All Amazing Babies

Are you sure this is the right path?” my mother’s voice trembled, though she tried to hide her worry. The small crease between her brows gave away her doubts.

“What choice do I have?” I lifted my chin, trying to make my voice sound steadier than I felt.

Mother only pressed her lips together. Her face took on an expression I had seen only once before—at my father’s funeral. A mixture of helplessness and primordial fear. She already understood there was no persuading me.

That night, for the first time in a long while, I slept without nightmares. Misha lay beside me, his even breathing soothing my nerves. I studied his features: his pronounced cheekbones, determined chin, the barely noticeable line between his brows. We’d only been together three weeks, yet he had already become my refuge. I placed my hand on my stomach. Beneath my skin, a new life was taking shape—a life that was not his. The man who had given me this pregnancy had vanished, leaving only memories behind.

Misha sighed in his sleep, his lips curving in a slight, trusting smile. That smile settled my decision. I would keep silent.

I wouldn’t tell him that the night two days after we met couldn’t possibly have led to this. That the child was part of a different story. I would become the perfect wife. Build an impeccable family. Bury my lie beneath a hundred genuine moments.

“Dad, look!” Igor raced around the room with a toy sword, imagining himself a knight. “I defeated the evil dragon!”

Misha set aside his newspaper and bowed solemnly to his son.

“Your Majesty, you are the bravest knight in the kingdom.”

Igor burst into laughter and ran toward his father. I stood in the doorway with a tray of hot cocoa, watching Misha scoop the boy up and twirl him around. Our son. I couldn’t breathe for a moment. Seven years of living a double life. On the outside, a happy wife and mother; on the inside, the keeper of a secret that could destroy everything we had created.

“Why are you just standing there?” Misha turned to me, and something flickered in his eyes. Concern? Suspicion? “The cocoa’s getting cold.”

I forced a smile and walked over. Igor grabbed a cup, leaving a chocolate “mustache” on his upper lip.

“Who does he look more like?” Misha suddenly asked, gazing at his son with such pride that my heart tightened.

“You, of course,” I lied, avoiding his gaze. “Especially the eyes.”

Misha nodded thoughtfully.
“I think he’s all you. Just as stubborn.”

He ruffled Igor’s hair—dark as a raven’s wing, the same shade as his real father’s.

“Can I have more cocoa?” Igor held out his empty cup, looking irresistible.

“Only if you promise to brush your teeth right after,” I said, stroking his cheek, overwhelmed by how much I loved this little human.

Misha hugged me, and the weight of his closeness became unbearable. As though each touch was an unspoken reproach I rightfully deserved but that he would never voice.

“Are you alright?” he whispered.

 

“Just a tough day,” I said, leaning in and lightly touching his cheek. “Has anyone ever told you you’re the best husband in the world?”

He nodded with a slight smile, but something in his eyes made my skin prickle.

It was as though he saw everything—every lie, every fear, every tear I’d swallowed. And yet he still looked at me as though I were a priceless treasure that had ended up in his hands by pure chance. I turned away so he wouldn’t see how my hands shook as I poured the cocoa. How long could I carry this burden? How long would the facade of a perfect family, built on a single but so devastating lie, hold up?

The years flew by. Igor turned twenty. I looked at him—tall, with dimples appearing on his cheeks whenever he smiled—and I couldn’t believe that the young man before me had once fit in the cradle of my hands.

We were preparing for his party. I was busy marinating kebabs when Misha came in holding a worn photo album.

“Look what I found in the closet,” he said, placing it on the table and brushing off dust. “I haven’t opened this in forever.”

I froze, feeling a chill race down my spine. This album was a chronicle of our life—both the real version and the one I’d invented. There were our earliest photos before Igor was born, with me forcing hopeful, fearful smiles. Misha began flipping through the pages, chuckling at old‑fashioned hairstyles and clothing from the nineties. I wiped my hands and sat next to him, forcing myself to breathe normally.

“Remember how nervous you were before giving birth?” He pointed to a photo of me in late pregnancy, clinging to his shoulder, my expression showing raw terror.

“How could I forget,” I answered, managing a smile. “I was sure I wouldn’t survive.”

He pulled me close and kissed my temple.

“But I knew you’d get through it. You’ve always been stronger than you think.”

His words struck like thunder. Strong? Me? A woman who had lived twenty years under the weight of a lie, facing her husband and her son every day without telling the truth?

“Don’t exaggerate,” I said quietly, stepping away to resume my work on the cutting board. “I just did what I had to.”

“Like the rest of us,” Misha said philosophically, continuing to leaf through the album.

Out of the corner of my eye, I watched him closely, wondering what he thought when he looked at pictures of Igor. Did he notice someone else’s features, subtle inconsistencies? Did he ask himself questions he had never spoken aloud?

“Here’s the birthday boy!” he exclaimed, pointing to a photo of two-year-old Igor covered in chocolate. “He was always getting into trouble!”

Something inside me cracked, like thin ice under the weight of truth. I had carried this burden for twenty years, like a prisoner dragging chains. It had ground my heart to dust, drained my strength, and turned real joy into a performance.

I couldn’t bear it any longer.

That evening, after Igor went out with friends, I stood in front of the bathroom mirror for a long time. The face looking back at me seemed like a stranger’s—shadows under the eyes, a bitter line at the lips. The face of a liar.

Misha was in the living room, absorbed in something on his phone. He looked up when he noticed me and, for a moment, I thought he knew everything. Had known for a long time.

“Misha,” my voice sounded strange, as if it belonged to someone else. “We need to talk.”

He put down his phone. His face assumed that familiar expression of attentive concern that appeared whenever he sensed my unease.

“Is something wrong?” he asked gently.

I sat across from him, hands clenched so tightly my knuckles were white. The room blurred, but his face remained distinct—the face of the man I had come to see as my entire world, the man I had deceived for twenty years, day after day.

“There’s something I need to tell you,” I began, each word feeling like a razor against my throat. “Something I should have said a long time ago.”

Misha leaned forward, his eyes flickering with worry, expectation—or perhaps understanding.

“Igor…” My tongue twisted, but I forced myself to go on. “Igor isn’t your son.”

I shut my eyes, bracing for the explosion: shouting, anger, a door slamming, the end of everything.

But there was only silence, so deep I could hear the ticking of an old clock and my own heartbeat. Opening my eyes, I met his calm, sorrowful gaze.

“I know,” he said quietly but firmly.

Those two brief words knocked the wind out of me. The room swirled, and I clung to the armrest to stay upright.

“What?” My voice shook. “How…how long?”

Misha rose and walked over to the window. Beyond it, the city lights shimmered, indifferent to our drama. Against the glow, his silhouette looked ghostly, as if cut from shadow.

