I walk away, feeling how everything that has once been bright and dear, like sand, slips away from under my feet, crumbling with every step. It feels as if I am trampling my dreams, forgotten and broken, like old toys thrown into a corner. Thoughts hammer in my head, but they are empty, echoing off the empty walls: she is with someone else.
She has a different life now. A life that has no place for me. She isn't waiting for me. Neither then nor now. I am just a fragment of her past, a part she might have already forgotten. She has a child. A family? Yes, surely. Everything I could have dreamed of has now become foreign—not mine, not for me.
And I… I have become nothing more than someone left in the past, a forgotten page of her life, covered in the dust of time. How have I not seen it before? How could I have blindly hoped that things would be different?
"What an idiot I am," I think bitterly, feeling everything inside me contract with pain. "All this time I live in hope, I dream… And she has moved on long ago. And I am left here, alone, in this empty past, in these illusions that will never come true."
"Max, wait!" Vi shouts and catches up with me, gripping my hand tightly. His fingers dig into my skin, and I feel the tension running through them. It isn't just a grip—it's a cry from his soul, a desire to hold me before I consume everything he needs to say.
I try to pull away, but he holds on with unexpected strength. It's like a pull, something that can't be ignored, even if I try.
"You misunderstood!" he says, breathing heavily, his chest rising and falling as if the air itself were heavy and bitter. He tries to calm himself, but his eyes still burn. "Max… you got it all wrong."
I stand there, tense as a string, my fingers clenched into fists. The words pierce my soul like icy arrows. I don't want to hear any more excuses, explanations, empty words that can change nothing. I am broken, but pride doesn't let me move forward. It doesn't let me hear a single word from him.
But he looks me straight in the eyes, as if he understands something I haven't realized. And then he says:
"The parents of this little girl are Katrin and you. She has a daughter by you, Max."
The world freezes. Everything stops. I feel nothing but incredible pressure in my head and chest as Vi's words pierce my consciousness, yet they can't reach my heart. It's too much. Everything is too much.
"Am… am i her dad?" I whisper, as if even thinking in that direction is frightening.
The question seems absurd in a distant way. My brain refuses to believe it, but my heart… my heart suddenly recognizes the truth. It clenches, as if an unknown force is squeezing me from the inside. And at that moment it beats like never before, ringing in my ears from the sensation. A feeling of living shock, unstoppable.
"Yes," Vi nods, his eyes full of something important. "Let's go back, and I'll tell you everything, as I promised."
I nod, not even trying to resist. My legs seem to carry me back on their own. But now every step is heavy, as if they can't support me. I feel the world shifting beneath my feet. Everything has changed. I'm not ready for this. But I move forward, unaware of what will come next.
"When did she find out?" I force out, my voice breaking as if the question itself tears from my heart, which continues to fracture. It's important, too important for me. I need to know when she realized that everything would turn upside down. That her life, my life, would become a different world.
"She told me a couple of days before your mom arrived," he replies. His words are heavy, like stones dropping into water.
That's when she starts acting strangely. I remember. Yes. I remember her eyes when she suddenly begins to withdraw, her silence deeper than usual. I hadn't understood why, and now it all falls into place.
"Why did she agree to take the money and leave?" I no longer know what I feel. It's a question that can't be simple.
"She needed it," Vi sighs heavily, his eyes softening, though there is no relief in them. "Katrin sold the apartment because she didn't want to be a burden for her grandmother. She lives on a single pension. She just wanted some time to be with her daughter, not to work right away. That money ran out a year ago. And she went to work."
"So… she's living with her grandmother?"
I don't know what else to say. I stand there, unable to believe I am hearing this. My emotions overflow. Despair, resentment, love, loss. And all at once. All of it. I have a million questions. But now I know the main thing: she hasn't forgotten me. And we have a daughter.
"Yes. Did she tell you where?"
"No. Will you give me the address?" My voice trembles slightly, though I try to speak calmly. Inside, everything burns. My heart pounds as if it will burst from my chest. I am shaking—from impatience, fear, hope.
