For a long time, Nikolai and Olga clung to hope. But as the years passed, even hope began to fade.
Birthdays came and went. Lena’s room stayed untouched. Her photos stayed on the wall.
Some nights, Nikolai would sit in her room and stare at the empty bed. Olga would set an extra plate at the dinner table—then quietly remove it.
Life went on, but it wasn’t the same. There was a hole in their hearts that nothing could fill.
Then, in October of 2012—22 years after that unforgettable night—something extraordinary happened.
Nikolai decided to clean the attic. The old boxes hadn’t been touched in years.
Among the dusty piles, he found a worn-out photo album. It was filled with pictures from Lena’s childhood. Her first steps. Her birthday parties. School photos. Memories that felt both distant and raw.
As he flipped through the pages, something slipped out and fluttered to the floor.
It was a photograph.
But not just any photograph.
It showed a woman standing in front of a wooden house. Mountains loomed in the distance. The woman was older—but Nikolai knew instantly. It was Lena.
His hands shook as he turned the photo over.
There, in her familiar handwriting, were just a few words:
“2002. I am alive. Forgive me.”
For a moment, time stood still.
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