Til the last breath_1-3 chpt (Issuu)

All the characters and events depicted in the novel “’Til the Last Breath” are fictitious and bear no resemblance to real persons. Furthermore, no description of the circumstances or resulting standpoints reflects the author’s personal opinion. All rights are reserved and protected under Copyright Law. The use and/or distribution of any part of this novel for commercial purposes without the prior written consent of the author is strictly prohibited and subject to civil or criminal penalties. However, the material in the novel may be used for informational, educational, or scientific purposes, as well as for personal enjoyment, but not for economic gain, and in such cases, the author and source must be properly credited.

Translator: Translation agency

Editor and proofreader: Krista Nurm

Layout: Sille Martma

Cover design: Helene Moss

© Helene Moss, 2025 www.helenemoss.com

ISBN 978-9916-9338-2-4 (EPUB)

Say “yes” to life and let all things new come to you 

Author 2025

The first three chapters are available to read for free online: 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. 9. 10.

Saturday, 15th of July

It’s late in the evening

She’s wondering what clothes to wear

She puts on her makeup

And brushes her long blonde hair

And then she asks me “Do I look all right?"

And I say, “Yes, you look wonderful tonight."

We go to a party

And everyone turns to see This beautiful lady

Who’s walking around with me

And then she asks me “Do you feel all right?"

And I say, “Yes, I feel wonderful tonight."

I feel wonderful because I see the love light in your eyes

And the wonder of it all is that you just don’t realise How much I love you1

1 “Wonderful Tonight”, lyrics and music by Eric Clapton. Author’s notes.

Ivo Linna’s gentle voice was reverberating through the living room, or rather throughout the entire house, captivating both the dancing couples on the floor and the rest of the guests in the room. Marie waited politely until the end of the song and then freed herself from Markus’s embrace. Truth be told, she had not felt comfortable for a single moment dancing with her husband’s son, as the latter held her too tightly at times, particularly during the chorus, but she tried not to make a fuss about it. After all, this soirée belonged to Georg, her cherished husband, and to partake in a few dances with his son, when the gentleman himself could no longer manage, was the least she could do for her dear husband’s sake. Marie turned down the music on the console and settled beside Georg, enfolding her arms around his neck.

“Next year, we shall invite him in person.”

The man smiled, not saying a word. It was not a response that Marie would have accepted. She nestled her nose against his ear, ensuring that not a syllable uttered from her lips would dissipate into the air.

“This will be my gift to you. And then, we’ll dance all night. Ivo spends his summers on the island of Muhu, and it’s not far for him to come to us. If we don’t invite him here for your fiftieth birthday, then when else?”

Georg still did’t say anything, just took his wife in an embrace and hugged her. That was his response.

“Clang-clang-clang,” Markus theatrically clinked his fork against the half-filled wine glass, drawing the attention of the guests to himself.

“Dear family and esteemed friends,” he began a new speech, despite the prior grandiloquent prologue delivered alongside the

main course. Casting a profound gaze alternately into the eyes of his father and Marie, who were sitting at the head of the table, he continued, “Allow me to thank, once again, all of you who have gathered here, particularly those who travelled from the mainland and had to argue with tourists over ferry places at the port. You deserve a medal!” The people laughed. The island of Saaremaa has historically been renowned as a highly valued destination for summer holidays, particularly with favourable weather. Today was no exception.

“If you’ll allow me,” Markus raised his glass to eye level, “let us say a toast to the health of my father’s pretty wife, because, let’s be frank what would we men be without women?” The guests chuckled. “I’ll boldly speak on behalf of all men, and trust me, no one will dispute me when I say an empty place!” The flattered women, taken aback by the unexpected praise, glanced, fidgeting, at their companions and nodded sweetly. “And with this beautiful sentiment, if you’ll allow me, I’ll dedicate the next song to all the beauties whose existence gives us men a reason to get up from bed every morning with a smile.” With these words, Markus looked deeply into Marie’s eyes, so deeply that it made her blush. What did the intimacies between Georg and her in the bedroom have to do with the man’s son? Couldn’t there be a different, gentler example of the importance of women in men’s lives than this? Marie responded to Markus’s compromising compliment with a small smile, sqeezing her husband’s hand more firmly.

Markus drained the contents of his glass, distanced himself from his tablemates, grasped the guitar, and in no time filled the small, light yellow house in Mere Street in Kuressaare with a wonderful melody, captivating the listeners in his musical web and enchanting them to forget everything else around. To forget obligations, bank

loans, and problems of daily life, which were typically simmering too fervently in their minds.

Enraptured by every fragment of the melody, Markus’s masculine singing voice and the message of the song the noblest feeling in the world: love the women rested their heads upon the shoulders of their companions, who just drew closer to them. Including Marie. She, too, nestled closer to Georg, enjoying the subtle perfume of ocean waves and his body heart, which emanated from her dear husband’s collar and was easily detectable through his sweaty shirt. Yet, while the others surrendered themselves to the music, a question was circling in her mind. A question that, as the evening unfolded, grew more prominent, leaving Marie with a strange sensation as if she had two men today: Georg and Markus. Although there was only one Georg. And Markus was his only child, with whom she shared no common ground save the fact that, for the past four years, she had been wed to his father. Nothing more. And yet, tonight, each time Marie met the young man’s gaze, she found herself kindled by a flame that grew larger with each successive glass of wine, as if ignition fluid had been poured into the fire. Thinking of this, she lowered her eyes from the singer, shifted her gaze to her husband and, forcefully, suppressed the question that loomed within herself: why is Markus behaving so strangely tonight? The young man had probably lost his sense of reality due to excessive alcohol consumption, as there could be no other logical explanation.

“Thank you, darling, for tonight,” Georg turned to his wife as the last guests were leaving, “you put in so much effort.”

“Sweetheart,” the woman stepped forward in front of the hero of the day, a honeyed smile on her face, “anything for you. Always.”

She cupped his head in her hands and pressed her lips against his dry ones. “I love you.”

“I love you too, very much . . . Do you mind if I lie down? My head is pounding terribly . . . Can you handle the dishes?”

“Yes, of course! You’re the birthday boy today, I wouldn’t even allow you to clean up,” she joked in response. “The kids will help. Laura and Loora have taken over the kitchen, and Annabel and Markus will bring the dishes from the dining room. We’ll have everything done before you even close your eyes. Your headache is probably just from the stress of the birthday celebration. I noticed you didn’t eat much either, no wonder your head is aching now. Did you remember to take your medicine? You’ve been taking quite a lot of it lately . . .”

Without commenting on what was said, the weary Georg nodded in agreement, wished good night to his wife’s twin daughters as well as to his son and the latter’s partner, and disappeared into the bedroom. Marie watched him with evident astonishment. He wasn’t even able to go and have a wash? Concerned, she went to help clear the dishes from the table, wondering to herself what illness had crept into her otherwise cheerful and healthy husband, causing him to lose appetite and take stronger and stronger painkillers in recent weeks. This didn’t seem right.

As Annabel, Markus’s partner, soon went to put Robin to bed and the twins stepped outside for some fresh air in the garden, Marie found herself alone with Markus. Muttering something to the young man’s questions about where to put the dirty dishes or items of furniture, and without lifting her gaze from what she was doing, Marie found herself sinking deeper into a burden of worry as the night drew closer, her thoughts consumed by Georg, casting a dark shadow over what had been a wonderful day.

Sunday, 16th of July

As Marie opened her eyes, she found herself alone in bed. Assuming that Georg had gone to the bathroom and would return shortly, she, enveloped in comfortable weariness, remained in bed to await his return. Minutes passed. One, five, ten, fifteen. Nothing. No one peeked through the door to see if she was awake, let alone whispered the usual sweet morning greetings like “Good morning, darling!” or “Coffee for you!” Although there was some commotion in the house, the bedroom door remained closed. Marie got out of bed, drew back the curtains, and wrapped herself in her dressing gown. Her right side felt somewhat stiff, likely from sleeping facing her husband all night long. If a night of alternating between troubled thoughts and light, superficial snoozing could be called sleeping.

Upon entering the kitchen, Marie was startled to find the pale-faced Georg sitting hunched over the table, with the concerned Annabel by his side. A half-empty blister pack of painkillers and an empty glass sat on the table in front of them. Marie quickened her pace.

“What happened?”

She clasped the man’s clammy hand in hers.

“Are you feeling unwell?”

Before Georg could respond, Annabel spoke up.

“Georg vomited.”

“Goodness, from yesterday? How is everyone else? Are they sick, too?”

“Mm-mm,” the girl shook her head.

Marie glanced around the house.

“Where’s Robin? Is he feeling unwell too? And Markus?”

“I sent the boys out for a walk, they’re fine. At least they were before.”

Marie touched Georg’s forehead.

“You don’t seem to have a fever . . .” She sighed. “It drives me nuts, the first time I’ve ordered food from a restaurant and now this mess!”

“Calm down, darling . . .” Georg finally spoke. “I’ve been feeling nauseous for several mornings now; it might not be from yesterday’s food.”

Marie gazed at him for a long moment.

“Vomiting is usually associated with food. Let’s get you back to bed. Can you walk?”

The man slowly pushed himself up from the chair and, with his wife’s arm linked through his, moved towards their bedroom. His skin was pallid, and his eyes looked weary. There wasn’t much left of his former vitality and exuberant masculinity.

After helping the sick man into bed, Marie fluffed he pillow under his head, opened the window to let in some oxygen-rich air, spread the blanket over him, and sat down on the edge of the bed. Then she phoned her daughters, who had taken the early morning ferry to the mainland, as well as a few of yesterday’s guests. The response was the same: they were all in good health. Once again, they praised the delicious dishes and said thank-you for the wonderful party.

“Tomorrow is Monday, so you’ll go to the doctor first thing in the morning to see what kind of bug has got into you, causing all this trouble. Or perhaps it’s your blood pressure . . . I’ve heard that if it fluctuates it can also lead to nausea. Luckily, I’m on leave now, so I can come with you; then we’ll hear together what the issue is, and I’ll

know how to take care of you,” she outlined the plans for the next day, ignoring any objections from her husband. “Agreed?”

The corners of Georg’s lips lifted. “Do I have a choice?”

“No, darling,” she gently stroked her husband’s weak head, smiling in response, “unfortunately not in this matter.”

Although today marked the height of summer and it was Sunday, most tourists were likely basking on the beaches of Saaremaa due to the sunny weather, as the castle park appeared almost deserted, as far as the eye could see. Enveloped in lush greenery, the park combined the splendours of beauty and history. The scent of blooming flowers filled the senses with delight, and the rustling of tree leaves whispered the secrets of past centuries. It seemed as if the park itself was alive, breathing the spirit of the land and offering a presence that could only be truly felt in the company of a loved one. Clearly, Kuressaare Castle Park was a sanctuary of wonders and romance, where the past and present intertwined just as lovers did at the height of passion.

Hand in hand with Georg, Marie was strolling beside him at a slower pace than usual today. Upon reaching a colossal chair near the Kursaal, they stopped.

“Do you remember when we walked here for the first time? This chair had just been placed, and you helped me up?”

Considering her husband’s current poor health, Marie jumped up a few times, managing to reach the chair with her own efforts. Georg leaned against the chair leg and grinned.

“I remember it very well. I thought then, how can a woman with such beautiful legs be single?”

Marie chuckled brightly.

“What kind of joke is that?”

“It’s not a joke. When we met on the ship, you were wearing trousers, but later wore a short dress, and I immediately noticed— wow, what nice long legs.”

