Whom Do You Seek?” – Maria Fyodorovna and Nikolai Stepped Onto the Porch, Gazing at the Visitor. “I’m Here for Maria Fyodorovna! I’m Her Granddaughter—No, Wait, Her Great-Granddaughter! The Daughter of Alexei, Her Eldest Son.

**Diary Entry**

I was sitting on the bench, bathed in sunlight, enjoying the first warm days of spring. At last, it had arrived. Only God knew how Id made it through that winter.

“Another winter I wont survive,” I thought, sighing with relief. I wasnt afraid of leaving this world anymorein fact, I almost looked forward to it. Id saved enough money, bought the clothes Id need for the journey. There was nothing left to tie me here.

Once, I had a big familymy husband, Frederick, a tall, strong man, and our four children: three boys and a girl. We lived happily, helping each other, rarely quarrelling. The children grew up one by one and drifted away.

The two eldest went to university and then moved to different cities for work. The middle one wasnt much for school but built a successful business that eventually took him abroad. My daughter, too, left the villageshe flew off to London and married soon after.

At first, they visited often. They wrote letters, and when phones became common, they called. Grandchildren came, and Id pack my worn-out suitcase to stay with one of them, helping raise the little ones.

But time passed. The grandchildren outgrew my care. The calls grew fewer, the visits stopped altogether. Work, their own families, their own childrenthey had no time for me.

The last time they gathered was for Fredericks funeral. Such a strong manI thought hed live to a hundred. But life had other plans. After the funeral, they scattered again. At first, they phoned, but soon, even that faded.

I tried calling them myself, but the silence on the other end told me everything. So the last ten years passed. Once a year, one of them might remember methose weeks, Id walk around smiling to myself.

Then one day, I was sitting outside when I heard, “Hello, Aunt Mary!”

A young man stood by the fence, grinning. “Dont you remember me?”

I squinted. “Nicholas? Is that you?”

His smile widened. “Yes, Aunt Mary!”

Nicholas was the neighbours boy. His parents couldnt go a day without drinking, and he was always hungry. Out of pity, I fed him, gave him clothes my own children had outgrown, let him stay when his parents were too drunk to notice he was gone.

They didnt last long. When they died, Nicholas was taken awayto an orphanage, I heard. I never saw him again, and I missed him terribly.

“Where have you been all this time?” I asked, overjoyed.

“First the orphanage, then the army, then school. Now Im back for goodgoing to rebuild the village!”

“Whats left to rebuild?” I sighed. “Everyones gone.”

“Doesnt matter! Well make it work!”

And just like that, my life changed. Nicholas got a job with Johnson, the biggest farmer in the area. In his free time, he fixed up the old cottage his parents left himand he helped me too, mending fences, tending the garden. I started calling him “my boy.” We lived like that for three years.

Then one day, he said, “Im leaving, Aunt Mary. Johnson wants the work but wont pay. Ill find better wages elsewhere.”

“Go, my boy,” I said. “No hard feelings.”

Alone again. Some days, the loneliness nearly broke me. I waited, counting the hours. Yet something still kept me here.

Then”Hello, Aunt Mary!”

I looked up. There he was, taller now, well-dressed. “Im back,” he said, grinning. “For good!”

Joy flooded me. “Come in, come in! Ill put the kettle on!”

He laughed. “Tea sounds perfect. Just let me run home firstdidnt think Id find you here, forgot the gifts!”

Half an hour later, we sat at the table, sipping tea from my best china, talking non-stop.

“I was ready to go, Nicholas,” I admitted, wiping my eyes.

“Dont even think about it!” he teased. “Weve got plans, Aunt Mary. Ive saved moneygoing to start my own farm. Youre staying right here!”

Thena voice from the yard. “Hello? Anyone home?”

I peered out the window. A girl in a short coat and high heels stood there.

“Who are you looking for?” I asked, stepping outside with Nicholas.

“YouAunt Mary! Im your great-granddaughter. My grandfather was Alexander, your eldest son.”

We stared.

“I tried calling, but your phone was off. So I just came!”

“Come in,” I said, flustered. Nicholas took her suitcase.

Over tea, Verathat was her nameexplained, “I hate the city. Wanted to try village life. Granddad said I should stay with you a few monthsthought itd cure me of the idea.” She laughed. “But I wont be a burden! Ive got money, and Dad sent gifts.”

“Stay as long as you like,” I said.

A month passed. Vera surprised mecity girl or not, she worked the garden like shed been born to it. With Nicholass help, she ploughed the long-neglected plot, planted vegetables, even put up a greenhouse.

Nicholas, meanwhile, started building his farm, hired workers to fix my roof, installed proper heating.

I was happy. The loneliness was gone.

Only sometimes, a shadow crossed my heart when I remembered Vera would leave. Id grown too fond of her. But time flew, and soon, she packed to go.

“How will I manage the garden without you?” I sighed, wrapping pastries for her journey.

“Aunt Mary, just water the barrel! Nicholas will tend the rest. And Ill be backIve got to weed!” She grinned. “Nicholas proposed. Were getting married in autumn!”

A year later, I sat rocking my great-great-grandson in his pram while Vera and Nicholas worked the farm. The place thrived, and so did the village.

I looked down at the sleeping baby and smiled.

NoI wasnt going anywhere just yet. They still needed me.