“From the very start,” he replied, each word echoing in my mind. “Your mother told me a week after we met.”

“My mother?” I felt the floor drop out from under me. “But why did you—why did you never say anything?”

Misha turned to face me. In the dim light, I couldn’t read his eyes, only the tense line of his jaw. It wasn’t anger but emotion held in check.

“Because I already loved you,” he said simply, as though stating a fact. “And blood ties aren’t what matter; it’s how you love someone.”

He paused and added in a near whisper:

“Besides, I can’t have children. I’ve known that long before I met you.”

I froze, as if struck by lightning. I looked at the man I believed I knew inside and out—and saw a stranger.

“Why did you never…”

“…tell you?” he finished. “For the same reasons you didn’t tell me. Fear.”

Misha returned to the couch and sat beside me. His large, strong hands—the same ones that had cradled newborn Igor—gently covered mine.

“When your mother came to me, I was furious,” he said, his voice still calm, though I felt the effort it cost him. “Not about the pregnancy itself, but because she tried to use that knowledge to push me away from you. I still remember her exact words: ‘She’s expecting a child that isn’t yours. Do you really want that kind of trouble?’”

He fell silent, and I noticed the vein pulsing at his temple—the only outward sign of his tension.

“What did you say to her?” I managed.

“That it was none of her business,” Misha said, tightening his hold on my fingers. “And that I loved you. That I would love the child, if you would let me.”

The tears I had held back for twenty long years poured out all at once, burning my cheeks, blurring my vision, dripping onto our interlaced hands. I sobbed openly, releasing every unspoken word and pent-up emotion.

Misha pulled me close, and I listened to his heartbeat. He stroked my hair—a gesture that had always calmed my pain or fear.

“You never really lied to me,” he whispered. “You were faithful. You never betrayed me. And Igor…he’s my son because I’m the one who raised him, not someone else.”

Wiping my tear-streaked face, I struggled to make out his expression.

“All these years…how could you bear it? How could you look at me without despising me?” I asked, my voice trembling.

 

Misha smiled that special smile that always made me forget my worries.

“How did you put up with a boring old stick like me?” he teased, gently brushing away my tears. “Love doesn’t ask those questions, Anya. It just is.”

We sat quietly, listening to the rain outside and to my sobs fading away. I thought about my mother, who believed she was protecting me by interfering. I thought about Misha, who had known the truth and still chose us. And about Igor, who, despite not sharing Misha’s blood, could not have asked for a more devoted father.

And about myself—a woman who had built her life on a lie, yet received a truth far greater than she ever imagined.

“Should we tell Igor?” I finally asked.

Misha gazed into the distance, as though looking through me.

“That’s your decision,” he said. “But you know…some truths matter less for being revealed than for being carried and lived with.”

Just then, the key turned in the lock. Igor was home. I hurried to wipe my tears, but Misha stopped me.

“It’s alright,” he said. “We’ll handle it. Together. Like always.”

A month later, we stood by the river—Misha, Igor, and I. The setting sun stained the water in liquid gold.

“Why the sudden trip?” Igor grumbled in mock annoyance, though it was clear he was glad we were spending this time together. “I had plans!”

“What plans could be more important than time with your parents?” Misha teased, nudging him.

I watched them—so alike in their gestures, the tilt of their heads, even the way they spoke. And for the first time, I understood what Misha had known all along: fatherhood is determined not by DNA but by the daily act of being there. It isn’t blood that binds us, but love.

“Mom, why that mysterious smile?” Igor reached out and gently pushed aside a stray lock of my hair. “Are you plotting something?”

“I’m just happy,” I said. And for the first time in twenty years, it was the absolute truth.

Misha put his arm around my shoulders. Igor stood next to us—tall, handsome, with an entire future stretching out before him like a long, open road. My family. Real and bound by love.

The sun slipped below the horizon, and the first stars emerged in the darkening sky. I was no longer afraid of the darkness—neither around me nor within me.

Because even in the deepest darkness, there is light. You just have to know where to look.

Sitting in his office, Vyacheslav leaned back in his comfortable chair with a satisfied smile playing on his face. He couldn’t stop marveling at how his restaurant, now the pride of the entire city, had gained such great fame.

The restaurant owner ordered a homeless old woman to finish her bread and leave immediately! But soon he fell to his knees in front of her and burst into tears… The best restaurants nearby. And certainly, thanks to the refined cuisine and a well-coordinated professional team, and of course, the superb atmosphere. In his thoughts, Vyacheslav returned to his long journey to his dream, which lasted more than 20 years, and began in the difficult nineties. At that time, he had to make decisions instantaneously and often take risks to survive in a highly competitive environment.

Remembering that period, Vyacheslav thought especially warmly of his grandfather, Leonid Makarovich. The grandfather undoubtedly played a decisive role in his success when, despite his age, he made an important decision—to sell the family dacha and transfer the money to his grandson. Leonid Makarovich said that the dacha was no longer needed, and that he saw in his grandson a person ready for business.

These funds became the starting capital for Vyacheslav’s restaurant ventures. Starting with opening a small snack bar at the local market, then a cafe at the station, the man worked hard and gradually expanded his business. His efforts and pursuit of perfection led to his restaurant becoming the best in the city, boasting a renowned chef from Italy.

This path was not easy, but every decision made and every step taken were justified, gradually leading the businessman to achieve the dream of his entire life. And here were the pleasant reflections of the man. Suddenly interrupted by quiet voices outside the door of his office.

Verochka, one of the waitresses, was discontentedly sharing her indignation with a colleague about an elderly woman who often appeared near the restaurant and irritated all the employees. Vyacheslav approached the window and saw on the street an old woman who looked very poor and unkempt. Despite the fact that she was not very old, her terrible sloppiness aged her, as evidenced by her dirty clothes, tangled gray hair, and grayish face.

The woman stood, staring intently into the restaurant windows where guests were enjoying their exquisite dishes. She only swallowed saliva greedily and was clearly very hungry. At that moment, there was a quiet knock in Vyacheslav’s office.

Verochka, the same waitress, peeked into the door, and her face expressed great anxiety. With a slight tremor in her voice, she informed Vyacheslav Ivanovich that the unpleasant situation with the homeless woman had occurred again. Feeling an involuntary irritation, Vyacheslav immediately asked where the security guard was, as he was supposed to deal with such issues, not the restaurant owner.

Maria, another waitress, also appeared in the doorway and quickly added that the security guard had already tried to drive the woman away, but she had returned. Vyacheslav really did not want his restaurant to be the center of unwanted attention, as this homeless old woman clearly repelled customers. Every time visitors noticed her at the restaurant windows, their faces showed expressions of disgust, which, of course, negatively affected the atmosphere and appetite of the guests.