“So,” Marie continued, bringing clarity to the matter, “when I fell in love with your double-blossomed dark pink lilac bushes, you fell in love with my legs. Now it’s clear.”

Georg burst into laughter at such talk.

“So you moved in with me because of the lilacs? And I’m only hearing about it now?”

At this point, Marie became serious. She slid off the chair.

“Lilacs certainly played an important role in our moving in together, as you first invited me over when they were in full bloom, and I’ve always dreamed of a home with lilacs at the gate.” A mischievous grin appeared on her face. “But . . . if I’m being honest, I fell in love with your smile first. Already on the ship, when you were sitting with your colleagues at the table next to us, I didn’t really look at your eyes rather than at your smile.”

As she spoke, she drew so close to her husband that their smiling lips touched. It was a beautiful moment. A moment where all the words, lined up into sentences, became insignificant. A moment where the thread of thought snapped. A moment where two people experienced a genuine feeling that the human race longs for all their lives, and upon finding it, often lets it slip away due to foolishness. Georg and Marie were not among them. They recognised the one true feeling in each other from the very moment they met, reaffirming the myth that love at first sight was possible. Whether it started with a smile or a glance, with or without lilacs, with or without beautiful long legs nobody knows.

The kiss, filled with midsummer love, absorbed the two, which was not an everyday sight in the urban space. Before meeting Marie, Georg would never have dared to display such affection openly in his hometown, but as the woman who had brought her spark and zest from the mainland with her found it appropriate and Georg, if truth be told, enjoyed his wife’s antics he reciprocated. He had never felt as happy or as alive with any other woman before. With Marie, it was different, easy. Her thoughts, actions, words—everything. There were no unnecessary dramas or rejections, which had largely characterised his marriage with Markus’s mother, Katrin, including pointless arguments over trivial matters and games of guessing what had caused the woman’s whim that time.

“Come, let’s sit here,” Marie said as she led her husband by the hand towards a maple tree. The effects of the medication had gradually worn off, and Georg’s strong morning headache was returning. Without any complaint, he smiled.

“Alright.”

Marie settled comfortably on the white bench, indicating to Georg to lie down and rest his head on her lap. This was how they had often rested on park benches, sometimes one on the other’s lap, sometimes the other way round. Sometimes one would be flipping through a newspaper, sometimes the other would be reading a book.

Hearing that her husband’s headache had returned, Marie gently massaged his scalp with her fingers, soothing the brewing inferno underneath. They sat in silence for a while, listening to the ducks quacking at the moat, the lively chatter of visitors from the terrace of the Kursaal, and the distant barking of a dog behind them. After a moment of quiet, Georg resumed the conversation.

“They say two-thirds of the trees in the castle park are maples. It’s extraordinarily beautiful here in autumn.”

Marie nodded in agreement.

“Look!” she exclaimed as her eyes caught sight of the treetops, pointing her finger at one of them.

Georg sharpened his gaze.

“Do you mean those butterflies?”

“Yes! Look how they’re chasing each other. I’ve never understood how the wind doesn’t blow them away. They weigh nothing at all.”

Georg chuckled at her remark.

“Well, if we can see them with our eyes, they must weigh something after all.”

Marie laughed at herself.

“Yes, you’re right. It’s so nice to watch them fluttering around carefree, so lightly. We humans always have some worry to bear, but for them, it’s as if tomorrow doesn’t exist.”

“But it doesn’t, does it?”

“You mean, they live only for one day?”

Georg searched his pocket for his mobile phone.

“Let’s find it out straight away.”

He typed in the search words and read the results with surprise.

“It turns out they live even for two weeks. I don’t know why I thought it was just a few days.”

He put the phone back into his pocket, looking pensive as he gazed at his wife.

“Do you want to say something?” she asked.

“No. I was just thinking for a moment . . .”

“And?”

“I was thinking whether, if it were a carefree butterfly living for a couple of weeks or a human burdened with worries living for many years, which one would I choose.”

Marie frowned.

“You weren’t seriously thinking that, were you?”

“I was.”

“So, and what did you come up with?”

Georg grinned.

“Fortunately or unfortunately, I can’t choose.”

“Goof.”

The word “goof” had been used in their conversations since the first day, a nickname Georg earned from his wife with pride when she teased him jealously at the beginning of their relationship. She tested him, trying to see if he would take the bait and how he would react to provocation. But he didn’t take the bait, didn’t respond to the provocation. Instead, he earned the endearing nickname “goof” from her.

“Look, again!”

This time, however, Georg didn’t look. Instead, he savoured the moment with his eyes closed, feeling fortunate to be with his beloved wife. She persisted, stretching out her hand and trying to catch something falling from the sky.

“Look how soft and clean it is; it must have just fallen from someone’s tail!”

Marie held up the small white feather between her fingers in front of Georg’s eyes, refusing to let it go until he opened them. He did as expected, not knowing what to make of a single feather tuft. She continued.

“Have you heard the saying: ’Feathers appear when angels are near’?”

“Mm-mm.”

“I find it a beautiful thought. That when you see a feather near you, it means that your guardian angels are with you and won’t let anything bad happen.”

Without waiting for a response from her husband, knowing it wouldn’t come anyway, Marie placed the feather between the covers of her phone and continued to caress her husband’s head tenderly. Georg gratefully closed his eyes again, letting the sweet scent of the summer flowers blooming beneath the bench waft into his nose, trusting himself entirely to his beloved’s hands and respecting everything she did, knowing that she always acted from sincere love.

Monday, 17th of July

When Marie opened her eyes and didn’t find her husband by her side, her heart sensed something was wrong, based on yesterday’s morning. Snatching her morning gown from the hook and wrapping it around herself, she hurried into the kitchen. It was empty. The bathroom. Empty. The living room. Empty. Without wasting any more time on further searches, she called out for her husband. To no avail. Gripped by fear, she grabbed her phone from the table and was about to dial Georg’s number when she noticed him sitting on the terrace. Breathing a sigh of relief, she dashed into the garden like a bullet.

“Good morning!” she shouted halfway there. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere!”

“Thought I got lost?” Georg grinned through a grimace of pain.

“Not that,” Marie didn’t want to worry him further, “just about the doctor’s appointment. How are you feeling?”

“Haven’t vomited today, but still feeling nauseous.”

“How long have you been up?”

Georg sighed, directing his gaze to the neighbour’s freshly trimmed Thuja trees.

“Honestly?!”

“Of course . . .”

“I haven’t really slept much. Took two four-hundred-milligram pills last night and another one this morning. I’m feeling better now, even dozing off slowly. Just thought of coming to snuggle with you, rest for a couple of hours, and then go to the doctor’s; I’d have more strength that way.”

Marie scrutinised him doubtfully.

“For the headache, right?”

Georg nodded.

“I don’t know . . . Why not call the doctor first? See what time we can get an appointment. Then plan accordingly.”

Georg nodded again. He looked exhausted, clearly suffering from a lack of sleep.

Marie immediately dialled the general practitioner’s number and explained the reason for her call to the nurse who answered the phone. After hanging up, she looked deeply into Georg’s eyes.

“Let’s go straight away; you can rest later.”

Her voice sounded strangely resolute to Georg. It was clear there was no room for argument here. He stood up and went to get dressed, leaving behind a pensive wife who had hoped for anything else but not what she now had to deal with during the long-awaited summer break.

“Georg Aavik!”

“Would you like me to come along?”

“Yes, please do.”

Marie rose abruptly from beside her husband and followed him into the doctor’s office. She stood behind him as he sat, placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder. Both of them were equally tense with anticipation, but neither dared to show it. At least, not Marie.

“I heard you’ve been experiencing severe headaches,” the doctor said, already briefed about the reason for the patient’s visit.

“Yes,” Georg acknowledged.

“Please tell me more about where these headaches occur, how often, when they worsen, how long you’ve been experiencing them, and what medication you’re taking.”

And Georg spoke. He explained that he had been suffering from headaches since early June, with nausea cropping up in the past couple of weeks, and vomiting the day before yesterday. He said the mornings were always the worst. Then he would immediately take two painkillers, which had somehow helped him make it to the midday dose. He also admitted to occasional balance disorders and memory gaps, which he modestly attributed to his age. Marie listened to her husband, her heart skipping beats. Why hadn’t she known about this before? Today was the 17th of July, making it a month and a half of suffering!

The doctor was as surprised as the patient’s wife, especially as he focused on the computer screen. After extracting the necessary information, he turned towards Georg, casting a kind gaze into his pain-filled eyes.

“Mr Aavik, where have you been before? You’re forty-nine, a man in his prime; it’s definitely not about the age here.”

“I thought it might pass . . .”

The doctor shook his head seriously.

“That’s not how things work. Based on the symptoms I’ve just heard, I’m sending you to the emergency department for a CT scan.”

After typing something into the patient’s medical record, he instructed the nurse to guide the visitors to the hospital wing.

“How are you feeling at the moment? Can you walk or should we bring a wheelchair?”

“I can walk,” Georg replied bravely, glancing quickly over his shoulder for confirmation. His wife nodded.

As Marie stepped out of the office, she felt the weight of her heart hanging heavily in her chest. Not just as a mere burden, but as heavy as iron. Otherwise, her legs wouldn’t have been shaking so strongly beneath her.

Marie gazed long into Georg’s eyes, cradling his hand gently in hers.

“I’ll be waiting right here by the door.”

“But what if it takes a long time?”

“Then I’ll wait for a long time. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

The look he had when saying this to his wife was somewhat uncertain and timid. Not because Georg doubted his love. He was afraid. Afraid for the first time in his life. Though he had always been strong and confident, now he was truly scared. He feared to enter that room where the machine, known as a CT scanner, was located. He feared what that machine might reveal about him. For he had been telling lies for weeks. Telling lies to himself and to Marie. Pretending to be lively and alert in the mornings, as if everything were normal. Even though the situation was far from it.

At the nurse’s call, he rose from the chair. Come what may, things couldn’t get any worse from here. Pausing at the door, he glanced back briefly.

“Everything will be fine,” Marie reassured him with a smile and an air kiss.

That’s why Georg loved his wife so much: Marie was always there for him. In good times and bad, in wealth and poverty, in health and sickness. Hoping that the latter would remain just a mere phrase in his case, he faced his fate. He couldn’t guess at that moment what Marie might think or feel. And it was better that way.

Seeing the usually cheerful and vibrant man in a wheelchair, startled the already anxious Marie into speechlessness. She leaped from her seat, grabbed her handbag, and hurried across the corridor to her husband.

“Are you okay?”

Georg nodded, half-jokingly replying that, unfortunately, it wasn’t his choice.

“We’ll take you to the ward now,” the nurse said behind him, gripping the handles of the wheelchair and heading towards the staff lift; upon arriving in the ward, she added with care, “Here are your medicines, please take them immediately, they will help you feel better.”

“Excuse me, what are these medicines? And why did you bring him to the ward? Does he have to stay in hospital?” Marie couldn’t hold back her confusion, as the ignorance mixed with helplessness had caused considerable chaos in her. She didn’t like being in the hospital, trapped amidst the chilly medicinal scents and labyrinthine corridors. Right now, she and Georg should have been on

Tuhkana beach of golden sand and azure water, basking in the sun, cooling off in the rolling waves, and whispering heartfelt tender words to each other—not here in this immense building where only unwell people belonged. Georg was as healthy as a horse; he had always been. He had even been to the dentist only five times in his entire life.

“The medications reduce the brain swelling, so the headache will subside. And you’ll have to wait in the ward until the doctor comes with the results.”

“And then? What happens next?” Marie’s impatience was already too evident to her husband’s liking.

