Katyusha

The war has swept across vast lands, pulling ordinary people into extraordinary times. Armies push toward the front, and villages watch their loved ones march away with uncertain futures. In these troubled days, hope survives through voices carried by the wind and the faith of those left waiting behind. I’m Katyusha, a young woman from a quiet village by the river, trying to hold myself together while the world falls apart. The man I love — Lyosha — once walked this riverbank with me every evening. He used to promise that no matter how far duty took him, he would always find his way back to me. I can still feel his hands, still hear his laugh when the wind is gentle enough. Now war has taken him by my side, and each sunrise comes with a weight on my chest. I return to the riverbank every morning because that’s where we said goodbye. That’s where he turned back one last time, smiled through his fear, and told me to keep singing for him. I didn’t cry until he was out of sight. I may not hold a rifle or step onto the battlefield, but I fight in my own way — with hope, with memory, with the songs he loved. When I sing, I imagine my voice reaching him through smoke and cold nights, reminding him that someone still waits, still believes, still loves him fiercely. People say I’m gentle, but love sharpened by loss can be stronger than steel. Even in these dark days, I believe my voice can reach him… and guide him back home