However, despite all my achievements, I could not shake off one thought—I still wanted Nadya to see what I had accomplished. It seemed that if she found out about my successes, maybe she would admit that our breakup was a mistake. I hoped it could change her opinion of me and at least give us a chance to remain friends.
In August, love songs started to appear on Nadya’s VKontakte page again. I decided to take a chance and wrote, “Nadya, I received your songs.” She replied almost instantly. To this day, I still don’t understand why she acts so harshly—I never have. Maybe that’s one of the reasons I am writing this book: to finally sort things out and understand her actions.
Her response that time was especially severe. After my message, she simply made her page private, so that only friends could access it. I don’t understand why she couldn’t just reply and explain her position. Why did Nadya act this way? I don’t know.
After that, I decided it was time to sort out my own problems, the ones that had piled up after Innopolis. The first step was to pay off the credit card debt I’d racked up when I withdrew money to buy a car at the end of last year—a car that was already falling apart—and finally get myself a proper new car. There was no point in rushing into a new relationship; I decided to focus on myself and my own affairs.
With my new, decent salary, I was able to deal with it quickly. I was working at the Dmitrovskaya metro station, in a coworking space that was almost entirely occupied by Sberbank Technologies. My job was to implement new features for Sberbank Online. My colleagues were friendly, and we quickly found common ground. Among us was a remote employee from Innopolis, Maria K., who had taken courses there. She admired the fact that I had graduated with a master’s from Innopolis and often asked me for work advice. We became friends, and that added some pleasant moments to my workdays.
At the same time, I was looking at new cars and had my eye on the top trims of the Hyundai Solaris and Kia Rio. Each model cost just over a million rubles, but they belonged to reliable South Korean brands, were assembled in Russia under the Hyundai Motor Group, and were built on the same platform. They had similar technical characteristics and were well-adapted to our roads and climate, but differed in design and the variety of features, which allowed me to choose a car that suited my preferences. I decided to start by saving up for the down payment.
At the end of October, I was walking along New Arbat and stopped by the “Dom Knigi” bookstore. There, I noticed the book “A Street Cat Named Bob” by James Bowen. Its bright cover and captivating blurb made it impossible to pass by. The book’s plot is based on a real story: a street musician in London, going through hard times, meets a stray cat who unexpectedly becomes his savior. By taking care of Bob, the musician finds meaning in life and faith in his own success. Eventually, he shares this inspiring experience in his book, describing how the cat taught him responsibility and helped him believe in himself.
I was deeply touched by how fate brought together two “lost hopes”—a person and an animal—and by how mutual support not only gave them strength to pull through difficult circumstances but also led to a truly happy outcome.
On December 17, 2017, I finally bought a white Hyundai Solaris in the top trim. For me, this was more than just buying a car; it was a true symbol of success, made possible by perseverance and determination.
Right after buying the car, I met up with Anya at the Krasnogvardeyskaya metro station. We discussed the car, and after looking it over, she said, “The car’s nice, but it would be better if it were blue.” Her comment made me laugh, since for me the most important thing was achieving my goal, not the color of the car.
Of course, I couldn’t stop thinking about Nadya. I wanted so much to show her the truth about who I’d become, about my achievements and honesty. I thought that buying a new car and paying off my debts would give me more confidence and more weight in her eyes. I hoped it would help me meet Nadya and maybe rebuild our relationship.
It was clear to me that Nadya had long since formed a certain opinion of me, based on her own ideas and prejudices. She saw me as some kind of bad, terrible person and didn’t seem at all interested in changing that view. It was convenient for her, and she didn’t even consider revising her beliefs. I understood that she wouldn’t want to see me, and that getting close to her would not be easy.
So I turned to Anya, who had always supported me while I was in Innopolis. Anya and I were close friends, and I completely trusted her. I suggested that she attend one of Nadya’s classes to see if it might be possible to make contact. In return, I promised to take her to St. Petersburg. Knowing how much I was worried about Nadya, Anya agreed to help.
First, Anya and I went to the dance school where Nadya worked so Anya could sign up for a class. That was when I first met Ekaterina T.—a beautiful, businesslike woman and Nadya’s friend. Ekaterina immediately impressed me with her confidence and organizational skills. She kept everything under control and solved all the issues without unnecessary words. I couldn’t help but notice that her professional approach and her friendship with Nadya gave me some hope that I might be able to reconnect with Nadya through her.
On the appointed day, Anya went to Nadya’s class, and I waited outside in the car. When the class ended, I saw Nadya come downstairs and walk out of the building. She was heading for an old car parked at the end, and I immediately realized it was her boyfriend’s car. Without thinking, I was the first to approach and got inside. There was a young man sitting inside. I greeted him and said, “My name is Igor, and yours?” He looked startled and, after a short pause, replied, “Andrey.” Later I found out that his real name was Alexander.
