Before dawn on 24th February 2022, Russian troops advanced north from Crimea to Nova Kakhova. They stormed the city, taking control of the Kakhovka Dam—a vital strategic asset in the occupation of southern Ukraine. Shortly after, they placed a Multiple Rocket Launcher (MRL) in the town square, a silent threat looming over the residents. The message was clear: We are in control. Helicopters flew so low over the streets that you could see the eyes of the pilots.

For Hanna, the shift from normal life to occupation was immediate and terrifying. Ukrainian phone networks and internet lines were cut, leaving her isolated from the outside world. Shops emptied overnight, the once-busy market replaced by desperation and panic. Walking the streets became a risk—Russian snipers stationed near the dam shot at people, including children, trying to cross, civilians just trying to reach their families.

Svitlana found the occupation to be a slow-burning nightmare. Initially wanting to stay and protect their home, she watched as friends and neighbors disappeared—some taken by Russian forces, others shot in the streets. A friend from childhood, the town’s police captain, was arrested, dragged to a makeshift detention center where his screams could be heard at night. Locals raised $30,000 in ransom to free him. After his release, he fled to Kyiv as soon as he could.

Svitlana recalled another familiar face from their town was Serhiy Tsyhipa, a local journalist and former military officer, who was arrested by Russian forces on 12 March 2022 while delivering medicine and supplies to those trapped in occupied areas. Accused of espionage, he was taken to Crimea and later transferred to a Russian prison, where he was sentenced to over 13 years behind bars.

As the days turned into weeks, life under occupation turned to slow suffocation. The Russian flag flew over the dam. Armed soldiers patrolled the streets. The sound of rockets firing from the MLRS became as normal as birdsong. The fear was constant, the knowledge that any wrong move—a spoken word, a gesture, the wrong clothes—could be fatal. Hanna and Svitlana both knew that soon, they would have to make a choice: stay and survive under Russian rule or risk everything to leave.

By the time March turned to April, the horrors of occupation were no longer just rumors—they were real, undeniable, and closing in. News spread of what was happening in other occupied towns — where women were raped, people were brutally beaten, and children disappeared without a trace.

Hanna knew the situation was deteriorating, but it was Pavlo who finally decided it was time to run. He had been watching, listening, preparing quietly. The Russian grip on Nova Kakhovka was tightening. The local police had been replaced by Russian installed authorities. Checkpoints were multiplying and life was becoming more restrictive.

But Svitlana didn’t want to leave. It was her home. The family home, their sanctuary—with its gardens, its trees, its vast fishing pond—was everything to her. How could she abandon it? How could she leave behind the place where they had raised their children. Pavlo understood. He didn’t argue. He had always been a man of action, not words. If Svitlana refused to go, then he wouldn’t force her. But Hanna and her daughter, Bella, had to go. He would make sure they got out. He would be the one to take them.

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