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1
The first time Svetlana meets Anatoly Sergievsky, she just barely stops him from getting hit by a car.
She is on the pavement, and he is about to cross the road, walking between parked cars, nose in some kind of book. Notebook? He's writing in it, too.
He doesn't look up once, and entirely fails to notice the car speeding across the road.
Svetlana has a hand around his collar within seconds, pulling him back and saving him from becoming asphalt decoration. He can only let out a yelp as she drags him back to the pavement by the collar. She immediately lays into him.
"Watch where you're going, you moron! What kind of idiot writes while they're walking? Look around you when you cross the street, you absolute-"
He's staring at her, wide-eyed, and suddenly all she can focus on is his face. Somehow, the way this stranger looks at her throws her.
"Uh." How eloquent, Svetlana, she thinks dryly, and coughs in her hand to mask her embarrassment. "That is to say, you should be more careful. You could've been seriously hurt."
"Right." The stranger — quite handsome, actually — nods, eyes still large. "I'm sorry. Thank you." He doesn't turn to leave again; perhaps they both find it strange to end the conversation here.
Svetlana takes the initiative once more. "What were you writing about in there anyway?" What's in that notebook must be important if it had him that distracted from his surroundings.
"Oh! Well. Chess."
"Chess?"
"Chess!" The mere word seems to make the man light up like one of those over-the-top American Christmas trees. It's endearing. "I'm working to become a professional chess player."
Huh.
"That's an... interesting career path."
He either completely misses or ignores her lack of conviction, because he nods enthusiastically. "Isn't it? I've been playing chess since I was little, but only recently did I figure I might be good enough to make it my job. Do you play?"
She laughs. "Sorry, no. I know what the different pieces do, but that's about it."
"Honestly, that's already better than a good deal of people," he says, grinning tentatively. Svetlana feels her heartbeat accelerate. Despite the freezing cold of early February, she's suddenly quite warm-
Oh.
Oh no.
Well, at least he's pretty.
"What's, uh, what's your name?" she manages to force past her lips.
He blinks at her, surprised. "Anatoly."
"I'm Svetlana." Help. What comes after this? "Pleased... to meet you? What brings you to this part of town?"
That sounded ridiculous. She kind of wants to slap herself. Anatoly, thankfully, just takes the question at face value. "I'm meeting with some people to discuss Mikhail Botvinnik's latest game. He's-"
"-a world chess champion, right?" That's a name she's heard before.
She's rewarded with another grin from the man in front of her. "Yes! So we're going to look over his plays, discuss his strategy, those kinds of things." He falters for a second, looking at the pavement, but recovers quickly enough. "What about you?"
"Oh, one of my university buildings is just around the corner, that way," she points.
"That's the engineering building, isn't it? You must be scary smart."
"Says the chess player."
He laughs. "Oh, trust me, I'm complete useless at most other things. I actually tried studying literature, but I quit last year. Too much stuff about character psychology... I'm not that good with people."
Svetlana huffs. "You seem to be doing just fine right now."
"I'm glad you think so. When you started yelling at me, I thought I was done for." His grin is teasing.
She's about to respond when the church bell nearby tolls. Is it eleven already? She curses. "I have to get to class."
Anatoly's expression morphs into one of disappointment. "Right. You should go before you're late."
Svetlana hesitates.
It's a minor thing in the moment. She doesn't yet know the weight of the choice she's making right now.
She'll come to know it sooner or later.
"I'm done after two," she blurts out. Anatoly's eyebrows shoot up, but she steels herself and carries on. "My class ends at two, so if you're still in the area, maybe we could meet up somewhere?"
His eyes are wide, but he nods. "I'd like that."
"Great! I mean, good. There's a café next to university, should we meet there?"
He nods again. He's blushing. She suspects she might be too.
"Right. See you there, then, Anatoly!"
"See you there, uh. Svetlana."
She shoots him a bright grin, then turns around and hurries to get to her lesson.
2
They've been together a little over two years when Anatoly finally asks her to marry him.
Honestly, Svetlana's been waiting for months. The two of them just seem to fit together perfectly, like pieces of a puzzle.