“It depends on the results. When the doctor arrives, you’ll hear more about everything,” the nurse answered, remaining calm when adjusting Georg into a seated position on the bed before departing.

With a sigh, Marie plopped down beside her husband, restraining herself solely for his sake. Everything felt so wrong. Them, here, in the hospital . . .

“Shall I open the window, is that okay?”

“Yes, of course.”

Marie opened the window, her gaze lingering on what was happening outside. Actually, not much was going on there; just a few cooks smoking around the corner, but it was enough to keep her from immediately turning back to her husband. Because suddenly, she felt a wave of shame for herself. She should have been there to support her husband, not incessantly bombarding him with nervous questions, which did nothing to improve Georg’s condition. Never mind that the blazing midsummer sun was shining in the sky and others were basking on the beach to get a golden tan. Never mind that they shouldn’t have been here today, between the hospital walls

with melancholic tones, but strolling hand in hand in the fresh air. Never mind that she had planned to go to Classic Café with Georg for breakfast this morning, to eat his favourite oven omelette with mushrooms, and not to suffer from hunger pangs rumbling in her stomach. None of this mattered. The only thing that mattered was dear Georg’s health. That nothing from the CT scan would be found to hinder them from living life to the fullest. No, everything would soon be back to normal—it must be! Marie turned her face back towards the room, uttering the following words more to herself than to anyone else.

“Let’s try to stay calm. The doctor will be here soon, and we’ll find out that everything is fine with you.”

Her words sounded clear and confident but also gentle enough, just as one might expect from a loving partner. Georg reached out his hand towards his beloved one, inviting her into his embrace. Of course, everything was fine with him, how could it be otherwise; after all, their summer holidays were in full swing. They just needed to wait for the doctor and accept that the headaches were due to stress caused by overwork. Things like that happen to everyone. The beginning of summer is a busy time, especially on a trout farm there’s a need to get new fish fry, stock up on feed, find enough workforce for the season, and, on top of that, deal with marketing and sales, not to mention grapple with new aquaculture regulations enforced by a Food Board’s inspector. No wonder that his head was constantly throbbing. The life of a fish farm owner isn’t about lounging with a newspaper, feet up, but about working hard from dawn till dusk. That’s exactly what Georg was contemplating as Marie nestled into his embrace, freezing into a pillar of salt at that same moment.

“What’s this? Did they take blood from you?”

“No, no,” the husband reassured his concerned wife, “they injected a contrast agent so they could better visualise the brain in the scan.”

Marie scrutinised the cannula protruding from his vein.

“But why did they leave it in you?”

“I don’t know; maybe they want to administer more medication through it. You’re worrying too much, my dear.”

“Perhaps,” she conceded. What choice did she have? She didn’t have a medical education. If the doctors decided it was necessary, there must be a reason. It’s good to get the right medicines quickly, and intravenously administered meds always work faster. Then they could go home sooner and start to enjoy the summer and do things people do on holidays. With a hopeful smile, Marie took Georg’s hand in hers, gently stroking the sleep-deprived man’s palm while secretly dreaming of the soon-to-come day, starting with oven-baked mushroom omelettes and ending on the home terrace listening to the sounds of the night. The evenings were very warm now, and surely the nights too. The thought of how the night-scented stock, which had been withholding its honey-sweet perfume all day long, would spread its intoxicating fragrance into the darkness for their delight, brought a pleasant smile to her lips.

Marie leaned against the bed and closed her eyes, too, dreaming of the day when everything would be normal again. At the break of a new day, Georg would wake her up with gentle strokes under the covers and sweet kisses on her neck and shoulder. But she wouldn’t want to wake up just yet, enjoying the simultaneous existence in the realm of dreams, wishing to prolong the beauty of the game while feeling the ever-extending caresses under her rolled-up nightshirt . . .

Marie had always enjoyed sleeping with the window open since she was young, whether it was summer or winter. Yes, even during deep sleep, her ears could easily hear the buzzing mosquito behind the insect screen, trapped in the warmth of the room, which sometimes woke her up, but sleeping in the fresh air always brought a much sweeter sleep than behind closed windows, so she didn’t mind it. Even if sometimes a part of her body stuck out from under the covers and felt chilled. Often, Georg would then carefully pull the duvet back over her, warming her cold shoulder, leg, or other body part with his hand, which for some reason woke her up from sleep so that after adjusting the covers, he would slowly make his way under her rolled-up nightshirt.

"Mmmm," Marie murmured with her eyes closed.

"Good morning!" her husband’s honeyed voice chimed.

"Is it morning already?"

"Yes, my dear."

"What time is it?"

"It doesn’t matter."

Marie stretched out like a cat purring in the soft morning sun on a soft cushion. Indeed, what difference did it make what the clock showed when it was the weekend, a time to wake up without an alarm and take your time without rushing anywhere? Time for yourself, and of course for dear Georg— there couldn’t be a more beautiful start to the day. Marie turned towards her husband, slowly opening her eyes. It was utmost bliss to lounge in bed like this: unrestricted by time, letting the mind and body wake up slowly, without haste. It was also wonderful to share time together, to be present in the moment without a single word. Simply existing, looking into your loved one’s eyes and feeling that you were in the right place on the vast map of the world.

Marie nestled against her husband, took his warm, strong hand in hers, and then guided it back under the duvet where its action had stopped earlier. The smile at the corners of her lips hinted at anticipation.

Just as the delicate creamy jasmine blooming outside the window could not keep the sweet fragrance to itself, the passionate couple couldn’t hold back the budding passion in their bodies either, nor did they need to. Life, being a priceless gift to human souls from birth to death, is undeniably miraculous in all its forms, as it has always originated from creation. Take, for instance, powerful emotions such as affection, anger, disappointment, or pain. They’ve all initially been tiny seeds of feelings, the direction of whose growth can never be predicted, as they may develop into passion, resistance, injustice or wonderful love. Much depends on the environment, and even more so on the inner recognition and readiness to accept life as it is given to us—full of pleasures, happiness, and love, but also surprises and unexpected turns.

As the day had just begun, the thermometer outside the open window showed fifteen degrees Celsius. Yet, despite this, Marie’s nightshirt already lay on the floor. Interestingly, now, sharing love without a duvet, it didn’t feel as chilly as before at all. Georg’s blazing body could have melted even Antarctica now; it was like being on fire. Marie’s body was no less so. The long-lasting kisses set both bodies equally ablaze, the intoxication for each other taking on inhuman proportions.

In the garden covered with morning dew, the first rays of sunlight propelled the new day forward, carefully drying the dewdrops left behind on the grass blades by the night fairies, which was no easy task. The scent of freshly mown grass mingled with the abundant fragrance of early morning flowers, moving silently as a thief from one garden to another in the quiet Mere Street. The beginning of the day was greeted not only by flowers and bushes but also by birds, who, with the disappearance of darkness, were already

busy chirping from their beaks and hopping occasionally from a bush branch to a flower bed in search of worms. A sharper eye could spot colourful butterflies above the flowers, performing an aerial dance as they tasted the nectar, offering a rare spectacle accompanied by the inaudible hum of graceful wings, which added further charm to the already magical morning.

The charm brought into Marie’s life by the gentleman from the island of Saaremaa, Georg Aavik, was immense, while the latter enveloped the delicate feminine being between his masculine arms, thus declaring the end of the night. The time for love, in other words, the time for sharing pleasures, had arrived. Stripping off his pants, the man spread his wife’s legs wide and entered the moist oasis prepared by his hand with the eager desire of a bull, driven by primal lust, taking what rightfully belonged to him in the ancient way, finding exhilaration from the gentler sex’s sighs and pleas to continue, to continue as a wild beast, a primal male.

The beautiful melodies of chirping birds, which wafted into the room through the open window, no longer reached Marie and Georg’s ears. Now the room was filled with moans, cries and gasps, in which it was impossible to distinguish between the past, present and future. Time both existed and did not. It existed because the wall clock in the living room was ticking relentlessly, inching the morning towards the noon second by second, and this was a fact that couldn’t be ignored even with the best of intentions. However, time didn’t exist because it had stopped in the bedroom of 12 Mere Street, allowing two bodies to become one in sacred love, a union that can only occur without any constraints. Temporally and spatially, it meant a connection to the omnipresence that has eternal supremacy over all living things.

The early morning garden, on the other hand, was filled with silence and peace, letting the two lovers share an intimate moment undisturbed, balancing the laws of nature to allow every living creature to live according to their own desires, without interfering with their activities in any

way. Whether it be the uncontrollable cries of pleasure in the whirlwind of passion or the silent descent of a butterfly, thirsty for nectar, onto a flower.

“Hello,” the divine reverie was suddenly interrupted, dropping Marie back into reality as swiftly as Alice in Wonderland.

“Georg Aavik, right? Born on the 15th of July, 1974?” the doctor who had appeared at the foot of the bed with papers in hand, asked in an unexpectedly matter-of-fact manner.

“Yes, that’s me,” Georg replied, still half-dazed, when adjusting the sagging pillow back into place. He wasn’t accustomed to sleeping halfway sitting up.

Thinking that the doctor might want to speak only with her husband, Marie began to make her way slowly towards the door.

“And you are?” the doctor turned his head towards the departing figure before the woman could leave the ward.

“His wife.”

“Please come and take a seat as well.”

Tuesday, 25th of July

“Do you think we should we also tell Markus?”

Marie was watching the trees passing by at supersonic speed from behind the ambulance window, her thoughts light-years away from them. She took the questioner’s hand in hers.

“It depends on what you want to tell him. Just that you’re in Tallinn or also about the tumour in your head, but we don’t know yet whether it’s benign or malignant? Maybe we should wait a bit until we find out. Then again, what would that change?” She sighed. “Honestly, I don’t know what’s best. It’s entirely your decision; we’ll do whatever you think is right.”

The man looked silently at his wife, agreeing with her on every question that had just been raised but which he was not able to answer.

“I’m just thinking if they’re going to send me straight to the theatre now, and it’s not just a minor surgery, then I . . .”

There was a touch of palpable confusion in Georg’s voice. He took a deep breath and continued, “There’s a very real risk that I . . . well, that I . . . might not come out of it normal anymore . . . or maybe not at all.”

Marie felt a lump tightening her throat, making her voice betrayingly uncertain. Knowing that in advance, words got stuck on her

lips. Is this what their life would be like now? Full of uncertainty about what the future holds, and of silence because they’re afraid to talk about their fears? She wanted to tell Georg to stop talking like that right away—things definitely aren’t that bad! But then she faced the reality, where both options hopeful and hopeless were equally at stake. She thought it would be wiser to stay silent, though she was unable to hold back a deep sigh.

“Where were you planning to stay overnight?” he asked after the eternal silence that painfully separated them.

“At a hotel.”

“No, come on, Markus and Annabel have a whole house full of space. They’ll be happy to have you stay with them,” Georg was convinced of a more rational solution for her accommodation. “Let’s give them a call and ask. There’s no point in wasting money.”

“Well, but then they’ll immediately know we’re in town. And they’ll ask why. Let it be.”

Georg raked his hair with his fingers, grimacing in pain. He then pondered to himself for a while and reached for his phone in his pocket.

Not that there was anything wrong with the hospital in Tallinn; no, but it was just so incredibly large that it intimidated anyone living in a small house on an island. At least, looking from here, below. Marie stood obediently next to the ambulance, waiting for the wheelchair to be brought to Georg something neither of them understood, as he could walk everywhere without any problems. She took a deep breath of the capital city air, not feeling for a moment that she had missed it during her last four years living on Saaremaa. Although she was originally from the Mustamäe district in Tallinn, born and raised

in the Sääse residential area not far from here, and had worked at a fancy hair salon in Kristiine for almost fifteen years. Until she moved to Kuressaare, near Georg Ots Spa Hotel aka GOSPA. In that sense, the change of residence had been painless for her, as hairdressers can earn a living anywhere once they have proven themselves with good work in the eyes of their clients.

