Sir, today is my mothers birthday I want to buy flowers, but I dont have enough money I bought the boy a bouquet. And later, when I reached the grave, I saw that bouquet there.
When Pasha was not yet five, his world collapsed. His mother vanished. He stood in a corner, bewilderedwhat was happening? Why were strangers filling the house? Who were they? Why did everyone speak in hushed tones, avoiding eye contact?
The child could not grasp why no one smiled. He heard, Stay strong, little one, and felt hugs that seemed to mourn something essential. He simply had not seen his mother.
His father was away all day, never near, never embracing, never speaking. He sat apart, empty and distant. Pasha moved toward the coffin and stared at his mother for a long moment. She was nothing like she had beenno warmth, no smile, no nighttime lullabies. She looked pale, cold, frozen. It terrified him, and he no longer dared to approach.
Without his mother, everything turned gray and hollow. Two years later his father remarried. The new wife, Galina, never became part of his life; instead, she seemed irritated by him, complained about everything, and searched for reasons to be angry. His father remained silent, offering no defense or intervention.
Each day Pasha concealed a deep achethe pain of loss, the longing. With every sunrise he wished more fiercely to return to the days when his mother was alive.
That morning, his mothers birthday, Pasha woke with one thought: he had to go to her. To the cemetery. To bring flowerswhite calla lilies, her favorite. He remembered them in old photographs, glinting beside her smile.
But where would the money come from? He decided to ask his father.
Dad, could I have a little money? I really need it
Before he could finish, Galina burst from the kitchen:
What now? Youre already begging your father for cash? Do you even know how hard it is to earn a salary?
His father tried to intervene:
Gal, wait. He hasnt even said why yet. Son, tell me what you need.
I want to buy flowers for Momwhite calla lilies. Today is her birthday.
Galina sneered, crossing her arms:
Oh, really? Flowers? Money for them? Maybe you want to go to a restaurant too? Grab something from the gardenthatll be your bouquet!
They arent there, Pasha replied quietly but firmly. You only sell them in a shop.
His father glanced at his son, then at his wife:
Gal, go prepare lunch. Im hungry.
Galina snorted unhappily and slipped into the kitchen. The father returned to his newspaper. Pasha realized he would receive no money. No further words were spoken.
He retreated to his room, opened an old piggy bank, and counted the coinsfew, but perhaps enough.
Without delay, he ran toward the flower shop. From a distance he saw the snowy white callas displayed in the window, bright and almost magical. He paused, breath held.
Then he stepped inside.
What do you want? the shopkeeper asked coldly, eyeing the boy. You probably came to the wrong place. We dont sell toys or sweetsonly flowers.
Im not here for that I really need callas. How much for a bouquet?
The seller named a price. Pasha emptied his pocket; his money covered barely half.
Please, he begged. I can work! Ill clean, dust, wash floors Just let me have this bouquet.
Are you insane? the woman snapped, irritated. Do you think Im a millionaire to give flowers away? Get out, or Ill call the policebegging isnt welcome here!
But Pasha would not quit. He pleaded again:
Ill repay everything! I promise! Ill earn whatever is needed! Please understand
Oh, look at this little actor! she shouted, attracting the attention of passersby. Where are your parents? Maybe its time to call social services? Last warningleave before I call!
At that moment a man entered the shop, having witnessed the scene. He could not tolerate the injustice toward a child.
Why are you shouting at him? he asked the seller sternly. Youre treating him like a thief, and hes just a boy.
And who are you? the woman retorted. If you dont know the story, stay out of it. He almost stole the bouquet!
Yes, almost stole, the man raised his voice. You attacked him like a predator! He needs help, not threats. Do you have no conscience?
He turned to Pasha, who was shrinking in the corner, wiping tears.
Hey, kid. Im Yura. Whats wrong? You wanted to buy flowers but dont have enough money?
Pasha sobbed, rubbed his nose with his sleeve, and whispered:
I wanted calla lilies for Mom She loved them She left three years ago Today is her birthday I wanted to bring her flowers to the cemetery
Yuras heart tightened. The boys story moved him deeply. He knelt beside the child.
Your mother would be proud. Not every adult brings flowers on an anniversary, and you, at eight, remember and want to do something good. Youll grow into a fine person.
He faced the seller:
Show me the callas he chose. Ill buy two bouquetsone for him, one for me.
Pasha pointed to the white callas in the window. Yura hesitatedthose were exactly the flowers he intended to buy. He kept his thoughts to himself: Coincidence or sign?
Soon Pasha left the shop holding the precious bouquet, amazed that it had worked out. He turned to the man and shyly offered:
Uncle Yura may I give you my phone number? Ill definitely pay you back, I promise.