Realizing that the situation required an immediate solution, Vyacheslav decided not to delay solving the problem. He immediately called the police, asking them to maintain order as tactfully and quietly as possible, and for the police to simply take this woman away from his restaurant. The police officers quickly arrived at the scene, carefully seated the old woman in the car, and took her away without attracting the attention of bystanders. The best restaurants nearby.

Vyacheslav attentively watched the scene, pondering what could have led this woman to the street. In his head, memories of his grandmother Anna surfaced, who along with his grandfather, Leonid Makarovich, raised him from the age of five, after the tragic death of his father. He barely remembered his mother, as she simply disappeared from his life shortly after her husband’s death.

As a child, little Slava often listened to his grandparents’ stories that his mother had gone far away. But deep down, he always continued to wait for her return. He cried for a long time, feeling abandoned, and even tried to find her by writing several letters to the police, asking for help.

However, his touching letters were returned to his grandfather, who worked in the city administration. When the family was about to move to the capital, little Slava firmly stated, «What if mom comes back, and I’m not here? How will she find me then?» These childhood fears and grievances lived in his heart for a long time, but life took its course.

And over the years, memories of his mother began to fade, giving way to new cares and achievements. And then one day, in the midst of another heated argument, the grandmother, completely losing patience, angrily shouted a terrible thing. «Your mother died a long time ago!» Adding a second later that she probably just froze somewhere at a fence from alcohol and cold.

Slava froze in shock, unable to believe what he had heard. The grandfather immediately became indignant, condemning the grandmother for her harsh words, insisting that it was wrong to speak like that, especially in front of a child. The grandmother, turning away, immediately began to cry, confessing that she could no longer carry this pain, which was literally tearing her heart apart.

The grandfather, approaching her, gently embraced her and whispered something in her ear, trying to calm her down. Then, turning to Slava, they called him to them and began to assure him that they would always be there to support and surround him with love, despite all the difficulties and bitterness they had to endure together. Slavka was completely confused, unable to believe that his mother, whom he remembered as beautiful and joyful, would never return.

He had waited for her for so long, hoping that one day she would appear on the doorstep. Over time, the pain gradually subsided and eventually faded from his memory. However, his beloved grandfather, true to his word, was always there, supporting Slava in all his endeavors, using all his connections and financial opportunities to help his grandson achieve success.

When Vyacheslav opened his first small restaurant, his grandparents were already very elderly. They passed away one after another, the same year his establishment began to bear its first fruits. By that time, Vyacheslav had already created his own family, which helped him cope with the loss more easily. Restaurant takeout orders

Married to his beloved Lilia, whom he considered the perfect woman, he found his true happiness. They had a wonderful son Ivan, named after Slavkin’s father. When the grandparents learned that they would soon have a great-grandson, their joy was simply boundless.

 

Over time, Vyacheslav and Lilia had a daughter. Vyacheslav dreamed of naming her after his mother, but bitter memories of the past and his wife’s disagreement led him to change his decision. After long discussions, they settled on the name Olya.

Years flew by quickly, their children grew up, and their son soon planned to marry a good girl. Vyacheslav and Lilia gladly approved of his choice, as the future bride was to their liking. And now, when both spouses were over fifty years old, thoughts increasingly returned to future grandchildren, about whom they had already begun to dream.

For Vyacheslav, family always remained a sacred priority. As important as his restaurant business, which he continued to develop with unchanging success. One morning, arriving at work, Slava decided to conduct a small audit in his restaurant.

Check how the kitchen works, whether everything is in order in the storerooms. And during the inspection, he stumbled upon an unexpected scene at the service entrance. An elderly woman of a homeless appearance was sitting next to the new cleaner Anya, who was feeding her from a plate.

Anya, noticing the appearance of the restaurant owner, instantly fell silent and became flustered. The owner asked her in surprise, «What’s going on here?» But beneath his outward calm, a real storm of emotions was hidden. Inside, Slava was literally boiling with anger, of course, worried about the reputation of his establishment.

In his thoughts, he constantly worried that Anya did not care at all how such a scene could affect the prestige of the restaurant, where, incidentally, influential and respected people dine. When Anya tried to justify herself, explaining that she brings food from home because she feels sorry for the old woman, Vyacheslav could no longer contain his emotions. He abruptly interrupted her, pointing out the great risks that the presence of such a woman could pose to the restaurant’s clients. The best restaurants nearby

The reputation of the establishment, which he had built for years, was his top priority, and the mere thought that one careless act could destroy everything enraged him, how dare she. Anya stood silently, looking down and clutching a piece of bread in her hands, which she had not yet managed to pass to the poor old woman. At that moment, the elderly woman tried to stand up for Anya, trying to calm the enraged boss.

But Vyacheslav was too enraged to listen to her, and obvious contempt reflected on his face. The old woman, despite Slava’s irritation, once again asked not to scold Anya, explaining that the girl was just trying to act humanely. However, the man, blinded by anger, only threw a malicious glance at her, and then turned his gaze back to Anya.

Suddenly, he snatched the bread from her hands and threw it right in the old woman’s face, accompanying the gesture with a scream and demanding that she leave and never appear here again. Following this, he sternly warned Anya that next time she would be fired. Anya merely nodded quietly, indicating that she understood the threat.

The old woman silently picked up the bread from the ground and carefully shook the dust off it, and, looking at the girl with gratitude, said that «any trouble can be survived with bread,» then calmly walked away. These words unexpectedly pierced Slava, causing him to freeze on the threshold of the restaurant. Suddenly, he remembered how in his childhood his mother, who had long disappeared from his life, said the same words «Any trouble can be survived with bread.»

Turning to the grandmother, Slava asked insistently, «Where do you know this expression from?» The woman calmly replied that it was just a saying, and when he asked her name, she introduced herself as Lyubov Vasilyevna. Hearing this name and patronymic, Slava immediately felt a shiver run through his body.

It seemed to him that these words were like a return to his childhood when his mother, who was also called that, comforted him with a piece of fresh bread right after he fell off his bicycle. He had never heard this phrase from anyone else, and suddenly he was overcome with anxiety. Could it be that this homeless-looking old woman was his long-lost mother? When the elderly woman turned, preparing to leave, Vyacheslav, gripped by a vague premonition, abruptly stopped her and invited her into his office.

Anya and the grandmother exchanged glances, and their faces expressed complete incomprehension. Such an unexpected turn in Slava’s behavior simply stunned both of them. Just now, he seemed the embodiment of cruelty and coldness, and now suddenly he was showing signs of unexpected compassion.

Trying to soften the sharpness of his previous words and actions, the man made another unexpected move. He offered the old woman to come into the restaurant, where he sincerely wanted to apologize and invite her to lunch. The staff of the establishment was astounded by such an unexpected change in the boss’s behavior.