The wheelchair arrived. A staff member in PERH’s North Estonia’s Regional Hospital green uniform helped Georg sit down and asked Marie to follow them. Oh, how she wished that all this, whatever was awaiting them here, would already be over and they could return home. Back to their beloved light yellow house in Mere Street, with lilacs at its gates and a yellow plum tree, two sweet cherry bushes as well as a golden rennet apple tree in the back garden. And with a terrace behind the house on which one could bask in the sun or sit in the cool shade, read a book or simply relax after a long day’s work, doing nothing in particular. Just listening to the fiddling of grasshoppers and letting a breeze bring the enchanting scent of the roses blooming in the garden, or eating freshly baked rhubarb cake and sipping cappuccino with milk foam on top. The thoughts all of this now contracted her heart with pain. Or rather, it had already contracted with pain because of Georg, but now homesickness was added to it. She didn’t want to be here. She wanted to be at home, together with Georg ready to give whatever it needed.

After being admitted to hospital and undergoing the necessary procedures associated with it, which took a good hour altogether, the patient was finally allowed to go to the ward. Taking a quick glance around the room, it turned out that there were four beds, all untouched. Marie lingered by the door, staring at the pale beige

walls, depressingly grey blinds, brownish floor and slightly yellowed bed linen. It all evoked immense alienation. Even though she wasn’t the one who was about to stay there.

Despite the fact that the evening itself wasn’t chilly, the infrared lamp added considerable warmth to the gradually cooling July evening and prompted Marie to take off her cardigan and place it on the back of the chair, allowing the novel device to gently caress her bare shoulders. Some warmth also radiated from the grill, where Markus was cooking juicy pieces of chicken as well as skewers with bell peppers, mushrooms, and courgettes, but that primarily served as an insect repellent, because the smoke was not at all to the liking of the little winged creatures.

“Can I offer you anything else from here?” Markus asked, displaying the generosity typical of the men in that family, handing Marie a thermos bowl with medium-cooked meat, smelling of charcoal, and vegetables dripping with blue cheese, just taken from the hot grill. He had just refilled her wine glass and there wasn’t much more to be done. The conversation had always flowed effortlessly between them, and now, left alone as Annabel had gone to tuck Robin in, Marie felt more and more, as the newly opened wine bottle was emptying, how an invisible bond was strengthening between them. What it was and why being together felt that way, she couldn’t explain.

“Thank you, I’m full already,” she replied politely, putting down the empty plate and reaching for her glass. She raised it to her eyes, so that the sunset shone through the dark red, dense nectar of the gods, observing it thoughtfully. Markus watched her movements, holding his breath. Beautiful, damn beautiful. Not

just the moment, which in the presence of the two of them was the crown jewel of a midsummer twilight, but Marie herself. In his eyes, she was perfect in every way. Starting from her slim fingers with crimson manicure, which were holding the stem of the glass and swirling its contents with tender care. Continuing with her graceful, exquisite arms, which made a sensual yank at her shoulders and then took the shape of her waist with its curves. Not to mention her sexy lips, which, when they parted, seduced him to draw closer like a magnet. Unashamed of his gaze, his eyes finished the observation on her legs. Even though they were covered with a maxi summer dress, it was clearly predictable, how slender they were. Enjoying the view to the fullest extent possible, considering Annabel was nearby and could return at any moment, Markus was behaving more modestly compared to their last meeting at his father’s birthday party on Saaremaa.

Unwilling to interrupt the beauty of their togetherness with chatter, the young man rose from his seat after some mutual silence, made his way inside, and returned a minute later with a guitar in hand. Without a word, he tuned the instrument and began to softly finger its tight strings, so as not to wake his son. The beautiful moment became even more enchanting with the heavenly sounds, which acted as balm on the wound for Marie, who was suffering from heartache over her husband, taking her worries away for even a little while.

I’ll send the wind to you,

To whisper secretly.

To tell you everything, How much I need you.

I’ll send the clouds to you,

To stand before you.

To explain to you,

So you can see what’s happening inside of me . . .2

The garden concert of love songs had barely begun when Annabel hurried from the house to the two of them enchanted by the sounds of the music, glancing first apologetically at Marie and then at her partner.

“Sorry to interrupt you, but Robin just won’t fall asleep. We need to wake up early in the morning, but he insists he’s not tired and keeps asking for another bedtime story. Could you go and put him to sleep yourself?”

Markus stopped singing and looked up.

“Why don’t you read then?”

“I did; I’ve already read two stories!”

He smirked.

“And still nothing?”

“Nope.”

He stood up and put the guitar aside.

“Alright, I’ll go and have a man-to-man chat with him. Please take care of Marie in the meantime.”

“Yes, of course!” Annabel turned to the guest. “I’ll also grab a glass of wine from the house, I’ll be right back!”

Marie nodded and waited for the hostess to return, feeling such exhaustion that she could have fallen asleep right there without any bedtime stories. After all, her day had started early with Georg, involved a long journey, and was filled with internal struggles and numerous emotional ups and downs.

2 "Waiting For You So Much", lyrics and music by Hendrik Sal-Saller.

“Markus actually charmed me with that,” Annabel began again, after pouring herself a glass of wine and taking a seat beside Marie.

“With putting kids to bed?”

“No,” the young woman chuckled, “with playing the guitar. When we first met, it was Midsummer and a friend invited me to her countryside home. The guys performed at a bonfire party thereabouts and came to Kadi’s place for a sauna afterwards. Kadi’s boyfriend played the accordion in the band, and Markus strummed the guitar until the early hours, and that’s how I fell for him. Oh, that music . . . And the way he looked at me while singing . . .”

Annabel took a big sip of dark red berry wine from her glass, a wide smile adorning her lips.

“It’s been seven years already, but I remember everything as if it was yesterday. It was a warm night, just like today, still light outside for a long time, with only Markus’s singing in my ears. Just like today.”

Marie welcomed such a conversation where she could simply listen without the need to participate. Although she radiated friendliness and sparkle, internally she felt exhausted. Exhausted from the long day and unexpected worries, exhausted from thinking about what the future holds and what awaits Georg tomorrow. Annabel continued.

“How did you and Georg meet? I don’t think I know.”

Although the story of their meeting was amusing, Marie sighed involuntarily, reluctantly switching from the role of a listener to that of a storyteller.

“We met on a cruise ship to Sweden. I was celebrating my fortieth birthday with a couple of friends, and Georg had been to

Stockholm for a conference with his business partners. We were seated at adjacent tables for dinner, and when you said you fell in love with Markus’s music, I can say I fell for his father’s smile.”

A blissful grin briefly appeared on Marie’s face. She closed her eyes, lost in reminiscence.

“I must have been staring at him for too long because he soon came over and asked if we knew each other.”

The women burst into laughter together.

“Of course, we didn’t! And I didn’t dare admit that I had been lost in admiring his smile.”

Savouring the delicious wine and the conversation that had just unfolded, a friendly silence settled between the two women. Undoubtedly, each of them drifted into her own thoughts, diverging in different directions. Marie stretched herself.

“I don’t even remember what I answered. Anyway, the men invited us to join their table, and we didn’t need to be asked twice. What impressed me about Georg was that he paid our bill without asking. Said it was his birthday present to me. If someone had told me then that I’d marry that man in the same summer, I wouldn’t have believed it for a moment. And now, here we are! I had to go on that cruise to meet my real number one birthday gift!”

Recalling this, a strained smile appeared on Marie’s face. That beautiful memory from the past held a much deeper meaning for her today. Annabel took over the conversation.

“Markus and I have also been discussing marriage. We were a bit late with planning this summer because he has a lot of gigs and they can’t be cancelled, but next year we’ll start early. I’ve even made a list of who to invite, and gosh, it turned out so long!”

Annabel illustrated her point with gestures, raising one hand

above her head and holding the other by her knees. Marie chuckled. Their situation had been easier because Georg had hired an agency, wishing to spare his beloved from organisational tasks.

“And then there’s the dress and the ring and the venue! And the food and drinks and the best man! And coming up with the menu and name tags for the tables. When I’m thinking about all this, it seems like it’s high time to start dealing with these things now in order to be ready by next summer.”

The young woman’s somewhat overflowing chatter had a positive effect on Marie, drawing her back to the time when she and Georg were the bride and groom. As this was the second marriage for both of them, where the traditional white dress and suit were no longer worn, they had opted for a simple maxi dress made from brightly colour linen fabric and a matching peasant-style outfit. Marie had been wearing a wreath of cornflowers on her head and carrying a bouquet of the same flowers, mixed with white daisies and red poppies. Their wedding had been like a fairy tale. Although in every way simpler and more rustic than the one to Tarmo, the father of the twins, years ago. She smiled modestly.

“And the funniest thing,” Annabel bubbled enthusiastically, giggling like a schoolgirl as she continued her story, “guess who will make music that evening?”

Marie shook her head, unable to guess. She shrugged.

“No idea.”

“Me neither! When I asked Markus about it, he said he’d gladly play himself so he wouldn’t have to sit still in one place all evening. Can you imagine? I certainly can’t! It’s unthinkable that we’re having our wedding, and he’s playing with the band on stage while he should be by my side instead. I’m not marrying myself, after all.”

As she said this, Annabel looked at Marie as if expecting the more experienced woman to decipher Markus’s stance for her.

“He must have been joking,” Marie concluded, “who plays the guitar at their own wedding? If they want the band to perform, they can certainly find a cover for Markus for that evening. What I’d suggest is to have the wedding on a Thursday, for example, as many venues, wedding planners, and musicians are busy on Fridays and Saturdays, and the prices are double at weekends.”

Annabel fell into thoughts, nodding enthusiastically along with the conversation.

“It’s a good idea that we brought this up now. I’ll start dealing with these things right away; I just need to check the calendar with Markus and pick a suitable day. I’ll take care of the organisational side; anyway, it’s clear that the wedding is my project rather than his.”

After saying that, Annabel grabbed her wine glass from the table and emptied it, giving the impression that the topic had somehow created tension between the young couple.

Marie took a sip from her glass as well, nibbled on a piece of dark chocolate, brought by her as a treat and now broken into pieces on silver paper on the table, and rummaged through her bag for her phone to check if Georg had texted. She had intentionally turned up the volume on her phone to ensure she wouldn’t miss any calls or messages from her husband, even though they had agreed earlier that all today’s talks would be called a day. The screen was blank. Marie’s mood was just as bitter as the 80% cocoa chocolate. Noticing that, Annabel cautiously changed the subject.

“I heard why you came to Tallinn today. I don’t believe there’s anything serious with Georg. He’s always been so healthy and athletic. My aunt had a tumour too, not in her head but in her breast,

and it was neatly removed, so there was nothing to indicate later that it had ever grown there.”

Marie could do nothing but nod. She still couldn’t believe the news from a week ago, which suggested that something might be wrong with her beloved husband. Yes, there was something in his head, and it was probably difficult to operate on, but Marie trusted doctors. She trusted her husband into the hands of qualified and experienced brain surgeons who would skillfully remove the villain from his brain, allowing him to return to a normal life soon. No matter whether it was benign or malignant. It would be removed, and everything would be fine with Georg. Forcing herself to focus on the positive, she smiled.

“I don’t believe it, either.”