Before I could process how strange the situation was, Nadya showed up. With a cold look, she simply threw me out of the car without giving me a second to say a word. Then she got inside herself, slammed the door, and drove away with Alexander, paying me no attention at all. I was deeply disappointed—I expected that after everything I had done, she would at least give me a chance to talk. But apparently, she was not ready for that, maybe because of her own anxieties or uncertainty about how to act. I understood that her feelings were probably complicated, and I didn’t want to pressure her, but it was hard to accept that she didn’t even give me a chance to explain myself.
I quickly ran to my car—a white Hyundai Solaris—unlocked the doors in an instant, and jumped in. At that moment, as if out of nowhere, Anya appeared. She was composed, as if she already knew what to do, and without asking any questions, got into the passenger seat and closed the door behind her. I didn’t waste any time explaining—I pressed the start button, hit the gas, and drove after them.
They immediately realized that we were following them. We pulled out onto Belorechenskaya Street, and I noticed their car speeding up—they were clearly trying to get away. But I wasn’t going to give up. I was still hoping that I would get a chance to tell Nadya everything that had built up, to explain that things weren’t as she thought.
Belorechenskaya ran into Krasnodarskaya, and without slowing down, they turned left. After driving a little farther, at the intersection with Sovkhoznaya, they suddenly made a sharp U-turn, as if trying to shake us off. It was a classic move to lose a tail. But I’m not the type to give up so easily. I’m a professional driver, and such maneuvers are not a problem for me. In a flash, I copied their trick, turning the wheel 180 degrees, and was behind them again.
They were driving fast, trying to find a way to escape. We sped through the night streets, past streetlights, parked cars, and the few pedestrians who watched us in surprise. Snow lay everywhere, sometimes packed to ice, sometimes still fluffy and fresh, as if it had just fallen. I sensed that their route was already determined. They were heading to the place where Nadya had spent her childhood—to the apartment that held memories of her first steps, her school years, and unfulfilled dreams. That suited me just fine.
When they stopped by her building, next to the parked cars, I braked behind them. The feeling of being at a dead end grew: I understood that any wrong move would only make things worse. I needed to act carefully, giving not the slightest reason for Nadya to think even worse of me.
I got out of my car and approached theirs, heading for the door where Nadya sat in the passenger seat. She looked at me as if with her mouth full of water, intentionally silent, not saying a word. Only her phone gave her away—she kept filming, as if that was more important than any conversation.
I tried to explain that I had no bad intentions, that I just wanted to talk. But her silence was louder than any words. Her eyes showed detachment, wariness, as if she saw a threat in front of her. It was unfair. I’m too honest and fair a person to harm anyone, and her behavior only made my disappointment worse.
Her filming me with her phone only increased my desire to prove to Nadya that I am not who she thinks I am. I looked at her and tried to get across a simple idea: “I am just like everyone else. Ordinary.” But in response, she only nodded sarcastically. In her gaze there was not just suspicion—but an expectation. The expectation of something predictable.
Maybe she was expecting aggression? For her, that would have been the standard scenario: an ex who hasn’t let go, lost control, and is about to snap. Just like the stories that usually end badly. But that was exactly what I was trying to break. My mission was to go beyond the predictable, to break stereotypes and prove that I am not part of the system. I am above standard scenarios. I am above the system.
But soon I realized that I was in a hopeless situation. Nadya and Alexander exchanged glances, as if silently agreeing on something, and simply got out of the car and headed for the entrance. I quickened my pace, following them. When they entered the building, I slipped in, too.
They called the elevator, and without thinking, I stepped in with them. In the enclosed space, the tension only grew. Nadya continued to film me, and I stood, leaning against the wall, trying to understand what was going on with her. She looked at me with glassy eyes, like a programmed machine, acting out a pre-learned algorithm. There was not a drop of emotion in her actions, not a hint of a genuine reaction—only a rehearsed routine, as if the system had prepared her for this moment in advance.
And suddenly, a thought occurred to me: if I was already faced with this icy indifference, I’d soon have to deal with her father as well. I felt a sense of fear rise inside. What if I really did lose control? Things had gone too far. I needed to leave before the situation got out of hand.
I looked at her and, as if testing my guess, asked:
— So now I’m going to meet your daddy too?
Nadya nodded.
At that moment, I realized—it was time to end this. I didn’t know what to say, what to prove, how to get through the enormous wall of prejudice, stereotypes, and patterns that were already firmly rooted in her mind. When the elevator reached the right floor, they stepped out and, as if expecting something, looked back at me.
But I already knew I wouldn’t follow them. Turning around, I silently got back into the elevator, went down, walked out onto the street, and headed to my car. Anya was waiting for me there.
When I got in, Anya and I exchanged glances, and suddenly she said, as if reading my mind:
— “A slow dance, so you’ll cry.”
I laughed:
— “Exactly! Let’s play it!”