Slava himself did not quite understand what exactly was driving him. In fact, he was trying to find in this woman the features of his long-gone mother, thereby trying to comfort his childhood desire to return his lost parent. The words of gratitude spoken by the old woman touched a deep chord in Slava’s soul.

Suddenly he became interested in whether she had a son and other relatives. But the answer was very sad. Her life, full of simple joys and everyday difficulties, was destroyed in an instant by a terrible tragedy.

The story of her son Slavochka and a happy family life that suddenly collapsed along with the death of her husband Ivan shook Vyacheslav to the core. He began to look for connections and coincidences with his own fate, possibly even finding unexpected parallels between their lives. Listening to her story, the man began to experience new feelings, and compassion and understanding were awakening in his soul.

Vyacheslav, absorbed in the grandmother’s story, could not believe what was happening. Each of her words seemed to him an echo of his own story. After all, the memories of his parents and even their names completely coincided.

He continued to listen attentively to her life story, which contained more and more parallels with his own past. «When they buried my Vanechka, a week later my in-laws unexpectedly came and stated that my grandson Slavochka should move in with them. I, of course, categorically refused, but then they threatened that if I did not agree voluntarily, they would take my son by force.

I didn’t believe them and simply kicked them out of the house. However, exactly a month later at the store where I was working then, a serious audit began, and such large financial shortages were discovered that it was hard to believe. The documents all looked impeccable, but I was accused of major embezzlement,» Lyubov Vasilyevna continued to recall.

«And in the end, I was sentenced to a long term—almost ten years in prison. An absolutely innocent person, I was put in jail. Why did they do this to me? And I served my term from beginning to end.

Already in prison, I learned that I had been deprived of parental rights. My little Slavochka was left without his biological mother. When I was released, I found out that other people were living in our service apartment, and my in-laws had left.

And where exactly—no one informed me, and my son was taken away. But life went on. A few years later, I remarried a good man, but it was too late to have children.»

Vyacheslav was stunned to the core. Could this woman be telling a story that so strongly coincided with his own past, overcoming inner confusion, he decided to ask her the name of the city, as well as the names of her husband’s parents. And again he encountered an amazing coincidence.

But how could this be? Slava’s heart beat in an accelerated rhythm, as now sitting before him was his own mother, alive and real. But why then did his grandparents convince him that she had long died? It turns out they just lied. But how could they? After all, they saw how much their son suffered without his mother.

 

Obviously, this way they simply got rid of an unwanted daughter-in-law, destroyed her life, and separated her from her son. Slava felt a sharp pain in his chest, again remembering his childhood love for his mother, her tender kisses, and warm words of consolation after falls from a bicycle. But could all this be just some silly coincidence? His grandparents couldn’t have been that cruel? Love continued her life story, as if she needed to pour out her pain to someone, just to be heard.

«After the death of my second husband, I immediately left the city for the village,» continued Lyubov Vasilyevna, «there I lived in my parents’ house and worked on a farm until retirement. But one day, there was a fire in my house caused by a wiring short circuit. I barely managed to escape, and the house burned down to the ground.

I stayed with neighbors for a month, and then I was offered to move to the capital. They were looking for workers at a sewing factory there, even promising to provide a dormitory. I, of course, agreed, as I knew how to sew, and I didn’t care how much they paid.

Slava immediately rushed there. «We do have one homeless person,» said the nurse in the reception disdainfully. «Does she have tuberculosis?» asked Slava.

«No, her lungs are fine,» the nurse shook her head. «But she was hit by a car, and she has complex injuries. The doctors, of course, performed surgery, but she needs expensive medicines for serious treatment, and she simply doesn’t have them, and without them, she won’t last long.»

Slava insisted that they show him this woman immediately. When he entered the ward, he immediately saw her, so familiar and beloved. She was simply lying in bed, her face gaunt and pale.

Vyacheslav, remembering his young and beautiful mother, gently touched her hand. «My dear mommy, hello!» he whispered. The nurse standing by even recoiled from what she heard.

«Could such a decent man have such a mother?» Lyubov Vasilyevna opened her eyes and looked at Slava tenderly. «Who are you?» she whispered with dry lips. «I’m your son!» the man answered with a trembling voice.

«I don’t believe it!» The woman’s forehead broke out in sweat. She tried to sit up, but from pain, she fell back onto the pillow. «Could you really be my Slavochka?» «No, it can’t be.

This is just some mistake.» She carefully studied his face, and with each moment, she found more and more familiar features. She remembered how at their first meeting, she thought he was just a kind man who wanted to help her.

«But could he really be her son? This is clearly some silly joke!» Vyacheslav pulled out a paper with DNA test results and read aloud what was written. There were no more doubts. «Did you guess right away?» the woman smiled, still not believing what was happening.

«My son, how long I’ve dreamed of our meeting!» «Not right away, of course,» admitted Slava. «There were just so many amazing coincidences. And this is your saying about bread.

Remember how I used to come to you with scraped knees, and you comforted me with hot bread?» «I remember everything, son,» Love cried. «It’s a pity we met so late. I don’t have much time left.

No, don’t say anything!» Slava immediately shouted. «I found you. And I can’t lose you again.

I will definitely cure you. And you will live a long and happy life. Hear me? I won’t abandon you, mom!» And indeed, Vyacheslav transferred Lyubov Vasilyevna to the best clinic in the city.

He bought her the most expensive and effective medicines, and gradually her condition improved. And soon, Slava took her from the hospital together with his entire family. The children and wife quickly found a common language with their mother-in-law and grandmother, who turned out to be a very sweet woman.

All the household members were simply happy, but especially Slava, because his mom was now again by his side. Lyubov Vasilyevna, although elderly, finally found true happiness. Genuine maternal happiness.

Hey, Kovaleva, is it true that your mother washed our locker room yesterday?» Kirill Bronsky asked loudly, leaning on his desk and deliberately waiting until the class quieted down.

 

Sonya froze, not even having time to put her textbook into her backpack. A tense silence fell over the classroom. All eyes turned to her.

«Yes, my mom works as a cleaner at the school,» she replied calmly, continuing to gather her things. «So what?»

«Nothing,» Kirill sneered with a smirk. «I just imagined how you’ll be getting to the prom. By bus, with rags and a bucket?»

The class erupted in laughter. Without a word, Sonya slung her backpack over her shoulder and headed for the door.

«Your mother is just an ordinary cleaner!» Kirill shouted after her. «Get used to it!»

Sonya didn’t look back. She had long learned not to react to mockery. Back in fifth grade, when she transferred to this prestigious gymnasium on a quota for gifted children, she realized: here, money and status rule. And she had neither.

