Chapter 24 IVAN’S DILEMMA
Ivan walked alone along the quiet street, his camera hanging loosely in his hand. The soft glow of the streetlights reflected against the lens as he scrolled through the pictures he had taken the day before.
Every image on the screen was of Anya.
Her shy smile.
The way her eyes softened.
The gentle curve of her lips when she laughed.
A small smile spread across Ivan’s face as he paused on one particular photo. It showed Anya smiling brightly near the fountain.
"She’s really beautiful" he murmured softly, his voice filled with quiet admiration.
He slowed his steps, still staring at the screen.
A sudden chill ran down his spine. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up. He glanced over his shoulder but the street was empty, save for the occasional car passing by. Shaking it off, he turned back to his camera, adjusting the settings for the hundredth time.
Suddenly, the screen flickered. A jagged line of static cut through Anya’s face, and the display went pitch black. Ivan stopped walking abruptly, his heart skipping a beat.
"What the...?"
He tapped the power button, but there was no response. He toggled the switch, shook the device gently, and even tried to pop the battery in and out, but the lens remained retracted and dead. The high-end digital processor, which had cost him a small fortune and months of savings, felt like a cold, useless brick in his hands.
Panic flared in his chest, not just for the expensive hardware, but for the memory card inside. He tried one last desperate restart, but the device stayed silent. The beautiful, candid moments of Anya were gone.
"Fuck!" he hissed, his grip tightening on the useless camera as he stared into the dark lens.
Ivan shoved the dead camera into his bag, frustration boiling over. His mind raced, thinking of ways to replace it, how he could scrape together enough money. He couldn’t lose those photos, not of her.
He picked up his pace, the cold night air whipping against his face as he trudged home. The streets were almost empty, shadows stretching across cracked pavements.
Finally, he reached the small apartment he shared with his mother. The front door creaked as he pushed it open, expecting the familiar smell of dinner or his mother humming in the kitchen. But the apartment was silent, too silent for his liking.
"I’m home!" he called, dropping his bag by the door. Nothing. He frowned and moved through the narrow hallway, the dim light from the living room flickering weakly.
Then he saw her and his heart froze for a nanosecond.
On the cold floor, slumped against the couch, his mother lay unconscious. Her face was pale, her breathing shallow. A thin trickle of blood ran from the corner of her mouth. Ivan’s stomach dropped, and panic clawed at him like fire.
"Mom!" he shouted, dropping to his knees beside her. His hands shook as he checked for a pulse, relief washing over him for a brief second when he felt the faint thump of life beneath his fingers but it was weak, almost fragile, like it could vanish at any moment.
"Stay with me, please… stay with me" he begged, gripping her hands tightly. Tears pricked the corners of his eyes, but there was no time to cry. His mind was racing... he needed help, and fast.
He tore open the front door, yelling for a neighbor, but the street outside was deserted. His eyes darted around, desperate and frantic.
Ivan didn’t waste another second. He scooped his mother into his arms, her body limp against his chest, and bolted out of the apartment.
He shouted for a cab, waving frantically. A battered yellow cab screeched to a halt nearby, and he lifted his mother into the backseat, slamming the door before giving the driver the address.
"Any nearby hospital. Now! Please, just go!" Ivan’s voice trembled, panic and urgency bleeding through every word.
The cab lurched forward, tires skidding slightly on the road. Ivan gripped his mother’s hand tightly, speaking to her softly even though he knew she couldn’t respond.
"Come on, Mom… stay with me. Please, don’t do this… not again…"
This was the third time this month she had collapsed like this. The doctors always said it was stress-induced, a weak heart.
Finally, the cab screeched to a stop outside the emergency entrance. Ivan jumped out, carrying his mother in his arms once more. Nurses and security rushed toward him.
"She’s unconscious! Please, help her!" he shouted, panic lacing every syllable.
The medical team moved quickly, wheeling her away on a stretcher as Ivan followed, his heart pounding in his chest. He tried to keep his composure, but the knot of dread in his stomach refused to loosen.
He leaned against the wall outside the emergency room, breathing hard, every muscle tense.
After what felt like an eternity, a doctor emerged, clipboard in hand.
"Mr. Ivan?" the doctor asked.
Ivan jumped to his feet. "Yes! How is she? Please… tell me she’s okay!"
"She’s stable for now," the doctor said, his tone professional. "But this was serious. She needs to rest, and we’ll have to monitor her condition closely over the next few days. You did the right thing bringing her in immediately"
Ivan nodded, swallowing hard. "Thank you… thank you so much"
The doctor flipped through the papers on his clipboard. "Here’s the report, and the payment required for her treatment and observation" He handed Ivan a folded piece of paper with the total cost.
Ivan’s hands froze over the slip. He stared at the number, his stomach twisting painfully. He didn’t have that kind of money, nor did he know where he could get it. His family was small, just the two of them. No relatives to turn to. They had been struggling for years, and now this…
Where could he get the money? Who could he ask?
He tucked the report into his jacket pocket, letting out a shaky breath. For now, all he could do was wait, hope, and figure it out later.