kid when there’s this party going on? I told her — don’t wait for me at home. Let her celebrate if she wants.
Laughter. Clinking of glasses. The music got louder. Oleg continued talking, but Svetlana had already set the phone down. He hadn’t disconnected. He had accidentally called her again, and now she could hear everything.
She walked to the window where Petya stood and wrapped her arms around his shoulders.
— Petya, come here. We’re going to grandma and grandpa’s. Right now.
The boy turned and nodded. He didn’t ask why. Children often sense more than we think.
Svetlana pulled an old suitcase from the closet and packed Petya’s things, her own, and the necessary documents in ten minutes. She didn’t cry. The tears had gone so deep, they couldn’t be drawn out.
The Christmas tree twinkled with colored lights, the table remained untouched. She turned off the lights in the room, leaving only the garland on. Let it shine. Let him see it if he comes back.
The neighbor, Viktor, helped move the suitcases to the car. He didn’t ask anything, just nodded grimly.
— In this blizzard?
— In this — Svetlana replied.
She started the engine and drove out of the yard. Petya was already asleep in the back seat. The blizzard pounded against the windows so hard the wipers barely managed. The road was empty. Everyone was home, celebrating. Everyone except her.
The car broke down at the twenty-third kilometer. Svetlana tried to start the engine again — it coughed, then died. All around was white haze, snow up to her knees, no one in sight. The phone showed half past twelve. New Year had already arrived.
Petya slept under Svetlana’s jacket. The cold crept into the car. Twenty minutes later, yellow headlights appeared in the rearview mirror.
A large SUV stopped a few meters away. A tall man got out, pulled up his hood, and approached the window.
— Stuck?
— Broken down.
He quickly walked around the car and returned.
— I’m Dmitry. I can tow you. Where to?
— To my parents. Another thirty kilometers.
He nodded, as if it were natural to help a stranger with a child in a blizzard. He hooked them up quickly, without words. Ten minutes later they were moving.
When they arrived at her parents’ house, Dmitry got out and unhooked the tow rope. Svetlana pulled out her wallet, but he shook his head.
— No need. Just take care of yourselves.
— I don’t know how to thank you…
— You already did. By leaving. That means you’re doing the right thing.
He spoke as if he knew everything, though Svetlana hadn’t told him a thing. Dmitry handed her a piece of paper.
— If the car needs repairs — here’s the number of a trusted mechanic. Mine is on it too, just in case.
Svetlana took the paper. Dmitry got back into his car and drove away, his headlights disappearing into the blizzard. The door was opened by her mother. She didn’t ask anything, just hugged her daughter and took the sleeping Petya in her arms.
Oleg appeared on the third day. He called as if nothing had happened, his voice listless.
— So, how are you, kid? Offended? I didn’t do it on purpose…
Svetlana sat in the kitchen at her parents’ house, watching the snow-covered yard.
— I filed for divorce.
A pause. Then a small laugh.
— What? Seriously? Over one evening?
— Over five years in which I didn’t want to see the truth. And that night, you showed it to me yourself.
— Svetka, you’re talking nonsense. Come home, let’s talk…
— I’m already home.
She hung up. He never called again. The divorce was finalized in court two months later. Oleg came once, shrugged, and said if she wanted it that way — fine.
Alimony was set, but he paid once every three months. Svetlana didn’t push. She didn’t care.
Three weeks after the divorce, her phone vibrated from an unknown number.
— Svetlana? This is Dmitry. The one from the highway. Sorry to bother you. I just wanted to know — how are you? Did you get the car fixed?
Svetlana was surprised.
— Everything’s fine. We fixed it. Thanks again.
— Glad to hear. You know, I wasn’t going home either. My fiancée left me right before New Year.
She said she didn’t want to be tied to someone who spends half a life on the road. Then I saw you on the highway with your child and thought — maybe this is fate showing me I’m not alone.
He spoke simply, without self-pity. Svetlana listened and felt it was easy to talk to him for the first time. They spoke for an hour, then again in the evening. Dmitry called once a week, then more often.
He talked about the roads, she about her work at the post office and Petya. No rush. Just two people for whom talking was easy.
One April day, Svetlana went into a grocery store near the post office. At the checkout stood Oleg. He looked tired, his face swollen, his jacket crumpled. Counting coins.
— It’s short — the cashier said coldly.
— Short? I counted exactly…
— Thirty rubles missing. Either pay or remove something.
Oleg blushed and rummaged through his pockets. He pulled out a crumpled bill and placed it on the counter.
— Here.
The cashier took it and issued the receipt. Oleg looked up and saw Svetlana. He froze.
— Hi — he said quietly.
— Hi.
They stood in silence. Oleg licked his lips, tried to smile.
— How are you? Petya?
— Fine. Everything’s fine.
— Listen, about the alimony… I’ll transfer it soon. Just changed jobs, there’s a delay…
Svetlana looked at him and realized she felt nothing. No anger, no pity. Emptiness.
— Oleg, don’t. We’re managing.
He nodded, looked away. Stood a moment longer, then left. Rain fell. He walked alone. No one waited for him. Nowhere to rush.
Svetlana remembered that New Year’s Eve, the laughter on the phone, the words “don’t wait for me” — and understood she got exactly what she deserved. Loneliness.
Dmitry arrived in May. He brought Petya a large toy truck — an exact copy of his own truck. The boy was thrilled, and Svetlana for the first time felt a man next to her who didn’t lie.
They didn’t meet often, because Dmitry worked a lot, but when he came, he stayed a long time. Helped around the house, played with Petya, promised nothing. He just was there.
Two years later, at the stroke of midnight, Svetlana stood by the Christmas tree. Dmitry held her hand. Petya slept in the next room, hugging his toy truck.
— Svetlana, will you marry me? — he said quietly.
She smiled. No tears, no drama.
— Yes.
In that moment she remembered the blizzard, the broken car, the night she was left alone. And she understood: sometimes you have to lose everything to find what truly matters.
Oleg remained in that life, where everyone chooses their own path. He chose one night of fun — and received emptiness forever.
