SOUL HARVEST

Read the first chapter

Chapter 1: So This Needs to Be Fixed?

“I’m a woman, Dennis! A wo-man!” Karina slurred with a drunken grin, twirling her finger in the air, trying to formulate a thought. “A woman with her own… uh… come on, help me out here—you always loved showing off that big brain of yours!”

“With her own needs?” I suggested, studying my wife like she was some brash stranger who’d wandered onto that bar stool instead of the woman I’d been living with for two years—sharing a bed even longer than that.

“How crude,” Karina made a disgusted face and went quiet, her eyebrows scrunching together as she tried to formulate a thought. Then she threw her head back proudly: “Animals have needs, Dennis! But I’m a spiritual crea… creat… being…” Her tongue was getting all twisted up, though she wasn’t that hammered.

“Spiritual being, gotcha,” I said indifferently.

“You don’t get anything!” Karina slammed back her Margarita like it was medicine and started waving her cocktail glass around: “Hey! May I have one more please?”

“Yes, you may,” I nodded, knocked back my whiskey shot and filled it right back up. The bartender had been smart enough to leave the whole bottle within arm’s reach.

“Yes, exactly—a spiritual being! And I have desires!”

Desires. Yeah, I’d figured that much out. Karina was basically constructed entirely out of desires. “I want this, sweetie,” “I want that, baby.” And good old sweetie here, brimming with testosterone, would go running off to make it all happen. Back then I thought that whole charade was real love, that I wasn’t some cuckold being milked dry but a knight performing noble quests for his lady.

That’s exactly why we’d ended up here on this tropical island—because Karina wanted it. If it had just been the two of us, some romantic getaway, maybe I could’ve stomached my boss’s irritation about yet another one of my unpaid vacations. I could feel in my gut that I was walking on the edge, and despite being supposedly indispensable, the old man’s patience was running thin. Pretty soon he’d toss me out on my ass, and I’d be lucky if I got to quit instead of getting fired.

But we hadn’t come alone. Honestly, I would’ve rather traveled with my mother-in-law than deal with this—the personal development group called “Elevation.” About three months back, Karina got completely hooked on this new-age garbage after finding some online guru named Jeremy, who claimed to be a cosmic energy practitioner and master of “energy-informational influences.” Complete bullshit, but expensive. Between this Jeremy character and his “Elevation” seminars, money was pouring out of my pocket into a black hole at cosmic speed.

“Well? Why aren’t you saying anything, Rokotov?!”

Oh, here we go. When Karina started using my last name, I knew I was in deep shit—and there definitely wouldn’t be any makeup sex tonight. But whatever, the Rubicon was crossed. No point trying to fix this now. Karina had skillfully trained me and never made peace on the same day as a fight. The script was always the same: I was supposed to first realize I could lose such a “treasure,” then ask forgiveness, and then she’d think about it. Problem was, I used to either not see the manipulation or pretend I didn’t notice it. Now I could see right through her tricks. Or maybe she’d just squeezed everything useful out of me—residency papers, a job, a car, tuition for her international relations degree—and I’d become so worthless that she didn’t even need to pretend anymore. Found herself a higher-priority man—the spiritual Jeremy.

But it didn’t make it any easier. Just made me angrier at myself for trading something real for a fake.

I looked at Karina and gave her a questioning nod:

“So finish your thought then. You being a woman isn’t exactly breaking news—shocking revelation, sure, but not unexpected. And yeah, you have desires and needs. So what’s your point? What are you actually trying to tell me?”

“That you need to respect my interests! I have them too, you know! You’re completely authoritarian—you steamroll over me constantly. I feel like I’m living somebody else’s life!”

“So this needs to be fixed?” I said it dead serious and leaned in slightly. Her mouth fell open, she started blinking in confusion—for once in her life, this fight wasn’t following her carefully scripted playbook.

Since losing her cushy setup was scary, Karina quickly pivoted:

“You’re living in the stone age, Rokotov! This is the twenty-first century—the age of equality! Women have the exact same rights and opportunities as men, understand? And if I kissed guru Jeremy, it was only because I! Wanted! To!”

Right, the kiss. That’s where this whole clusterfuck started. Turns out the guru was a real smooth operator who’d organized a group hugging session. I’d told them to count me out and stretched out on a nearby lounge chair to watch the show—about twenty deluded idiots in bathing suits started by hugging each other, then moved on to kissing. Some just pecked cheeks, others went full lip-lock. Karina grimaced her way through the ritual with everyone else, but when she got to guru Jeremy, she latched onto him like some starving vampire finding a fresh jugular. Pretty sure there was tongue involved.

It was like someone ripped the blindfold right off my eyes. I could practically feel the horns sprouting from my head—and they weren’t just little nubs anymore, they were growing full antlers.

Enough.

I didn’t lose my shit right there in front of everyone. I dragged Karina to the bar to clarify what the hell that was and how I was supposed to take it. The suggestion to “respect her interests” didn’t sit well with me.

“Listen, Karina…” I began gently. “Pull another stunt like that and I’m canceling your credit card and filing for divorce. And your precious guru Jeremy? I’m gonna rearrange his face.”

