[1982/1/1]
[Russia, Siberia]
[Novosibirsk]
[1st Person POV]
"Ah, it's hard to believe it's already been two years since Ivan was born," I said, a wave of nostalgia washing over me as I leaned back on the worn sofa. My eyes followed my son, Ivan, who was engrossed in a colorful children's storybook spread out on the carpet.
"Yeah, time sure flies by quickly," Irina responded, her voice warm and full of affection. She walked over to Ivan, her cheerful smile as bright and unchanging as it had been two years ago.
"Ivan, come to mama. It's time for your milk," Irina said, her tone tender and inviting. She settled down beside him on the soft rug, and Ivan gently closed his book before shuffling over to her.
"Mama," Ivan called out happily as he climbed onto her lap. He nestled in comfortably, his small hands resting on her lap, before starting to suckle. Her breasts were perfectly proportioned, neither too large nor too small, offering just the right amount of nourishment.
"Guess I'll take a walk around the city," I announced, rising from my seat with a stretch. I walked toward the door, the cool air of the outside already calling to me.
"I'll be back soon," I said over my shoulder before stepping out of the living room.
"I'll be back real fast," I said before heading out.
"Alright," Irina replied from the living room.
###
"Ivan's birthday is coming up... I wonder what I should get for his 2nd birthday," I muttered, looking up at the clear, blue sky. There were no clouds, nothing to block the peaceful and beautiful view.
As I walked down the charming streets of Novosibirsk, I couldn't help but glance to my left where a dark alley caught my eye.
"Ah, that alley, huh? It's still here after all these years... I remember going there to gamble illegally," I muttered, thinking back to my past when I used to gamble a lot.
"Well, that's all behind me now... I've quit," I said to myself as I started to walk away. But then, memories of winning large sums of money came flooding back, making me stop and look back at the alley.
"N-no, I shouldn't," I muttered to myself, struggling to suppress the old cravings I had buried years ago. The familiar itch, dormant that I suppressed since I fell in love with Irina, was starting to stir again, and I was finding it hard to ignore.
"Just one try, one time won't be too much, would it?" I whispered, battling with my inner turmoil. My mind and heart seemed to be in agreement, whispering to me in unison, "What can go wrong? Just one match won't hurt, right?"
"No... I'll get addicted again," I said, trying to convince myself as I began to walk away. But my thoughts were already racing ahead, and the allure of gambling was pulling me in. I could feel my heartbeat quickening with every step as I approached the dark alley, the tension palpable in the chilly air.
*Badum*
"Welco— oh, if it isn't Arthur... How come you remember this place? Did you get lost?" The clerk at the reception desk greeted me with a teasing tone. We shared a bit of a friendship; I was a regular here a decade ago, and his familiar face brought back a wave of memories.
"No, I'm not lost," I said, my voice steady despite the conflict inside. "I came here just to try my luck... just one try," I mumbled the last part so softly that it was almost inaudible.
"Hoh? Alright then, Arthur, go for a win," the clerk said, his voice filled with encouragement as he gestured for me to proceed. I nodded appreciatively and walked forward, my steps growing more determined despite the lingering unease.
###
'Arthur, huh? Haha, I still remember the day he first walked in here,' the clerk thought with a hint of nostalgia. A smirk played on his lips as he recalled how Arthur had acted ten years ago—confident and tough, claiming he would only play once. Yet, he ended up betting all his money and lost every bit of it, not even recouping a fraction.
The clerk's smirk grew as he pondered Arthur's return. "I wonder what will happen now," he muttered to himself, his curiosity piqued. "I want to see if you've changed after getting married, or if you're still the same old gambling addict, Arthur Petrov." The smirk remained on his face, a blend of amusement and anticipation reflecting in his eyes.
###
I took a seat at an empty poker table in the back of the smoky room. The dealer, a burly man with a full sleeve of tattoos, glanced at me and gave a nod as I settled into my chair. The other players were a rough crowd—men with scarred faces, missing teeth, and beady eyes that seemed to have forgotten what daylight looked like. The air was thick with the smell of sweat and stale smoke.
I looked down at my stack of chips, totaling 1,000 rubles. I took a deep breath, trying to calm the flutter of nerves in my chest.
