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The atmosphere at dinner was somewhat quiet, a bit bland, yet warm. Ivan really liked children; he found them easier to get along with than adults. At least children were willing to smile at him instead of resorting to hitting or scolding him.
As a child, he was afraid of his parents because he often faced their anger and harsh words. Later, he quit drinking and stopped punishing himself and his mother, but he had developed a habit of silence. His father would always find reasons to hit him—whether it was for speaking in the wrong tone or being too loud, or for having too many demands. To avoid being beaten or scolded, he learned to remain silent.
As long as he didn’t speak up or make requests, his parents wouldn’t lay a hand on him! Eventually, he found this approach quite satisfactory. No one bothered him with conversations or playtime, which eliminated unnecessary conflicts. He lived quietly, undisturbed by others, until he met a girl before turning seven—a lively and cheerful girl who would tirelessly chat with him.
He thought she was his moonlight, and halfway through their vocational training, they got married. At that time, his parents didn’t oppose the marriage because the girl was pregnant. He had been living well in Bratsk until one day a bald man showed up at his home, and everything changed.
The woman wanted a divorce and demanded his meager earnings that he had worked so hard to earn. The child he cherished dearly wasn’t even his! He genuinely loved that child who called him "Daddy," truly loved her!
“Uncle, why are you crying?” Natasha climbed into his lap and used her small hands to wipe away his tears. She pouted her little lips and blew gently in front of his eyes. “Is there something in your eyes? I can help blow it away!”
“Thank you.”
Ivan opened his mouth but was speechless for a moment as he looked at the little girl trying to help him. He felt as if his heart had been taken away. Lana quietly observed the man across from her—the man who rarely spoke—looking at their child and crying?
“Are you drinking?”
She got up to fetch some vodka and glasses from the kitchen. Ivan shook his head firmly. “I hate alcohol.”
“Then let’s eat.”
Lana placed the bottle under the table and slowly enjoyed her dinner. Living here was truly wonderful; five or six families pooled their money to buy a pig or cow for the farm, allowing everyone to stock up in the freezer for a long time. They grew their own vegetables, which only required some sweat—not like living in Irkutsk where everything had to be calculated and purchased.
After dinner, Lana began clearing the dishes while Ivan noticed Katyusha squirming impatiently. Having taken care of children for a long time, he knew what to do. He asked Natasha to fetch some diapers and clean clothes, then took Katyusha to the bathroom. After bringing hot water from the kitchen, he carefully bathed Katyusha and dried her off before applying baby powder on her soft little folds.
Finally, he returned to the living room holding the fragrant Katyusha. Lana was surprised by this man who usually kept his head down working; he had such a gentle side. She took their daughter into her arms and smiled gratefully at Ivan. “Thank you.”
“No need to thank me.”
Ivan scratched his head and glanced around nervously before quickly getting up. “I should head back now. Goodnight.”
“I’ll walk you out.”
Lana carefully placed Katyusha on the sofa while Natasha hurriedly climbed up beside her, waving her hand like a little adult. “I’ll take care of my sister.”
“Thank you, Natasha.”
The two adults exchanged smiles before stepping outside into the quiet and peaceful village. As Lana walked slowly along the dirt road with her head down, she bravely reached out to touch Ivan’s rough hand. He flinched slightly but didn’t pull away; instead, he gently held her delicate little hand in return.
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