She often thinks of how Anatoly supported her when she was struggling through her last year of university. In turn, she's been accompanying him to various chess tournaments across the country.
She doesn't care much for chess, if at all; anything she knows is through listening to Anatoly discuss matches and strategies. Still, going to a different city to spend time with Anatoly is fun, even if he is preoccupied with chess most of the time. Just existing in Anatoly's presence seems to bring a brightness to her otherwise dull life.
Long story short, she's known she wants to marry this man for quite some time now. Her only worry is whether he wants it too.
The time for worrying is finally over, it seems.
He takes her to a park a short walk away from his home, where the buds and flowers of spring fill the world with bright colours and the late morning sun warms Svetlana's skin.
Anatoly is carrying a large bag, and reveals its contents to be a picnic blanket and what turns out to be too much food for the two of them. When she asks what brought this on, he shrugs, but the blush spreading across his cheeks makes her equal parts suspicious and hopeful.
They talk about everything and nothing, and he manages to distract her from her ideas, somehow. He always does that, always catches her off guard one way or another. When he tells her to stand up and twirl so he can see her dress properly, she falls for it. She's halfway through her second spin when she sees him, on one knee, a ring glinting up at her from between his fingers.
She stumbles to a stop, hands over her mouth, suddenly blinking back tears. She expected this moment to be one of intense happiness, but to be overcome with emotions like this is something else entirely.
Anatoly swallows. He takes a deep breath.
"Svetka."
Her breath hitches. "Yes?" she manages to squeak out from behind her fingers.
"Because of you, the past two years have been the happiest of my life. I love being with you. I love you. I'd like to spend the rest of our lives together, if that's what you want."
She does. She wants it so much, and oh, now she really is crying.
His eyes sparkle with something like tears as well. "Svetlana, will you marry me?"
"Yes. Yes, of course, yes!" Rather than holding out her hand for the ring to be slipped onto, she grabs Anatoly's wrists to pull him up and into a hug. "I love you," she whispers into his shoulder.
They stay in that embrace for a moment, allowing Svetlana to compose herself again. "Now, where's that ring?" she jokes with a sniff once she feels ready to face him. He pulls back, and she holds out her hand. Carefully, he slides the ring onto her finger.
Rather than studying the jewellery, Svetlana finds herself looking at Anatoly. The relief on his face takes her by surprise, and she laughs a little. "What is it? Did you think I'd say no? You know I can never deny you anything."
He shrugs, smiling bashfully. "I don't know. It's always a possibility."
"Well, I didn't. I said yes." It is at this moment that the situation really sinks in. "I said yes. We're getting married! Anatoly, we're getting married!"
Her joy appears to be contagious. A beautiful grin blooms on Anatoly's — her fiancé's — face. "We are. I can't believe you're going to be my wife!"
Before she knows it, he's hoisted her up in the air by her waist, spinning her around. She lets out a shriek of laughter. "Tolya! Tolya, put me down! People are staring!"
It's true. They aren't alone in the park. There's a woman walking her dog, and an older couple watching two young children tumble through the grass — grandparents and grandchildren, by the looks of it — and an older boy who looks like he should be in school right now. They're all looking.
Anatoly simply laughs and adjusts his grip on her to be more comfortable for the both of them. They're not spinning around anymore, allowing her to look down at her soon-to-be-husband's bright grin. "Let them stare," he says. "I'm going to marry the loveliest woman in the entire country."
"Not the entire world?" Svetlana asks, raising a teasing eyebrow.
"I'll let you know once I've been there." His answer is accompanied by a wink.
That earns him a soft flick of Svetlana's finger on his forehead. "Wrong answer, idiot," she huffs with mock affront. Anatoly, in turn, groans, readjusting his grip on her legs to free up one hand, with which he clutches his forehead dramatically.
"Such an attack, and from my future wife, no less! I'll never recover!"
Future wife. It makes her want to squeal with excitement. Instead, she plucks Anatoly's hand from his forehead, making room for a quick kiss. "There, there. Is that enough to help you recover?"
"Hm, I don't know, Svetka," he says, eyes mischievous, "I might need a stronger remedy."
