In Love and Justice: a novel

By Alina Sabadian

WHEN OBSTACLES ARE IN THE WAY
IS LOVE ENOUGH, AND IS JUSTICE JUST AN ILLUSION….

 

*Hopeful and encouraging.*

*A story of first love, fight against corruption and social injustice, belief in one self and persistence.*

 

Soviet Union, 1986

Alexandra and Lusine are two best friends who have spent their childhood in a quiet village of Lokosovo.

Lusine dreams of a fulfilling career as a professor in medicine, while all Alexandra wants to do is make her veteran father and mother proud. Enrolled at a medical school, they move to the city of Moscow to start their new life.

Davit is a graduating law student and Lusine's brother. He knows the darker side of the city all too well, and comes across a few challenges of his own as he struggles in a desperate fight for justice.

Tolya and Zhdan are best friends studying and training in the Moscow military institute. Destiny brings them closer to Alexandra and Lusine, but there are rivals in the way of their newly formed relationships: Davit's protectiveness and the Gruzinsky family - founders of a dangerous illegal operation in Yekaterinburg, which makes its way into Moscow in the most unexpected ways.

With so many obstacles in the way, can Alexandra make her newly found relationship with Tolya work, and can Lusine come to terms with the differences between her own social status and Zhdan's?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Alina Sabadian
• Release date: May 10, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223583691

Book preview

TABLE OF CONTENTS

PREFACE 

CHAPTER ONE 

CHAPTER TWO 

CHAPTER THREE 

CHAPTER FOUR 

CHAPTER FIVE 

CHAPTER SIX 

CHAPTER SEVEN 

CHAPTER EIGHT 

CHAPTER NINE 

CHAPTER TEN 

CHAPTER ELEVEN 

CHAPTER TWELVE 

CHAPTER THIRTEEN 

CHAPTER FOURTEEN 

CHAPTER FIFTEEN 

CHAPTER SIXTEEN 

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN 

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN 

CHAPTER NINETEEN 

CHAPTER TWENTY 

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE 

CHAPTER TWENTY TWO 

CHAPTER TWENTY THREE 

CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR 

CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE 

CHAPTER TWENTY SIX 

CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN 

CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT 

CHAPTER TWENTY NINE 

CHAPTER THIRTY 

CHAPTER THIRTY ONE 

CHAPTER THIRTY TWO 

CHAPTER THIRTY THREE 

CHAPTER THIRTY FOUR 

CHAPTER THIRTY FIVE 

CHAPTER THIRTY SIX 

CHAPTER THIRTY SEVEN 

CHAPTER THIRTY EIGHT 

CHAPTER THIRTY NINE 

CHAPTER FORTY 

CHAPTER FORTY ONE 

CHAPTER FORTY TWO 

CHAPTER FORTY THREE 

CHAPTER FORTY FOUR 

EPILOGUE 

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS 

PREFACE

Dear reader,

Thank you for purchasing this First Edition of my first novel, In Love and Justice. As with every work of fiction, especially when it is your first, it is very difficult to release it into the world without some doubt of how it will be received. It is more so the case, at a time of economic and political instability like we have today.

I developed the concept for In Love and Justice in 2018 when I began a new corporate career. It was a pivotal time of significant change in my life, and it inspired me to write about a character who also had to go through similar experiences and learn about herself. Sasha’s character developed through reflection upon my family history and the changes I was going through, and eventually grew into a persona I knew I wanted to write about. Some events, particularly in book two, In Love and Duty, which is planned to be released in 2024, are so close to my heart that I want to tell them as honestly as possible through her own unique perspective.

Naturally, as with most fiction, there are events in this story, which were written purely for entertainment and as a device to explore core themes. I wanted my characters to explore what in society one might believe to be right and wrong and how this can be subjective, which is why I wanted to start this book (part one of Sasha's journey) at a time when Sasha and Tolya are still students. Some of the themes explored include: corruption, social status, justice and impact of war (specifically the 1980s war in Afghanistan).

All the characters in this novel are completely fictitious. Some characters and settings might come across as stereotypical,  this is because I wanted to use them as a creative device to bring a sense of familiarity to the average reader. There is absolutely no intention to use any stereotypes to offend any groups of people, entities, cultures, countries, or places. I feel very strongly about this, and therefore find it important to mention here.