We turned on “Basta – Graduation,” and without another word, drove toward our neighborhood. The music filled the car, and the night city, with its lights and empty streets, seemed to play along with the moment.
Only on the way, as we turned into a familiar alley, did Anya suddenly remember:
— By the way, I wrote down the license plate.
As it turned out, that was useful—later that number helped us find Nadya’s boyfriend’s phone number.
Soon, as planned, we decided to spend the New Year holidays in St. Petersburg. We went by car, and honestly, it was quite an adventure. We decided to spend the night in the car, which was epic in itself. We spent a long time looking for a parking spot out of sight and ended up on the outskirts of Petersburg, near a dumpster. We wanted to watch a movie before bed, but something unexpected happened—a police car pulled up.
The officer came up to the window and asked Anya if everything was alright. She said yes, and that was the end of their check. I explained that we were just about to watch a movie, and the policeman looked us over, assessed the situation, and drove away.
We were a bit shocked by the unexpected visit and decided to take a walk to calm down. Walking around nighttime Petersburg helped relieve the tension, and after a while, we returned to the car to spend the night. However, in the morning, police officers knocked on our window again and woke us up. We quickly got ready and went for a walk around the city.
Back in Moscow, I got to know some colleagues who worked for other companies but also collaborated with Sberbank. One of these companies offered training followed by job placement. I decided it was a great opportunity for Anya and shared it with her. She called, enrolled in the courses, and began studying testing, which became her starting point in a new career.
Afterwards, I tried to figure out what was going on between me and Nadya again. Using the license plate, a police friend of mine found the owner, and it turned out his name was Alexander. I decided to call him to calmly discuss and clarify the situation. When Alexander found out who was calling, he was confused and hung up. But I called again and tried to talk to him respectfully: “Alexander, hello again. Maybe enemies have separated us. We need to discuss the situation.” He began to explain that Nadya was very nervous about everything, which shocked me. I didn’t want her to feel anxious—my goal was never to harm her, but to try to sort things out.
I suggested, “Let her just get in touch and we can talk about everything. I don’t understand why avoid a conversation if we can settle everything peacefully.” But Alexander was clearly not ready for an open dialogue and kept mumbling something incoherent. I tried to explain to him that avoiding communication only made things worse, and that if Nadya wanted to talk, I was ready to listen to her and help ease the tension. That ended our conversation—with only mumbling and vague replies from his side.
The unsuccessful meeting with Nadya made me realize that I needed to pay more attention to my physical and emotional state. I understood that it was time for changes. One of the first steps was quitting smoking, which had already helped me regain my energy once before.
In the end, I started looking for an organization that could arrange a good hiking trip, and I came across the “Adventure Club.” On their website, I found information about an upcoming trek along the Lycian Way in Turkey, and I decided to join without hesitation. In March, I went on a 10-day adventure that began in Antalya. The Lycian Way, known for its scenic beauty and historical significance, stretches along the southwestern coast of Turkey, connecting the ancient cities of the Lycian kingdom.
I was surrounded by magnificent nature and interesting people. Our group was led by two wonderful guides—Katya, who walked in front ensuring our safety and direction, and Inna, who brought up the rear to make sure no one fell behind. Among the participants was the unforgettable Valya, with whom I shared a tent. There was also a couple from Germany, Russians by origin, who chose that time for their vacation, as well as several other participants, each with their own unique story and reasons for joining the trek.
The route was marked with white and red stripes, which could be seen sometimes on stones, sometimes on trees. That helped us navigate along the way. One of the most memorable places was Cape and Lighthouse Gelidonia. The wind there was so strong it almost knocked us off our feet, and I distinctly remember having to hold on tight to keep from falling. We also visited the ancient city of Myra in Demre—a place with well-preserved ancient ruins and breathtaking scenery.
This hike became a real turning point for me. I quit smoking again and felt my strength and energy return. Walking along the Lycian Way helped me clear my mind, find inner peace, and get back to normal life. Every day was filled with inspiring views and a sense of freedom, and it gave me a chance to reset.
One day I even swam in the Mediterranean Sea, even though it was mid-March and many Turks were still wearing hats. I was inspired to do it after one of the women in our group went into the water first, and I followed her. That swim in the cold water became a symbol of renewal for me and strengthened my sense of freedom. When I returned from Turkey, I was able to focus on work again and started making new plans for the future.
And in May, I went on my first rafting trip with the “Evergreen Club.” That’s where I met Evgenia P., who later became my friend and pen pal. The rafting trip was interesting and exciting, and Evgenia left a pleasant impression. That time, her friend Tonya was also with us, though we only saw each other once after that. After the trip, I drove both of them to Moscow in my Hyundai Solaris. Evgenia even noted that I was a great driver. The rafting trip became one of the brightest moments of that year, giving me new friends and unforgettable memories.
