The Price of a Promise

Chapter 1 — 1995–1997

It was 1995. My mother enrolled me in the first grade.

I was a very active child and was constantly breaking something — my arm, my head, my leg. It was an ordinary, carefree life of a boy growing up without the internet or expensive toys.

So I started first grade. And even though I was a real troublemaker — running across rooftops and constantly falling off rundown buildings — I actually did quite well in school.

Our family was poor. There were six of us: my mother, my father, my two sisters, my brother, and me — the youngest of all. My father had lived in Russia for most of his life, so he was hardly ever home. My mother had to work constantly in bakeries to earn whatever money she could and feed her four children.

It wouldn’t be right to say that my father never sent us money. Sometimes he did, but probably only about once a year. So we were constantly struggling, barely able to afford even the basic necessities.

And then I finished first grade.

I won’t waste any more of your precious time, dear reader. I moved on to second grade.

When I finished second grade, the year 1997 arrived. I was nine years old.

And then one day, my uncle came to visit us from Russia. He and my mother talked about something, and then my mother said:

“We’re going to Russia.”

Wow!

Chapter 2

And so, our whole family moved to Russia. My father met us at the train station and brought us to his place. I was happy. It seemed to me that now I would finally have everything simple and ordinary that I had missed so much before. But another surprise was waiting for me. I barely had time to get to know the local kids before I was sent to work at the market—selling flatbreads. My mother baked these flatbreads at night. They turned out incredibly delicious, because my mother was a wonderful cook: back home in Baku, she had always worked in bakeries. That is how my working days began. I was only nine years old. Every morning, I dragged two huge bags of flatbreads to the market. A tram went there, and I rode it constantly. In fact, I really enjoyed riding trams. Even though I worked every day, I knew almost nothing about the city except for our market. And I wanted so badly to discover new places! One day, I decided to visit my cousins. When I arrived at their house, they weren't home—they were at school. I was a very curious child and always strived to learn something new, so I found their school and went inside. Around me, as usual during breaks, children were running around. Back then, I didn't know Russian at all, so I just walked among them like a deaf-mute person. Suddenly, a beautiful young teacher came up to me and started speaking to me in Russian. I didn't really understand anything, but I still found it very interesting. And right at that moment, I passionately wanted to study—just like all the other children. One day, after selling all the flatbreads at the market, I bought myself a school backpack and some stationery. Of course, I didn't have enough money for everything I needed, but I was firmly determined: I would gradually buy everything else and eventually definitely go to school. When I returned home, my mother saw that there were no more flatbreads left, but there was a backpack—far from empty. She asked what was inside. I answered: "Mom, I bought things for school. I want to study like everyone else." She fell to her knees, hugged me, and cried. At first, I thought I had upset my mother and that she was crying because of me. But then she wiped her tears and said: "You will study." Oh, how happy I was! In the evening, my father returned home. After talking to my mother, he found out that I had bought school supplies, and a fight broke out between them. I watched all of this from around the corner. Then my father came up to me and said: "Show me what you bought there." I thought my father had agreed to let me go to school, so I happily brought and showed him everything I had managed to buy. But he just took my things, tore them up, and threw them out the window. After that, I went back to working at the market. Gradually, I became one of the best flatbread sellers in the entire market. Perhaps people looked at the little boy, felt sorry for me, and bought specifically from me. But whatever the reason, business was going great. One day, we received an order that needed to be delivered to a cafe. My mother entrusted this task to me. I took the flatbreads and carried the order over. After delivering it, I noticed a large and very beautiful building nearby. At the time, I didn't understand what it was. It was an institute. Unable to resist my curiosity, I took a look inside. And it was there, for the first time in my life, that I saw computers. I stood there, spellbound, watching the older guys play something. Everything looked so realistic! It was, I think, the year 2000, and they were playing Counter-Strike. Right away, I desperately wanted to sit at a computer myself and control that little character. I went up to the administrator. I wanted to find out how much it cost to play. But out of nervousness, instead of asking for the price of the game, I somehow blurted out: "How much is the fare?" The whole room just burst out laughing. Only then did I realize that I had said something stupid. But one of the older guys gave up his seat to me and set up the game. That is how my adventures with computers began. I literally became obsessed with them. I could disappear for hours, wouldn't come home, and spent whole days sitting in the computer clubs of that time. One day, my father even whipped me with a belt and started examining my hands and veins, thinking I was spending money on drugs. But he found nothing except soft, fair children's skin. And yet, I kept going to those clubs. Because I wasn't just playing. I was learning there. And so it all continued. I sold flatbreads, lost track of time in computer clubs, and grew up. Until one fine day, I found out that we were returning home—to Azerbaijan, to Baku. When we returned to Baku, I was already seventeen years old.

