April, 1939
"Yes."
The word left Oliver's mouth quietly, yet it felt heavier than anything he had ever said before.
For a moment, silence filled the room.
Then Mr. Shepherd smiled.
"That's my boy," he said, relief evident in his voice. "Good, Oliver. You just made the right decision. Now let's start packing for tomorrow morning."
Oliver nodded… but something inside him refused to stay still.
"But—"
Mr. Shepherd's expression changed instantly. His eyes widened slightly.
"But what?"
Oliver hesitated, then spoke carefully.
"I can at least write to her, right? I mean… we can exchange letters."
For a few seconds, Mr. Shepherd said nothing. He simply looked at Oliver, his expression unreadable. Then, as if something had suddenly clicked in his mind, his face softened.
He smiled.
"Alright, Oliver. Of course you can do that."
Oliver's face lit up slightly.
"Okay… then I'm going."
Without waiting, he rushed out of the room and hurried upstairs.
Halfway through the hallway, his mother stopped him.
"Where are you going, sweetie? It's dinner time. Come eat with us."
"Later!" Oliver replied quickly, already moving past her.
He reached his room, shut the door, and sat down at his desk.
For a moment, he just sat there… staring at the blank sheet of paper in front of him.
Then, slowly, he picked up a pen.
His hand trembled slightly as he began to write.
⸻
Dear Yui,
First of all, I am so, so sorry.
I don't want to leave you, but my family is moving to Russia because of the war tension.
I don't want to go… but I have to. I am a Jew, and the Nazis will not let me live. So please try to understand.
I promise I will write to you three times a week. No matter what, I will write to you.
You are very important to me.
Please… I don't want to go, but I have to go.
I know it's hard for you…
but I am the one who is getting hurt.
So please accept the situation.
I will write to you again when I reach Russia.
Bye,
Oliver Shepherd
⸻
Oliver stared at the letter for a few seconds after finishing it.
Then suddenly, as if time had started moving again, he stood up, grabbed the letter, and rushed downstairs.
His parents were sitting at the dining table, eating dinner.
"I am going to post this," Oliver said quickly.
His mother looked up.
"No. Look at the time. First eat dinner."
Mr. Shepherd spoke calmly,
"Well, I can go for you."
"No," Oliver said immediately. "I will do it myself."
Without waiting for a response, he turned and left the house.
The door closed behind him.
Silence remained.
Mr. and Mrs. Shepherd both stared at the door for a few seconds.
Then Mr. Shepherd slowly stood up.
"Now what?" Mrs. Shepherd asked. "Where are you going?"
He adjusted his coat slightly and replied,
"To do something important."
⸻
Outside, Oliver walked quickly through the dimly lit street, heading toward the post box.
The night air felt colder than usual.
His grip tightened around the letter.
His eyes were wet.
Regret had already begun to creep into his heart.
But so had fear.
The fear of death.
The fear of losing everything.
That fear was stronger.
He reached the post box.
For a moment, he just stood there… staring at it.
Then, slowly, he pushed the letter inside.
A soft metallic sound echoed as it fell.
It was done.
Oliver stood there for a second longer, then turned and began walking back home.
His eyes were still wet.
⸻
A few moments later…
A figure approached the post box.
Mr. Shepherd.
He had followed Oliver all along.
He stood silently in front of the box, his face calm, almost emotionless.
Then, without hesitation, he reached inside and pulled out the letter.
Oliver's letter.
He held it in his left hand.
With his other hand, he took out a lighter from his pocket.
A small flame flickered to life.
For a brief moment, he looked at the letter.
Then he brought the flame closer.
The paper caught fire.
Slowly… steadily… it began to burn.
The words disappeared into ash.
As the flames consumed it, Mr. Shepherd spoke quietly,
"It's better to let go."
The fire died.
And with it… something else did too.
Early in the morning, the Shepherd family was ready to leave.
The house felt different that day—quiet, heavy, like the walls themselves knew something was ending.