Some stereotypes include Gruzinsky’s character, which was inspired by events in the late 1980s - early 1990s in Yekaterinburg. As per my research, around that time, Yekaterinburg was a hub for so-called ‘gang-led’ activity. There are still gravestones in the Shirokorechenskoe Cemetery to show for this. This moment in history really sparked my interest, and I developed a different plot than what I originally planned. This made an interesting, and unexpected, setting for the story, particularly as I wanted to explore the theme of justice through Davit’s character.

The name Gruzinsky and everything attached to this character was once again developed to support the plot. I don’t believe there was such a person in history, and as with all fiction, any resemblance to persons living or dead is completely accidental. While it is important to acknowledge this time and point in history, the criminal events described in this book, and entities associated with them, are also fictitious.

Another point in history which inspired parts of this novel is the engagement between Tsar Nicholas II and his wife Alexandra Feodorovna. The story of the Romanovs is fascinating, as it was the end of a very important era, but the affection between these two people in history somehow connected with me and brought to life the love Sasha and Tolya have for one another. There are rumours that the Siberian aquamarine brooch Alexandra Feodorovna received upon engagement with her husband Nicholas, was worn by her up to the day she died, and I really wanted the love between Sasha and Anatoly to grow into something just as strong, which would carry them through into the second  novel where their relationship is tested even further.

It is very hard to release a novel set in the former Soviet Union when there are so many terrible events happening in the current political setting, and I had many doubts about whether I should release it at all. Having generations of family roots spread across Crimea, Ukraine, Armenia and Russia in my family, it was a hard decision to publish. After much thought, I decided to release this book hoping that, despite the conflicts and differences which exist today not only between nations but also people, a book about love, where there is a strong message of hope and unity, was still worth sharing with the world - maybe even more so, at this very difficult time.

It is therefore with an open mind that I release this story into the world and hope that you, the reader, will enjoy it for what it is.

IMG_0175.PNG

AI Generated artwork of the Faberge Siberian aquamarine brooch gifted by Tsar Nicholas II to Alexandra Feodorovna Romanov (Princess Alix of Hesse) on their engagement.

'I opened it and took out the object inside - a small brooch.

It had a delicate golden frame and a beautiful aquamarine stone - clear like the summer sky. Embedded in the frame, glistening in the sunlight, were tiny diamonds.'

CHAPTER ONE

August 1986

ICROSSED THE sleepy roads in the village of Lokosovo. It was a place where little changed.

Empty. Disrupted with the occasional human murmurs inside nearby homes. There aren’t that many homes here.

It was a warm summer evening and the milk bottle sweat in the heat, small water drops falling on the dry earth on the road. One of them landed on my sandal, touching the top of my foot.

Even the dogs were quiet as I walked past a row of cottages. I turned the corner, passing a tall home painted in white and blue. It was the best looking building in the village, and the largest. It belonged to the shop owner.

They had a German Shepherd called Storozh[1], which was an ironic name for a dog who had lost the instincts for defending his kennel years ago. He let out a short, deep growl as I passed the gate, then leaned his heavy body lazily against the metal doors with a great thud. The movement of the gates startled me more than the growl.

The village has an ability to let its inhabitants go untroubled - not without the odd gossip or two, of course - but despite all this it is a peaceful and monotone life. Too peaceful. It is not on the dog I lay the blame for getting lazy; it is the fact that Storozh had nothing to do, and did his best adapting to the surrounding conditions.

I felt the same for many of the village folk. Most of them had inherited their home. Other families had no ancestry in these surroundings. My own parents bought this house after the war and a few years before I was born.

On the left was our street. The air was drier here compared to the river bank. I sneezed as a cloud of dust formed on the road while I walked. Then it followed; the smell of Aunt Yeva’s cooking. Every evening at six o’clock, the road filled with warm flavours of the East; magical spices and comforting bread.

Yeva and Avedis Neshanian were our neighbours and close friends to my mother and father for as long as I’ve known them. Though they were not really family, they never objected to my calling them Aunt and Uncle, and since I did so from a young age, they were used to it. We were the only two Armenian families in this village. Papa always said we’d travelled much further out to where most Armenian communities settled, but with my mother being Russian, she preferred to stay closer to her own parents who lived further East. I wouldn’t have known any different. Everyone in the village had accepted and welcomed us into their community as if we were always integral to it.

We lived a little further down the road. Unlike the large house around the corner, ours had one floor. It was spacious enough for a family of three, and what I liked most was our garden. Like most other houses, we had a metal gate - ours was dark green. I undid the latch and walked through. Mother was already in the garden. She didn’t notice me enter, but I saw her take a bucket of drinking water from the well, carrying it inside the veranda.