Chapter 3

It was the end of 2005, and I was 17 years old. On the internet, through Mail.ru Agent, I met a girl. She was Russian, from Siberia. We started chatting and gradually grew very close. Before her, I had never had a girlfriend—she became my first. We messaged each other every day, and one day I promised her that I would definitely come visit her. But the army was ahead of me, and I knew I had to serve. We kept in touch, I got her phone number, and then I turned 18. I didn't waste any time: the very next day, I went to the enlistment office and left for military service. I served for a year and a half, and in 2007, after finishing my service, I finally returned home.

Chapter 4

So, I returned home. I needed to talk to my mother and get her permission to leave the country and go to Siberia, Russia. Of course, my mother was against it. What mother would let her son leave for another country for the sake of a girl he had practically never met in person? But I was serious, and eventually my mother couldn’t resist my determination and agreed to let me go.

And then I remembered a huge mistake I had made when I first met Kristina. I had lied to her, telling her that I was a businessman. And now I was supposed to contact her and confess that I had lied — that I was just an ordinary guy, not a businessman at all. But I didn’t have the courage to tell her the truth because I was afraid of losing her.

Then an idea came to my mind: since I had lied and said I was a businessman, and now I couldn’t bring myself to confess, it would be better to actually become a businessman and correct my mistake that way.

I didn’t contact Kristina. Instead, I decided to go to Russia and build my own business. I grabbed my passport and bought a ticket to Novokuznetsk.

Chapter 5

And so, I set out on my journey and arrived in Novokuznetsk. It was easier for me to start from scratch there, while Kristina lived in a small town nearby.

I got a job at a mobile phone store. It was easy for me to communicate and get along with Russians because I had grown up in Russia myself, and Russian was practically my native language.

I worked at the store for about a year. Then I quit and opened my own small business — a service center for computer and phone repairs.

I was driven by a fire inside me that kept pushing me toward my goal without stopping the whole time. Eventually, I opened another store, this time focused purely on selling mobile phones.

And only after all that did I finally feel ready to call Kristina.

Chapter 6

And so, I finally dialed that magic number, and a girl answered on the other end. Before that moment, we had never spoken on the phone — this was our first time. She picked up, and I said my first words: “Hi, it’s Javid.”

She was shocked that after all that time, I had kept my promise, come to Russia, and was now in a neighboring city. We talked on the phone for a bit and set a date to meet. I hung up — there wasn't a happier person in the world.

Then I went to the city of Belovo, where she lived, and we finally met in real life. At first, we were both very shy around each other, but little by little, the awkwardness faded. We walked around, she showed me the city, and told me about different places and what was where. In the end, we had dinner, and I said goodbye to Kristina, promising that we would see each other again soon.

I returned to Novokuznetsk and went back to business. But about two days later, I couldn't stand it — I wanted to see her again, so I went back to her city.

I don’t think there was a happier person on Earth than me at that moment. And then, we finally kissed for the first time. I can’t even describe the feeling.

We had a wonderful time together, and then I headed back home. After that kiss, her face stayed right in front of my eyes the entire way back to Novokuznetsk. And it didn’t wear me out at all — on the contrary, it brought me incredible happiness.

I arrived back in Novokuznetsk and continued running my business. On average, I was traveling to Kristina’s city almost three times a week — just to see her. I physically couldn't stay away from her for long.

That’s how we spent our time: walking around, going to parks, restaurants, movie theaters, and doing whatever our hearts desired.

And this went on for almost eight months.

Chapter 7

After eight months of our relationship, I started noticing that Kristina was avoiding meeting me and constantly coming up with different excuses. But I believed everything she said. I genuinely thought she really had valid reasons why she couldn’t meet.

Then one day, we finally agreed to meet. My friend Ivan was with me that day. I was getting ready to leave for Kristina's town, but I always called her before heading out.

I dialed her number, but Kristina didn’t answer. I tried to be patient, waited a bit, and dialed again. But she didn’t pick up again.

At that point, my friend couldn’t hold it in anymore and decided to open my eyes.

