Prologue
Carly usually didn't go perusing through antique shops; The dust and the smell somehow didn't appeal to her. This particular morning Carly jogged around the park instead of through the park. You see, jogging through the park had the advantage of people not being able to see you, jogging around the park meant people wanted to talk to you and socialize. The stores across the street were what you would typically see in a city, a coffee shop, a corner store, a little diner and an antique shop.
Carly entered the antique shop on impulse. Thirty minutes later she still didn't know what she was doing in there. She was currently browsing through some boxes in the back that the shop owner seemed to have dubbed as insignificant. There were old broken frames and journals with their pages half torn out. There was even an umbrella with it's spokes sticking out of the faded blue cloth. However there was one journal that if not for the old age would have been in an almost pristine form. It was leather bound, with a pocket in the front, none of the pages where ripped out. It seemed every page had been written on. In the pocket were old faded pictures of what appeared to be a couple. The woman had milky skin, what appeared to be red lipstick, Blonde curls that were meticulously placed and an angular yet inviting face. She wore dresses that gave her angular square shoulders, cinched at her waist and fell to just above her knees. The man looked significantly taller then her. He had a defined jaw and a square face with Cary Grant-like hair. He had the face of someone who would kill you for looking at them wrong. But his eyes looked warm and gentle. He always seemed to wear suits. They made a very handsome couple. There were a few more pictures of the woman with what appeared to be their children. Twins, a boy and a girl. Carly flipped to the front cover. There on the first page was an inscription
To my beloved Margaret. If ever you have to read this, it is because i am already dead. I have betrayed the mother land by falling in love. I gladly gave my life for this love. I promise i will love you, even beyond the grave. -Nikolai Morozov
How bittersweet Carly thought. When she walked out of the shop she was the new owner of the journal that had once belonged to Nikolai Morozov