They were all dressed in formal travel clothes, as was common in Europe during the late 1930s. Mr. Shepherd wore a dark wool suit with a pressed white shirt and a long overcoat, along with a formal hat placed neatly on his head. Oliver wore a buttoned shirt, suspenders, dark trousers, polished leather shoes, and a small coat. His mother wore a modest but elegant dress with a long coat and gloves, her hair neatly tied back.
Oliver stood still while his mother adjusted his tie carefully.
"There we go, sweetie… don't move," she said softly as she straightened the knot.
From behind them, Mr. Shepherd checked his pocket watch.
"Come on, our train leaves in half an hour," he said.
Oliver suddenly spoke,
"Father?"
"Yes? What is it?"
"Well, you said there is a friend of yours in that country."
"Oh yes, you're right. I forgot to tell you the details," Mr. Shepherd replied. "Well, he usually gets very busy with his work, so maybe we won't be able to meet him immediately. But his elder brother will be there to receive us."
"Elder brother?" Oliver asked.
"Yes. He is in the military, on a commander post. He leads a unit of soldiers."
"Oh…" Oliver nodded slowly.
His mother stepped back and smiled.
"Here it is, sweetie. Your tie is done."
Mr. Shepherd closed his pocket watch and said,
"Let's go then."
⸻
They stepped outside the house and got into the car waiting for them — an Opel Kapitän.
A driver sat in the front, and the family sat in the back in silence as the car began moving toward the railway station.
No one spoke much during the drive.
Oliver looked out of the window the entire time.
The streets, the buildings, the shops, the people — everything looked normal.
That was the strange part.
The world looked completely normal… while his world was ending.
⸻
When they arrived at the railway station, the platform was crowded with people, luggage, soldiers, families, and travelers. Steam rose from the large black locomotive as workers loaded baggage into compartments. The loud whistle of the train echoed through the station.
Their train was ready to depart.
Before stepping into the train, Oliver stopped for a moment and turned around. He looked at the station, the city, the country one last time.
Very quietly, almost like a whisper, he said,
"I love you, Yui."
Then he turned and entered the train.
⸻
A Few Days Later – Moscow
After several days of travel, crossing borders, forests, and endless snowy lands, they finally arrived in Moscow.
Oliver stepped out of the train and looked around.
Everything felt different.
The buildings were larger and more rigid, built in heavy stone and concrete. Red banners hung from poles and government buildings. Soldiers and officers were everywhere. People wore darker, simpler clothing. The air felt colder, harsher, and the language around him sounded sharp and unfamiliar.
Horse carts moved alongside early automobiles. Workers carried crates and equipment. Loud announcements echoed through the station in Russian. Steam engines hissed, and the smell of coal filled the air.
Oliver felt like he had entered another world.
He looked around, trying to take everything in, when he noticed a man standing on the platform, looking directly at them.
He was a very muscular man, probably in his late thirties or early forties. Anyone could immediately tell he was in the military. He had very short brown hair, sharp black eyes, and a straight, disciplined posture. He wore a military coat, boots, and gloves. Behind him stood two or three other men who looked like soldiers as well.
When Mr. Shepherd saw him, he immediately walked toward him and shook his hand.
The man nodded and then looked at Oliver and his mother.
"My name is Karl Maggath," he said in a deep, firm voice. "Nice to meet you all."
Oliver looked at him quietly. There was something intimidating about him — the way he stood, the way he looked at people, the way the soldiers behind him stayed silent.
They followed Karl Maggath out of the station and into a car waiting for them.
After some time, they arrived at their new house.
Oliver didn't care much about the house, the city, or anything else.
The moment they entered the house, Oliver rushed inside, looking for a table and paper.
He immediately sat down and began writing a letter.
A letter that would never reach its destination.
Time passed.
Days turned into weeks.
Weeks turned into months.
Months turned into years.
But Oliver kept writing.
He wrote letter after letter, exactly as he had promised — three letters a week. No matter how busy he was, no matter how tired, no matter how cold the nights were or how difficult his studies became, he always found time to write.
And yet…
There was never a reply.
At first, Oliver thought Yui must be angry because he left so suddenly. He believed she needed time. He believed she would write back eventually.
