Changes of Life by Zlata Karbovska

How everything has changed, I thought.

These weren’t the usual streetlights, or the hum of music, or people’s laughter. Everything had stopped. Only emptiness remained — in the streets, and deeper still, inside my heart.

It felt like standing on the edge of a mountain, and with one misstep, the ground vanished. Except I hadn’t moved. I hadn’t even spoken. I did nothing. But maybe… maybe I should have.

“No! No, no, no!!” I shouted, standing near the window. I’ll never forget those thoughts.

My beloved Josh was gone. Taken from me — not by choice, but by a drunk driver speeding through the night. Over 120 km/h. The man appeared from nowhere just as Josh was crossing the street. He had only gone out to get butter. Butter, for a cake I was baking for his friend’s birthday.

I called the hospital with trembling hands. Store workers were spilling onto the sidewalk, drawn by the sound. My whole body shook, heart beating so loud I could hear it echo in my skull. Then — everything went black.

When I woke up, it was almost morning. For a brief second, I thought it had all been a horrible dream. But as I looked around and saw I was lying on the floor, the memory rushed back. I crawled to the window. Outside, in the faint early light, a dark red stain marked the street.

“No… it can’t be,” I whispered. I burst into sobs. Everything was gray, empty, senseless.

Then the phone rang.

“Hello?” I croaked.

“Ma’am, is this Kara Sterowan?”

“Yes, that’s me…”

“Please, take a seat. Your husband is alive,” said the voice — quickly, like it might slip away if not spoken fast enough.

I closed my eyes.

“A car struck your husband last night. We arrived fifteen minutes later and gave immediate assistance. He was rushed to the hospital and underwent brain and leg surgery. He’s stable now. Please come to the main hospital at 12 Lorynhi Street.”

It was spring again. The city street was alive — golden light bouncing off café windows, children laughing as they ran past the benches. Birds sang from the trees lining the sidewalk, and a breeze carried the scent of something sweet from a nearby bakery.

Josh and I walked slowly through the park beside the street, my arm wrapped gently around his. His steps were careful, deliberate, but he was walking. Really walking.

I held his hand tight. I couldn’t stop smiling.

“Thank you, Lord,” I whispered, looking up at the wide blue sky. “Thank you for saving my Josh.”

Everything looked different now. The same street, the same city — but where grief had painted it in shades of gray, now every corner glowed with light and colour. Life pulsed again through the pavement, through the trees, through my chest.