On Ukrainians in Russia - Nikita Aronov in The Insider:

‘The UN reports that approximately 2.9 million Ukrainians have entered Russia since the invasion. Some were unable to escape to the other side due to being trapped behind Russian lines, while others traveled to visit relatives in Russia. There were also some who supported the Russian aggression, but even they were met with a harsh reality upon arrival. Despite their differing circumstances, all refugees faced various challenges. The Insider interviewed three women who fled Ukraine, but two of them only agreed to speak anonymously due to fear of retribution. Speaking out about the war could result in prosecution by Russian authorities or Ukrainian nationalists simply for seeking refuge in Russia.’

(…)

‘Maria (name changed), Mariupol My stance has always been pro-Russia, given that none of us have any Ukrainian ancestry. In fact, my husband hailed from the Stavropol Krai. When warplanes descended to bomb Azovstal, we felt a sense of relief. It goes without saying that our desire was to flee to Russia as soon as possible.
On March 22, we departed Mariupol, but our journey took us on a detour. We headed west and spent the night before taking a roundabout route towards Novoazovsk. Upon arrival, we were directed to a checkpoint where our phones were inspected, and all the data was downloaded. Fortunately, we had no issues passing the inspection as it was clear that we supported Russia.)’

(…)
‘Dealing with the Migration Service was an especially frustrating experience. My husband and I both applied for Russian citizenship at the same time, but while he was granted a passport, my application was delayed for a month and then another month. By the time the referendum on joining Russia had already taken place, and I expected to become a Russian citizen automatically. However, even though I lived in the Stavropol Krai, neither myself nor my child were granted citizenship.
We decided to head to a big city in hopes of better luck. Our friends had fled to Voronezh and encouraged us to join them, sharing that they were doing well there. However, upon arrival, their TAC initially refused to take us in and refused to speak with us. We were directed to the Ministry of Emergency Situations, which unfortunately had no available spaces. Luckily, due to the fact that we had our child with us, we were eventually placed in a camp located in the woods 20km outside of the city. Unfortunately, our child is allergic to coniferous trees and even pine, which caused significant challenges. We had to rely on medication to manage her symptoms constantly, and I even wrote a letter to the president in hopes of being relocated elsewhere.’

(…)

‘Ksenia (name changed), Debaltsevo On February 24th, when the conflict began, my mother, daughter, and I were among the many women and children offered evacuation to Russia from our city, which had been controlled by the “DNR” for years. Unfortunately, my husband and son were not allowed to leave due to the “DNR's” mobilization announcement. We boarded a train and traveled for four hours to Rostov-on-Don, where we saw five buses waiting for us. When I asked the driver where we were going, he didn't know and said we would be informed by phone. Eventually, we arrived at a convent in one of the nearby stanitsas.
At first we were treated nicely. Shower, toilet, rooms freshly repainted. The food was good: candy, frankfurters for kids, butter, cheese, sausage. We even had fruit. It went well as long as journalists kept visiting us and writing reports. And when they stopped coming, everything changed.’

(…)

‘Once, for instance, we were served butter that had a moldy smell. When we complained to the mother superior, she called the police. As soon as they arrived they began to scold and blame us. They even mentioned that one of the officers from Rostov had died because of “our war”. A government official also arrived and started cursing at us. The volunteers advised me to say to him: “We are under the protection of the Russian Federation.” After hearing this, the official got scared. He sprang to his feet abruptly and left.
We lived in the convent for three months, then the TAC was closed, and we returned home. Our house is still standing, my husband and son are unharmed. Battles are raging on, we hear explosions, but they are far away. If they get closer, we'll have to leave again. What else can we do?’

(…)

‘Nika Karakonstantin, Kharkiv region I resided in the village of Tsyrkuny, located near Kharkiv, towards Belgorod. On February 24, Russian troops arrived in the village as early as 5 a.m. Unfortunately, my eldest son had already left for the city to attend the lyceum, and he couldn't return as there were no buses available. He remains in Ukraine while my husband, our other four children, and I are now in Russia.
The Russian military set up a base in our village, with soldiers, equipment, and a field kitchen. However, we were not provided with food from this kitchen. Initially, the military broke into the village stores and told us to take whatever we needed. Unfortunately, I didn't have a car, and it was quite a distance to the store. I had to carry what I could on my own. But soon, we ran out of food, and my children were starving. I resorted to collecting scraps from the Russian trenches, where I found dry rations packed by the Crimean company Druzhba Narodov [Friendship of Peoples]. Ironically, all the trenches were littered with boxes bearing this slogan, “Friendship of Peoples.”

(…)

‘Being a doctor's daughter, I know many doctors, and what struck me the most was the complete apathy shown towards us. Maybe Russians were treated better, but we were not shown any sympathy. The doctors did not provide any psychological support to the children, who were in a critical condition after the events of the past month. The attitude of the hospital staff was as if we had come to them voluntarily for some reason.’

(…)

‘For many Ukrainians I am a traitor: I didn't leave, I stayed, hence I am supporting the enemy. Besides, I got a Russian passport. But for me it is an instrument of survival. I have the passport, but there is a blank page where a residency registration should have been.’

(…)

‘I am neither Russian nor Ukrainian. As a Gagauzian, neither Russian nor Ukrainian is my native language. My longing to return home stems from a desire to reunite with familiar surroundings, including my land, cherished memories, and childhood games. My life was relatively normal until February 24, after which everything changed. The children's club in Kharkiv where I used to teach was destroyed by shelling.
Go back there? There could well be another offensive, could I expose my children to such danger? And here in ten months I have made many acquaintances and an important business. I'll stay just out of spite, just out of stubbornness. I will show people who don't care about refugees and children how to work. Shame on them.
Returning to my homeland poses a significant risk of encountering another offensive, which would put my children's safety in jeopardy. Moreover, during my stay here for the past ten months, I have forged numerous meaningful connections and established a crucial business.’

Read the complete article here.

Nika, most probably, is not an exception.

Many of the three million Ukrainians leaving in Russia will be seen as traitors by both sides, and most of them won’t have a possibility to return to their home town and villages anytime soon.

It’s possible that they will never have a chance to return.

They are the forgotten refugees.