"You ready to lose your money? Kid?" The man next to me sneered, showing off his yellowed teeth in the dim, flickering light of the room.
"Let's see," I replied, forcing my voice to remain steady despite the tension.
The game began, and I focused on my cards: a pair of sevens. Not a stellar hand, but definitely not the worst. As the first round of betting commenced, I matched the initial bets, keeping my face as impassive as possible. Inside, my heart raced, but I made sure not to let any sign of anxiety slip through.
The dealer then revealed the flop: a seven, a two, and a king. My luck seemed to turn as I saw three of a kind. Feeling a surge of confidence, I pushed a stack of chips into the center of the table. The clink of chips against the felt echoed softly as I made my bet. The other players responded—some with hesitation, others without a second thought—matching my bet or folding.
The turn card was revealed: another two. I was stunned—this gave me a full house. My luck seemed incredible. I decided to bet again, this time with more aggression. The rough guy with the yellow teeth narrowed his eyes at me, his gaze full of suspicion.
"You're bluffing," he growled, his voice laced with distrust.
I shrugged, trying to appear relaxed and unfazed. "Maybe."
The dealer then placed the river card on the table: a queen. My hand was undeniably strong now. I pushed the last of my chips into the pot, the stack sliding across the green felt with a satisfying clatter. The guy with the yellow teeth hesitated for a moment, his eyes flickering between me and the pot, before finally matching my bet. The other players folded, their expressions ranging from frustration to relief.
"Show your cards," the dealer instructed, his tone neutral but expectant.
I laid my cards down with a confident smile. My heart raced with anticipation as the guy with the yellow teeth swore under his breath, throwing his cards onto the table in defeat. He had two pairs—kings and queens. I had won the hand.
The chips worth 1,000 rubles slid across the table toward me. I stacked them neatly, feeling a rush of exhilaration as I settled into the game. I was in it now, fully engaged. The next few rounds blurred together in a whirlwind of cards, chips, and tense faces. I won some hands, lost others, but I managed to hold my own and keep my balance.
Then came the hand that changed everything. I was dealt an ace and a king, both of spades—a powerful starting hand. I decided to bet heavily, pushing a substantial stack of chips into the pot. The others eyed the growing pile of chips with a mix of eagerness and apprehension, their eyes gleaming with anticipation as they matched my bet.
The flop was dealt: a ten of spades, a jack of spades, and a nine of hearts. I stared at the cards, feeling a rush of excitement. I had both a straight draw and a flush draw. My heart pounded with anticipation. I decided to bet again, pushing my advantage with a bold move.
The turn card was revealed: the queen of spades. I had the straight, and I was still hoping for the flush. Feeling confident, I pushed all my remaining chips into the pot, watching them pile up in front of me. The other players matched my bet, their faces showing signs of tension and concentration.
The river card was dealt: a five of clubs. I didn't hit the flush, but I still had a straight. I felt a surge of confidence as I prepared to see how the hand would play out. The guy with the yellow teeth, however, wore a grin that made me uneasy.
"All in," he declared with a self-assured tone, sliding his remaining chips into the center of the table. The chips clinked and scattered as they landed.
I swallowed hard, the weight of the moment settling on me. I matched his bet, pushing my remaining chips into the pot. The dealer nodded, signaling that it was time to reveal our hands.
"Show your cards," he said, his voice steady.
I laid my cards on the table, my heart racing with each passing second. The guy with the yellow teeth's grin widened as he revealed his hand: a ten and a queen of clubs. He had a full house. My stomach dropped as I realized I had lost the hand. The chips worth 1,000 rubles were swept away from me, and the guy with the yellow teeth chuckled triumphantly as he gathered his winnings.
I sat there, stunned and disheartened, as the reality of my loss sank in. The dealer's voice broke the silence with a mocking edge, "Better luck next time," he said.
I couldn't believe it. "I... lost? Haha, it must be a fluke!" I thought, trying to convince myself. The initial success had given me hope, but now the crushing defeat made me doubt. "I won the first time, so it must be a fluke. I can win if I just play one more time," I reasoned internally. The gambling addiction I had worked so hard to suppress was coming to the surface again, pulling me back into the dangerous allure of the game.