I felt the sadness of my grandmother and invited her to her apartment, but very soon regretted this rash act.

Our reader shared with us his interesting story. One granny I asked her to do her a small favor. It would seem that there is nothing surprising in this, people in old age are often weird and the fact that for them - an absolutely normal state of affairs, an ordinary citizen can cause surprise.



And no, it wasn't about financial aid or anything like that. Let's just say it's nostalgia. But we wouldn't want to reveal all the secrets ahead of time. Let's get the details from the first, so to speak, hands.

My husband and I recently bought an apartment. Old Khrushchev with “original” repairs, in which no one lived for many years. No, we were not going to move there, but there was an opportunity to purchase additional living space for rent. Carpets, a service from the Soviet era, dusty furniture.

The plan was to take everything out, just leave a box of walls. Then hire masters and do a little normal repair. Money, of course, you need to inflate excessively, but the city is slowly expanding and in a couple of years the “neighborhood” will turn into a good area, with good offers from tenants.



My husband also helped with the repair, I did not go into this topic, except that I brought something for small things. On one of those days, I arrived at the facility with a set of new gloves, spatulas and other construction nonsense. The workers, like my husband, had already left on business, so I had only to leave my things in the apartment. On my way back to the car, I was stopped by a sweet grandmother asking for some time.

It turns out she lived in this apartment 10 years ago. I have lived there almost my entire life. She wanted to go back and see the walls. Even though I replied that the repairs were in full swing and everything was already in the trash, she insisted on her own. But soft, old-fashioned. Well, I had an extra couple of minutes, and I didn't want to spoil anyone's mood. Well, I invited her.

Slowly going to the threshold, of course, without taking off her shoes, the old woman immediately went to the bathroom. I thought she'd see her sideboard or some photo album gone and calm down. But no, she was stubbornly drawn to the bathroom. And there was a mess: the jumper between the bathroom and the toilet was destroyed, everything was in the dust.



Seeing that, Grandma started crying. I started putting something under my nose, not paying any attention to my confusion. I didn’t even know how to behave and went to a big room. For 10 minutes, I started to worry that the neighbors would call the police. But it did. Then Grandma came out, smiled sadly at me, thanked me for everything and went down the landing.

I looked around for a few minutes and went to the car. My grandmother wasn’t there and I just went about my business. I was still a little busy that day, and my thoughts were somewhere far away.

In the evening my husband and I talked and I remembered the case of the old woman. She told her husband everything, and he, in turn, replied that it was not easy. It turns out that he did not want to throw away some memorabilia of the old owners and decided to keep them. But they just weren't in the apartment. No photos, no trinkets, nothing.



And on the morning of that very day, when they and the workers tore down the wall, someone found an old, cheap ring. It was not even made of silver, but of some kind of copper. The only thing that caught his attention was the engraving of "Beloved" on the inside of the ring. That's all I found. He didn't even throw it out, you know.

You don't have to have seven inches in your forehead to know that's what Grandma was looking for. But what do we do now? The former owners of the apartment went somewhere and there was no opportunity to call them. So I decided to go to the neighbors and ask around. Maybe they know where to find Grandma, hand over the lost thing.

The next morning, my husband and I returned to that apartment. He works with the men, and I do my little investigation. And in the first apartment next door, they said yes, they know what I'm talking about. Grandma lived in this apartment. And lived a long time. Widow, my husband crashed in a car about 11 or 12 years ago.



The old woman was grieving and sad: the children lived far away, the grandchildren were nursed. So the heart of the old one could not stand – he left the sinful land in about six months. At first I thought it was a joke or a misunderstanding. But when they described everything to me, I realized that it was my unexpected friend yesterday.

But why is she here now? Was it because her ring was no longer in the old place? Terrible. And finally, remembering the old woman's screams, I asked the neighbors, "Didn't you hear someone screaming?" We have walls that are adjacent to you. In the old houses there is no noise insulation at all, there on several floors everything should be perfectly audible.

And they said, "Yes, you heard me." I listened to someone screaming behind the wall. But it wasn't Grandma's voice. A woman screamed, young. Well, you know, when you think about it, that voice was something like yours. The police have been traveling for a long time, and we are used to marriage quarrels. It's always up in the apartment. That's not a lot of attention. ?



Now that a few days have passed, my hands are shaking from time to time. Lost appetite. What should I do? bury the ring or take it to the church? Thank God I don't have to live in that apartment. I can't go there again. Husband only opens his hands, what to do here? I never found a specific answer.