Ivan said, “Javid, my friend, I’ve known about your relationship with Kristina for a long time. But man, she’s just using you. I don’t want you to keep building illusions around her. And you know what? Give me her number, and I’ll prove to you right now that she’s lying to you.”

Naturally, I didn’t believe a single word. But as much as I wanted to reject what he was saying, his words started eating away at me from the inside.

Eventually, I couldn’t take it anymore. I gave Kristina’s number to Ivan, and he called her.

Chapter 8

Ivan dialed Kristina's number. It began to ring. With all my heart, I hoped she wouldn't answer. But, unfortunately, she picked up the phone.

At that moment, I just froze. There was nothing I could do—all that was left was to stand there, watch, and listen. They spoke for quite a while, and in the end, Ivan managed to arrange a meeting with Kristina.

To say that it hurt would be an understatement. What I felt is impossible to put into words. In a single instant, the entire world I had been building all these years—both material and spiritual—simply collapsed.

I was young and had no idea what to do next. After Ivan's call, I dialed her number, and she answered. I asked her why her line had been busy and why she hadn't been answering me. She said that her grandmother was sick and that she was at her place, and that the line was busy because her mother had called her. At that point, I couldn't hold back and asked, "Is your mother named Ivan?" At that moment, she realized I had caught her in a lie, and I simply hung up. On that day, the very fire that had been driving me forward all this time went out. It was my engine. It was everything to me.

I looked for anything that could dull the pain. I just bought an entire crate of alcohol, sat on the side of the road, and started drinking. Before that, I didn't really drink, but in that moment, I was chugging booze as if I had been doing it for years.

What happened next, I don't remember. My next memory is waking up the next day at Ivan's place.

And right then, Kristina called. I answered. She said that I was a very good guy and a kind person, and offered to stay friends. That was unacceptable to me, and I refused her, saying, "Tina, a guy and a girl can be friends first and then fall in love with each other. But to fall in love with a girl and then become friends—for me, that's impossible. Maybe someone else would agree to that, but not me." She called me a weak person and said I had no willpower. Those words were so unfair to me! Was I really weak for leaving my family and country behind to come to you? And I hung up. Of course, a lot of little things happened after that. I lost interest in absolutely everything. I didn't want to do anything. No matter how hard I tried to pull myself out of that state, nothing worked.

With every passing day, I drank more and more.

I lost everything I had been building for years. Maybe it wasn't much, but I put my whole soul into it.

I dug through my thoughts, trying to find at least something that hadn't been destroyed. But there was nothing left.

Looking back at my life, I saw only ruins—like a small town after a war.

And I realized that the Javid I used to be was gone. Only fragments remained.

And then I decided to go back home, not even knowing what kind of life was waiting for me there.

Chapter 9

And so I returned home — or rather, not me, but whatever was left of me.

When I arrived, I learned that my mother was sick, but we didn’t know what was wrong with her yet. While the doctors were trying to make a diagnosis, my mind was in a complete fog. I still hadn’t recovered from everything that had happened.

And then they told us my mother had cancer.

I walked away to a place where no one could see me and cried like a little child. I kept asking myself, “Why me?”, knowing full well that no one could give me an answer.

Sometime later, my mother called for me. My brother, my sister, and my father were in the room, but when I walked in, they all stepped out.

It felt as though my mother was giving me her final wishes — but it wasn’t about a house, a business, or money. I didn’t need any of those things.

My mother said, “Javid, I asked you once before not to leave because I felt that disappointment was waiting for you. Now listen to your mother. I don’t know how much time I have left, but I would really love to see you get married and start a family of your own.”

After saying those words, she simply pulled a photograph of a girl from under her blanket and handed it to me.

That's when I realized my mother had chosen a bride for me.

I hadn’t even recovered from what happened with Kristina. With my mind completely broken, I had to make a decision.

I kept asking myself, “I’m not the kind of person who would marry someone just from looking at a photo.”

But how could I say no to my dying mother?

So I agreed.

We got engaged, and later we had a wedding. My daughter was born, and one month later, my mother passed away.

No matter how broken I was, I still believed that maybe, step by step, I could find in marriage what I had lost. People always say that time heals all wounds.

But unfortunately, I was deeply mistaken.

I respect my wife. I love my family. I adore my daughters — they are everything I have.

But I never truly recovered from everything that happened to me.