Vi looks at me intently, as if trying to peer inside. As if he wants to make sure I am ready. That I won't break down or do something foolish. His gaze is attentive, almost fatherly, and tinged with concern.
"I will. But, please, don't scare her or pressure her. She truly thought she was doing the best for you."
I frown. My chest feels as if it is being crushed from inside. Is he really protecting her? After everything?
"What does that mean?" irritation stirs in my chest, sharp and biting. "How could her and our little girl's presence in my life ruin anything?"
He exhales heavily, presses his lips together, as if struggling with himself. It's clear he doesn't want to say it. But he does:
"Simply… in her opinion, you were starting to be torn between university and work," Vi says quietly, lowering his gaze. "Trying to manage everything. To study and earn money for you… for your family. She was afraid it would break you. That you would sacrifice yourself for them and lose your future. Your dream. Lose yourself."
I clench my fists so hard that my nails dig into my skin. My jaw tenses. It's frustrating. Painful. As if they don't trust me. As if she doesn't believe in me the way I believe in her.
"And what about that?" I ask defiantly, losing control, unable to hide the hurt. My voice trembles, but it carries fury—contained, clenched into a fist, breaking free.
"Katrin was sure you would quit university. That you couldn't handle it all: the pressure, the fatigue, the sleepless nights… She didn't want you to push yourself too hard."
These words cut like a knife. They sound like a verdict. As if nobody believes in me. As if they have never believed.
"This isn't true!" I blurt out sharply, almost shouting. My heart pounds in my temples, a lump stuck in my throat. "I'm managing it right now."
"You're managing… because you have help," Vi says, looking at me calmly but firmly. His voice is even, but there is a certain sad stubbornness in it. "Your parents are around. At work, they don't overload you because you work with them, not for strangers. But living alone, with a child in your arms — that's something else entirely. This isn't theory. This is survival, Max."
I press my lips together, unable to respond immediately. Inside, everything seems to turn upside down. Something trembles — not from fear, no. From anger. From hurt. From the feeling that I am being denied even the chance to try. I straighten up, as if trying to hold onto the remnants of confidence. I swallow the bitterness. I don't even let the tears come.
"I don't really understand…" I say slowly, pressing my lips together. "I could manage."
I don't say it for him. I say it for myself. Because I truly believe it. Because even now — I don't doubt myself for a second. Because I want to believe it. Because I have to believe it. Otherwise, what's the point?
"Yes, it would be hard. Yes, maybe on the edge. But I would endure. For her. For our daughter."
I feel my words become an anchor. A quiet scream inside. I'm not asking for pity. I'm not asking for understanding. I just… want someone to finally believe, as I believe myself.
I raise my gaze. Determination still lives there, but it no longer burns — it smolders, quieter, deeper. I am still holding onto my stance, but no longer so desperately. Now with doubt in my voice, which betrays the bitterness.
The man looks at me gently. Warmly. There is pain and understanding in his eyes.
"Son… don't argue. I know what it's like to be torn apart. You think you're holding it all… and then, in one moment, you just break. And you never forgive yourself for it."
His voice isn't judgmental. He isn't trying to belittle me. He speaks like someone who has been through it all. Someone who has fallen and gotten back up. And suddenly, I feel uneasy. I… fall silent. For the first time in all this time.
I lower my gaze. Something stirs in my chest. Everything tightens, like a sudden cold, even though it is warm around. He is right. I just don't want to admit it. I don't know the whole picture, and she… she knows. And she does everything to protect me. Even if it is harsh in her own way. Even if it breaks her heart. She… she just wants to protect me. In her own way. As best as she can. Even if wrong — out of love.
I nod. Without words. Just nod. And in that nod is everything — acknowledgment, pain, gratitude. Understanding.
"I agree…" I exhale, feeling my throat tighten. "And now… please, give me the address. I'll go and bring my loved ones back."
It isn't just a wish or a promise. Not an attempt to fix anything. It is a decision. Deep. Irreversible. Hard, like a vow.