Alesya Rak waited more than three years for her husband, RFE/RL journalist Andrey Kuznechyk, to return from a routine bicycle ride. Their two children, five-year-old Matsvey and eleven-year-old Yanina, did the same.
Finally, on February 12, the family was reunited when Andrey was freed after three years and three months behind bars on extremism charges that he, his supporters and RFE/RL rejected as politically motivated.
Now, Rak says as she recounts the ordeal, the family is slowly piecing their lives back together in the Lithuanian capital, Vilnius.
'They Said He'd Be Gone A Few Days'
It all started on November 25, 2021. At around 5 p.m., Andrey decided to take a short ride with his bicycle. Four plainclothes officers were waiting for him outside their apartment building. They ordered him back inside.
"Yanina, who was eight then, was distraught and started crying,"Alesya tells RFE/RL's Belarus Service in her first public comments since Andrey was released. "Matsvey was not even two yet -- he had no idea what was happening. I was told to stay in another room and care for the children while they searched our home."
The officers conducted a so-called "polite" search, confiscating all electronic devices, including Andrey's phone, Alesya's phone, tablet, and some cash.
"I was in shock, but I didn't panic. I packed some warm clothes for him, but he never got to take them," she says.
Before leaving, they assured her it was temporary -- just a few days. But deep down, Alesya says she feared the worst.
Premonitions Of Trouble
Only days before his arrest, Andrey had written a piece explaining why he chose to stay in Belarus despite an ongoing crackdown on journalists that accompanied a sometimes deadly clampdown on those who rejected the results of a controversial August 2020 presidential election that handed Aleksandr Lukashenko a sixth term in office.
"I have lived with Belarusian culture since I was 13, studied it in university, and built my life around it, he said. "I'm now in my forties. I don't want to abandon this path. In the current climate, serving a made-up prison sentence seems like a lesser suffering than leaving my homeland indefinitely -- though I might be fatally mistaken about how far repression can go."
Alesya had a sinking feeling even before that day.
Two days before the arrest, someone hacked her social media messaging account.
Then, while playing with her son in the park, she suddenly thought of her great-grandfather Paval, who had been repressed under Stalin.
"He was exiled to Siberia, barely survived, and when he came back, he found out that his house had been dismantled for firewood by the neighbors," Alesya says, adding that her great-grandfather's story resurfaced in her mind out of nowhere "like a sign."
'They Took My Dad...And The Tablet'
The first month after Andrey's arrest was the hardest. With no communication, Alesya imagined the worst. She worried about his health, about the bitter winter—he had been taken away in light clothing and temperatures had dropped significantly.
"Later, I found out he had been sleeping on a concrete floor in just a T-shirt. That haunted me."
Yanina struggled too.
"She'd come home from school, and we'd hug and cry together. For over a month, she would whimper, 'They took my Dad…and the tablet.'"
Friends brought food, treats for the children, and gave her emotional support that Aleysa says was a beacon of hope in her darkest days.
"Everyone kept saying, 'You should be proud of him,'" she says. "And I was. But that didn't make it easier."
Adjusting To Life Without Andrey
While her husband was gone, life went on. Alesya had to pay bills, handle car and home repairs, buy groceries, read bedtime stories, and help with homework.
"I'd tell other moms about this: Watch your children closely. Keep their routine stable. Give them as much normalcy as possible," Alesya emphasizes, underlining the family's determination to maintain some stability amid massive upheaval.
Matsvey was affected, too.
"His eating habits deteriorated. I was so worried that he started eating more sweets and unhealthy food. Even now, it's hard to fix after moving to a new place. Change --even some good change -- is still stress."
Finding Solace In Small Routines
After a month of uncertainty, Andrey was officially charged. He was accused of "leading an extremist organization." Weeks later, they transferred him from police custody to a pretrial detention center.
"Compared to the unknown, standing in line to pass food and clothes to him was almost a relief," says Alesya.
Through prison walls, Andrey found a way to keep his family close. He sent poems to his children on postcards, turning even the harshest conditions into warmth and love.
An Unexpected Reunion
In September 2022, Andrey was transferred to a correctional colony. Life settled into a new rhythm: monitoring prison chat groups, sending care packages, and keeping the children stable.
"Oddly enough, prison support groups were my biggest source of positivity," Alesya says. "Everyone was helpful, sharing advice on what items were allowed, where to buy warm clothes, how to get letters through."
For three years, Andrey and Alesya had only three long meetings, each lasting 24 hours. At the first meeting, their daughter Yanina saw her father, who was thin and dressed in black, his head shaved. She gasped: "You look scary, I barely recognized you."
Matsvey did not recognize his father at all. Once, during that day, he cautiously touched Andrey and patted his head-- his own small sign of affection. Andrey, deeply saddened, replied:
"Well then, we'll have to get to know each other again."
After that meeting, Andrey wrote a poem that included the following lines:
How many lullabies are left unsung,
How many kisses, how many hugs,
How many smiles, arms reaching high,
How many times he didn't say "Dad"?
2 Days to Pack
On February 7, Alesya received a call from a person dealing with the situation: She had two days to prepare—by February 10, they had to leave. "I completely lost sleep. I had to take something just to stay functional while packing. But how much could I take? Two suitcases. I told the kids we were leaving on Monday. At first, Yanina was excited -- no more schoolwork! But then she got sad: 'My friend will miss me.' I told her, 'Your dad will make up for it.'"
The journey to Vilnius was smooth, but Yanina remained tense. She feared her father would never return and that they were being tricked again.
On the evening of February 12, diplomats brought Andrey. At that moment, Yanina was drawing, having just received a new set of colored pencils. Matsvey was playing with his toy cars. Alesya vividly remembers that happy day.
"I hadn't slept in days," she says. "I was anxious and emotionally drained -- I had already cried all my tears. When we saw the car pull up, I had nothing left in me. But the moment Andrey walked in -- we were overjoyed!"
"Even now, when Andrey steps out for errands, Yanina still worries -- afraid he might not return."
The children still don't fully grasp that it will be a long time before they see their grandmothers and extended family again.
For now, father and son are slowly rebuilding their bond. Matsvey has already started trusting Andrey -- he even let his dad carry him on his shoulders. And Yanina, when her father returned, simply said, "Now this place feels like home."
"Home is wherever our loved ones are," Alesya reflects.
"Every word of support during this difficult time meant the world to us. I sincerely thank everyone who helped us."
