He rushed downstairs and showed Olga. She gasped. Her legs gave out, and she sank into the nearest chair.
It was true. Lena was alive. After all these years.
The photo had one more clue. A small stamp in the corner — it named a village in Kyrgyzstan.
Nikolai didn’t hesitate. He packed a bag and booked a trip.
It was a long journey. Planes, buses, dirt roads. Every bump along the way filled him with both fear and hope.
When he finally arrived, he walked into a modest local hotel and asked the receptionist about his daughter.
She looked at him for a long moment, then nodded.
Without a word, she handed him an envelope.
On the front, it said:
“For Dad. Only if he comes himself.”
With trembling hands, he opened the letter.
Lena’s words poured out—filled with emotion, regret, and longing.
She explained that on the night of her graduation, she’d gotten involved with someone who promised her the world.
But it quickly turned into something darker.
She was too afraid to come home. She felt ashamed. Lost.
Eventually, she escaped that life and started anew in this remote village. She built a quiet life. She even had a son—Artyom.
But she never stopped thinking about her parents. About the pain she had caused.
She wrote, “I didn’t know if you’d want to see me again. I hoped… one day… maybe.”
The hotel receptionist gave him directions to a neighboring village.
As Nikolai walked through the small streets, children ran past him, playing and laughing.
Then, he saw her.
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