My completely out-of-character response shocked Karina, and she retreated into herself for a long time. While she was processing, I took a look around.

The bar sat right in the middle of the swimming pool—this little island where alcohol flowed in streams. People were sipping cocktails and puffing on cigars, getting to know each other.

All the other pools shut down once the sun went down, but this one in the “adults only” section—plus another one over at the nightclub—stayed open twenty-four seven. They had security guards, medics, and lifeguards keeping watch to make sure drunk tourists didn’t start throwing punches or accidentally drown themselves.

Some folks had claimed spots on the island like us, others were standing at the bar right there in the water. On the other side, kids were squealing and splashing around, but over here mesmerizing music played while a Filipino bartender batted her eyelashes and mixed a cocktail for some guy built like a weightlifter.

Yeah, I’d caved and let myself get talked into this trip. I’d been hoping to patch things up with Karina, not have it out with her. I thought maybe the guru actually knew his shit and could sort out whatever was rattling around in my wife’s head. And here we were. I used to think Karina’s hypersexuality was just her way of getting attention—I was even flattered that other guys found her attractive. When she’d cross the line, I’d chalk it up to her being young and stupid.

“I’ll be right back,” she said, rising from that tall bar stool and, without letting go of her stemmed glass, swaying her hips as she lowered herself into the water and headed away from me. She probably sensed things were getting heated and figured it was better not to fan the flames. She hadn’t squeezed all the juice out of Dennis Rokotov yet—after my first divorce, I’d rented us gorgeous apartment, but I’d flat-out refused to buy property with a mortgage. At least I’d had enough brains left not to chain myself to debt until I was absolutely sure about wife number two.

Watching her wade away, I noticed that those long legs in those ridiculously skimpy bikini bottoms and those gorgeous curves didn’t stir anything anymore—not in the heart, not in the soul. Not even down below, nothing like before when the blood would rush there so hard my brain would shut off.

Karina and I had been married almost two years, and we’d been hooking up for two years before that. The whole time, she’d been methodically prying me away from my family. Every affair she’d justify by wringing her hands and claiming it was all because of her boundless love for me and her desire to end our relationship at any cost.

I still remembered the day Svetlana took my hand, sat me down at the table, and looked me straight in the eye while telling me she knew I had a lover. The relief I felt was overwhelming—mixed with crushing guilt, like I’d finally carried out a long-pronounced sentence. I’d betrayed the one person who actually loved me. Betrayed my whole life. Ivan was six back then; now he’s eight.

What a moron. Got completely distracted by pretty eyes and big tits, never noticed there was nothing inside. Would’ve been one thing if Karina at least respected me, but she was just playing a part—passionately at first, then with less and less conviction. Meanwhile, I kept telling myself you can’t fake that kind of connection, that everything between us was genuine…

A video call snapped me out of my gloomy thoughts. From the caller ID photo, Svetlana smiled sadly, lips pressed together. I really didn’t want to answer in my current headspace, but Ivan had probably asked her to call.

“Hey, Svetlana,” I said when my ex-wife’s face filled the screen.

“Hey there. How’s everything going? How’s the weather in the Philippines?”

“Could be better—the weather, everything else,” I ran my fingers through my hair and let out a long breath. “Is Ivan around?”

“Just picked him up from soccer practice. He spent the entire car ride home asking to call you—barely made it through the front door. Here, I’m passing you over.”

The camera angle shifted—I caught a glimpse of the living room walls, our photo together in a frame on the bookshelf—and then my son’s grinning face took over the entire screen.

He blurted out excitedly:

“Dad, you’re not gonna believe this! I scored two goals today! Two! And nobody else even got one!”

“That’s awesome, son. You’re amazing. I’m so proud of you.”

“You’re proud of me, but then you…” He hesitated, then blurted out: “Dad, tell me honestly…”

“What?”

“Do you really love me?”

“More than life itself.”

“I believe you,” he said seriously. “But then I don’t get why you went to the ocean without us.”

I heard Svetlana’s voice from somewhere off-camera: “Ivan, I already explained this to you…” But obviously mom’s explanation wasn’t enough. The kid needed to hear it from me. And I pictured what it would be like if Svetlana and Ivan were here with me instead of Karina, and it hit me so hard there was a lump in my throat.

“I’m sorry, son… I’m so sorry. I’d give up everything to have you and mom here with me right now, but…”

The camera started shaking. Holding the phone, Ivan ran toward his mother—she always stepped away when I talked to him.

“Mom! Mom, did you hear that? We should fly out to see dad! He said—”

The connection died.

I spent the next few minutes trying to get my phone’s Wi-Fi working again. Eventually I managed to reconnect, but none of the websites would load. Mobile data was down too. So much for cellular service… That’s the downside of budget paradise—civilization only reaches some of these Philippine islands in bits and pieces.

More than anything, I wanted to say screw this whole unplanned vacation, change my flight to the earliest departure, and get out of here. Back to my son. Back to Svetlana—sure, the physical spark had fizzled out over seven years of marriage, but I’d grown so attached to her that leaving had felt like cutting off my own arm.