The narrowing of Svetlana's eyes is his only warning before she attacks him with kisses all over his face. He nearly drops her. She keeps kissing him anyway. When that doesn't seem like an effective enough offensive, she turns to tickling. He actually does drop her, then, and they end up sprawled over each other in the grass.
It's fine. Whatever bruises they gain from this will only serve as a reminder of one of the best days of her life.
3
Their wedding takes place more than half a year after the engagement, and is a bigger affair than either of them want it to be. Both she and Anatoly wanted to be married sooner rather than later, with only their family and a few friends in attendance. However, being an up-and-coming professional chess player comes with sacrifices — one such sacrifice being the invitation of a myriad of Party officials to your wedding.
Svetlana takes comfort in the fact that Anatoly hates it as much as she does, if not more. They decide beforehand that they will simply focus on each other. This is their day, and what matters is that they enjoy it.
Thankfully, as soon as she walks down the aisle and sees Anatoly at the end of it, she knows there is nothing that could ruin this day. The reception following the wedding is equally unforgettable, as she spends half of it dancing with her husband. Her husband! Looking at the rings on their joint hands makes her feel giddy.
They are sent off late at night with well-wishes and more than one innuendo about wedding nights and the 'consummation of their marriage'.
Despite this, when they get to bed, after Anatoly has helped her out of her dress and escaped his own suit, they simply collapse on the bed in a heap of tangled limbs. They've had plenty of sex before getting married — they're not that traditional of a couple — and while it's always fun, Svetlana can tell that they're both too exhausted to really enjoy it at the moment. She's content with simply being close to her husband right now.
For a while, they lie together in comfortable silence. Then,
"Tolya?"
"Hm?"
Svetlana thinks back to a comment from one of their guests. For some reason, it stuck with her.
"Do you think we got married too soon?"
Anatoly sits up immediately. "What? Do you think we should've waited? Is something wrong? What-"
"No, no!" She can't help but chuckle at her husband's panicked look. She should've known he'd react like this. Anatoly always seems to think his joy can't last, always afraid that he'll suddenly lose it all. "Nothing's wrong, and I don't think that at all. It's just something one of the guests said, and I suppose it got me thinking."
He heaves a sigh and flops back onto the bed. "Don't scare me like that, Svetka. For a moment I thought you regretted marrying me."
"Of course not!" She takes her time to press her lips to his, caressing his cheek with her hand. When she pulls back, she says, "I love you. I wouldn't want to be anywhere but here right now."
That gets a smile out of him. "I love you too. I love you so much. Come here." He pulls her even closer than they already are. "We're married," he says, softly and with a hint of wonder, as though he still can't believe it. "I'm your husband."
"You are."
"You're my wife."
She smiles, even though he won't see it. "I am."
"I love you." He kisses the top of her head.
Svetlana angles her head upwards so she can kiss him on the lips again. "Love you too."
She stays like that, close to him, until his breathing evens out and she finds herself drifting off to sleep as well.
4
She's about five months into her first — though she doesn't know that yet — pregnancy when the topic of baby names comes up.
Honestly, they're set on the names fairly quickly. The only issue is that they're both stubbornly convinced of the child's gender.
"Ekaterina," Anatoly says in passing. Svetlana, on the couch, closes her book and looks up at him with affront.
"Nikolai."
"Ekaterina."
"Nikolai, obviously."
He sits down next to her. "Ekaterina. Trust me on this, Svetlana. Father's intuition."
"Father's intuition? I have the thing inside me!"
He frowns. "It's not a thing! It's a little baby girl."
"Boy."
"Girl! Katya's going to look just like you, I can tell already."
"How could you possibly-"
He cuts her off with a finger on her mouth. "Shush. Hold on." He leans in and puts his ear on her stomach, grinning. "Oh, yeah, that's definitely a girl. She sounds like you, too."
"You're an idiot," Svetlana says, but she can't help but smile. "I hope Nikolai doesn't inherit his father's chess-only brains."
"Ekaterina will inherit her mother's cleverness as well as her looks, obviously."
She rolls her eyes. "Let's just get through the next few months first."
