I am Tamara Alekseevna, seventy-four years old. I used to have a full life: a job I adored, a loving husband, a warm home, and three children. But ten years ago, my husband passed away—his heart couldn’t take it. After his d.eath, the house became empty, and I became someone no one needed. My children started calling less, and the phone grew silent more often.
The one who distanced herself the most was my youngest daughter, Irina. Since childhood, she had been focused and ambitious, dreaming of a big career. When she entered university in the capital, I was overjoyed. To help her, I gave everything: my savings, my mother’s jewelry, even sold my father’s old “Volga.”
