"I keep writing messages to him, even though I get no response." A story of love divided by Russian occupation and captivity

"Hello, my name is Anastasiia. I’d like to tell you about my life during the occupation of Izium [Kharkiv Oblast – ed.] and my boyfriend who defended Mariupol."

That’s how the conversation between 21-year-old Anastasiia Buhera and Ukrainska Pravda journalists started a few weeks ago.

Russia’s full-scale invasion of Ukraine did not just change Anastasiia’s life: it has turned it upside down. Her hometown, Izium in Kharkiv Oblast, was occupied by Russian forces, and her boyfriend, Kostiantyn Ivanov, fought in the battle for Mariupol, the fiercest and most tragic battle of this war. Kostiantyn was captured by the Russians after the Ukrainian retreat from the Azovstal steelworks.

When Russians passed her house, Anastasiia hid inside the sofa. Together with her family, she spent five long months living under the occupation.

She is still waiting for her boyfriend to return, and urges international organisations to increase their efforts to free all Ukrainian defenders from Russian captivity.

This story is told in Anastasiia's own words.

The first few attacks on Izium and a Russian car theft

I came to Izium to visit my parents for the New Year holidays, I stayed a little longer due to an increase in Covid-19 cases, and then the war began. At 04:00 on 24 February, I woke up to the sound of explosions.

My parents and I immediately started to collect essential items, documents and medicine together and take them to the basement. Later, I got a call from my soldier boyfriend, who at the time of the full-scale invasion was in Mariupol. I cried, and he said that he was close by and everything would be fine.

Back then, we just couldn’t even imagine what was about to happen.

We helped the Ukrainian soldiers in Izium for several days: together with other local people, we cooked meals for them and brought them food. Instead of going back to Kharkiv to study, I celebrated my birthday in a cold basement, wearing a warm jacket and several pairs of trousers and sweaters at once, and wrapped up in blankets.

It was on the eve of this day, on the night of 27-28 February, that the Russian military attacked Izium for the first time. They did not target any military facilities; they targeted a residential building full of civilians and a supermarket. From that moment on 28 February, the attacks never stopped.

On 1 March, our heating went off. Although we were using the stove, the house was still cold. We slept in our clothes and kept jackets to hand so we could quickly put them on and run to the basement if an attack started.

The Russians constantly bombarded Izium from the air for several weeks.

During the explosions, our basement door, although tightly closed, kept opening. In less than an hour we’d hear maybe ten aerial bombs going off.

On 3 March, they bombed the "tower" that we got our electricity, water and communications from. We were left without any communications. We didn't know anything that was happening in the world. Not a thing.

We had to go to a well 200 metres away several times a day to get water. The locals helped each other as much as they could. Some would bring bread, others humanitarian aid. One day Russian troops attacked the place where bread was given out to civilians… a lot of people died.

Shops and pharmacies were closed. We went to a nearby town in search of food and medicine, but there was nothing there either. We couldn’t drive home because the bridge was blown up, so we left the car with friends of ours and walked back.

We learned later that our car, and other people’s cars too, was seized by the Russian military. They punctured all the wheels and stole everything that was inside, and when they couldn't fix it, they left the car in some bushes.

Hiding inside the sofa

When the Russians were occupying part of the city, we could hear their shells being fired and falling on the other part where the Ukrainian military was. They [the Russians – ed.] were shooting a lot.

Each time we left the house could have been the last. There was one family who were on their way from their house to the basement during an attack and they just didn’t make it... All of them died: mother, sister, grandmother and grandfather. All except their four-year-old: he survived.

Every night I asked myself: would I wake up? Would there be a tomorrow? And every morning I said to myself, "I'm alive! Thank you."

A little later, local people found a place where there was mobile communication, and then I learned that my boyfriend was under constant fire in Mariupol, a city that was almost encircled. I just wanted to scream...

When the Russian forces occupied Izium completely, they would drive through the streets in military vehicles, go into every house and check everything. I hid inside the sofa. I had to hide in my own homeland, can you imagine? After the atrocities in Bucha and Irpin, it was terrifying.

Russian shells used to fall everywhere. One landed in front of our house and the glass from the broken window hit my leg. By some miracle it missed an artery. I got four stitches - and a battle-scar that will be with me forever.

After some time, I managed to get on the internet and saw that Kostiantyn had sent me a video. It took me three days to download it. In the video he said that Mariupol had been completely encircled and that he was in Azovstal. He also said they had no food.

They were exhausted and losing consciousness from hunger, but they kept defending each of us, they kept on fighting. It’s thanks to them that we are alive. They took on a much bigger and stronger enemy. Azovstal was under constant attack.

A little later, I found out that my boyfriend was in captivity, and captivity means torture. I knew all this because they took away men in Izium too. They beat them and electrocuted them. Some came back barely alive, and some did not come back at all.

I still feel devastated.

Leaving the Russian occupation; videos from captivity; waiting and hoping

A few weeks before I left, planes and helicopters started flying over Izium. They did this often and at an extremely low altitude.

At first we would fall to the ground because we didn’t know whether they would bomb us. We were frightened. They’d fly in circles or fly away to bomb the east of Ukraine. Sometimes it looked as if they were going to hit the roof of a building.

Recently, with the help of the Ukrainian Red Cross, I have managed to escape the five-month hell of occupation. Five months of continuous fear, shooting, and the "Russian world" [Russia's neo-imperial geopolitical and ideological doctrine – ed.].

Once I was on free Ukrainian territory, I stood and wept silently. There is no forgiveness for them [the Russians].

Now I have one more reason to cry: now I can watch videos from Mariupol and Azovstal, where my boyfriend was... and videos from captivity as well, posted by the Russians, that show Kostiantyn, emaciated, wounded, beaten. During the entire time he has been in captivity, he has never been allowed to make a phone call. I have not received any message from him since 24 April.

How much longer will the Azovstal defenders be held in captivity? They are eagerly awaited at home. We’re so proud of everyone who is there; we call out to the whole world for help. Help us to get our relatives back! Why are international organisations avoiding their obligations? Isn’t it clear that the lives and health of Ukrainian servicemen are in their hands?

And that the blood of those who were killed in Olenivka is on their hands as well?

When I feel scared, I hug Alice, my doll that Kostiantyn gave me. Or rather I imagine that I’m hugging not her, but him. Alice is always with me. But I just want to finally hold my boyfriend's hand, to be with him, to say "I love you". Those three simple words.

I keep calling and writing messages to him, even though I get no response. I know his phone is switched off, but I keep doing it.

I keep waiting and hoping.

Olha Kyrylenko, Ukrainska Pravda

Translation: Artem Yakymyshyn
Editing: Teresa Pearce