Nadezhda Kovaleva was waiting for her daughter at the staff entrance of the gymnasium. At thirty-eight, she looked older—years of hard work had left their mark on her face. A simple jacket, faded jeans, and her hair tied up in a careless bun.

«Sonya, you seem a bit gloomy today,» Nadezhda remarked as they walked to the bus stop.

«Everything’s fine, Mom. I’m just tired. There was an algebra test,» Sonya lied.

She had never told her mother about her classmates’ teasing. Why add to her worries? Nadezhda already worked three jobs: in the morning at a business center, during the day at the gymnasium, and in the evening at a supermarket. All for Sonya to be able to attend a good school, go to extra classes, and prepare for university entrance exams.

«You know, next week I have Wednesday off. Maybe we could go somewhere together?» Nadezhda suggested.

«Of course, Mom. Just not on Wednesday—I have extra physics classes,» Sonya replied.

In reality, there were no extra classes at all. Sonya had taken up a part-time job at a nearby café—as a waitress for half-time. The pay was low, but it was a start.

«Kirill, are you really up for the bet?» Denis asked when he and his friends were sitting in the school café.

«Absolutely,» Kirill said as he took a gulp of juice. «If Kovaleva’s mother shows up at the prom not by bus but in a decent car, I’ll publicly apologize to both of them.»

«And if it’s a taxi?» Vika chimed in, biting into her sandwich.

«A taxi doesn’t count. I’m talking about a proper car. At least middle class.»

«Deal!» Denis extended his hand.

Sonya was standing around the corner with a tray, collecting dirty dishes from the neighboring tables. They didn’t see her, but she heard every word.

That evening, she couldn’t fall asleep for a long time. A decent car for the prom… It was a chance to rub Kirill and his entire crew the wrong way. But where could she get the money? Even renting the most modest car with a driver cost more than what she could earn in a month at the café.

At the «Mercury» business center, Nadezhda Kovaleva began her workday earlier than anyone else—at six in the morning, when the offices were still empty. By eight, she had to finish cleaning the corridors and restrooms so as not to disturb the employees.

«Good morning, Nadezhda Andreyevna!» a voice rang out as she wiped the glass doors of the «VIP-Motors» office on the third floor.

Igor Vasilyevich Sokolov, the owner of the company, always arrived before others—at the beginning of eight.

«Good morning, Igor Vasilyevich,» Nadezhda replied politely, a bit flustered. Most of the business center’s employees didn’t even notice the cleaners, but this successful businessman always greeted her by name and patronymic.

«How is your daughter? Preparing for prom?» he asked, unlocking the door with his key.

«Yes, only a month left. Time flies so fast.»

«My Maxim is also graduating next year. Although he thinks more about cars than about studying.»

Nadezhda smiled. Igor Vasilyevich often spoke about his son—with pride and warmth. He was raising him alone since his wife had left when the boy was eight.

«By the way, we have some important meetings today. Could you please take an extra walk through the conference room after lunch? I’ll process it as a separate payment.»

«Of course, no problem.»

For two weeks, Sonya worked almost without a day off. Studies, her part-time job at the café, and then home—preparing for exams. She counted every penny, but she was still far from the needed amount.

On Saturday evening, as she was returning from work, a heavy rain began. Soaked to the bone at the bus stop, Sonya noticed a black SUV slowing down nearby.

«Need a lift?» a guy asked from behind the rolled-down window.

Sonya became wary. Getting into a stranger’s car was the last thing she wanted.

«You’re Sonya Kovaleva, right? I’m Maxim Sokolov. My father—Igor Vasilyevich from VIP-Motors—employs your mom.»

Sonya studied the guy carefully. He looked ordinary—jeans, a T-shirt, short hair. Nothing out of the ordinary.

«Hop in, don’t be afraid. I asked my dad to pick up our system administrator; he lives nearby. He saw you on the way.»

It was warm and dry inside the car. In the back seat sat a middle-aged man with a laptop.

«What grade are you in?» Maxim asked as they started moving.

«Eleventh. Prom is in a month.»

«I’m in tenth. I study at the 22nd school.»

They got home quickly. When Sonya got out of the car, Maxim handed her a business card.

«This is my online channel. I talk about cars. It might interest you.»

At the end of April, Nadezhda noticed that her daughter began coming home later than usual.

«Sonya, has something happened?» she asked directly. «You’ve been so nervous lately.»

Sonya sighed. There was no point in hiding any longer.

«Mom, I’m working part-time. At the café ‘U Mikhalycha’ as a waitress.»

«What? Why? Exams are right around the corner!»

«I wanted to make you a gift for prom. A beautiful dress, shoes…» Sonya left out the main goal—the car.

Nadezhda embraced her daughter.

«Silly girl, I don’t need any gifts. I have a decent dress. You should focus on your studies.»

But Sonya was stubborn. The day after their conversation, she visited Maxim’s channel and sent him a message.

«I don’t think it’s a good idea,» Maxim said when they met at the mall. «Even renting the simplest car with a driver for the evening costs more than twenty thousand.»

«And without a driver?»

«Does your mom know how to drive?»

«No.»

They sat in the food court; Sonya was picking at a salad with a fork, not really eating.

«Listen,» Maxim suddenly perked up. «What if we ask my dad to help? He has an entire fleet at his company.»

«He wouldn’t agree,» Sonya waved off. «Why would he do that?»

«I don’t know. But he always speaks so respectfully about your mom. He calls her a ‘responsible person.’ And that’s the highest compliment coming from him.»

Igor Vasilyevich listened to his son with an unreadable expression.

«So, you’re suggesting I provide a car with a driver for the mother of your new acquaintance because some school kids are making fun of her?»

«Yes,» Maxim leaned forward. «Dad, you should have seen how Sonya was upset. She’s really working hard at that café, saving every penny. And those rich kids are mocking her mom just because she’s a cleaner.»

Igor Vasilyevich tapped his fingers on the table thoughtfully.

«What if we do even better?» he suddenly asked. «Not just a car, but something truly impressive?»

A week before prom, Nadezhda was wiping a desk in Igor Vasilyevich’s office when he entered.

«Nadezhda Andreyevna, I have a business proposal for you,» he said as he sat in the chair.

«I’m listening,» she replied cautiously.

«As far as I know, your daughter’s prom is coming up soon. I thought, maybe I could give you a ride? I’m headed that way anyway—partners from the Moscow suburbs are arriving, and I’ll be picking them up near your gymnasium.»

Nadezhda was taken aback.

«Thank you for the offer, but I don’t want to impose.»

«No imposition at all. Consider it gratitude for keeping our office in perfect order,» Igor Vasilyevich smiled. «Besides, I know how important prom is for parents. You want to look your best.»

Nadezhda hesitated. On one hand, being driven by her boss would be wonderful. On the other, it felt a bit odd.