That makes Anatoly almost physically deflate. Svetlana frowns. "What's wrong?" Suddenly, she remembers the phone call her husband got earlier today. "Is this about the upcoming tournaments?"
He sighs. "I'm gone for nearly a month, Svetka. I don't want to leave you alone for that long, especially not while you're pregnant."
"I won't be alone, remember?" She rests her hand on his arm. "Jelena's promised to stay in the city for the whole month, she'll be there if I need anyone." Honestly, she's never been more relieved to have a sister living nearby.
"Still, I'm your husband, I should be here to help my wife and unborn child-"
"You are a rising professional chess player, and I am very proud of you. There are other people who travel much further distances and are away from home much longer for the sake of their work. It'll be fine, Tolya."
"What about after, though?"
"After?"
There's panic written all over his face. "After the birth. What if I can't raise my own child because I'm away so often?"
"It won't come to that-"
"What if I'm a terrible father either way? I don't know how to raise a child, and you know I'm not good with people. What if I fail? What if I'm a horrible parent, and our child grows to hate me, and-"
Her lips find his, and she shuts him up gently but firmly. "Tolya, I love you, but you worry too much." She holds his hands in hers, squeezing briefly. "You're not the only parent here, remember? If you aren't there, I will be. Also, you're not going to be a bad parent, because I know you, and I know that you are a good man."
"But-"
"I married a good man, and he is going to be a good father to our little boy, okay?"
It's an underhanded tactic, but the mention of gender is enough to distract Anatoly from his own thoughts. "Svetlana! I'm telling you, it's going to be a girl!"
"And I'm telling you it'll be a boy. I bet he's going to look just like you."
They bicker on. Internally, Svetlana heaves a sigh of relief. It's usually difficult to get her husband out of his own mind once he's stuck in there. She's glad she's found a way to do it more quickly.
Frustratingly, when the baby is born four months later, it is a girl. Ekaterina, then. Katya. Anatoly looks a little too smug, and Svetlana has to make do with the fact that little Katya's eyes look exactly like her father's.
By the time Nikolai is born, Ekaterina has a mess of dark curls on her head that further solidifies her resemblance to Anatoly. Nikolai, on the other hand, ends up looking a lot more like his mother. Funny, that.
5
The morning Anatoly leaves for Merano, they fight. She is reminded, not for the first time, of how cruel they can both be when they want to be. Their words, Svetlana knows, can be as hurtful as any physical blow.
They've been having more fights, recently. She doesn't know what to think of it.
Thankfully, the children are at school already, so they don't have to be there to see this. For a brief moment, Svetlana returns to the memory of just an hour ago, of the school hallway and Katya's teary face, a whispered confession-
Anatoly slams his suitcase shut. "I'm sorry, okay? What else do you want me to say?"
"I'm not the one you need to apologize to!" Svetlana finds herself answering him with rising volume. "For fuck's sake, Anatoly! The one time Ekaterina asks you to show up for something, and you can't even do that?"
"I told you, Molokov called me in for a meeting-"
"Molokov can go fuck himself. This is your daughter we're talking about!"
"Please." He scoffs. "It's just a piano recital. It's not a graduation or something, I didn't miss anything of actual importance-"
"This was important! It was important to Katya!" She follows him down the hall, through the kitchen, all the way to the front door. "She cared about this, and you weren't fucking there!"
He whirls around, suitcase and all. "And where the fuck were you, then?"
"I was at Nikolai's swim practice, you know this, it's why I asked Jelena to drive her to piano-"
"So you weren't there, but you're mad at me for not coming. That seems unfair."
Svetlana inhales sharply. "Don't you dare turn this around on me. She wanted you to be there. You promised her you'd be there! She specifically asked you to come, and you chose not to."
"Because I have a KGB official breathing down my neck-"
"Oh, shut the fuck up. I don't care if you have a fucking gun to your head! You've never cared about Katya's interests, but what kind of father are you if you can't even give her this little bit of happiness?"
Ah. That strikes a nerve.
It's quiet, for a moment.
"I'm sorry," Anatoly says, subdued.
She huffs. "Tell that to Katya."