But as months passed, a doubt slowly began to grow inside his mind.
And with time, that doubt grew bigger… and bigger.
But no matter how big that doubt became, Oliver never stopped writing.
Strangely, in all his letters, he never once asked:
• Why don't you reply?
• Are you angry?
• Did something happen?
• Do you still remember me?
He never asked any of those questions.
Instead, he wrote about his life.
About his studies.
About the weather.
About the city.
About how he felt.
About random small things that didn't really matter.
But one thing was always the same in every letter he wrote.
At the end of every single letter…
He apologized.
⸻
Years passed.
He finished high school — and he kept writing.
He entered college — and he kept writing.
He graduated — and he still kept writing.
No matter what happened in his life…
He wrote.
And wrote.
And wrote.
And while he kept writing letters, he kept waiting for the war to end.
But nobody knew when that would happen.
⸻
July, 1945
Mr. Shepherd was sitting at his desk, working on some documents.
Suddenly, Oliver — now 22 years old — came running into the room holding a newspaper in his hand.
"DAD!" he shouted.
Mr. Shepherd looked up.
"What's the matter, Oliver?"
Oliver rushed toward him and pointed at the headline of the newspaper.
"Look! Father, look! Hitler committed suicide! Now the war is going to end! We can move back!"
Mr. Shepherd's eyes widened slightly as he read the headline. He remained silent for a moment, then cleared his throat.
"Yes… but Japan is still on the battlefield. The war isn't completely over yet."
"But Germany is safe to live in now. We should go there," Oliver insisted.
Mr. Shepherd thought for a moment, then a small smile appeared on his face.
"Fine," he said. "But you have to do some work for me first."
"Work? What work? Tell me, I will do it no matter what," Oliver said immediately.
Mr. Shepherd picked up a set of documents from his desk and handed them to Oliver.
"In the Belarus region, near the Polish border, there is a village named Castro. There you will find a man named George. You have to hand these documents to him. Can you do that?"
"Of course, Father. I can go right away."
Mr. Shepherd opened his wallet and took out money — 2000 roubles — and handed it to Oliver.
"Take this. You may need it for transportation."
Oliver took the money, nodded, and rushed downstairs. He looked very happy.
He was finally going back.
Going back to Germany.
Going back to his past.
Going back… maybe to Yui.
⸻
As his father instructed, Oliver traveled toward the village of Castro by horse cart and local transport. After a long and slow journey, he finally arrived there after three days.
The place where he stayed was a little outside the village. After arranging his room and putting his belongings in place, he decided to go out and see the village.
He began walking along the main road.
He carefully observed everything around him.
It was a mountainous region.
There were very few houses, and most of them were small wooden houses. The only building that looked different was a church standing in the center of the village. A small river flowed through the village, and further along the road there was a small bridge crossing the river.
There were farms everywhere. It was obvious that most of the villagers were farmers.
It was a quiet place.
A very quiet place.
But Oliver wasn't really looking at the village.
His thoughts were full of Yui.
He kept thinking about what would happen when he returned to Germany.
Would she be angry?
Would she cry?
Would she forgive him?
Would she still love him?
Lost in his thoughts, Oliver eventually reached the bridge.
And there he saw a young man struggling with a horse cart. The back wheels of the cart were not properly on the bridge and were slipping off the side. The horse was pulling, but the cart was stuck, and the young man was trying very hard to lift and push it back onto the bridge.
Without thinking, Oliver ran toward him.
"Wait, I will help!" he shouted.
Oliver grabbed the wooden handle on the side of the cart and pulled with all his strength while the young man pushed from the other side.
After a few seconds of heavy effort, the cart finally moved and came back onto the bridge.
The horse, the young man, and Oliver were all out of breath.
The young man bent slightly, breathing heavily, then said in a cracked voice,
"Thanks, brother. You saved the day."
Oliver smiled and shook his head.
"No, no. Anyone would have done that."
The young man laughed.
"Still, thank you. Well, I haven't seen you before. Did you illegally cross the border or something?"
Oliver immediately panicked.
