The sun had barely risen over the horizon, casting a warm glow over the sleepy streets. The air was crisp and cool, with a hint of dew still lingering on the grass. A gentle breeze rustled the leaves of the trees, carrying the sweet scent of blooming flowers. The sky was a brilliant blue, with only a few wispy clouds scattered across it.
Lukas and Anastasia walked side by side, their footsteps quiet on the gravel path leading to Vladimir's house. The old man's residence was a small, cozy cottage with a thatched roof and a garden full of vibrant flowers.
As they entered the house, Vladimir greeted them with a gruff demeanor, his face scowling. "So, you're the refugee, huh?" he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "I hope you're not planning on staying here forever."
Lukas's instincts told him to be wary, but before he could respond, Vladimir burst out laughing. "Ah, I'm just joking, boy! Don't look so serious."
Vladimir's eyes sparkled with amusement as he asked, "So, what's your name, young man?"
Lukas and Anastasia exchanged a panicked glance. They hadn't thought about this scenario, and Lukas's lack of experience in public had left him unprepared. Anastasia's eyes widened in alarm, and Lukas quickly thought of a Russian name to deflect attention.
"I'm...Sergei," Lukas said, trying to sound confident.
Vladimir observed him for a moment, his eyes narrowing slightly. Then, he chuckled and said, "Well, Sergei, you do look like a Sergei. I'll give you that."
Anastasia and Lukas breathed a collective sigh of relief as Vladimir's scrutiny passed. The old man nodded and said, "Wait here, I'll be out soon. I need to grab a few things."
With that, Vladimir disappeared into another room, leaving Lukas and Anastasia to wait in the cozy living room. The tension between them was palpable, but they both knew they had to keep up the charade for now.
As they waited, Lukas and Anastasia stole glances at each other, the silence between them growing increasingly awkward. Anastasia's impatience was palpable, and Lukas feared she might lash out at any moment. To distract himself and avoid a potential outburst, Lukas walked away from the stairs and gazed out the window at the house opposite the street.
The house was a charming, one-story bungalow with a brightly colored facade and a well-manicured lawn. The morning sun cast a warm glow over the entire scene, but Lukas's mind wasn't on the scenery. He thought about Anastasia's name, and how he had somehow known it without being told. He realized that someone must have mentioned it before, but the memory didn't feel like his own.
As he stood there, Lukas's thoughts drifted to the journey ahead, and he couldn't help but feel a sense of trepidation. He was scared, and he knew he had every reason to be. He was at risk of being discovered, and the consequences would be dire.
Just as Lukas was starting to feel overwhelmed, Vladimir emerged from the other room, calling out to Anastasia. "What's the point of following us, anyway?" he asked, his voice gruff but not unkind.
Lukas's expression turned seemingly happy as he latched onto the distraction. "Yes, why are you coming with us, Anastasia?" he asked, his eyes locked onto hers.
Anastasia's response was measured. "It's just Babushka's wishes," she said, her eyes flicking to Lukas before returning to Vladimir.
Vladimir nodded, his face creasing into a warm smile. "Well, if it's her wish, then let's go," he said, gesturing for them to follow him.
As they walked, Vladimir turned his attention to Lukas. "You know, that woman saved me twice," he said, his voice filled with gratitude. "I owe my life to her. Most of the people here do. We were all injured soldiers during the first war, and her father helped rescue some of us. She took that on as well – helping injured refugees just like you. And we've all built a life here."
Lukas listened intently, his eyes fixed on Vladimir's face. He was beginning to understand the depth of Babushka's influence in this community, and the reasons behind Anastasia's complicated feelings towards him.
Anastasia's face grew increasingly tense as Vladimir continued to share stories with Lukas, her eyes flashing with annoyance. She was visibly upset that Vladimir was revealing so much to Lukas, and even more upset that he knew her name now and had actually talked to her. However, she kept her emotions bottled up, her anger simmering just below the surface.
Vladimir, oblivious to Anastasia's growing frustration, asked Lukas, "Do you think you'll build a life here? It may not be pretty, but I'd rather live here 100 times than stay in a city like Moscow."
Anastasia's anger boiled over at the suggestion that Lukas might stay there for a while. She felt a surge of resentment towards Vladimir for sharing their community's story with Lukas, and towards Lukas for potentially becoming a part of their lives.
When Vladimir asked Lukas where he was from, Lukas replied without hesitation, "Minsk." The word was like a spark to gasoline for Anastasia. She felt a wave of memories wash over her, memories of her past and the trauma she had endured. Her eyes welled up with tears as she struggled to contain her emotions.
Anastasia was on the verge of lashing out, but she managed to stop herself, her body trembling with suppressed rage. Instead, she turned away, tears streaming down her face, and walked ahead, her footsteps quick and angry.
Vladimir's expression turned somber as he watched Anastasia walk away. He turned to Lukas and said, "Ana was also from Minsk. She saw it all firsthand – the German brutality. It's a painful memory for her, one that still haunts her to this day."
Lukas's eyes followed Anastasia's retreating figure, a mixture of concern and understanding on his face. He realized that he had unknowingly touched a raw nerve, and he felt a pang of sympathy for Anastasia's pain.
Vladimir quickly caught up to Anastasia, his footsteps light on the ground. "Ana, wait," he said, his voice soft and gentle. Anastasia slowed down, her shoulders still shaking with sobs. Vladimir reached out and placed a hand on her shoulder, his touch calming her frazzled nerves.
"Don't be too hard on him, Ana," Vladimir said, his voice low and soothing. "He might not have known what he was stirring up. He's a victim just like you, Ana."
Anastasia's body stiffened at Vladimir's words, her eyes flashing with a mixture of anger and pain. She didn't want to hear that Lukas was a victim like her; she didn't want to sympathize with him. But as Vladimir's hand rested on her shoulder, she felt a sense of calm wash over her, and her anger slowly dissipated.
Lukas, watching from a distance, noticed the way Anastasia calmed down at Vladimir's touch. He saw the way Vladimir's hand on her shoulder seemed to soothe her, and it sent a signal to him that they might be more than just acquaintances. Lukas's eyes narrowed slightly as he observed the dynamic between Vladimir and Anastasia, a mixture of curiosity and understanding on his face.
As he watched, Lukas's mind wandered back to his own past, to the memories he had tried to suppress. He thought about the reason he had said Minsk, the reason that felt like a reflex. It was the place where...where he had done something terrible. The memories threatened to surface, but Lukas pushed them back down, his face a mask of calm contemplation.