 

«And also,» Igor Vasilyevich added, «we have a vacancy for an administrator. I think you would do an excellent job. The salary is twice as high as your current one, plus a benefits package.»

«Me?.. As an administrator?» Nadezhda almost dropped the cleaning cloth.

«But you have responsibility and attention to detail. We’ll teach you the rest. Think it over before prom.»

The day of prom began for Sonya with a message from Maxim: «Everything’s set. Operation ‘Cinderella’ is a go.»

She smiled. Over the last month, they had grown very close. Maxim turned out to be nothing like the snobbish classmates—simple, with a great sense of humor and a passion for cars.

«Mom, are you ready?» Sonya shouted from her room as she finished her makeup.

«Almost!» Nadezhda replied. «Just need to fix my hair.»

Sonya had saved not only for a dress for her mom but also for a trip to the beauty salon. That morning, for the first time in many years, Nadezhda got a professional hairstyle and manicure.

There was a knock at the door.

«Will you get it? It’s probably Igor Vasilyevich,» Nadezhda said from the bathroom.

Sonya swung open the door and froze. Standing at the threshold was Maxim in a sharp suit.

«Hi, Cinderella, your carriage is ready,» he winked.

Sonya looked out into the yard and gasped. Instead of the promised car, parked by the entrance was a long white limousine with the «VIP-Motors» logo.

«What’s this?..»

«Surprise!» Maxim smiled. «My dad decided that if you’re going to do it, do it right.»

Nadezhda emerged from the bathroom and also froze upon seeing the limousine.

«This is… for us?»

«Yes, Nadezhda Andreyevna. My dad asked me to pass on his apologies—he was urgently called away by partners. But he arranged for our best driver to take you to prom.»

When the white limousine arrived at the gymnasium, a crowd had already gathered—graduates, parents, teachers. Everyone turned at the sound of the approaching car.

The driver opened the door, and Sonya was the first to step out, wearing a simple yet elegant light blue dress. Behind her, Nadezhda followed. In an emerald dress, with a new hairstyle and makeup, she looked like a completely different person—confident and dignified.

Sonya immediately noticed Kirill with his parents. He stood there, mouth agape, hardly believing his eyes.

«Come on, Mom,» Sonya said, taking her mother by the arm.

They walked past whispering onlookers straight to the main entrance. Along the way, the class teacher called out to Nadezhda:

«Nadezhda Andreyevna, you look absolutely stunning today!»

«Thank you, Elena Petrovna.»

At the door, Kirill caught up with them.

«Sonya, can I have a word?» he asked.

She stopped.

«I…,» he hesitated. «I wanted to apologize. To you and your mom. For all the stupid things I said.»

«You really lost the bet, huh?» Sonya asked bluntly.

Kirill blushed.

«Yes. But it doesn’t matter. I truly was wrong.»

«Apology accepted. But not for me—bring them to your mom.»

Kirill then turned to Nadezhda.

«Nadezhda Andreyevna, please forgive me for disrespecting you. It was foolish and unkind of me.»

Nadezhda looked at the young man in surprise, then at her daughter.

«What’s going on, Sonya?»

«I’ll explain later, Mom. Come on, we’re late for prom!»

The evening turned out to be magical. The graduates danced, took photos, and swore eternal friendship. The parents discreetly wiped away tears.

At one point, Sonya noticed that a dignified middle-aged man had approached her mother.

«Who’s that?» Vika asked, following her gaze.

«Igor Vasilyevich Sokolov. The owner of VIP-Motors.»

«Really? And what does he want with your mom?»

Sonya smiled.

«I think he just wants to invite her to dance.»

Two months later, as Sonya was preparing for university admission, Nadezhda came home with a special sparkle in her eyes.

«What’s wrong, Mom?»

«I got promoted. Now I’m the head of the administrative department.»

«Wow!» Sonya threw her arms around her. «Congratulations!»

«And also…» Nadezhda hesitated. «Igor Vasilyevich has invited us to spend the weekend at his country house. You, me, and him with Maxim.»

«Are you two dating?» Sonya asked bluntly.

«No! Well… not exactly. We just have lunch together sometimes. He’s a very interesting person. Not at all like the rich businessmen I imagined.»

Sonya smiled slyly.

«Mom, remember how you used to read me Cinderella stories as a child? It seems that in our family, that fairy tale is becoming a reality.»

A year passed. Sonya studied at university on a state-funded basis. Nadezhda managed the administrative department at VIP-Motors and attended English courses on weekends.

One day, in the university café, Sonya ran into Kirill. He had also enrolled there, though on the paid program.

«Hi,» he said, sitting down at her table. «Mind if I join you?»

«Hi. Sure.»

They sat in silence for a moment.

«You know, I wanted to apologize once again,» Kirill began. «Not for the bet or in public. I mean it sincerely. I was a real idiot back in school.»

«Yes, you were,» Sonya agreed. «But that’s in the past.»

«And how’s your mom?»

«Good. She’s now the head of department at VIP-Motors.»

«Really? What a career!»

Sonya smiled.

«It’s not about the career. She finally got what she deserves.»

«And you? How are you doing?»

«Fine. I study, work as a tutor on the side. And also…» she hesitated, «I’m dating Maxim Sokolov. His father owns that very company.»

Kirill whistled.

«So that’s where that limousine at prom came from!»

«Not just there. I was also saving money, working at the café. I wanted to prove to all of you that my mom deserves respect. That it doesn’t matter what someone does for a living—what matters is who they are.»

Kirill thoughtfully twirled his coffee cup in his hands.

«You know, the strangest thing? My dad went bankrupt. His construction company collapsed. Now I know what it’s like to have no money.»

«I’m sorry,» Sonya said sincerely.

«Don’t be. Maybe it’s for the best. I’ve rethought a lot over this past year.»

They talked a little more about life, studies, and future plans. As they said goodbye, Kirill suddenly said:

«Thank you.»

«For what?»

«For the lesson. The most important lesson in my life.»

That evening, when Sonya returned home, she found her mom preparing dinner. A vase of flowers stood on the table.

«From Igor Vasilyevich?» Sonya nodded toward the bouquet.

 

«Yes,» Nadezhda blushed slightly. «We’re going to the theater tonight.»

«You’ve been seeing him for six months, and you’re still as shy as a schoolgirl.»

«Sonya!»

«So what? It’s wonderful. I’m happy for you.»

Nadezhda approached her daughter and embraced her.

«You know, sometimes I think this is all a dream. A new job, new relationships, your admission to university…»

«It’s not a dream, Mom. It’s life. Our new life.»

In the corridor, the phone rang. Nadezhda went to answer.

«Yes, Igor, I’m almost ready. In half an hour? Okay.»