And once again, a cosy silence fell over the atmosphere, which both bound and separated the two women, who were created by nature to understand each other with just a glance, yet were so different that silence seemed more fitting at this moment.

Marie took a deep breath, mentally travelling back to the spring four years ago when her life had become a love story, which could only be seen on the cinema screen. That’s when her life had truly begun. The children had grown up and it was time to enjoy a healthy relationship based on honesty, respect, and love. Until yesterday, when the love story turned into a drama. Just when she started to breathe more easily, having, after long and hectic years, finally found a stable partner with whom to joyfully spend the rest of her days. How many times had she fallen in love and been disappointed before meeting Georg? Been chasing the wind and believing in hollow promises? Wasting precious time without peace of mind or happiness? Thinking at one point that love didn’t even exist, at least not

for her, and the only one she could rely on was she herself? Until she unexpectedly found true love in Georg. She found a man as strong as a rock. Found her other half to whom to open her heart and to lean on at times of trouble. In addition to his positivity and, of course, his incredibly beautiful smile.

Today, Marie no longer felt that sense of certainty. The sky above them had turned dark and the ground beneath their feet felt hollow. Yes, she could pretend to agree that everything was fine with Georg, but she couldn’t deceive herself. Because her heart sensed trouble. Along with the last sip of wine, Marie swallowed back her tears, which added a slightly salty taste to the rich bouquet of flavours. Hearing footsteps approaching from behind, she quickly wiped her eyes.

“Well then, the last drop. Who can I pour it to?”

Annabel glanced at the time and set down her glass.

“I’m going to have an early wake-up tomorrow, as I’ll take Robin to a judo camp. If it’s alright with you, I’ll head to bed.”

She turned to their guest.

“Thank you for your good advice; perhaps tomorrow Markus and I could finalise the plans for the day!”

His eyebrows raised in confusion.

“What day?”

Annabel giggled mischievously.

“You’ll find it out tomorrow!”

Markus rolled his eyes playfully but didn’t inquire further. If he hears about it tomorrow, then tomorrow it would be. Annabel squatted in front of Marie.

“I’ve made up the guest room for you, brought a towel too. If you need anything else, just ask Markus; he’ll help. Good night!”

“Good night!”

After giving her partner a light peck on his cheek, the hostess left. Remaining somewhat puzzled in her seat, Marie grabbed her cardigan from the back of the chair, intending to bid Markus good night and head to bed herself, too, but it wasn’t that easy.

“Wait, let’s finish the bottle; we’re in no rush. What time do you need to go to the hospital tomorrow?”

“I don’t have a set time; Georg will have an MRI scan in the morning. I might go around noon or when your father calls me to say it’s done.”

“Great, let’s sit a little longer then. I actually wanted to ask you about Dad.”

The topic made Marie crouch.

“I don’t know much more than that they found a tumour in his head,” she couldn’t give a more specific answer, “but what exactly it is will only become clear during the scan tomorrow.”

After the last word, Marie covered her face with her hands. It was hard to contain the immense pain within her. The chaos of uncertainty had grown too large to contain, with no one to share it with. Startled, Markus hurried over to her.

“Come here.”

He knelt in front of the woman, pulled her into a tight embrace, and stroked her head like a child’s. It was comforting. Exactly what she needed. A sense of security. Someone to hold her and share her worries. Markus continued to console her.

“Dad has always been active in sports; he’s not a smoker or a heavy drinker and keeps a healthy diet nothing will happen to him.”

Marie released herself from his embrace, wiping her eyes. Just to think, if Annabel saw them like this.

“I don’t think it’s serious, but the doctor had a very strange look on his face when he was studying the scan and arranged for an ambulance today. Thank God I’m still on leave and could come with, but imagine if he had to go through all this ordeal alone.”

With that, Marie burst into tears again.

“I’m here too.”

Markus hugged the weeping woman again, then took her cardigan and draped it over her shoulders, fastening a couple of buttons at the front. Such care was the least he could offer. Or rather, dared to offer.

Any words seemed to be able to hurt right now, that’s why he chose the soothing notes of music to calm his sorrowful companion. Picking up the guitar once again, the musician began to pluck delicately at its taut strings, which obediently yielded to his touch, producing captivating sounds. Fortunately, the power of music was potent enough to make reality more bearable, even if only for the time being, while Marie, seated on a patio chair in the corner of the garden, battled her heartache, desperately trying to hold back the tears in her eyes.

Having played a few songs from his band’s repertoire, some more familiar than others, Markus set his guitar aside and moved the chair closer to Marie’s. He looked deeply into her eyes.

“Please don’t be sad. Dad wouldn’t certainly want us to expect the worst about his condition when nothing is certain yet. We need to be strong, especially for his sake. Understand?”

Marie nodded. Markus tucked her lock of hair behind her ear, fixing his gaze directly into her heart.

“If there’s anything I can do to make it easier for you, please tell me, and I’ll do it.”

She sighed.

“We don’t have much to do here right now but wait until tomorrow. Your father is going for the MRI in the morning, and then we’ll learn how serious it is. We can only hope that nothing dreadful comes out of it . . . Otherwise . . . Otherwise, I don’t know what will happen . . .”

Unable to control the swirling emotions overwhelming her senses, Marie burst into tears again, freeing her hands from his grip to cover her face. The sight was not only heartbreaking for the young man but also unprecedented, as he lacked experience in dealing with such situations. Clearly, Markus was deeply concerned about his father too, but as a typical man he didn’t show it out. Because men don’t cry. He approached her for another hug because now was not the time to alleviate heartache with music or comfort it with words. Given the current situation, a strong embrace seemed to be the best remedy. At least in Markus’s opinion. And he didn’t hold back from showing it.

After sharing some moments of closeness and seeing that the situation was back under control, Markus loosened his hug. But only enough to look into Marie’s eyes.

“Marie . . .”

“Yes?”

“Please don’t cry.”

She nodded.

“I’m not crying anymore.”

“If you need help, any at all, you can call me even in the middle of the night, okay? Saaremaa is just a stone’s throw from Viimsi. I can always come over if needed. Or, well, as long as the ferries are running and I’m not on stage. Otherwise, any time.”

As Markus said the last part, he looked at Marie with dead serious eyes, holding her shoulders perhaps a bit too tightly.

“Promise you’ll call?”

It was clear that arguing here would not make any sense.

“I promise.”

Having tidied up the terrace together and turned off the outdoor lights, Markus locked the front door and waited for the guest to head downstairs for a wash, so he could occupy the bathroom upstairs.

Although the guest room was on the first floor, Markus had guided Marie to the fancier and more spacious bathroom on the ground floor. After entering the bathroom, Marie closed the door behind her, turned on the shower, removed her makeup, and undressed, standing in front of the mirror like a stone statue. It had been a long time since she had looked at herself. Herself as a woman. And had truly seen herself. Herself as a woman. Let alone knowing herself . . . When was the last time she and Georg had had sex? It must have been a whole month ago.

After the long day filled with emotional challenges, which had been alleviated by a few glasses of wine and the promised relief of a hot shower awaiting her, Marie felt somewhat numb. She stepped into the hot water and closed her eyes. It felt so comforting to escape reality even for these few minutes, escaping not just from the world but also from herself. It felt good to be nobody. For nobody. Just to be. Under the stream of water, concealed.

“Eventually, indeed?”

Although Markus’s teasing voice was barely audible, it startled Marie, who thought she was the only one awake in the house.

“Sorry, I didn’t know you were waiting for me. You didn’t need to; I could have turned off the lights myself.”

The living room, where the host was sitting in an armchair and from where the stairs led to the first floor, was dimly lit because the only source of light was a Himalayan salt lamp in the far corner. Marie, who had just emerged from the brightly lit bathroom, didn’t notice the young man, as her eyes hadn’t yet adjusted to the darkness. Hence the startle. Markus rose from his seat and walked over to Marie, standing in front of her.

“I was waiting to wish you good night. I know you’re going through a tough time right now, and I wanted to make sure everything’s okay when you go to bed.”

He placed his hands on Marie’s shoulders again, searching her eyes with his own.

“I’m okay, thank you for your concern. Sorry for being too emotional earlier,” the gentle response came, because there was no need to worry about her when at the same time dear Georg was lying in a hospital bed, giving a real cause for concern.

Standing face to face for a moment, the nature morte was spoiled by a bath towel, which, being the only barrier around her body, gave way at the knot and threatened to slip down. Startled, Marie quickly lifted it up and took a step back from the man, signalling that it was late and time to go to bed. This knowledge didn’t deter Markus. He covered the same distance with a step towards the woman, not agreeing with her departure. Simply not agreeing, despite the fact that Annabel was sleeping just a few metres away. Not to mention that he had just been assured that everything was fine with his father’s wife.

“Marie . . .” came over Markus’s lips again, this time more desirous than before. His arms, back around her shoulders, were not only strong but also blazing hot. Marie could feel them scorching her

skin. It was a strange feeling. So unfamiliar. She had never experienced anything like that before. Yet it wasn’t bad. Quite the contrary, it was good. Almost too good. Creating a strange tingling under her skin, something she hadn’t felt for a long time.

Lost for a moment in a sensation, which was anything but appropriate for a married woman to enjoy, Marie freed herself from the host’s arms, hastily wished him good night, and without looking back, scurried on quivering legs to the first floor. Arriving at the door of the guest room, she turned around and met his lingering gaze with hers. Those penetrating eyes, which were eroding into the back of her head, were felt very well on the staircase. Felt with every cell of her body, or with anything else that might not even be called cells but something like mitochondria or amoebae. Marie’s mind was in turmoil. She a mere amoeba in Markus’s hands. Georg, Markus, rejection, intimacy, cold, heat, pain, lust . . . Anxiety. Overwhelming anxiety. Without breaking eye contact, she entered the room with her heart pounding and locked the door behind her immediately. Slipping on her nightgown, she crawled into bed, pulled the covers over herself, and waited for sleep.

What didn’t come, however, was sleep. Beautiful shared memories with Georg, filled with his characteristic laughter and jokes, and, of course, the overwhelming feeling of care and love flashed before her eyes. And then. Then, images of Markus appeared out of nowhere, leaving Marie in great confusion, unable to understand what it was about this man that threw her heart’s rhythm off balance and turned his touch into a burning sensation. Because it was entirely wrong. She shouldn’t even have thought about her husband’s son. If anything at all, only about those moments associated with Georg. But try as she might, she couldn’t push thoughts of her

stepson aside. Rather the opposite. It wasn’t just her mind that was occupied with Markus, but her entire body, still tingling from his last touch.

Marie pushed the covers aside, stared at the ceiling and searched there for sleep after a long, exhausting day, forcing herself to think about anything but Markus. She rose and opened the window.

Outside, the dawn was slowly breaking. The short night had allowed nature to gather strength for a few hours, moistening the greenery with refreshing dewdrops, now slowly awakening it with the gentle light of early morning. It was beautiful. Incredibly beautiful. The rush and noise of the day couldn’t be compared to the current tranquil moment, when heavenly silence had taken over.

Unable to sleep, Marie sat on the windowsill and pulled her feet into her nightgown. Although it was a bit chilly at the window, the early morning coolness felt somehow refreshing. It helped clear her mind. Leaning against the window frame, her gaze turned towards the horizon. What had happened in her life in the past few days was insane. She didn’t want to think about it. Couldn’t. Didn’t have the strength to. Choosing apathy consciously, thereby giving herself permission to simply exist, she let go of the past, sparing her heart for a while. Because no matter what she thought about, it always led back to Georg, causing her heart to contract with pain. She just wanted to escape. To escape far away from today’s reality, her husband’s unfair illness, and the utterly unjust world. Closing her eyes and mentally travelling back to the time when she, as a little girl, had been pondering life’s injustices in her grandma’s greenhouse, she finally succeeded.