‘I have the groceries.’ I said, walking past the open veranda door.

‘Thank you, Sasha.’ She wiped her hands on her apron. ‘Give me the bread and take the milk to the kitchen.’

My full name is Alexandra. Though a common name, Papa’s intention was to name me after the last Russian Empress. He had an odd fondness for the Romanovs. He told me about the revolution and found that part of Russian history intriguing. It must be the thought of change and resistance that made him so fascinated with it.

‘Where’s Papa?’

‘He’s in the living room. The food is ready. You can bring your father with you.’

I left Mother to set the table. She rushed around the room, picking up cutlery and setting it down again in a different place. There was a lot of food served on to plates ready to arrange. More than normal, which meant that we were expecting guests. Outside the veranda was a narrow pathway and an open front porch.

The door led into our kitchen. I put the milk away and went into the living room. As expected, Papa had the television on which he often watched until he fell asleep.

‘Papa. Papa.’

I tapped his shoulder softly, trying not to startle him. ‘Mother prepared the food - let’s go outside to eat. Uncle Avedis and Aunt Yeva will be here soon.’

I lifted his head a little. He was more awake now, and my job of getting him up was going to be easier. I pulled out the folded wheelchair which rested against the wall and set it up beside him.

‘Here, let me help you. Hold on.’ I let him put his weight on me. He tried to use both of his arms and his good leg to stand up. Together, we got him in comfortably. He pulled his right leg over the foot rest while I took a cushion and put it behind him to straighten out his back.

‘It’s feeling better today,’ he said, smiling.

We all knew his leg would never get its feeling back, but losing hope wasn’t the answer. Mother said he broke it from the hip down in Berlin when they served there during the Russian occupation after the war; she as a nurse and he a medic. The military service had left its mark and nothing the best doctors could do helped. A surgeon operated it before their wedding, but soon age and strain took the life out of it, and now they can no longer operate, leaving Papa in a wheelchair.

‘What have you been keeping yourself busy with?’ I asked, switching off the television.

‘Just another evening news report.’ He replied. ‘Politics!’ He rolled his eyes and shook his hand in dismissal. ‘There are more important things.’

I took Papa outside and down the ramp on to the porch.

‘There you are’ said Mother. ‘Sasha. Get the glasses.’ She pushed the wheelchair behind the table while I helped her get a water jug and some glasses.

Mother prepared many things, not all of them of Armenian origin. Large pieces of Lavash[2], a rice pilau dish, seven bowls of borsht[3] as a starter and a large bowl of salad which was right in front of Papa.

Taking advantage of its position, he leaned forward to snatch a small tomato from the plate. Noticing what he did, Mother moved the bowl out of his reach - just in time before he could complete the act.

‘Your mother takes things so seriously,’ Papa whispered, as she turned away.

‘No eating before the others come,’ she said, amused by Papa’s indiscreet grin. ‘And here they are!’

We heard the gate open and close again. I recognised Aunt Yeva’s voice, telling her son Davit to leave his younger sister, Lusine, alone. Lusine answered Aunt Yeva back with a response I couldn’t make out but it made Uncle Avedis laugh - a hearty, kind and warm laugh.

‘Let me bring them inside,’ said Mother.

I left my place next to Papa and moved to sit next to Lusine. We were both seven years old when they moved here. Uncle Avedis was a teacher at a local school. We were in the same class together. Ever since they came, nothing would separate us.

‘I think a toast is in order,’ said Papa, clearing his throat now that everyone was well settled at the table. ‘To our beautiful daughters who are embarking on a brand new journey. A journey of adulthood and independence.’

‘We are so proud - of both of you - for securing your place at the Moscow Medical School,’ added Uncle Avedis.

‘We are going to miss you both... so much...’ said Papa, lowering his glass.

‘To you, girls - for making your old parents proud,’ Uncle Avedis lifted his glass. Everyone took a sip and ate.

Aunt Yeva spoke about her college years, reminiscing in excitement. Although a traditional family, their line of women have always been dedicated to getting a good education, something Lusine was extremely proud of.

Papa fell deeper into his own thoughts as he listened. What was he thinking about? The past? War? Our life here? Or maybe how different things were going to be while I’m gone.

Dinner and conversation drew to a close and everyone went inside the house.

‘We’ll go with Sasha,’ said Lusine.