Sonya watched her mother and smiled. Who would have thought that the phrase «Your mother is just an ordinary cleaner!» would one day completely lose its meaning. Now her mother was a successful businesswoman, a respected manager, and, most importantly, a happy person.

And that white limousine at prom was not just a means of transport—it became a symbol of the changes that had forever transformed their lives.

My gaze was fixed on my mother-in-law, whose state resembled that of a person who had seen a ghost. A small envelope trembled nervously in her hand, and her eyes were frozen in an expression of panic. The loud music of the banquet hall in the old mansion drowned out all sounds, making our conversation completely confidential.

 

This sunny May morning was supposed to be a perfect day. The ancient mansion of my fiancé Sergey’s family was preparing to host a multitude of guests. Waiters deftly arranged crystal glasses, and the air filled with the aromas of fresh roses and elite champagne. Expensive portraits in massive frames seemed to observe the proceedings from the walls.

«Anastasia, have you noticed that Sergey seems a bit strange today?» whispered the mother-in-law, nervously looking around.

I frowned. Indeed, Sergey had looked tense all day. Now he was at the far end of the hall, pressing a phone to his ear, his face frozen like a mask.

«Just wedding nerves,» I tried to dismiss, adjusting my veil.

«Look at this. Right now,» she handed me the envelope and quickly disappeared among the guests, reclaiming her usual social smile.

Hiding behind a column, I hastily unfolded the note. My heart stopped.

«Sergey and his company are planning to get rid of you after the wedding. You are just part of their plan. They are aware of your family’s inheritance. Run if you want to stay alive.»

My first thought was mockery. Some silly joke by my mother-in-law. But then I remembered Sergey’s suspicious conversations, which he interrupted whenever I appeared, his recent coldness…

My gaze found Sergey across the hall. He finished his conversation and turned to me. His eyes showed the truth—a stranger with a calculating gleam.

«Anya!» called the bride’s friend. «It’s time!»

«Just a moment! I’ll just check the restroom!»

Through the service corridor, I ran outside, pulling off my shoes. The gardener raised his eyebrows in surprise but received only a wave in response: «The bride needs some air!»

Outside the gates, I caught a taxi. «Where to?» asked the driver, eyeing the strange passenger. «To the station. Make it quick.» I threw the phone out the window: «The train leaves in half an hour.»

An hour later, I was on a train to another city, dressed in purchases from a station store. Thoughts swirled around one thing: could all this really be happening to me?

Back at the mansion, there was likely a panic starting. I wondered what story Sergey would invent. Would he play the role of a grieving fiancé or show his true face?

Closing my eyes, I tried to sleep. Ahead lay a new life, uncertain, but definitely safe. Better to be alive and hidden than a dead bride.

Changing myself for safety—that’s what fifteen years of perfect coffee practice meant.

«Your favorite cappuccino is ready,» I set a cup in front of a regular guest at a modest café on the outskirts of Kaliningrad. «And a blueberry muffin, as usual?»

«You are too kind to me, Vera Andreyevna,» smiled the elderly professor, one of those who regularly warmed our little coffee shop.

Now I was Vera. Anastasia dissolved in the past along with the white dress and shattered hopes. I had paid a considerable amount for new documents, but it was totally worth it.

«What’s new in the world?» I nodded at his tablet, where he scrolled through fresh news.

«Another businessman got caught in manipulations. Does the name Sergey Valeryevich Romanov ring a bell?»

My hand trembled, and the cup clinked slightly against the saucer. A familiar face appeared on the screen—painfully familiar, though a bit aged, but still as confidently impeccable.

«The head of ‘RomanovGroup’ is suspected of major financial frauds.» And below, in small print: «Discussions continue around the strange disappearance of his bride 15 years ago.»

«Lena, do you realize what you’re saying? I can’t just return!»

I paced the rental apartment, phone pressed to my ear. Lena, the only one I trusted with the truth, spoke quickly and insistently:

«Nastya, listen! His company is under close scrutiny, he’s never been so vulnerable. This is your chance to take back your life!»

«What life? The one where I was a frivolous girl, nearly a murderer’s victim?»

«No, the one where you are Anastasia Vitalyevna Sokolova, not some Vera from a coffee shop!»

I paused in front of the mirror. The woman looking back at me had grown older and more cautious. Silver threads had started to appear in my hair, and a steely gleam shone in my eyes.

«Lena, his mother saved my life then. How is she now?»

«Vera Nikolaevna is in a nursing home. Sergey has long distanced her from the company’s affairs. They say she asked too many questions.»

The nursing home «Golden Autumn» was located in a scenic area just outside the city limits. Posing as a social worker (the necessary papers were easily accessible thanks to my savings), I was easily led to Vera Nikolaevna.

She sat by the window in a chair—so fragile and aged that it took my breath away. But her eyes—those same perceptive and tenacious eyes—recognized me instantly.

«I knew you would come, Nastenka,» she simply said. «Sit down, tell me how you’ve lived these years.»

I told her about my new life—about the café, quiet evenings with books, about learning to start over. She listened, occasionally nodding, then said:

«He planned to stage an accident during the honeymoon on a yacht. Everything was prepared in advance.» Her voice trembled:

«And now he’s sent me here to live out my days because I started digging into his affairs. Do you know how many ‘accidents’ have happened over these years with his partners?»

«Vera Nikolaevna,» I cautiously took her hand. «Do you have proof?»

She smiled:

«Dear, I have a whole safe of evidence. You think I’ve been silent all these years for nothing? I was waiting. Waiting for you to return.»

The same steely fire that I saw each morning in the mirror sparked in her eyes.

«Well, dear bride,» she squeezed my hand, «shall we give my son a belated wedding surprise?»

«Are you from the inspectors?» the secretary skeptically examined my documents.

«Exactly,» I adjusted my glasses in a stern frame. «Emergency audit related to recent publications.»

The office assigned to me within the walls of «RomanovGroup» was two floors below Sergey’s. Every morning, I watched his black Maybach arrive at the main entrance. Sergey had hardly changed—still impeccably postured, elegantly suited, with the customary look of a man who commands everything. His lawyers had successfully quashed the scandal so far, but it was only a matter of time.

«Margarita Olegovna, do you have a minute?» I approached the passing chief accountant. «It seemed or are there certain… discrepancies in the 2023 report?»

The chief accountant visibly paled. As Vera Nikolaevna suspected, this woman knew too much and was looking for a way to clear her conscience.

«Nastya, something’s wrong,» Lena’s voice trembled on the phone. «I’ve been followed for two days now.»

«Stay calm,» I locked the office. «Is the flash drive in a safe place?»

«Yes, but Sergey’s people…»

«Be ready. And remember—tomorrow at ten, as we agreed.»

I approached the window. Two burly men in civilian clothes loomed at the entrance. The company’s security service was getting anxious. It was time to accelerate events.

