Page 25 of Beautiful Agony

I feel Vadim's grip tighten slightly on my hand.

"Does Polina Vladimirovna live here?" Vadim asks, his voice steady despite the tension I feel through our joined hands.

The man's friendly demeanor shifts, eyes narrowing with sudden wariness. His large frame fills the doorway more deliberately now, protective rather than welcoming.

"Who's asking?" The gravel in his voice takes on a harder edge.

Before Vadim can respond, I step forward slightly.

"This is her son, Vadim." I explain softly. "We're here because?—"

"Her son?" The man's brow furrows in genuine confusion. "There must be some mistake. Polina doesn't have a?—"

"Vadim!"

The familiar voice cuts through the tension like a knife. We all turn to see Serena bounding down the stairs behind the man, her face lit up with joy. She pushes past him and throws herself into Vadim's arms, nearly knocking him off balance.

"What are you doing here?" she exclaims, then turns to me with an equally bright smile.

The man in the doorway looks between Serena and Vadim in light confusion, as he tries to work out just what is going on.

"Dad, this is my brother," Serena breaks from the hug and turns to the man. "He's the one who brought me back."

The man's shoulders relax and a genuine smile breaks across his weathered face. He steps forward, extending a large calloused hand.

"Is that right?" He extends his hand towards Vadim and gives it a firm shake before turning to me, grip is gentle but sure. "Martin Chambers. Polina's husband."

I introduce myself and watch as Martin's eyes study Vadim's face with intense curiosity.

"Polina never told me she had a son," Martin says softly, almost to himself. "You have her eyes. Same color. Same shape too." He shakes his head slightly, as if clearing away thoughts. "Should've noticed it right away. Well, come in."

I feel Vadim tense beside me for a moment, but Martin either doesn't notice or chooses not to comment on it. His easy warmth seems to fill the space between us, somehow making this impossible moment feel almost normal as he shows us inside.

The interior of their home wraps around us like a warm embrace. Every surface tells the story of a life well-lived—not through expensive furnishings or elaborate decorations, but through countless framed memories capturing precious moments.

My heart catches as I watch Vadim's eyes drift over the photos. In one, Polina beams at the camera while Martin hugs her from behind, both of them covered in flour and laughing. Anothershows Serena in her soccer uniform. Each image reveals a side of his mother I know he's never seen before—one where joy reaches all the way to those storm-gray eyes they share.

His fingers brush over a silver frame on an end table, and I notice the slight tremor in his hand and the fierce way he blinks his eyes. The photo shows Polina in a garden, head thrown back in genuine laughter while holding a basket overflowing with fresh-cut flowers.

"Have a seat," Martin gestures to the comfortable-looking couch. "Serena, would you go get your mother?"

"Sure, Dad!" Serena practically bounces up the stairs, her excitement palpable.

Vadim remains standing, his gaze fixed on another photo: one of Polina cradling baby Serena. The raw longing in his expression makes my chest ache. Without thinking, I slip my hand into his and give it a gentle squeeze. His fingers tighten around mine gratefully, though his eyes never leave the picture.

The floorboards creak overhead, and my heart pounds as footsteps approach. Serena appears first, practically skipping down the stairs. Behind her, a woman emerges, and my breath catches. Even after all these years, Polina remains beautiful, though time has left its gentle marks around her eyes and mouth.

She takes one step into the living room before freezing mid-stride. The color drains from her face as her storm-gray eyes—so like Vadim's—lock onto her son. Her hand flies to her throat, fingers clutching at nothing as her chest heaves with rapid, shallow breaths.

I feel Vadim's grip tighten painfully around my fingers. The tension in the room becomes unbearable as mother and son stare at each other across what feels like an infinite divide. Polina's lips part in a silent scream that never quite materializes, her body trembling like a leaf in a storm.

"Hi mom," Vadim says softly, his voice carrying an undertone of vulnerability I've never heard before.

Martin moves to Polina's side, placing a steadying hand on her shoulder. She flinches at his touch but doesn't pull away, her wide eyes never leaving Vadim's face.

"What are you doing here?" Polina's voice cuts through the room like ice. Gone is the warmth I saw in those photographs, replaced by a haunted emptiness that must've been the only thing Vadim ever saw from her.

Beside me, Vadim's whole body goes rigid. His hand trembles in mine as he opens his mouth to speak, but no words come out. I've never seen him so utterly powerless before.

---