"I will. Okay? When I come back, I'll apologise to her, and I'll listen to her play for however long she wants."
Svetlana looks away from him. She can't do with empty platitudes right now.
"I promise, Svetlana, I'll do it as soon as I'm back from Merano."
Silence.
"Please look at me, Svetka. I'm sorry. I don't want to leave on bad terms."
Her eyes meet his pleading ones.
She sighs. Steps closer. "I'm still angry."
"I know. That's fine. I love you."
He kisses her on the cheek, and she allows it. "I love you, too. Good luck with the match."
Inexplicably, despite her lingering anger, his answering smile makes her feel better. Just a little. "Thank you. I'll win the championship just for you."
Then he's gone.
Gone.
Later, months later, Svetlana knows she has every right to be enraged for her own sake.
However, what she's strangely — hilariously, sadly — the most angry about is the fact that Anatoly never apologised to Katya for missing that piano recital.
+1
They are silent the entire ride from the airport to their house.
For a year it was just her house. It hurts to think about. Everything hurts, and not just because of the flight home.
How had it come to this?
Anatoly speaks as soon as the front door has closed behind them. "Svetlana, I-"
"I think I hate you," she interrupts him, softly. She's not sure if now is the right time for this conversation, but it's probably better to get this over with before she goes to pick up the children.
For a moment, Anatoly looks surprised, and she's not sure if it is because of her words or the way she says them. Soon enough, his expression falls to one of resignation.
Not regret. Perhaps it's better that he doesn't regret his actions. It means that one of them has spent the past year at least slightly content.
"I understand. You have every right to."
She does, and he does look like he understands it. It makes her jaw clench. She wishes, more than ever, that she could shout at him, but the way he looks at her disarms her completely. It reminds her of their first meeting, somehow.
He's still such an idiot.
So, instead of losing her temper, Svetlana inhales sharply through her nose. "You're still my husband," she manages to say.
I think I still love you, she absolutely does not say. Perhaps, later, he can hear those words from her. He does not deserve them, now.
The man in question is looking at the ground now. "I'm sorry."
"Don't be," she says, more harshly than she intends to. Perhaps it is the right amount of harshness, though, because it gets him to look up at her again. The moment their eyes meet, she has him pinned down with a glare. "Don't apologise for marrying me. You may regret it, and wish to be rid of me, but I am not so pathetic."
Anatoly's eyes narrow ever so slightly in indignation, but he is in no position to argue, and he knows it. Their roles are reversed now — it is she who has disarmed him. Admittedly, she takes no small amount of satisfaction from seeing him in this state, looking like he is on the losing side of one of his precious chess games, and powerless to stop his defeat. The knowledge that she caused this defenceless look on him pleases her even more. She has half a mind to say worse things, truly hurtful things-
Except this isn't a game. It isn't chess. This is her husband, her marriage, years of her life. Anatoly might be able to throw it all away on a whim, but she can't let go that easily. She wants another chance to salvage things. Maybe that's cruel of her, holding on to him when she knows he doesn't want this, doesn't want her, probably regrets ever marrying her.
"Svetlana?"
"What?"
"Do you think we got married too soon?"
The sense of déja vu slams into her, except it isn't really that, because she's actually heard those words before — from her own mouth. From the looks of it, Anatoly remembers that conversation just as well as she does.
She huffs, and it's almost a laugh. In hindsight... "Yes."
A pained look flits across his features for just a second. "Yet you say you don't regret it."
"I don't."
He is quiet for a moment. Looks to the ground and back up at her.
"Why?"
Svetlana frowns. "You're asking me why I don't regret marrying you."
"Yes."
Good question, she wants to say. "Why should I regret it?" she asks instead.
"What?"
"I married the man I fell in love with. We had a good time together. I have two beautiful children with him. Our marriage is going through a rough patch, but that does not make the years we spent together any less meaningful."
Because I love you, even now, she still doesn't say.
"A rough patch? Is that what you call this?" Anatoly asks incredulously.
Her smile is wry. "Would you rather I call it something else? It may be hard for you to believe, but I actually don't want this to be over." The honesty behind her words forces her gaze to the ground. She doesn't know if she can afford to be vulnerable with him now.
