analysisWe need to adapt story to English culture: change cities, countries, currency (likely to pounds), names to English, girl names to English-only (maybe “Emily”, “Charlotte”?). Use English first/last names. Rephrase while preserving meaning and original size. Must be casual, warm, as if telling a friend in a voice message. No markdown. No system text. Just the adapted story. Keep English language.
We need to replace Russian specifics: taxi driver, inspector Maria Petrovna becomes “Inspector Mary Jones”. Names: Nikolai -> Nicholas (or Nick). Vera -> Victoria? Actually need girl names only that exist only in English culture: maybe “Emily”. But the missing wife is female, originally Vera. Should be an English-only name: let’s use “Emily”. Also other names: Masha -> maybe “Molly”? But we have “Masha”? Actually dialogue: ” Хватит! Сколько можно ворошить прошлое? Николай швырнул фотографию на стол, голос его дрожал. Полтора года прошло, Маш. Она не вернется.” The name “Masha” is a diminutive of Maria. Could change to “Molly”. We’ll keep “Molly”. The inspector “María Petrovna” becomes “Inspector Mary Bennett”. The husband “Nikolai Andreyevich” -> “Nicholas Andrews”. The missing wife “Vera Sergeyevna” -> “Emily Clarke”. The other characters: “Seryozha” (Sergei) might be “Steve”. The “Lena” -> maybe “Laura”. The “Misha” child -> “Tommy”. The “Seryozha” male is “Steve.” The “Sergei” becomes “Simon”? Actually “Sergey” is male, could be “Simon”. We’ll adapt accordingly.
Currency: rubles to pounds. 420 rubles -> maybe £5. The fare 420 rubles = £5 approx. Use £.
Cities: maybe London as overall. The taxi driver works in London, airport could be Heathrow. The “Rечная” (River) maybe “River Street”. “Zeleny microdistrict” -> “Green Estate”. “Lipa Street” become “Lime Street”. “Sreda” etc. The missing wife’s home maybe in a suburb like “Harrow”. Use English references: British police, inspector.
Time: keep 1.5 years.
We need to keep story length similar. Rephrase sentences.
Now produce final story as a voice message casual and warm, addressing friend.
Proceed.You wont believe what happened to Nick. Hed just dropped his wifes picture on the kitchen table, staring at the empty window, and the taxi drivers meter ticked away as if nothing mattered. Enough, Nick! How many times can you keep digging up the past? he muttered, voice shaking. Its been a year and a half, Emma. Shes not coming back.
Inspector Mary Bennett, the local constable, gently lifted the photo, slipped it back into her folder, and said, Were closing the case, Mr. Andrews. Legally, enough time has passed to declare Emily Clarke missing.
Nicks eyes narrowed. You mean dead?
I didnt say that, Mary replied softly. Just that the paperwork needs to be finished. Please sign here.
He took the pen, stared at the form for a few seconds, then signed in a rush. Thats it then? Youll leave me alone?
Mr. Andrews, Mary sighed, I understand how you feel. Weve done everything we could.
I know, Nick whispered, his eyes darkening. Sorry. Every time you bring that folder, its like starting overno sleep, endless thoughts, memories
I get it, Mary nodded. But if anything pops up, anything that could help
Ive gone over every day, every hour of that year and a half before she vanished, Nick said, shaking his head. Nothing unusual. Just a normal morning, a normal breakfast. See you tonight, love. And then she was gone, somewhere between home and work.
Mary gathered the papers and stood. In my experience, people have turned up after three, even five years.
And have any of them just walked out on their spouses without a word? Nick snapped.
She fell silent for a moment, then nodded. Sometimes. Usually they leave a note.
When the inspector left, Nick slumped into his armchair, closed his eyes, and let the silence swallow him. It had been eighteen months since Emily walked out the door and never returned. No call, no text. Her phone was off, her cards untouched. It was as if shed melted into the pavement.
Hed tried everythingpolice reports, private detectives, newspaper ads, online posts. Nothing. No one had seen her, no one knew anything.
The first months were the worstendless interrogations (of course the husband is the prime suspect), frantic searches, fragile hope. Then a numbness settled in, a dull ache in his chest, and endless questions with no answers. Why? Was she unhappy? Had she found someone else? Did something terrible happen? Was she alive but unable to reach out? He refused to think about it.
A ringing phone snapped him out of his thoughts. The number flashed: City Cabs.
Hello, Nick? the dispatchers voice, tired but familiar, said. Can you start early tomorrow? The boss is under pressure and weve got a flood of bookings.
Sure, Nick answered, rubbing his nose. What time?
Sixam, first job to the airport.
Got it, Ill be there.