"No, no! I came here for business!"
The young man started laughing loudly.
"Hahaha! Look at you! I was joking, brother. It's just that I don't see many people come here for other reasons."
Oliver relaxed a little and laughed awkwardly.
Then Oliver noticed a ring on the young man's ring finger.
"Are you married?" Oliver asked.
"Engaged, to be specific. The wedding is in two days," the young man replied proudly.
"Ah… congratulations," Oliver said.
"Thank you, brother. Maybe you should come to my wedding."
Oliver suddenly Felt a very strange pain in her Chest but he smiled anyway
"M-me? No, no. I don't think that's a good idea," Oliver replied.
"Come on, brother. Look, there will be no relatives coming — for both me and my bride. There will be just four or five villagers and the priest. So I think you should come."
Oliver hesitated.
"Are you sure?"
"Of course. I will be very happy if you come."
Oliver thought for a moment, then nodded.
"Fine… okay."
"Good! Come at 11 in the morning. See you at the wedding," the young man said as he climbed onto his cart and started moving down the road.
After a few moments, Oliver suddenly shouted,
"Hey! What's your name? Mine is Oliver Shepherd, age 22!"
The young man looked back, smiled, and replied,
"Paul Kruger. Age 24."
And then he drove away down the road.
Oliver stood on the bridge, watching the cart slowly disappear into the distance, not knowing that this meeting would change far more lives than he could ever imagine.
As Oliver had promised, he arrived at the church.
6 May, 1945 — 10:55 AM
He arrived five minutes early.
He was dressed formally — a white shirt, a black coat over it, black trousers, and a black tie with faint yellow stripes. His shoes were polished, and his hair was carefully combed. He looked at himself for a moment in the reflection of a window near the church entrance.
A strange thought suddenly crossed his mind.
Maybe one day I will wear something like this at my own wedding…
In the best scenario… at my wedding with Yui…
He immediately blushed at the thought and shook his head slightly, as if trying to push the idea away.
Then he returned to the present and entered the church.
⸻
The priest standing near the main door greeted him politely, and Oliver stepped inside.
The church looked old but peaceful. Wooden benches were arranged in two long rows with a narrow aisle between them. Sunlight entered through tall stained-glass windows, painting the floor in faint colors of red, blue, and gold. The air smelled faintly of old wood, candles, and incense. At the far end stood the altar, simple and quiet, with a large wooden cross behind it.
Just as Paul had said, there were not many people present.
Only a few middle-aged and elderly villagers were sitting on the benches, and even they were sitting far apart from each other, speaking very quietly or simply waiting in silence.
Oliver decided to sit at the back.
He chose the second-last bench and sat down quietly.
As soon as he sat, he suddenly felt a strange sensation in his chest. It wasn't exactly pain, but it wasn't normal either. It felt tight, heavy, as if something was pressing from inside.
He placed one hand on his chest.
Then suddenly he started coughing.
It wasn't very loud, but it felt like something was choking him from inside. He bent slightly forward, trying to control his breathing. After a few moments, the pain disappeared.
But it didn't give him any relief.
Instead, a strange feeling appeared in his mind.
He felt like he wanted to cry.
For no reason.
He suddenly felt that maybe he should leave and go back. Something felt wrong, very wrong, but he didn't understand what.
He took out his water bottle, drank some water, and took a few deep breaths. Slowly, he calmed himself down.
Just when he was finally starting to relax, he heard footsteps behind him.
It was Paul.
"Hey! So you've come, brother. I'm glad," Paul said with a bright smile.
"Oh, here comes the groom. You're looking good," Oliver replied.
"Same to you, brother. You're a lady killer yourself. You might steal my bride," Paul laughed.
"Oh no, then I'm in trouble," Oliver said jokingly.
"Because I have already given my heart to someone."
Paul laughed loudly.
"Don't worry then. I will make sure that doesn't happen."
"Yeah, you should," Oliver replied, and both of them laughed.
Then Paul said, "Alright, I should go now. See you after the ceremony."
"Yeah, bye," Oliver said.
