Chapter 1
Grafhorst, Germany
1996
“Behave yourself, Stefan,” Anna said to her ten-year-old son.
The boy gave a polite nod and straightened his shoulders. He adjusted his sweater, waiting eagerly for the man he was now supposed to call Father. At least, that was how his mother had explained it, knowing that her son still mourned the father he had lost so tragically two years earlier.
Gustav Schwartz had been an excellent surgeon, the man who inspired little Stefan to follow in his footsteps. Yet, in saving the lives of others, not every doctor can save his own… Especially when an ambulance arrives too late at the scene of an accident.
When his father died, Stefan felt that hope had died with him. The one, who had always been so proud of him, was gone.
His mother… She had struggled through the first half year after Gustav’s death. But early motherhood became an unbearable burden once her husband was no longer there. He had been the one providing for their family, respected in society. Then everything changed. After German reunification, the economy was unstable, unemployment spread across nearly every sector. Anna had been forced to leave Munich with her son and move back north, to her parents’ home. As long as Gustav was alive, she could never have imagined that without him everything would collapse so quickly. She could not drain all their savings to maintain both the house and the city apartment, and she often wondered how her late husband had managed it all.
Those first months in a new place were exhausting for Stefan as well. He missed his father, he missed his old life. It grew harder still when his mother began to bristle at his constant dreams of following in his father’s footsteps. Eventually, he stopped speaking of those dreams aloud. He went to school simply to gain knowledge, to move closer to his goal. At least in school, his mother wasn’t there, and over time she stopped caring about his grades altogether. From then on, only strangers praised Stefan.
Anna saw the passion with which her son studied, but she could not explain to him how disappointed she felt with the life Gustav had left behind. She grew angry with Stefan because he reminded her so painfully of his father — the same smile, the same stubborn dream of becoming a doctor. Everything about him irritated her, for the child could never understand what it was like for his mother to live without the social world, where Gustav had always been a welcomed guest, and she by his side.
But soon Anna met another man, one who quickly drove the dark memories from her mind. Handsome, polite, well-dressed, with a fine car and a respectable job… In him, she saw the husband who could take care of her, and the father her son so badly needed.
Stefan’s eyes lit up when a gleaming car stopped in front of their house. From it stepped a tall, broad-shouldered man in dark trousers and a white shirt. His dark blond hair was neatly brushed back, and his blue eyes, like a stormy sky, studied them closely. In one hand he carried a bouquet of red flowers, in the other, a box marked with the familiar words: «LEGO Technic». Instantly, Stefan remembered the day when his father had given him a similar set…
Tears stung his eyes, his chin trembled ever so slightly, but Stefan stood tall, looking first at his mother and then at the man.
“Hello,” the man said. “My name is Dietmar.”
He offered his hand to Stefan, and after a shy handshake, passed him the gift as well.
“Thank you,” Stefan replied politely, though still glancing uncertainly at his mother.
Anna was enchanted by the man’s courtesy, more so than by the flowers or his warm, sweet kiss. Dietmar touched her stomach gently, and kissed her temple again. Then he helped both mother and son into the car and drove them to Wolfsburg.
The gift and the cheerful atmosphere of the little restaurant by the lake soon softened Stefan’s caution. He paid little attention to the adults’ conversation, only when Dietmar spoke to him directly.
“I’m so glad you don’t mind, Stefan,” Dietmar said a little later, once the boy had finished his juice. “Your mother told me you like building sets. Do you dream of becoming an engineer?”
Stefan glanced at his mother, then shook his head.
“No. I want to be a doctor, like my father.”
The adults exchanged a look, and the words lingered with them long after. Stefan rarely missed a chance to say it, even later, when Anna married Dietmar, his dream never changed.
But his dream was a ghost from the past, one that cast a shadow over Anna and stirred unease in her new husband. Even when they awaited the birth of a baby daughter, Stefan became the constant reminder of a former life, an unwelcome shadow. Anna tolerated it, but Dietmar found it far harder. At first, he tried to be a good father, yet the boy stubbornly held onto the memory of Gustav. And when Dietmar learned he would soon have a child of his own, his priorities finally settled.
“Where are we going?” Stefan asked, looking out the window when his stepfather steered the car toward the highway.
“I have some business in Berlin, and I can’t leave you alone while your mother’s in the hospital,” Dietmar said with a strained smile. “We can make it into a little sightseeing trip, if you’d like.”
“And what if Mama needs us?”
“She assured me she’s well cared for, and she doesn’t want us to delay this matter…”
“All right then.”
The boy’s reluctant agreement eased the tension in the man’s chest. The whole drive, Dietmar kept up a stream of chatter to head off awkward questions, and the boy, carried away, didn’t notice how easily he returned to his favorite topic — university, and all the lives he would save one day. Dietmar’s jaw tightened, though he forced himself to smile, eyes flicking to the side mirrors.
After a while, he spoke again.
“We’ll need to stop for gas…”
Stefan said nothing. He understood, that was simply how it had to be.
Before long, the blue Audi rolled off the autobahn toward a filling station. A few drops of rain spattered the windshield. Autumn had decided to end the day with rain. The air smelled of wet asphalt, fuel, and coffee.
Dietmar stopped the car by the entrance, leaving the engine running. He leaned toward the boy, glancing around.
“Stefan, I’ll just step into the restroom. Why don’t you go buy yourself something sweet? Here, five marks. All right?”
Stefan nodded, clutching the coins. He zipped up his light jacket, pushed open the door. The car pulled away to park nearby, and the boy stepped into the shop. Warmth and a blend of smells enveloped him — sugary, sharp, and strange all at once. Dim lights glowed over rows of Wrigley’s gum, Milka bars, and cassette tapes. From the speakers came the tune of «Lemon tree», mingling with the rumble of cars and rain outside.
He squared his shoulders, as though five marks in his hand were five hundred. He only had to decide how best to spend them. His eyes wandered over the shelves until they settled on a small bar of children’s chocolate.
He hesitated before stepping back out into the cold, choosing instead to stand by the window, waiting for Dietmar.
A minute passed. Then two. Then ten. Twenty.
The cars at the pumps dwindled. A man who had just filled his Volkswagen Passat gave Stefan a brief glance, then walked past, bought a coffee, and drove away. Nobody paid attention to the quiet boy who made no fuss, who didn’t shout for help. Perhaps he looked too tidy: clean jeans, a decent jacket. Surely, his parents were somewhere nearby…
When the rain finally eased, falling only in scattered drops, Stefan dared to step outside. Wrapping his arms around himself for warmth, he scanned the lot. He went to the edge of the parking area, toward the restrooms… But the blue Audi was gone.
Something inside him began to break. Or perhaps what grief had left untouched two years ago now finally caught up with him.
A cold wind rose, scattering yellow leaves. Stefan wiped his tears, still staring at the autobahn, hoping Dietmar would return as soon as he finished his business. But he did not return.
The boy retreated back inside, his eyes fixed on the window with stubborn hope. People came, bought coffee, left… Nobody asked why he was there. Because this wasn’t a film where adults would stop and ask questions. This was the real world — indifferent, harsh, and unjust.
By the window stood a box of free postcards — advertisements for new chocolate, bright pictures of a picturesque Europe. Stefan picked one up and studied the smiling people beneath the Brandenburg Gate. None of them looked like him: lonely, cold, forgotten.
