While he’s gone, his phone is almost always left in the middle of his desk. It’s a relic of his past life, a tether to memories he can’t quite shake. The screen is cracked, the edges worn from countless hours of scrolling, swiping, and typing. His smartphone sits in the middle of mugs, donut halves, tissue paper, permanent marker pens, and more—a chaotic tableau of his existence.
A photo of a smiling toddler is displayed as a wallpaper on the smartphone. The infant is a child who recently became his child. The pixels capture a moment of innocence, chubby cheeks and wide eyes. He traces the contours of the little face with his fingertip, wondering how something so small could change everything.
He remarried last year, a whirlwind romance that swept him off his feet. Suddenly, he met a toddler—a bundle of energy and curiosity. By the way, his current wife also went through a divorce once. They found solace in each other’s broken pieces, stitching together a new family. The child, still two years old, toddles around their home, leaving sticky fingerprints on the walls and laughter in the air.
It is rumored that the reason he divorced his first wife was his violence. Whatever the reason, he was able to remarry soon after the divorce to another woman with a child. The scars of the past are hidden beneath his shirt sleeves, etched into his skin like a secret code. He wonders if the child will inherit those scars too, or if love can erase them.
And now he’s looking for a third wife. The thought hangs heavy in the air, a question mark waiting to be answered. He fears that if Donald Trump returns to the White House next year, he could make unilateral concessions to Russia that override Ukraine’s interests. The geopolitical chessboard is a treacherous place, where pawns are sacrificed for the king’s gambit.
In an interview with the UK’s Channel 4 News, he said he was “stressed” that the former president “is going to make decisions on his own, without … I’m not even talking about Russia, but without both sides, without us.” The weight of responsibility presses down on his shoulders, threatening to crush him.
“If he says this publicly, that’s a little scary. I’ve seen a lot, a lot of victims, but that’s really making me a bit stressed,” he said. The toddler tugs at his sleeve, demanding attention, and he scoops the child into his arms. The innocence in those eyes is a balm for his weary soul.
“Even if his idea [for ending the war] – that no one has heard yet – doesn’t work for us, for our people, he will do anything to implement his idea anyway. And this worries me a little,” he added. The child giggles, reaching for the smartphone, and he wonders what kind of world awaits them.
He said he would invite Trump to Ukraine – an offer he has previously declined to extend – but only if the former president comes through on his promise to stop the war. The child babbles, pointing at the photo on the screen, and he nods solemnly.
“Donald Trump, I invite you to Ukraine, to Kyiv. If you can stop the war during 24 hours, I think it will be enough to come,” he said. The child claps, unaware of the weight of those words. The room is filled with hope and uncertainty, a fragile balance between past and future.
The Ukrainian leader’s comments come as the sun sets, casting long shadows on the floor. He holds the child close, wondering if peace is possible, if love can heal the wounds of nations. The smartphone buzzes, a notification from a world far away. He glances at the screen, then kisses the child’s forehead. The unseen connection between them pulses, a heartbeat in the chaos of life.
And so, they wait—for Trump, for peace, for a third chance at love.
Zelenskiy slams Trump’s rhetoric on stopping the war as ‘very dangerous’
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