Paul walked toward the front of the church and stood near the altar. The priest began preparing for the ceremony.
Oliver felt better after talking with Paul. The strange sensation in his chest had disappeared completely, and he leaned back slightly on the bench.
A few minutes passed.
Then suddenly, the church doors opened.
The bride had arrived.
Everyone in the church turned around to look at her.
Everyone…
Except Oliver.
He didn't bother to look back. He had absolutely no curiosity to see the bride. He just sat there quietly, looking forward. But he could hear whispers from the people behind him.
"Wow… is she an angel?"
"No, she must be a goddess."
"She's unbelievably beautiful…"
Hearing all this slowly created a small curiosity in Oliver's mind, but he still didn't turn around.
After a few moments, he heard the slow footsteps of the bride walking down the aisle.
Now her back was visible to him.
She was wearing a white wedding dress and a long gown that touched the floor. Her long black hair was tied neatly, and a few women were accompanying her as she walked toward the altar.
But something looked strange.
Her right hand looked injured, as if it had been bandaged or hurt recently. Oliver noticed it but didn't think much about it and ignored it.
Even from behind, Oliver could tell one thing clearly.
She was smiling.
⸻
Finally, she reached the altar and stood beside Paul.
Paul was smiling.
The bride was smiling.
And suddenly…
The same sensation hit Oliver again.
But this time it was hundred times stronger.
At the exact same moment, the bride turned toward Paul.
And now Oliver could see her face.
Suddenly, Oliver's eyes widened as if he had seen a ghost.
His jaw slowly dropped.
His entire body started trembling.
He felt like he might throw up at any moment. His body temperature rose, sweat began forming on his forehead, and tears quickly filled his eyes. He felt dizzy, as if he might faint.
His brain stopped processing anything.
He wasn't hearing the priest.
He wasn't hearing the people.
He wasn't hearing anything.
He was only looking at Yui.
After that moment, he didn't remember anything clearly.
The next thing he became aware of was the priest's voice:
"Paul Kruger… and Yui Alexander… I pronounce you husband and wife."
The church filled with clapping and cheering. Paul and Yui hugged each other, and then they kissed.
In that moment…
Oliver's world shattered in front of his eyes.
While everyone was standing, celebrating, smiling, and clapping, Oliver was going through hell.
His eyes were crying.
Tears were falling like rain.
At the altar, a new love was being celebrated.
And at the back of the church…
An old love was dying.
But in the middle of all this unbearable despair, Oliver suddenly noticed something.
Yui's smile.
Not just a smile.
A genuine smile.
She looked happy.
Truly happy.
And that changed something inside Oliver.
He didn't say anything.
He didn't move forward.
He didn't call her name.
He simply stood up quietly, turned around, and walked out of the church.
The moment he stepped outside, he burst into tears.
He cried like a child who had lost everything.
But inside the church, people were still clapping, celebrating, laughing, and cheering.
And in all that noise…
Oliver's crying became as if it had never existed.
⸻
A Few Minutes Earlier
In a small dressing room inside the church, Yui was getting ready for her wedding. A few women from the village were helping her with her dress and makeup. They were talking, laughing, and congratulating her.
Yui was also smiling and laughing with them.
Then suddenly, Yui said quietly,
"Can you all go outside for a moment? I want to be alone for a while."
"But why, Yui? What happened?" one of the women asked.
"Please… just go for a moment," Yui said, a little more aggressively this time.
The women looked at each other, then nodded and left the room.
As soon as the door closed…
Yui burst into tears.
She didn't even know why she was crying. She just couldn't stop. Her chest felt heavy, and her breathing became unstable.
Suddenly she screamed:
"OLIVER!"
And in that moment, she punched the mirror in front of her with all her strength.
The mirror shattered into pieces.
Glass fell to the floor, and her hand immediately started bleeding.
Hearing the sound, the women rushed back into the room and panicked when they saw the broken mirror and blood on her hand.
But Yui wasn't looking at them.
She was still crying.
Somewhere outside the church…
So was Oliver.
Chapter Ends.
To be Continued