So, three months after Emily vanished, Nick took a job driving a cab. Hed lost his engineering positionmanagement tried to accommodate him, but endless unpaid leave finally wore them out. He couldnt focus on calculations or blueprints anymore. Steering a wheel was just the right kind of work: handson, but not mentally exhausting, and there were no strings attached. One day youre ferrying a businessman, the next a tourist. All you have to do is get from point A to point B.
His mornings started at five, a cold shower, a strong cuppa, then a glance in the mirrorgrey at the temples, lines that werent there a year and a half ago. Fortytwo, looking like fifty.
The first passenger was a stout bloke with two suitcases, nervous and chatty, rambling about a trip to Brighton, a motherinlaw who drives him mad, and a boss whos a total control freak. Nick nodded, gave the occasional right, but his mind was elsewhere.
The day rolled on: railway station, shopping centre, office park, back to the station. By evening he was exhausted, but the dispatcher asked for one more run.
Nick, could you do a job from River Street to Green Estate? Last one tonight, the clients waiting.
Alright, he sighed, checking the address on his GPS.
The client turned out to be a young mother with a little boy, about three or four, whining about not wanting to get in the car.
Tommy, please, she coaxed. Well be home soon, Daddys waiting.
I dont want to go home! the boy shouted. I want to see Grandma!
Well visit Grandma on Saturday, I promise. For now, lets get home.
Nick waited while they settled in. The ride was longtraffic jam for almost an hour after an accident blocked the road. The kid eventually fell asleep on his mums lap. She looked weary, eyes fixed on the window.
Sorry about the delay, she said, finally. Its been a rough day.
No problem, Nick replied, noting down the address. Green Estate, Lime Street, number 17, right?
Yes, thats it.
The journey took longer than expected; a minor crash in the city centre forced them into a standstill. When they finally emerged, dusk had settled, a light drizzle fell, and puddles glistened on the road. Nick drove carefully, fighting a growing headache.
Green Estate was on the outskirtsnew flats, tall blocks, still a bit empty. He wasnt fond of those soulless concrete towers.
Turn right here, the mother said as they entered a courtyard. And to the third entrance, please.
He obeyed, stopped in front of a plain seventeenstorey block. Were here, he said, switching off the engine. Thatll be £5, please.
She handed him a tenpound note. No change needed, thanks for your patience.
Thanks for the tip, Nick smiled. Do you need a hand with the kid?
He opened the rear door, the mother handed him the sleeping boy, then slipped away. Nick cradled the child briefly while she paid and gathered her bags.
Ill take him, she said. Are you sure? Maybe I should carry him to the flat?
No, weve got this. My husbands home, hell help.
She thanked him again, and as she disappeared up the stairs, Nick lingered, watching the rain drizzle down the courtyard. He noticed a light flickering in a thirdfloor window. He squintedthere, a silhouette of a woman, hair tucked behind an ear, just as hed seen it countless times in his minds eye.
His heart skipped a beat, then hammered. It was Emily. He didnt even realise how hed gotten out of the car, crossed the courtyard, or entered the stairwell. The world seemed foggy, voices muffled, eyes darting. The only thing that mattered was that third floor, that particular flat.
The lift was out of order, so he rushed up the stairs, stumbling a bit, and reached the third floor, panting. Four doors lay before him. He remembered the windows positionsecond door from the left. He paused, listenednothing but his own ragged breathing.
His trembling finger pressed the doorbell. An agonising pause, then footsteps, a click, and the door swung open.
A middleaged man in a pair of cosy joggers and a Tshirt looked at him, puzzled. Can I help you?
Nick opened his mouth, but the words got stuck. Wheres
The man frowned. Who are you looking for?
Im Im looking for my wife, Emily Clarke, Nick blurted, his voice cracking. Emily Clarke.
The mans face shifted from confusion to guardedness. Theres no Emily Clarke here, he said. Youve got the wrong address.
He started to shut the door, but Nick caught the handle. Wait! I just saw her in the window. Im not crazyI saw my wife, the woman Ive been searching for the last year and a half.
The man hesitated, then opened the door wider. Behind him stood a woman, the same passenger from his taxi, cradling the sleepy toddler.
Whats going on, Dave? she asked, eyes narrowing.
This man says hes looking for a woman named Emily, the husband replied, trying to stay calm. He claims he saw her in our flat.
The womans eyebrows shot up, then softened as she recognised Nick. Youre the driver who brought us here! What are you doing here?
I saw my wife in your window, Nick repeated, stubbornly. Emily Clarke. About the same height as you, dark hair to her shoulders, a mole above her right eyebrow.
The couple exchanged a glance. The man, Dave, looked uneasy. Theres no Emily here. Its just me, my wife Laura, and our son.
Laura? Nick asked, his voice desperate. And you called her what did you say? Gali?
