My Actifit Report Card: February 9 2025

I hesitated before going out. It seemed simple—get dressed, take my daughter, and go. But fear held me back. She wanted to go so much that I couldn’t refuse.

The air was cool, smelling of damp pavement and something bitter. I felt tense, always looking around, listening. Fear never left me. The metro was crowded—people returning from work, teenagers laughing. I watched them, trying to remember what it felt like to go somewhere without anxiety.

When we reached the city center, Kharkiv was glowing. Lights hung from trees, wrapped around streetlights, shimmered on buildings. Despite the war, the city was alive. People strolled, took photos, sat on benches. My daughter was excited, running ahead, while I stayed on edge, bracing for an air raid siren, a distant explosion. Even among the lights, I couldn’t relax.

She stopped at a glowing reindeer, admiring it. She loved the decorations, the festive feeling. Watching her, I knew this was why I pushed myself to go out—because she needed it.

We wandered through the square and park. People laughed, drank hot coffee, rode scooters. I tried to feel the joy they did, but inside, I was empty. My daughter chattered happily, pointing at decorations, telling me stories. I listened, but my thoughts drifted.

When it got colder, we headed home. She was happy, and that was what mattered. I still felt the same heaviness. Maybe that’s just how it’s going to be for a long time.