Morning.
Time — 8:10.I'm half-asleep, barely hearing someone rushing around the apartment.
"Steven, wake up!""Ahh… what?!""Wake up, I'm telling you! We're going to be late!""Late for what? What's going on?" I looked at my wife in confusion, not understanding what she meant."We're late for the flight! Don't you remember?""What flight?""I see you're still floating in the clouds after yesterday. We're flying to Turkey today. Did you forget?"
I had no idea what she was talking about. Not a single memory of any flight. But I didn't argue—I just jumped up, washed my face, and quickly got myself together.My wife was already waiting by the door. Strange—she usually takes at least an hour, sometimes two, to get ready when we go anywhere.
Time — 8:30.
"Taxi!" I waved my hand by the road.My wife stood beside me, holding a suitcase."To the airport!""One thousand rubles," the driver said.
I agreed immediately—there was no time to waste. We got into the car and drove off.
On the way, I asked,"Darling, when did we even plan this trip? I don't remember anything.""You don't remember? Steven, we bought the tickets two months ago, near that café downtown.""That's strange… I don't recall it at all."
She looked at me in surprise—as if I'd said something hurtful."Alright, let's not talk about this now. I'm already nervous because we overslept."
I nodded, deciding not to argue. Besides, I had completely forgotten that she was pregnant—it wasn't worth making her anxious.
Time — 8:55.
We arrived at the airport. But something was wrong.I'd flown from here before on business, and I remembered this place very differently.The building looked older, the signs felt foreign, even the smell was different.
I stopped in the middle of the road, not understanding what was happening.My wife looked at me in surprise, took my hand, and said,"Come on, we're already late!"
I followed her. I had no choice.
We boarded the plane last and took our seats.My wife exhaled heavily, as if a weight had been lifted from her shoulders."What's wrong with you, Steven? You're acting strange.""It's nothing. Just tired, I guess. Maybe a slight cold.""Get some rest. I'll wake you when we land."
But I couldn't fall asleep. Everything felt unreal, like a dream.Why couldn't I remember anything? Why did the airport look nothing like before?
Two hours into the flight, everything was going smoothly, as usual.Until suddenly…
"Hold on!" the pilot shouted.
I stood up, glanced out the window—and froze.Another plane was flying straight toward us. Head-on.
I turned to my wife—she was looking at me.There was no fear in her eyes, only a quiet, sad smile.As if she were saying goodbye.
The next moment—impact.The wing of the other plane tore our aircraft in half.
I lunged forward, trying to reach Maria, but I was too late.The section of the fuselage she was in broke away and began to fall.
"Mariaaaa!!!" I screamed, my voice tearing apart.
I looked around for a parachute—nothing.Despair flooded me.Without thinking, I jumped after her.
The wind slammed into my face, the air slicing through my chest.At an altitude of about two kilometers, I lost consciousness.
Have I really lost my happiness?Why am I not allowed to be happy?
…
I woke up on the shore.Sand, warm wind, the salty smell of the sea.No one around. Only endless jungle ahead.
I was alive.But where was she?..