At 20, Linda was a recent economics graduate with big dreams. Two months into her job at a factory’s accounting department, she was already well-regarded. The head accountant, an older woman named Helen Wright, saw potential in the diligent girl.
“It’s tough commuting. I’ll work one more year, then put you in my place,” she said. Linda was thrilled and worked harder.
Her arrival stirred the single men. Workers suddenly cared about payroll details. Chocolates and small bouquets appeared in her office.
The most persistent suitor was a mechanic, Paul. He was smitten. But Linda remained reserved and aloof.
Suitors cooled off, except Paul, who wouldn’t give up. The factory was undergoing a major upgrade, with new equipment and specialists.
One engineer, Alexander, caught Linda’s eye instantly. Tall, dark-haired, always in a suit, he smelled of expensive cologne.
He stood out from the greasy workers reeking of liquor. Noticing her interest, Alexander swept her into a whirlwind romance. For a month, Linda was on cloud nine.
Helen tried to warn her, but it was no use. Linda dreamed of a future with Alexander, but it ended as quickly as it began. He left for his city without a goodbye.
Devastated, she made excuses for him. She waited daily for him to return with roses and a proposal. It never happened. But her reckless passion had consequences—she was pregnant.
Her attempts to contact Alexander revealed he was married and wanted nothing to do with her. Alone, Linda faced her crisis.
It was too late for an abortion. Her boss turned away, and her parents disowned her, ashamed of the scandal.
Tough times followed. Learning she was carrying twins first brought joy, then dread. How could she manage two children alone? She was still a naive kid herself.
The birth was grueling. Two girls arrived. Their cries and constant needs frayed her nerves.
She barely slept, and money was scarce. Her dingy factory dorm room was cold and bleak. The elevator often broke, forcing her to lug the stroller up endless stairs.
In moments of despair, dark thoughts crept in—standing on the windowsill and stepping off the ninth floor. Then Paul showed up.
He’d kept tabs on her, stung by her romance with the engineer. Unable to forget her, he came with a deal. “I only want you,” he said bluntly. “I can’t handle two kids. Give one to an orphanage, and we’ll marry. I swear I’ll love the other like my own.”
The proposal shocked Linda. She couldn’t respond. Then the girls fell ill, as if sensing something. High fevers persisted.
She couldn’t afford medicine. Exhausted from sleepless nights and folk remedies, Linda realized her incompetence could kill her babies.
Better to raise one while the state cared for the other, she reasoned, planning to reclaim her later. She visited the orphanage multiple times, unable to choose.
How do you pick one child over another? She agonized until illness struck her too. Headaches, fever, cough.
Worn out, she sat by her girls. By chance, little Hannah grabbed her finger and held on. Linda gave in.
Marina went to the orphanage. Paul kept his promise, but happiness eluded them. Linda couldn’t love him.
She kept house and fulfilled her duties out of gratitude, but he sensed her detachment. Her tentative mentions of the other child angered him.
His failure to win her love drove him to drink. Alcohol dulled his pain temporarily, but he drank more to drown it. They lived like this for years.
One icy night, after a double dose, Paul collapsed and froze to death. After mourning, Linda searched for her other daughter. Too late—she’d been adopted by a wealthy, reputable couple.
No further details were available. Her heart shattered.
Seeing Hannah grow, Linda never stopped thinking of Marina, hoping to find her. She fell silent.
She’d poured out years of torment, the guilt that slowly killed her. The stunned girls sat by her bed, processing.
“Forgive me,” Linda whispered. Her strength left with her burden. Practical Marina recovered first.
Could she judge this woman, tortured by guilt? She hadn’t abandoned her in a dumpster or harmed her like her ex-husband. She’d punished herself a hundred times over. “Mom, I’m not angry. Thank you for giving me life.”
Tears flooded Linda’s wrinkled face. “Mom, we love you,” Hannah added.
The girls hugged and kissed her forehead and cheeks. For the first time in years, her tear-soaked face lit up with quiet joy. They stayed a bit longer, promising to return tomorrow, and left her to rest.
Leaving the room, they hugged instinctively and smiled at their shared impulse. The next morning, they learned their mother had passed.
Hannah unloaded a huge basket of bright red roses from Marina’s car. Her sister rushed to help. A bleak November morning glowered with low clouds and a biting wind.
A few minutes along narrow paths, and they reached the grave. A mound of clay, a carved cross, a couple of wreaths—all that remained of Mom.
It was the ninth day. They placed the flowers and sat on a nearby bench. Marina thought how heavy it must have been to carry that guilt all her life. Cursing one desperate choice made over twenty years ago.
Then silently enduring physical pain from an incurable disease, like punishment, and slowly dying. A true hell on earth. “She’s at peace now,” she said sadly.
Hannah sobbed, recalling how tender and loving her mother always was, always curious about her life, forgiving everything, never scolding. Only now did she realize she’d received all the love meant for both daughters. They sat in silence, each lost in thought.
Leaving, they touched the cross. “We’ll visit often, Mom. Rest.”
A gust of wind made the red rosebuds sway in farewell. James parked at the city health department’s lot.
On the second floor, in the reception area, they were waiting. The sudden summons to top brass, especially late on a Friday, worried him. Was the drug-selling setup resurfacing? Would he be fired for good or worse? Tom had insisted it was too early to panic—go, listen, then worry.