The three of us went to my room. We found a deck of cards on top of the Russian stove in the dining room. The stove was a unique feature, giving our home its traditional cottage feel. It was already there when my parents bought the house. Villagers used it for baking many years ago, but now Mother warmed it occasionally to keep the house warm on winter evenings. I admired the charm and character it brought to the house.

We were in my bedroom. Lusine sat on the bed with me, Davit on a chair across the tiny, candlelit room.

I let Davit and Lusine start a game of Durak[4] and watched them as they tried to defeat one another. I wasn’t a skilled card player but didn’t mind playing for fun. Every winter when there was a snowstorm, Papa and I would stay inside and play for hours, while Mother made potato dumplings - a favourite dish of his.

The game carried on. Lusine won twice. Defeated, Davit packed away the deck of cards.

‘You always give up too easily!’ teased Lusine.

They talked while I listened. I watched their shadows behind them, flickering. Larger than them and stretched across the wall and the ceiling. It was like watching a black and white movie; their figures were moving, and they drew me in, deeper and deeper into thought.

‘What about you Sasha?’

‘What?..’

‘You’re doing it again!’ said Lusine. ‘Stop daydreaming! We are finally getting out of here.’ Her long, curly black hair made her look like a mysterious nymph from a faraway place. Her large, dark eyes reflected in the candlelight.

I smiled.

‘Maybe that’s what she’s thinking about, Lutya’ said Davit. I appreciated the defence.

Sometimes Davit reminded me of Papa. There was a secret, hidden part of him, which was only revealed to Lusine and me. On the rare occasions when this happened, his serious façade disappeared, and he was different.

‘Just imagine how our new lives will be!’ interrupted Lusine. ‘You could be like your father, Sasha. A well-known doctor saving people’s lives. I will publish medical papers and research. Soon my name will be the most famous in all of Eastern Europe!’ Lusine’s eyes sparkled with excitement as she said this.

‘Now look who’s dreaming,’ mocked Davit. ‘It’s difficult to get there, Lutya. Especially if you don’t have the means.’

‘I have this,’ she pointed to her head jokingly

‘An empty head full of hopes,’ mocked Davit. He gave his sister a grin, as she threw one of my pillows at him in response, ‘and not a penny in your pocket,’ he added, shielding himself.

We laughed. We always did. Ever since I’ve lived here, no matter how difficult things were, we always laughed about it. Still, Davit was already a student in Moscow, and this time he might be right. Maybe, just maybe, talent and smarts are not enough.

‘Well, you’ve already bored us with your dream before, Davit,’ dismissed Lusine. ‘Please don’t bore us with your view of reality! Things will change. Those who want something hard enough always get it.’

Davit threw the pillow back at Lusine. He looked serious again. I guess two years in law school would do that.

‘At what cost? If only you knew what things are really like out there,’ he replied. ‘But you will learn, won’t you!’ he teased again.

‘Enough, Davit - just let us dream!’

He wanted to respond, but the bedroom door opened.

It was Aunt Yeva.

Her slender frame and long curly hair made the most intriguing shadow on the wall. It came to life as a sturdy tree, weaving its solid branches around the corners and edges of the room.

‘It’s time to go, you two. Your father is calling you back.’

‘See you in Moscow!’ whispered Lusine.

‘Good night,’ said Davit. He pulled his sister off the bed, and they followed each other out of the room.

‘Have a safe trip tomorrow,’ said Aunt Yeva. ‘Good night.’

I stayed on the bed, listening to them as they said goodbye to my parents. Tomorrow was my last day here. I changed my clothes and put what I was wearing folded on the chair. I looked around my room. The pillows, the bed, the shelf with my books - classics mainly picked out by my parents. From tomorrow, everything will change.

I blew out the candle to make it all disappear into the darkness.

We are eighteen. Full of dreams, hopes and ambitions which we know are far beyond us, but we allow ourselves to see them and dream, anyway.

CHAPTER TWO

‘D EVUSHKA, DEVUSHKA [5].’

I half opened my eyes, finding myself in a small train cabin and a woman in her thirties, tugging on my arm lightly so as not to startle me.

‘We are approaching Moscow soon,’ she said, attempting to control a small girl who refused to get dressed. 

I thanked her, both surprised and grateful that she remembered where I was going.

I raised myself up, sitting on the side of the bed. I’ve been on the train for over thirty hours, trying to sleep through most of it. The table was already laid for breakfast, curtains pulled back wide open to let in the bright sunlight. I checked my wristwatch next to my pillow. We were due to arrive in Moscow at 11 a.m.