The man laughed warmly:
I never doubted youd say that. No need. Today is special for a woman I love. Ive been waiting to tell her my feelings, so Im in a good mood. Glad I could do a good deed. Besides, our tastes matchboth your mom and my Ira loved these flowers.
He fell silent, lost in thought, eyes drifting to memories of his beloved.
Ira lived in the building opposite his. They met by chanceonce she was surrounded by thugs, and Yura stepped in to protect her. He got a black eye but didnt regret it; that moment sparked their bond.
Years passed; friendship blossomed into love. Everyone said they were perfect together.
When Yura turned eighteen, he was drafted. Ira was devastated. Before he left, they spent their first night together.
His service went well until a severe head injury left him in a hospital with no memory, not even his name. Ira tried to call, but the line was dead. She thought he had abandoned her, changed her number, and tried to move on.
Months later his memory returned, and Ira resurfaced in his thoughts. He called, but no answer. His parents had concealed the truth, telling her Yura had left.
Returning home, Yura decided to surprise Ira with calla lilies, but saw her arminarm with another man, pregnant and happy.
His heart shattered. He fled without explanations. That night he left for another city, started anew, married, yet could not forget Ira. The marriage failed.
Eight years later he realized he could no longer live with the emptiness inside. He had to find Ira, to tell her everything. He returned to his hometown with a bouquet of calla lilies, where he met Pashaa meeting that might change everything.
Pasha yes, Pasha! Yura recalled, as if awakening. He stood by the shop, the boy still waiting nearby.
Son, maybe I can give you a ride somewhere? Yura offered gently.
Thanks, no, the boy replied politely. I know how to take the bus. Ive been to Mom before not the first time.
He clutched the bouquet to his chest and ran toward the bus stop. Yura watched him for a long moment. Something about the child awakened memories, an inexplicable connection, almost a kinship. Their paths had crossed for a reason; Pasha felt painfully familiar.
When the boy left, Yura headed to the yard where Ira had lived. His heart hammered as he approached the entrance and asked an elderly neighbor if she knew Iras whereabouts.
Oh, dear, the woman sighed sadly. Shes not here she died three years ago.
What? Yura recoiled, as if struck.
After marrying Vlad she never returned. She moved with him. A good soul took care of her while she was pregnant. They loved each other, had a son, and thats it. Shes gone. Thats all I know, son.
Yura left feeling like a lost ghostlate, lonely, forever too late.
Why did I wait so long? Why didnt I come back earlier?
The neighbors words returned: pregnant
Wait. If she was pregnant when she married Vlad the child could be mine?!
His head spun. Somewhere in this city his son might be living. A fire ignited inside himhe had to find him, but first he needed Ira.
At the cemetery he quickly found her grave. Pain clenched his heartlove, loss, regret surged. Yet what struck him most was the fresh bouquet of white calla lilies on the tombstoneexactly the flowers Ira loved.
Pasha Yura whispered. Its you. Our son. Our child
He looked at Iras photo on the stone, which seemed to stare back, and softly said:
Forgive me for everything.
Tears streamed down his face, uncontrollable. Then he turned and ranhe had to return to the house Pasha had pointed to by the shop. That was his chance.
He rushed to the yard. The boy sat on a swing, thoughtful. It turned out that as soon as Pasha got home, his stepmother scolded him for being out too long. He couldnt stand it and ran outside.
Yura approached, sat beside him, and embraced his son tightly.
A man emerged from the entrance. Seeing a stranger with the child, he froze, then recognized him.
Yura he said, almost without surprise. I never hoped youd come. I guess you understand Pasha is your son.
Yes, Yura nodded. I understand. I came for him.
Vlad sighed deeply:
If he wants, I wont stand in the way. I was never really Iras husband nor Pashas father. She always loved only you. I knew. I thought time would heal it, but before she died she confessed she wanted to find you, to tell you everythingabout the son, her feelings, about you. She ran out of time.
Yura was silent. His throat tightened, thoughts pounding.
Thank you for accepting him, for not giving him away. He exhaled heavily. Tomorrow Ill take his papers and documents. But now lets go. I have much to learn. Eight years of my sons life vanished. I dont want to lose another minute.
He took Pashas hand, and they headed to the car.
Forgive me, son I didnt even know I had such a wonderful boy
Pasha looked at him calmly and said:
I always knew Vlad wasnt my real dad. When Mom talked about me, she mentioned another man. I knew one day wed meet. And here we are we met.
Yura lifted his son into his arms and weptrelief, pain, an overwhelming, unbearable love.
Forgive me for waiting so long. I will never leave you again.
— Sir, today is my mum’s birthday… I want to buy her some flowers, but I don’t have enough money… I bought a bouquet for a young lad instead. Then, later on, when I visited her grave, I saw that bouquet.