The woman placed a hand on his shoulder. Dave, maybe we should let him have a look? Weve got nothing to hide.
Dave shook his head. Shes not in a good state. It could upset her.
Please, Nick pleaded, his voice raw. Ive been looking for her for eighteen months. Let me just see if its her. If it isnt, Ill leave and never bother you again.
After a long, tense silence, Dave grudgingly nodded. Fine. One minute. Then you go.
They led him down a small hallway. Laura took Tommy to another room, and Dave gestured for Nick to follow. They stopped in front of a closed bedroom door.
Hold on here, Dave said. Ill warn her first.
He knocked, didnt wait for an answer, and slipped inside, closing the door behind him. From the other side, muffled voices drifted, indecipherable.
When the door finally opened, a woman in a simple nightdress sat on the edge of a neatly made bed, a chair beside her. She turned, and Nicks breath caught.
Emily. She was thinner, hair cut shorter, but unmistakable. The mole, the scar on her chin from a childhood bike fall, the green eyes that had always been hers. She stared at him, expression blank.
Emily, Nick whispered.
She shook her head gently. Youve got the wrong person. Im Laura.
Her voice was familiar, but the tone was different. Emily, Nick said, stepping closer, its me, Nick. Your husband.
She furrowed her brow, confusion flickering. Dave? Whos this?
Dave moved forward, placing a hand on her shoulder. Its alright, love. Hes a stranger.
Nick dropped to his knees beside the bed. Dont you remember? The park concert, the spilled icecream, me joking that youd have to marry me to clean my shirt. You laughed.
A fleeting shadow crossed her face, like a memory trying to surface, then vanished.
Its not me, she said, voice trembling. Im Laura. Im Im your mothers name, thats all I know.
Nick stared, heart pounding. Laura, youre not my mother. Youre my wife. You were declared missing. Ive been…
She flinched. Youre calling me a name I dont know. Why?
Because theres a mole above your right eyebrow, a scar on your chin, you hate the smell of chrysanthemums, you love strawberry icecream, youre terrified of heights, Nick rattled off details hed memorised over the years.
She touched her chin, as if feeling for the scar. That that sounds familiar, but I cant be sure.
Laura entered the room, eyes wide. Whats happening? Mum, are you okay?
Someones calling me by another name, the womanLaurasaid, looking at Nick. Hes saying Im his wife.
Dave, clearly agitated, grabbed Nicks arm. You need to leave. This is our home.
No! Nick shoved him away. I wont leave until you tell me whats going on. Why is my wife living here under a different name? Why does she call you soninlaw?
Dave sighed. We didnt do anything to you. We found her on a field by the North Bridge last March, unconscious and beaten. She woke up with no memoryno name, no address. We took her in after the hospital, gave her a place, a new identity. My mother, Galia, had died a year before, so we thought
Nicks voice cracked. You stole my wife, gave her a new life, a new name. Youve taken everything from me!
We gave her shelter when no one else would, Dave said, eyes pleading. We werent looking for you.
He went on: She was found bleeding, couldnt remember anything. The police couldnt match her fingerprints. No one reported a missing woman like her, so we assumed shed been taken in by a shelter. My wife Lauras mother had passed away, and we thought maybe she was a sign.
The boy, Tommy, stood in the doorway, clutching his toy. Whats happening, Mum?
Nothing, love, Laura whispered, wiping a tear.
Nick fell silent, the anger draining into raw hurt. He looked at EmilyLauraher eyes flickering with something like recognition, then fear.
Maybe she needs time, Dave suggested quietly. To get used to the idea that she might belong to someone else.
Nick clenched his fists. He wanted an answer now, but seeing her trembling, he realised she was lost too. Alright, he said, voice barely above a whisper. Give her time. Ill wait. Ill keep trying to remind her who I am. If she decides to come back Ill be here.
Dave released his grip. We wont stop seeing her. We just we wont force anything.
Laura looked at Nick, eyes softening. I think Id like to know you again.
A small smile crept across Nicks face, the first genuine one in months. The weight lifted a fraction.
He stepped back, glanced at the window on the third floor where the light still glowed. He raised his hand in a silent farewell, and it felt like she waved back.
Tomorrows a new day, he said, more to himself than anyone else. A fresh start. Ill go home, call Inspector Mary, tell her the case cant be closed just yet. Sometimes lost things turn up when you least expect themlike a passenger, a wrong address, a fleeting glimpse in a window.
He got back into his cab, drove away, and the rain had stopped. The sky cleared, stars peeking through. He breathed in the cool night air, finally feeling like he could fill his lungs again.
Emily was alive. Shed been found. The restpapers, identities, the tangled messcould be sorted later. For now, hed wait, hope, and maybe, just maybe, rebuild what theyd lost.
