Whenever we met or spoke on the phone, Nikolay P. made me feel that I was not alone, helping me worry less and believe that things would get better with time. During that period, he became one of the key figures in my life: his concern was not merely a formality; he genuinely understood the full complexity of the situation I was in. During one of our phone conversations, Nikolay P. asked how he could help me. I admitted that what troubled me most was the opinion Nadia had formed of me. It bore no resemblance to who I really was, yet I had no way left to explain myself to her or change her perception. The very knowledge that she saw me as someone I had never been weighed heavily on me. Nikolay P. knew whom I was talking about and offered to call her to try to explain the situation.
I only had her home phone number, so during that same conversation, I dictated it to Nikolay P. Then we said goodbye and hung up.
I hoped the call would help Nadia understand that I had never intended to deceive her in any way and that I was nothing like the person she believed me to be. I wanted her to see what had happened not as a reflection of my character, but as a convergence of unusual circumstances and absurd coincidences. I also hoped that Nikolay P. would be able to apologize to her on my behalf. I placed great hopes in that call.
Nikolay P. tried for a long time to reach Nadia, but she did not answer. Eventually, after several attempts, Nadia finally picked up. Nikolay P. greeted her, introduced himself as my employer, and said that he was calling on my behalf. During the conversation, he told her that I was “very upset.” Nadia admitted that she had not answered because she thought it was me calling.
After speaking with Nadia, Nikolay P. called me back and said that he had managed to talk to her. “I know,” I replied immediately. Shortly before his call, I had felt an almost imperceptible change within me: some of the tension that had repeatedly overwhelmed me suddenly receded, and I felt a little better. I immediately connected that feeling with the likelihood that Nikolay P. and Nadia had spoken. What happened seemed to me like a manifestation of a connection across distance. One can debate whether such phenomena have any scientific basis and seek different explanations for them, but the experience itself was entirely real to me.
He then recounted their conversation. Nadia told him that she had forgiven me long ago and asked him not to bother her again. She also mentioned that she was looking after a child at the time. Nadia did not have any children of her own then: she was an unmarried student. She was probably looking after someone else’s child for pay or at the request of relatives or friends.
Her forgiveness eased the intensity of my inner tension, but it did not resolve the central contradiction. What I had wanted to convey never reached Nadia: she did not learn the whole truth about what had happened, and her perception of me largely remained unchanged. Still, the pressure eased somewhat, allowing me to calm down and focus on my own affairs.
I continued teaching, which brought in a modest income and helped me gradually pay off my loan. Working with students and interacting with other people at the training center gave me some sense of stability. At the same time, I looked for a job, but without success. During one interview for a Java developer position, I was asked whether I knew Spring. After that, as far as I remember, I bought the Russian edition of Pro Spring 3 and began studying the framework in depth.
One day, I was walking through central Moscow, listening to music and feeling empty inside. Near the entrance to Paveletskaya station on the Circle Line, I stopped to smoke. As usual, everything seemed to have lost its meaning, and I watched the flow of life around me. People hurried past; some were laughing, some were talking on the phone, while others, like me, simply stood there as though lost in their own world. It is precisely at such a moment, when the world seems completely empty, that something unexpected can happen.
A petite young woman approached me and offered to sell me some toys. Her voice pulled me out of that sticky state. She was smiling, and there was something sincere in her eyes that made me take notice of her. Natasha Zh.—that was her name—was selling toys to raise money for charity. Her enthusiasm and openness touched me, and I suddenly realized that I could buy all her toys. So I did. Perhaps it was my way of reclaiming at least a small piece of meaning. We started talking, and there was something magical about it, as though frozen reality had begun moving again.
Before parting, we exchanged links to our VKontakte pages and corresponded there from then on. We wrote to each other about what inspired and troubled us, sharing our thoughts about life and its strange turns. My communication with Natasha Zh. was not especially close, but her replies always gave me a sense of lightness and support, as though I could briefly escape the routine and share my thoughts without fear of being misunderstood.
Once, Natasha Zh. mentioned that she was interested in photography and offered to arrange a photo shoot for me. The idea seemed interesting, and I agreed. We rented a space—a small studio with soft lighting and a creative atmosphere. Natasha Zh. asked me to try different looks, and despite my usual reserve, I opened up in front of her camera. She seemed to see something more than just a face or a pose. It was true art: capturing an emotion and preserving it.
Later, she edited the photographs and sent them to me. I remember looking at them and not recognizing myself: the person in those pictures had allowed himself to be vulnerable and open. It was a new experience, and it proved incredibly pleasant. That photo shoot left me with fond memories, brought us a little closer, and gave me a sense of support and the freedom to be myself.
During that same period, a new client named Khabib enrolled at the training center for individual lessons, and Nikolay P. asked me to teach him. Gradually, our interactions extended beyond the training center: Khabib invited me to cafés and to his home. We continued our lessons, but we also discussed all kinds of ideas. It was then that Khabib suggested that we work on a joint project—a platform for selling 3D-printable models. I agreed: for me, it was an opportunity to put what I had learned from the book about Spring into practice. I began developing the platform in Java while deepening my knowledge of Spring. Although the project was never completed, it significantly improved my skills with the framework.
Khabib worked at the BCS brokerage firm. At one point, he bought a Mercedes convertible on credit, and we drove around the city several times, which gave me an incredible sense of exhilaration. Those rides became a symbol of freedom for me, of something new entering my life. Our conversations often turned to the future, and one day Khabib said to me, “Dude, I look at you and think you should live in the United States. With your knowledge and abilities, you need to go there. I don’t understand what you’re doing here.” His words made me think once again about where I was and where I was going. Perhaps this was yet another push toward the changes I so desperately needed at the time.
I must also mention another dream about the guardian angels I had first seen in a dream in June 2013. It came to me during that period, when doubts and anxiety had once again washed over me. In the dream, I entered my room in my apartment, and they were sitting on my sofa, laughing. I asked them, “Can’t you see how badly I feel?” They replied, “It isn’t us laughing at you; it’s God Himself. He has great plans for you, and you’re panicking.” That dream gave me new hope and made me reflect once again on my fears and on what lay ahead.