The reason why she was able to be alone and contemplate life and death over there was that all of a sudden a heavy rain had

started, and Maarika and Margus had run into the house, but she didn’t want to get wet and crouched in the greenhouse for the whole time while it was pouring down. Dark clouds had gathered in the sky within a short time and the children hadn’t noticed them in their play. Then suddenly thunder rumbled and pebble-sized candies began to fall from the sky, only they neither had raisins inside nor were coated with sugar glaze. Later, when she went back into the house, she heard the adults calling them hailstones.

So she had been hiding in the greenhouse, feeling both fear that the hailstones might penetrate the plastic roof, as they were hitting it so forcefully. At the same time, she was experiencing an unprecedented sense of security, being all alone in the large warm greenhouse filled with tomatoes and cucumbers, protected and sheltered from those same little stones that were wreaking havoc in the garden. Thus, she could be by herself and ponder the life’s injustices in holy peace.

Reliving that moment now, Marie’s lips curved into a subtle smile. Just think how absurd it must have seemed to a young girl: a twelve-square-metre greenhouse and colossal worry about the chickens, to whom she had built nests, whom she had fed and nurtured, only to have them butchered and roasted in the oven. It still prevented her from eating chicken to this day, even though forty years had passed since that trauma.

Reflecting on the greenhouse in the town of Kiviõli, the fragrant sweet peas beside it, the rows of potatoes and beds with beans, the cherry trees lining the orchard and the garden as a whole, lots of fond memories from her childhood were brought back. Above all, freedom. Not the freedom to choose, but to be. Just like that, without any obligations. Summer school holidays were nice in that regard:

it was warm outside, the days began with putting on a little dress, brushing the teeth, grabbing something for breakfast, and there were so many things to do before she realised it was time to go to bed. Together with Margus and Maarika, she was involved in multiple adventures in and out of Kiviõli during a single summer, attending a Midsummer bonfire, buying kvass from the plump lady by the yellow barrel for three kopecks, drinking it on the spot, rinsing the glass and passing it to Margus for a refill. Three kopecks for a small glass, five for a large one. All that came back to her mind. Also, that on the other side of town a fun fair was set up for the summer where they rode on the merry-go-round and ’vomit wheel’. And afterwards, they bought the most delicious vanilla ice cream at a nearby kiosk, flung themselves onto the grass in the park, and for hours told each other jokes and laughed, until their sides ached. That’s how carefree a child’s life should be. Throughout the year. Actually, everyone’s life in general.

Yet, would she have wanted to be that little girl today, being told what to do, or the adult who decides where to go and what to do? She was wondering. Yes, at every stage of our lives there are pros and cons. As a child, you don’t have to pay bills or take responsibility for anything other than making sure your homework is done. The higher the mark, the better. But as you grow up, your responsibilities grow with the time. So do your obligations. Fortunately, so do also your feelings. And your choices regarding the people you surround yourself with and connect your soul to. The circle was complete. Her thoughts returned to Georg, her heart heavy as lead.

Marie stuck her head out of the window and inhaled several deep breaths of fresh air, immediately feeling its calming effect. She sighed. Not out of sadness, but out of confusion within herself.

Actually, also out of sadness, because it was a warm summer, the time when she had hoped to share all the prevailing beauty with Georg, but now she had to experience it on her own. Those light nights were supposed to belong to the two of them, to be together. She was even more disturbed by the situation caused by Markus, who had continuously been staring at her throughout the evening and singing ambiguous songs. It was fair neither to Georg nor to Annabel. And there was no room for misinterpretation here. Despite her struggles to deny it, Marie had to admit to herself that incomprehensible inklings of attraction towards the young man were taking root within her, invading her private space more forcefully over time. That’s exactly how it was. And there was nothing romantic about it. If the man hadn’t paid so much attention to her, there wouldn’t have been this nerve-racking situation now. No wonder it caused such chaos within her that, in addition to her worries about Georg’s health, she couldn’t fall asleep.

Reaching this realisation, Marie nodded in agreement with herself, left the window halfway open, crawled back into bed, pulled the duvet up to her chin, and decided: if her husband wasn’t discharged from hospital tomorrow, she would find a hotel to stay in. She wouldn’t stay in that house without Georg anymore.

Friday, 28th of July

When Marie opened her eyes, it was bright outside, indicating that the hands of the clock had moved significantly past 8 a.m., when Georg’s surgery was scheduled to begin, towards noon. She opened the window and reached for her mobile phone on the bedside table. The clock read 10:55, meaning the operation had been ongoing for three hours by now, and she still had a full hour until check-out time from the hotel.

Through the window of the hotel room on the outskirts of the city, a pleasant buzz of summer drifted in. Not the buzz of human activity, but the typical summer buzz a combination of the whistling of a sprinkler, the cooing of pigeons perching on rooftops, the splashing of water drops of a fountain, and the meowing of a cat whose milk bowl outside a restaurant door had run dry. Marie stretched, unplugged her phone from its charger, and turned on the ringer. While she usually switched her phone to airplane mode before going to bed, last night she had only turned the volume down. So she could see who had called or texted overnight upon waking.

A text message from Georg had arrived at 5:33 a.m., probably around the time when Marie had finally overcome the anxiety caused by the forthcoming surgery and fallen asleep. The message

was long, thoughtful, precise, and heartfelt. After reading it, Marie’s hands fell feebly into her lap. Once again, anxiety seized her body and mind. Upset, she threw a glance out of the window.

What did he mean by "If something happens to me . . ."?

Nothing is going to happen to you! Nothing can ever happen! Life wouldn’t do that to us!

The voice screaming in Marie’s head escaped as soundless silence, raising her blood pressure. She glanced again at the last line of the message, which summarised, “I love you,” put the phone down, sat on the bed, closed her eyes, and inhaled and exhaled ten times, slowly and deeply. It helped. Regaining her composure, she got ready, ordered a taxi, and left the room. As Georg hadn’t written again, and the doctor hadn’t called either, the operation was probably still ongoing. She headed downstairs to go straight to the hospital. She might have had a bite from the breakfast buffet, but nervous tension had robbed her appetite.

“Yes, the operation is over, but unfortunately, it is not possible to visit the patient today.”

Perplexed, Marie didn’t know how to process this information. However, she realised that going home today was not an option. But what about tomorrow? She needed to get some kind of information on what to do next. Either from Georg or from the doctor. To decide which direction to steer her suitcase.

“I am his wife,” she explained, just in case. After all, there were no more important visitors than spouses, and if they weren’t given information, then who would be?

The nurse from the Y-wing of the regional hospital gave her a friendly nod.

“I understand. As it was a complicated surgery, the protocol states that the patient will stay in the intensive care unit today, and if the recovery goes as planned, he’ll be transferred to a regular ward tomorrow, and you can come to visit him then.”

“The doctor was supposed to call me today after the surgery,” Marie insisted, unwilling to wait in uncertainty for another 24 hours, “to let me know how it went.”

Understanding the visitor’s concern, the nurse asked her to sit down, promising to call the surgeon and see if he could spare a moment for Marie.

The doctor’s phone remained silent. As did Georg’s mobile, which his anxious wife had already called countless times today.

Marie had been to Glehn Park only twice in her life before. Once, decades ago, for a colleague’s jubilee celebration at the castle, and the second time when she was walking among the autumn-coloured leaves with her daughters and their father. Today marked the third time.

The park complex, created by the former owner of Jälgimäe Manor, Nikolai von Glehn, along with its charming castle and the sculptures of Kalevipoeg and the dragon, offered a grandeur of beauty that was not found in every park in Tallinn. Although the air was still today, a sharp ear could detect the gentle rustle of aspen leaves. Unable to endure the silence of the hospital staff any longer, she found the quiet here soothing to her ears.

After strolling around the park for a while, Marie spread her jacket on the grass and lay down, gazing blankly at the sky. The clouds were in no hurry. She tried to follow their example, breathing slowly and deeply, calming her mind, and letting her thoughts drift

away. It felt comforting. She watched the clouds and imagined her situation being like a cloud—appearing from nowhere, changing shape, and eventually dissipating completely. She smiled at the apt parallel, linking the clouds to the crisis her family was facing, where the villain growing in Georg’s head would be excised, and its tendrils would soon dissipate and vanish. It was her first smile in days. Unfortunately, it didn’t last long, as her heart clenched again with pain when her thoughts returned to Georg. During her free time in Tallinn, Marie had been researching her husband’s illness, familiarising herself with what a brain tumour entailed. She closed her eyes.

Why hadn’t I been given any information about Georg’s surgery? Was it because the news was bad? And why wasn’t I allowed to see him? Could it be that Georg died during the operation? No, they would have definitely told me if that had happened . . .

Marie’s mind churned like a cream separator, trying to distinguish speculation from reality, driving her to torment from not knowing. Restlessness overtook her once again. Desperate to avoid thinking about the worst-case scenario, she redirected her gaze upwards, her eyes restlessely wandering from one cloud to another, hoping to find the peace of mind she needed in the vast sky above. Suddenly, the phone in her jacket pocket rang. Marie jumped as if stung by a wasp, hoping the caller was Georg. Or at least the doctor. Preferably Georg!

But seeing the caller’s name, Marie sighed and sat back down, deciding not to answer. It was Markus. She lay down again, leaving her phone within reach, hoping someone from the hospital would call soon. After lying still for a few minutes, she visualised her worries as clouds—appearing from nowhere, growing large, shrinking

gradually, then vanishing. Like a magic trick. It was a comforting thought.

Suddenly, Marie sat up, frowning.

What if Markus had called because he had news about his father?

She returned the call.

“Good thing you rang back. I was just about to try again,” Markus began, without any formal introduction.

“Hello,” was all Marie managed to say, hesitant to ask why Markus had phoned earlier. What if Georg hadn’t survived the surgery after all, and they hadn’t wanted to tell her at the hospital, leaving Markus to share the news?

“Yes, hello! Sorry, I forgot my manners in my haste. I wanted to ask how Dad was doing. Are you with him now? I’ve been trying to reach the doctor but haven’t been able to get through.”

“No . . .” a vague response came after a brief pause, as a lump was forming in Marie’s throat, preventing her from speaking further, as it had become clear that Markus knew no more about Georg than she did.

“Wait, don’t cry,” the speaker on the other end of the line quickly realised what was happening. “Do you know how he’s doing at all? Where are you anyway?”

She gathered herself for a moment. Her throat felt tight.

“I’m in Nõmme, in a park. They wouldn’t let me see him, so I came here to wait.”

“Where in Nõmme?”

“Glehn Castle Park.”

“How did you get there?”

“I told the taxi driver to take me to a park outside of the city centre, and he brought me here.”

“Okay, stay there. I’m coming straight away!”

Although Marie knew very well how dangerous it was to be alone with Markus, especially in a public park where anyone could see them together and misinterpret the situation, she felt relieved that the young man was coming. Suffering in ignorance alone was undoubtedly the worst option. She searched her pocket for a tissue, blew her nose, wiped her eyes, and checked the time to see when half an hour would be up, as that was how long it should take Markus to get from Viimsi to Nõmme.

Clouds came and went, yet none had cast a shadow over Marie, who was lying on her jacket on the lawn, as long as this one. She opened her eyes, which she had closed against the bright sunlight.

“Hello.”

Markus’s deep voice was calming and gentle. When Marie saw who had arrived, she sat up, propping against her suitcase.