The decision came easily. Screw Karina and her guru—I was getting out of here. She could stay with her guru. I’d file for divorce and try to win back Svetlana and Ivan. If she’d forgive me and take me back. And if not… well, then I’d gotten exactly what I deserved. I’d swear off women entirely and focus on my career.

The moment I made that choice, everything became so easy that without any of guru Jeremy’s trainings, I felt genuine enlightenment. It literally became light inside.

I grabbed the whiskey bottle and tilted it—a little less than half left. Perfect. Just enough to toast my freedom without getting completely shit-faced.

After settling my tab with the smiling Filipino bartender, I jumped into the pool and started swimming, pushing off with my legs while holding the bottle above my head. I spotted Karina sitting on the pool edge next to the bright-eyed guru Jeremy—damn him—surrounded by three women of varying degrees of wear and tear. I was in a goofy mood, wanted to sing “You were beautiful, as Jesus“—but I held back, just waved the bottle at them, noting with satisfaction how Karina’s jaw dropped.

My soon-to-be ex-wife.

My ex wife-to-be.

Jeremy’s fan club immediately started whispering and shooting me dirty looks. Made perfect sense—a married woman like Karina wrecked their whole “all men are garbage except guru Jeremy” narrative. I’d already managed to piss off these ladies during the flight over when they’d launched into their spiel about cleansing my body of “destructive energy-informational influences.” I couldn’t resist giving them a hard time, demanding scientific justification for every single claim. In short, I came across as an uncouth blockhead in their eyes.

The path from the pool back to the hotel wound through a walkway lined with flowers and exotic plants with enormous glossy leaves—stuff you wouldn’t find in Russia outside of maybe a botanical garden. The palm tree trunks were lit up with pale blue lighting, same as the fountain where I spotted a large male body floating face-down. The guy was making these weak, drowning-person movements, and I could make out “GLORY TO THE CPSU!” on the back of his red t-shirt—a fellow countryman.

I had to wade into the fountain and haul him out by his armpits.

“Slava, wake up!” I shouted while flipping the guy over. Either he’d drunk himself into a coma or something was seriously wrong with him, but he just silently stared at me with these cloudy, pale eyes while water dripped off his thick gray mustache. His gaze was glassy, and his gut was making these rumbling sounds like he’d swallowed a cat.

I laid the poor bastard on his back on the grass and looked around for security. When I didn’t spot any guards, I ended up hauling him toward the hotel entrance myself. The gut rumbling kept going the whole time, creating this low vibration. What the hell did you eat, buddy?

I handed him over to the hotel staff, then took the mirrored elevator up to my sixth-floor room. Out in the hallway I stumbled across another… no, this one was a woman. An attractive young woman in a barely-there bikini who’d apparently tried and failed to make it back to her room. She’d sat down against the wall, then slid over and toppled sideways. Her eyes had rolled back behind these incredibly long eyelashes. For a split second I thought her stomach was rumbling too… no, I was imagining things.

I tried talking to her and checked for a pulse—out cold. A key card had fallen out of her hand, but when I held it to the nearest door, nothing happened. I took a sip of whiskey and scratched my head—what the hell do I do with you, lady?

Back in my room I called down to the front desk and reported the woman on the sixth floor who’d passed out. The booze wasn’t technically free at this place, but it was so cheap it flowed like a river. Some folks just overestimated themselves.

Sitting there in my room with a genuine sense of accomplishment—not because of the woman, but because I’d made the decision to divorce Karina—I poured myself a whiskey, clinked glasses with the mirror and said:

“Here’s to early parole!” And drank it immediately.

I listened to the ringing emptiness, moved aside the evening dress Karina had thrown across our bed, and thought about how nobody could possibly be better at screwing up their own lives than we humans are.

I liked that thought enough to drink to it. I remembered how much time I’d wasted. How I’d lost my family. Nearly tanked my career. But it was okay—I’d snapped out of it just in time. I was only thirty-two, still had plenty of time, energy, and talent to fix the damage. Ivan wasn’t going to grow up without a father.

I got hit with an urge that pretty much anyone would mock—wanting to text my ex. Well, technically my current ex. Actually, wanting to write something nice to Svetlana about how smart and perceptive she was, how much I’d missed her thoughtful advice, the feeling that someone had my back, that I was loved and waited for. I missed her fit body too. And her liver cake, which was how our relationship started back in the university dorm. The important thing was that this was an independent desire, in no way connected to Ivan’s call or the dropped connection.

“They’ve probably got the internet working again by now,” I thought, and tried calling Svetlana.

But my damned phone let me down again. More specifically, the local internet was still completely dead. Weird that the cellular service was down too, even though I had international roaming. Some kind of outage? It happens around here—typhoons, hurricanes, and tsunamis are a regular thing.

I opened the window and smiled at the black, star-filled sky, the rumble of the Philippine Sulu Sea, the ocean breeze. I filled my highball glass to the rim with whiskey and held it up:

“Here’s to a new life!”