"So you... don't want to get divorced?"
She can't quite figure out Anatoly's tone.
Better to put this out there clearly and quickly, then. "No, I don't want a divorce. If that's what you were hoping for, well, sorry-"
"I'm not."
What?
"I'm not," Anatoly says again, and she realises she's spoken out loud. "I'm not hoping for a divorce. Also, you're wrong."
His voice is quiet, but firm.
"I don't regret marrying you either."
Oh.
She doesn't know if she should laugh or cry. Maybe both. She doesn't want to cry, though. She's wasted enough tears this past year.
"Why... why don't you?"
He smiles. It looks pained. "I married the woman I fell in love with."
Damn you.
"We had a good time together," he continues.
Damn you, Tolya.
"We have two beautiful children... I think you know the rest."
I married a good man, she remembers telling him once.
She sighs. Pauses. Looks him over. Sighs again. "Yeah, okay."
It's not okay. It might not ever be okay.
She wipes at her eyes. "Katya and Nikolai are staying over at Jelena's, by the way," she has the sense to comment.
He perks up. "Oh, good. Are we picking them up tonight?"
"We?"
"I'd like to come." He pauses. "Please."
She's always been bad at denying him things.
If he just so happens to get chewed out by her sister for a solid ten minutes while she takes the children to the car, that's none of her business.
Later, after they've put Katya and Nikolai to bed, they are left standing in their own bedroom, not quite sure of what to do.
"Did you not get another bed?" He sounds genuinely surprised.
"No."
I wasn't sure you'd ever come back.
"Oh." A pause. "I'll... take the couch, then?"
She sighs. "No, no, we can share the bed. We're adults, are we not?"
He opens his mouth to protest, but her raised eyebrow has him give up after a moment of hesitation. "Fine."
It's been a long year. Everything's changed, and yet, she can almost pretend none of it ever happened. She's lying in the same bed as her husband, as she has for so long.
She listens to his breathing. It takes longer for it to even out than it used to.
When Svetlana awakens the next morning, it is curled up in her husband's arms. She is only slightly horrified by this development.
Anatoly is still fast asleep. She's sure he wouldn't have done this on purpose, and neither has she, for that matter. Is fate playing cruel tricks on her, or giving her a second chance? She doesn't know which option she wants to be true. The truth is probably a third option: that there is no fate, and where they are now is simply a consequence of all their combined actions.
Carefully, gently, so as to not wake him up, she extracts herself from Anatoly's embrace. It's much too soon for that, and she doesn't have a clue what she really wants from him. What she wants from any of this, really. Her life, unlike Anatoly's, has never been ruled by strong desires; merely by an attempt at love.
Look where it's brought her.
As she makes her way to the kitchen, she nearly knocks over a blue vase in the hall. Cursing quietly and reaching out to stabilise it, she notices the cracks running along its surface.
That's right, she remembers suddenly. This old thing had already perished once before. It had been a gift from Anatoly's parents. Barely married and still childless back then, she'd knocked it over on her way to the bedroom late at night. Svetlana had been in tears, but Anatoly had taken one look at the mess, said, "we'll take care of it tomorrow," and that had been that.
They'd spent the next morning putting the vase back together like a puzzle, just the two of them and a tube of super glue. It had actually been quite entertaining, and Anatoly's mother had laughed the next time she visited and saw the result of Svetlana's blunder.
As she enters the kitchen and goes to make tea, she considers the memory. It might be strange to compare one's marriage to a vase, but the question remains.
Are they salvageable?
A year of betrayal against years of marriage. Years of love. How does that work?
It's as much a torment as it is a comfort, to know that Anatoly hasn't given up on them yet. It's cruel of him to give her hope, when he can't guarantee he'll be able to give her anything else. Then again, perhaps it's cruel of her to want more from him than he can give.
He's a good man. A cruel man. Maybe she's the same.
Maybe they really do fit together perfectly. Maybe it's just a question of who will look at them and put their pieces back together.
She can't do it alone. She'd just start crying again. But perhaps, with the two of them...
Svetlana shakes her head. They'll take care of it tomorrow.