“Hello. I didn’t even hear you come. You’d make a good spy.”

The man gave Marie a sly look fom under his eyebrows.

“Thanks for the idea. When no one wants to listen to my music anymore, I’ll know what my next job will be.”

Such banter made Marie laugh.

“How did you get here from Viimsi so quickly?”

“I was in the city centre when we spoke. I was picking up my guitar from the repair shop. We’ve got a gig in Chicago 1933 tonight; it’s my main instrument.”

The young man sat down beside her, choosing to sit on the grass rather than on her jacket, like a gentleman. For a split second, Marie briefly considered offering him a place on her jacket before realising that it would bring them uncomfortably close, so she said nothing. Let him sit on the lawn; dark jeans wouldn’t show grass stains.

“What shall we do?” she asked. “Should we go to the hospital together?”

Markus picked up his phone.

“Let’s try calling first.”

He dialled his father’s number. The phone was off. Then he tried the doctor’s. The same result.

“Let’s wait a bit longer, and if no one calls us, we’ll go. It’s not right to keep us in the dark like this. I can’t even perform tonight if I keep thinking about my Dad. They need to tell us how the surgery went.”

He looked at Marie for a long moment and finally smiled.

“Believe me, everything went well.”

“Do you believe that?”

“Of course. Dad’s a strong man. Like that giant over there.” He gestured playfully towards the impressive statue of Kalevipoeg standing in proud solitude in the middle of the park, where a young family was bustling about. Watching them silently, escorting them with her eyes along the park path until they were out of sight, Marie decided to lay all of her cards on the table.

“Do you know, by the way, what’s wrong with your father?”

Markus stared deeply into her eyes.

“Dad said it was a tumour. And I didn’t ask for more. Didn’t want to know. I just told myself it was a tumour, it’d be removed, and then everything would be fine again.”

Marie sighed.

“On the one hand, of course, the less you know the easier it is, but I couldn’t help finding out what types of tumours there are. It could very well be a malignant one.”

Having said that, Marie buried her face into her hands. She didn’t want her tears to be seen.

Markus knelt awkwardly in front of her. Oh, how he wanted to embrace Marie tightly right now, take her pain upon himself, bury his nose into her soft hair, and comfort her with words like “sweetheart” or “darling”. But as such behaviour would have been inappropriate, he simply kept kneeling, coming close enough to make her feel safer in his presence.

“Don’t cry . . .”

He brushed Marie’s hair away from her face, gently stroking her head.

“Yes . . . But I . . . I even don’t know why I’m crying. We haven’t spoken to the doctor yet; maybe everything is fine, and I’m worrying for no reason.”

Markus’s warm hands eased the pain, which might not have even had a cause. It could have easily been overthinking, in which Marie excelled. She wished the young man’s presence was even more tangible.

As if sent by destiny to interrupt this meaningful moment, Marie’s phone rang. She jumped up from beside him, grabbed her mobile, and answered the call from an unknown number, which made her think she was finally being called by the hospital.

“Yes, Marie Aavik speaking!” she answered with her full name. This call had to be from the doctor; who else could be calling at this hour, especially from an unknown number?

“Hello, this is surgeon Mäe, calling you regarding Georg Aavik.”

It was!

Breathing anxiously into the phone, anticipating important news, Marie turned on the speaker, looking at Markus with wide eyes. The anticipation was pulsing powerfully in both of them.

“Hello! Thank you for calling; I’ve been waiting for your phone call all the day long,” she said directly. “How is he?”

“The surgery went as expected, without complications, and the patient is recovering. Unless any problems occur overnight, you can visit him tomorrow morning after 11.”

Although the doctor’s straightforwardness was a bit intimidating, the good news filled Marie with immense relief. Unable to ask how Georg was feeling or to send him her love, or to inquire about when he might be discharged, Marie simply thanked the doctor and ended the call. After all, the surgery had gone as planned and Georg would soon be well!

She tucked the phone into her bag and grinned at Markus. Without thinking much, she stretched out her arms and fell into his comforting embrace.

“Of course you’re coming to our place!” Markus didn’t want to hear anything about taking Marie back to the hotel. “Why pay all that money when you can stay with us?!”

Marie searched for the right words to refuse politely, as she most certainly did not agree to go to their place. The last time had been enough.

“Annabel and Robin would be very happy if you came,” Markus persisted, seeing that she looked hesitant. As he spoke, he took the Viru roundabout more recklessly than necessary, causing the guitar case on the back seat to slide from one end of the car to the other, which reminded Marie that the musician was going to have a gig that night. Which meant he wouldn’t be home. Which, in turn, made her realise she could spend the night at their place without worrying about excessive attention or fleeing from an awkwardly intimate situation.

“If you don’t think it’s a bother.”

“Bother? Not at all!” the daredevil driver responded, now racing through the Jõe Street crossroads despite the red light, which made Marie wonder if Markus was really Georg’s son, as the two were not only different in their characters but complete opposites.

Saturday, 29th of July

After waking up with a blissful stretch in the morning, following a night behind a locked door, the first thing Marie did was reach for her mobile to call Georg. It was a few minutes past nine, so he was certainly awake by now. His phone was off, suggesting that the doctors’ consultation had not yet taken place, or if it had, Georg had not been transferred to the other ward yet. There was no sign of when Markus had returned from his gig. Marie got dressed and quietly tiptoed to the bathroom. Thankfully, she didn’t need to tiptoe for long, because soon Robin’s joyful shouts echoed from downstairs. Along with his voice, there was the sizzling sound of batter frying on the pan and the appetising smell of pancakes and coffee. The delightful kitchen aromas filled the air as Marie was heading downstairs. Smiling in anticipation of visiting Georg, Marie practically flew down the stairs today, rather than stepped. Yes, this visit would be a completely different experience to the one earlier in the week.

“Good morning!” she called cheerfully as she entered the kitchen, where Annabel was busy at the cooker.

“Good morning!” a quick, lively response followed, as a large, fluffy pancake landed on Robin’s plate. One of the type made with sparkling water that were also Georg’s favs.

“You’re awesome, already up and making pancakes,” Marie praised Annabel generously, taking a seat beside Robin and playfully tousling the boy’s hair. Annabel smiled gratefully.

“We usually have pancake mornings on Sundays, but as you’re here, I thought we’d have one today.”

Annabel got ready with another pancake and placed it on the plate in front of Marie.

“Here you go! What kind of coffee would you like? Regular, with milk, or a latte?”

“Latte, please, thank you.”

“And would raspberry jam be alright or do you prefer honey? My Mum likes pancakes with honey.”

Marie was charmed by the hospitality. It felt so nice to be looked after.

“Raspberry jam is my favourite, that’ll be perfect.”

“Raspberry jam is my fav, too!” the boy chimed in, swinging his legs over the edge of the chair.

“Robin, don’t talk with your mouth full,” his mother gently scolded. “Eat up, and then talk.”

Marie stroked the boy’s head and took over the conversation, turning to face him.

“Have you heard the story of the Little Round Bun?”

Robin’s eyes widened as he took a gulp of milk from his glass.

“No.”

“Alright, I’ll tell you while your Mum is making the coffee. So, once upon a time, an old man asked his wife to bake him a little round bun; so she did and put it on the windowsill to cool. But the Little Round Bun got bored there and rolled off the sill and out of the open door. Outside, it met the Rabbit. The Rabbit said,

“I’m going to eat you up, Little Round Bun.” The Little Round Bun replied, ”Don’t eat me, let me sing you a song instead.” And it sang, and while the Rabbit was listening, the Little Round Bun rolled away. Then it met the Wolf. The Wolf said, “I’m going to eat you up, Little Round Bun.” And again, the Little Round Bun said, “Don’t eat me, let me sing you a song instead.” So it sang its song and got away from the Wolf. Then the Fox came along. Like the others, she wanted to eat the bun, but she said, “Oh, Little Round Bun, I can’t hear very well, come and sit on my nose and sing again.” The Little Round Bun, feeling flattered, sat on her nose and sang. But the sly Fox chomped! and the Little Round Bun was gone.”

The tale finished, they laughed together with Robin at the Fox’s slyness. The host himself entered the kitchen, looking quite tired, probably from staying up late.

“I didn’t know that story,” he joined in, winking at Robin, as Annabel placed Marie’s coffee on the table. “Could I have some coffee and a little round bun too? One that won’t roll away, preferably.”

The kitchen filled with laughter.

“How was the gig?” Marie asked. “How much sleep did you get after all? I can take a taxi to the hospital if you want, so you can go back to bed.”

“No, no,” Markus responded quickly, “I want to see Dad, too.” He took a big sip of the delicious ground bean coffee. “I’ll be waking up gradually. Got back home just before four. The others went on to Gunnar’s for a sauna, but I came straight home. Almost ran over a rabbit, by the way.”

At that, Robin perked up.

“A rabbit! Where?”

“A bit past Pirita, towards our side, it was running in the middle of the road, couldn’t decide which way to turn to get into the forest. Quite a chubby one.”

The boy was thinking for a while and then turned his excited eyes to his father.

“Maybe it was chasing the Little Round Bun?”

“Yeah, sure,” Markus agreed. “The turbo bun.”

Annabel, finally able to sit down, took a plate-sized pancake, spread it generously with raspberry jam and took a bite, shaking her head at her partner.

“What nonsense are you talking to the child? You don’t even know what you’re saying.”

This made the man laugh.

“Listen, I always know what I’m talking about.”

Annabel sipped some coffee to swallow down the pancake, wiped off Robin’s milk moustache, and sent him out to play before turning back to the others at the table.

“Are you sure? Awake and asleep?”

“Always.”

“Interesting, but last night you didn’t even know my name.”

The man’s eyes grew as wide as wheels.

“What?”

“That’s right,” Annabel said, laughing, “last night when I came back to bed from the bathroom, you called me Marie.”

The kitchen was suddenly filled with an awkward silence. Unlike Annabel, neither Marie nor Markus found this funny at all. They exchanged glances.

“Oh, come on . . .” Markus drawled.

“You did,” Annabel insisted, “I didn’t catch everything you said, but I clearly heard the name Marie.”

Marie laughed, though not wholeheartedly. It was more to cover her discomfort. Markus chuckled as well, feeling no need to defend himself, assuming it was probably just Annabel’s imagination. With breakfast finished and plans made to leave at around half past ten, Marie packed her suitcase and got ready to go. After giving Robin and Annabel goodbye hugs, she got into Markus’s SUV, and they set off to visit her dear husband.

Ironically, on the way to the hospital, Marie’s thoughts were not focused on Georg, but on Markus. Did he really mistake Annabel for her in his sleep? How could he have even thought of sharing a bed with her? Where did such thoughts come from? From the subconscious? But why?

While on the one hand, Marie had deep respect for hospitals because people’s lives were saved there, on the other hand, she always felt uneasy inside them. Whether it was the long, bright corridors or the smell of medication, there was always something unsettling about those buildings for her. Today was no exception. While excited about the upcoming reunion, she wished she could be anywhere else with Georg right now. Yes, of course, she felt better being with Markus than being alone, but the odd feeling didn’t dissipate.

They approached the ward. Although Marie had mentally prepared herself for the upcoming encounter, the sight still took her aback. Georg was lying in bed, an IV attached to his left arm, his head wrapped in white gauze, secured with a net. His eyes were closed, and his face was pale. His hands were crossed on the blanket, like those of a dead man in a coffin.