‘What time is it?’ I asked. The small hand on the dial was pointing at the number seven.

‘Nine’ the woman’s hands were tugging on her daughter’s shoe laces. It seems she finally allowed her mother to dress her in a white cotton T-shirt and denim shorts.

I forgot to adapt my watch to the time-zone.

‘Do you mind if I change here?’ I asked.

‘Of course not. Where else will you go? Don’t mind us.’

I looked up at the bunk bed above me.

‘He got down at Yekaterinburg. You’re fine, it’s just us and this little tornado - please Toma, Toma! Will you stop bouncing on the bed and sit down for your breakfast?’

I pushed my curtain in again and took out the clothes which I had neatly folded away into my hand luggage and changed. Soon my cream nightdress was exchanged for a floral skirt and a white vest with a crochet cardigan. Folding the nightdress away neatly, I slipped on a pair of flat sandals, grabbed a wash bag to brush my teeth and opened the cabin door.

The corridor was carpeted in red, and the matching window curtains were pulled open to let in the daylight. The nearest washroom was just a few rooms down. Luckily, I found it empty.

On my way back, I saw the conductor checking for the tickets. The train moved fast, so much that everything passed in a blur. I took a moment to look out of the window and notice the towns we were passing.

‘Tickets! Your ticket Miss?’

‘It’s in the coupé,’ I said, walking in that direction with him.

We reached the cabin doors, sliding them open. I reached for my handbag to take out the ticket.

‘What direction are you heading in?’

‘Moscow.’

‘And you madam, are you travelling together?’ he asked my neighbour and her daughter.

‘Just me and this little one... Here-’ she handed over the same slips.

He examined the tickets and punched them. He looked at my ticket and at then once again at me before handing it back.

‘We will be there in an hour.’

‘Good day,’ said my neighbour, as the conductor walked out sliding the door closed behind him. With him gone, she sat unpacking a small bag as I made my bed.

‘You must be famished. Join us for breakfast?’

Not having eaten anything the evening before, I nodded and sat down on my side of the table.

‘I remember my first time travelling alone.’ She picked up a small cup, filling it with water from her thermos and handed it to me. ‘What’s in Moscow?’

‘I’m starting my first year at the medical school.’

She smiled appreciatively. I noticed her tired complexion - drained from the journey - yet behind the fatigue, I could see a kind, beautiful face.

‘A nurse! Toma, here wants to be a nurse when she grows up. Although sometimes I think she should be a gymnast... or a monkey!’

We both laughed. Toma, who was more occupied with trying to climb up the top bunk, was not at all concerned with what was being discussed.

‘She’s definitely full of energy,’ I agreed.

There was a knock on the door. It was opened by a trolley lady.

‘Breakfast, ladies? We have hot pirozhki[6] with potato, meat and cabbage. Home made, of course; there’s also tea, coffee and sparkling mineral water.’

On our table there was half a loaf of bread and some dry salami. Toma, who was now hanging off the bunk after having successfully completing her climb, looked excited at the smell of hot food.

‘Yes, please. One of each.’

I reached for some change which Mother left in my purse. It wasn’t much, but it would have to do.

The smell was enticing enough even for Toma, who quickly climbed back down and sat next to her mum as if she had always been there.

‘Here you go. This one?’ I handed her the one filled with potato. She took in the aroma, waving her little hand around like an experienced chef.

‘Thank you,’ said her mum, smiling, ‘by the way, if you need anything in Moscow, you just let me know. We will stay there for a few months with a friend of mine. Here, take my number. My name is Natasha.’

She wrote her number on a small piece of paper, which she ripped out of her old pocket phone book and passed it to me.

‘Do you have anyone meeting you at the station?’

I shook my head.

‘I have a number for the landlady.’ I also had a name and an address, but not much more.

‘I’m sure they’re expecting you. I’ll show you where you can call her when we get down.’

I stowed away the small piece of paper carefully into the inside pocket of my handbag. Toma had already devoured her pirog and sat uncommonly still, watching the train pass a small town outside the window. Natasha and I resumed our breakfast. Sitting together in silence, we watched the endless landscapes pass us by as we sped on closer to our destination.

The last half an hour passed by quickly enough. We had just enough time to make the beds and finish our breakfast before it was time for the train to pull up. The station stirred with life as people moved quickly from one platform to another, not really paying much attention to where they were going. There were long queues at the ticket office, and it wasn’t clear where the meeting point was for those arriving.

‘We’re here. Now, let’s find you a pay phone to