Unable to move forward from the doorway, Marie lingered, with Markus just behind her. They stood there for several minutes. They were very close to each other. The sense of security such closeness offered to Marie was indescribable. Had she been standing there alone, she would likely have collapsed. Emotions engulfed not only her senses but also her body, locking her in place, preventing her from saying a word or taking a step. She felt trapped. Trapped in the clutches of her fears, which whispered that Georg was no longer breathing, that he was dead. Marie turned to Markus, burying her head against his chest. She couldn’t bear to look at Georg any longer. That wasn’t her Georg. Her Georg always had a smile in the corner of his mouth, even when asleep. The man in the bed was a stranger.

After holding Marie against him for a long time, relishing her unworldly presence with every fibre of his being, Markus gently lifted his chin from her hair and released his hands from around her waist. Her hair smelled of sweet almonds. The young man would have given anything to make this moment last, but, alas, the time and place were not right. So, he withdrew slightly, whispering in her ear that his Dad was waiting.

Marie turned around, smoothed her jacket, and pushed her shoulders back. No matter what, she couldn’t appear weak. Now she had to be the stronger one in their relationship—not just outwardly and conditionally, but genuinely.

“Georg . . . Geo-o-org . . . Can you hear me?” she whispered, barely audibly, gently caressing the back of his hand with her fingertip. It was cold.

“Georg, darling, it’s Marie.”

The man opened his eyes. Marie took a breath of relief, sat down on the bed beside her husband, and took his hand into hers.

“How are you feeling? Are you hungry? We were told not to bring food or flowers, so we didn’t bring anything but ourselves.”

Georg composed himself slightly and then smiled, the sweetest smile in the world.

“You two are more than enough.” He turned slightly, lying more comfortably on his side. “I am feeling surprisingly good. I’m on medication that just makes me sleep and sleep, and I could probably keep sleeping. They haven’t given me any food yet, it seems they’re feeding me through the IV.”

“Your head doesn’t hurt? Do they know what kind of tumour it is?” his son intervened, having been watching his father anxiously up to that point.

“It feels strange in my head, probably because they opened up my skull, but they don’t let you feel any pain here. The biopsy results might be available next week, or the week after. That’s what they said. How about you? Marie, have you been staying in Viimsi?”

“With us, yes,” his son answered for her. “Annabel and Robin send their regards.” He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper. “Look at what Robin drew for you.”

Markus raised the card drawn by his son in front of his father’s eyes, slowly opening it so its contents could be clearly read: “Dear Grandpa, I’m waiding for you to visit me. Get vell soon! Robin”. Georg looked at the message fondly, a tear of gratitude forming in the corner of his eye.

“Thank you, that’s so sweet.”

Markus placed the card on the small bedside table, with the front cover facing his father.

Seeing her husband’s condition, Marie couldn’t help but ask if there was any idea when he might be able to come home. After all, her leave was coming to an end soon, and she had hoped to return to the island together with him.

“It’s a weekend now, so not in the next few days, for sure. Maybe next week, but I have no idea when exactly. I haven’t spoken to the doctor about it yet.”

Marie sighed. It was clear that she would have to return alone.

“Would you like me to come and visit you tomorrow again?” she asked spontaneously. “I could stay in Tallinn for another night. I need to be back at work on Monday.”

Moved by his wife’s patience to wait for him another whole day, even though it was known that he would not be able to come home, Georg squeezed her hand.

“Go back to the island today, no need to stay in the city. The plants need watering at home, and the house is waiting for its lady. I’ll be fine here.”

Marie felt ashamed of herself. Why did she ask if he wanted her to come? She should have just said she was coming, and that was that. But it was too late now. When Georg said she should go back home, then so it be. She turned to Markus.

“Can you come to see your father tomorrow?”

“Yes, of course, I’m going to visit him every day, and when he’s discharged, I’ll give him a lift back to Kuressaare.”

“Really? Could you give him a lift? I can take a taxi myself.”

Markus laughed at the suggestion.

“A taxi? Oh, you rich people! Sorry, but there’s nothing to argue about here; I’ll definitely give him a lift myself.”

“But what if you have a concert?”

“Concerts are in the evenings, patients are discharged in the mornings, so it won’t be a problem. I sincerely apologise, Dad, that you can’t ride in a taxi and have to settle for my SUV.”

Both Marie and Georg grinned at that statement.

“Alright,” Marie agreed for both of them. “If that’s how it is, then fine. As long as it doesn’t keep you from doing anything important.”

“It won’t, don’t worry, I’m more than happy to be my Dad’s chauffeur,” Markus replied cheerfully, thinking to himself how much more he was willing to do for her sake.

Her coach journey back to Kuressaare was filled with a tangle of thoughts and emotions. For the first time in her life, Marie felt that she didn’t want to go to work. Her place was in Tallinn, by her husband. But how could she leave her clients without their haircuts or send them to someone else? Marie’s regulars were used to her specific style, and sending them elsewhere could mean losing them to another hairdresser. That wouldn’t do. After all, they had been waiting for their appointments for weeks. Listlessly, Marie stepped off the coach in Kuressaare, deciding to walk home. The weather was fine, and the warm evening was soothing, helping to clear her thoughts.

It was time to accept that this summer would be different from what she had expected. And it was time to inform the rest of the family about the situation. First, Marie dialled Loora’s number, then Laura’s, and informed them of the battle her dear Georg was fighting. However, she kept the doubts and fears that came with it to herself, as the children had enough worries of their own. She didn’t want to burden them with her heartache. Sighing at the thought,

Marie adjusted her handbag on her shoulder and quickened her pace towards home. The week had been sunny, as befitting midsummer, and the plants needed watering.

Monday, 31st of July

Barely twenty minutes had passed since Marie had arrived home from work, changed, and put the food into the oven to be cooked. The day had been long, and she felt fatigue in each limb.

She had just settled comfortably on the sofa when she heard a knock on the door. Surprised, she got up to find a visitor she least expected at that hour.

“Good evening!” the visitor greeted, surprisingly cheerful at the doorstep.

Considering the time, which was more night rather than evening, the hostess was not in the same cheerful mood. What was Markus doing on Saaremaa on a Monday night?

“Hello . . . It’s you,” Marie said, not quite sure herself whether the sentence was a statement or a question. Either way, it was full of surprise.

Although it wasn’t particularly cold outside, the man was shifting from foot to foot, presumably indicating he’d rather step in.

“Yes, it’s me, sorry for coming without notice and so late, but hopefully it’s not a problem.”

Even though the young man’s unexpected visit wasn’t to the hostess’s liking, she reminded herself of how she had recently found shelter with his family in Viimsi.

“Yes, no, sure. Come on in.”

Marie watched as the man took off his shoes and jacket, leaving them in the hallway before heading to the bathroom to wash his hands. Why was Markus suddenly there when they had been together just two days ago, and there had been no talk of this? What could he possibly be doing in Kuressaare at such a late hour early in the week? Concerts mostly took place in the second half of the week. She didn’t like this kind of visit, which made her feel uncomfortable in her own home. But anyway, Markus was Georg’s son; she couldn’t leave him outside. Especially after staying with them in Viimsi recently. She remembered the food cooking in the oven. Hoping that the young man would bring up the reason for his visit himself, she refrained from asking anything.

“Have you had dinner or are you hungry? I have some food in the oven, enough for both of us.”

Grinning, Markus appeared at the bathroom door.

“Thank you, I could take a little bite. Sorry, I didn’t bring anything myself; my head was in the clouds when I was coming.”

Marie looked at Markus inquisitively, trying to figure out why he had come. It wasn’t about bringing a gift, there was no lack of anything. Her mind seemed to be read.

“We had a gig here. The guys went to the hotel, and I thought I’d come over so we can talk about Dad.”

She stiffened, contemplating for a split second why it couldn’t be done over the phone.

“Talk about your dad? Is . . .” She became breathless, and her vision blurred. Before she could faint, she was interrupted.

“No, no, nothing like that! Don’t worry!”

Now Marie remembered how positive Markus had been when he arrived. Yes, if he had bad news, he certainly wouldn’t have been grinning so broadly.

“I just wanted to come and tell you face-to-face that I talked to the doctor today, and he said Dad definitely wouldn’t be discharged for at least another two or three weeks. Not that anything’s wrong after the surgery, but they want to keep him in Tallinn just in case, as it was a complicated operation. They’ll monitor how the wound heals first, and when it’s okay, they’ll start radiation and chemotherapy. He might stay in hospital even longer.”

“I see,” Marie’s hands fell to her lap, clutching a tea towel.

“Mhmh,” Markus said, stepping closer to her.

“So, two or three weeks . . . and maybe even longer . . .” Marie didn’t know what else to say. Doctors surely knew best in what order things should be done and how long they would take. It hurt her soul to be so far from Georg. And because of work, she couldn’t even go to the hospital from Monday to Saturday to see her husband. And today was only Monday.

“Can you go and see him every day then? I have to work until Saturday.”

“Yes, of course, just like we agreed.”

Marie nodded gratefully and took the roast out of the oven.

“Great. Let’s eat then.”

After finishing the meal and talking a bit about Georg’s illness, her fears, and Robin growing up, Marie couldn’t hide her fatigue. Although Markus had suggested lighting logs in the fireplace and chatting longer, she didn’t have the strength for it today. The clock on the wall already showed the start of a new day.

“We’ll do it next time,” she promised. “I’ve got a bride’s trial hairdo for tomorrow morning, so I need to be up at eight.”

“Okay, up at eight!” Markus repeated.

After making up the guest bed in the spare room and finding him a clean towel from the closet, they wished each other goodnight and turned off the lights.

But anew! Once again, Marie was tossing and turning in bed, despite having had a long, exhausting day at work. She was overwhelmed by a strange sensation, being in the same house with a man who wasn’t her husband but exuded such masculine energy that it unsettled her, sending a surge of adrenaline through her veins. There had been no need for Markus to come to Mere Street just to announce that Georg would be staying in hospital longer than expected. That could have easily been communicated over the phone. So why had Markus come, then?

Marie sat up. Her throat felt dry, and her hands were clammy. Everything felt so wrong. She sank back into bed, hoping to fall asleep. But it all repeated. This time, her throat felt even drier, and it wasn’t just her hands that were sweaty, but her whole body. Marie touched her forehead. Was she coming down with something? It didn’t seem so. Could it be anxiety about sharing a roof with Markus, especially as the bedroom door in this house couldn’t be locked? She shook her head. That couldn’t be it.

With her heart trembling in her chest, Marie tiptoed from the bedroom to the kitchen. Knowing she had to wake up early in the morning only intensified her anxiety. All she needed was a sip of water and a sleeping pill. Quietly taking a glass from the shelf and filling it with water from the jug, she drank it down in large gulps. The water was wonderful, life-saving. As she refilled the glass halfway, she noticed that the door of Markus’s room was slightly ajar, with a beam of light coming through the gap, indicating that he wasn’t asleep.

She stepped closer to the room. One step. Two. Holding her breath, she took a third. Just to take a quick peek, nothing more. Perhaps Markus had fallen asleep with the light on.

No, the voice that came from behind her now was not abrupt, but completely unexpected. It made Marie freeze.

“You can’t sleep either?”

The captivating and extraordinary love story ’ Til the Last Breath is the third novel by Estonian bestselling author Helene Moss. In this book readers are taken on a thrilling journey through a love triangle in Kuressaare, the capital of Saaremaa, where love knows no bounds—despite the age gap between the main characters, Marie and Markus, or the fact that they share familial ties.

The burning question whether Marie can stay faithful to her beloved husband who is battling cancer, until his last breath, all while fighting against the strong will of his son, who is determined to make her his, finds an unexpected answer.

The first chapters of some of Helene Moss’s books can be read for free on the author's website helenemoss.com.