 

«Sergey Valeryevich, a visitor for you,» the secretary barely contained a tremble in her voice.

«I made it clear—let no one in!»

«She says… you left her at the altar fifteen years ago.»

A heavy silence hung in the office. I decisively entered, not waiting for permission.

Sergey slowly raised his head from the documents. His face was a frozen mask.

«You…»

«Hello, dear. Didn’t expect me?»

He abruptly pressed a button on the phone:

«Security to me!»

«No need,» I placed a folder on the desk. «Your documents are already with the investigators. Margarita Olegovna turned out to be surprisingly talkative. And your mother… she’s been gathering compromising material on you for years.»

His hand reached for the desk drawer.

«I wouldn’t advise it,» I cautioned. «Gunfire will cause unnecessary noise. And prosecutors are already waiting at the main entrance.»

For the first time, I saw fear appear on his face.

«What do you want?» he hissed.

«The truth. Tell about the yacht. About the ‘accident’ you planned.»

He leaned back in his chair and unexpectedly laughed:

«You’ve grown up, Nastya. Yes, I was going to eliminate you. Your inheritance was supposed to be an investment for the business. And then… I had to play the role of a grieving fiancé for years to keep anyone from asking too many questions.»

«And how many lives have you taken over these years?»

«This is business, kid. There’s no room for feelings here.»

The noise outside the door grew louder—the investigators were approaching.

«You know what?» I leaned closer to him. «Thanks to your mother. She not only saved my life but also taught me patience: sometimes you need to wait a long time to strike accurately.»

Three months later, I sat in my favorite coffee shop in Kaliningrad. The courtroom proceedings were broadcast on the TV—Sergey was sentenced to fifteen years in prison. Exactly the amount of time I had spent wandering.

«Your cappuccino, professor,» I set a cup in front of a regular customer.

«Thank you, Vera… I mean, Anastasia Vitalyevna,» he smiled sheepishly. «Will you return to your former life now?»

I looked around my coffee shop, the cozy corners, the regulars who had become a second family.

«You know, professor… Maybe the former life wasn’t real? Maybe I’m just starting a full life now. I’ve bought this coffee shop and I’m staying here.»

Outside, spring rain filled the air with the freshness of freedom.

From the husband’s perspective, the story might have unfolded like this:

I adjusted my tie in front of the mirror. There was a week left until the ceremonial ceremony, and every step was calculated to the smallest detail. Except for one thing—my damn mother, who had been too observant of me lately.

Three months ago, everything seemed perfectly simple. We sat in the «Jean-Jacques» restaurant with Igor and Dima, partners in business, or rather, what we called business.

«Guys, there’s a problem,» I swirled a glass of whiskey in my hands. «We need five million euros to start. Without them, our Chinese contract is doomed.»

«We could take out a loan…» began Dima.

«Who would approve such a large loan for us?» I smirked. «After the real estate failure, that’s hardly possible.»

Igor silently examined the ceiling, then slowly said: «What about your fiancée? Didn’t you tell us about her family’s decent fortune?»

I froze. Anastasia. Beautiful, trusting Anastasia with her inheritance from her grandfather—a network of jewelry boutiques and impressive accounts in Swiss banks.

«Don’t even think about it,» shook his head Dima. «It’s too dangerous.»

«Why?» Igor leaned forward. «Accidents happen. Especially during the honeymoon. Yachts are so unreliable…»

Anastasia lost her heart to me on our third date. I realized it when she looked at me across the table in the «Pushkin» restaurant. Her eyes glowed, and her fingers nervously played with a napkin. She talked about her work in the gallery, and I diligently feigned interest, mentally rejoicing at how easily everything was unfolding.

«Serezhenka, why do you always turn off your phone when we’re together?» she once asked.

«Because I want to be only with you,» I answered with a smile, grateful for the acting courses I attended at university.

She blushed and believed. Believed everything else—my stories about successful deals, compliments, promises. I nodded and smiled, calculating sums in my mind.

Only my mother watched me with suspicion. Especially when she noticed documents for a yacht on my table.

«Sergey,» she addressed me during dinner, stirring the cooled borscht, «you never liked water. What yacht?»

«For the honeymoon, Mom. I want to create a surprise for Nastya.»

She looked at me for a long time, then quietly said: «I don’t recognize you, son. What have you gotten into?»

The day before the ceremony, we met with the guys in my office. The plan was thoroughly worked out:

Wedding. Honeymoon on a yacht. Tragic incident in the open sea. A grieving widower gains access to his wife’s finances. «What if she refuses to go on the yacht?» asked Dima.

«She won’t refuse,» I smiled. «She’s so happy she’ll agree to anything.»

In the evening, my mother tried to talk to me again: «Sergey, stop this. I see that this is not you. Remember who you used to be…»

«Who, Mom? A loser with debts? No, I’ll solve my own problems.»

«At what cost?» her voice trembled.

«Any cost,» I sharply replied and left for my room.

The wedding morning started with hustle and champagne. I stood in front of the mirror, examining my reflection—impeccable suit, confident smile, cold gaze. In my pocket were tickets for tomorrow’s flight and documents for the yacht.

«Ready?» Igor peeked into the room.

«More than,» I adjusted my tie for the last time. «Time to become a happy groom.»

Events then developed out of plan.

I perfectly played the role of a worried groom for the first half hour.

«Where’s Nastya? Who saw the bride?»

Guests scattered throughout the mansion, checking every room. I darted among them, demonstrating anxiety, occasionally dialing her number. Nastya’s phone was unavailable.

«Maybe she’s just nervous?» suggested one of the bridesmaids. «Pre-wedding jitters happen…»

I absently nodded but continued to watch my mother. She sat in a chair, motionless, with an expression of strange satisfaction on her face. This was not concern—this was certainty.

«Damn it, Sergey!» Igor paced my office when the guests had dispersed. «What do we do now?»

«We file a report with the police,» I rubbed my temples. «We’ll search for the missing bride.»

«You don’t get it. What about the plan? The yacht is booked, all details are worked out…»

«The plan is adjusted,» I poured brandy into a glass. «Now I turn into a grieving fiancé whose beloved mysteriously disappeared on the eve of the celebration.»

«And the funds?» dared to interject Dima, who had been silent until then.

«We’ll find an alternative approach.»

Dima, after some silence, asked: «Sergey, could Mom have influenced it somehow?»

I sharply turned to him: «What are you implying?»

«Well, she’s been acting pretty strange lately. Maybe she suspected something?»

The picture in my head began to clear: my mother’s behavior, her questions, her actions at the wedding…

«Damn,» I muttered through my teeth. «She ruined everything.»

Late in the evening, I found her in the winter garden. She tended to her favorite orchids as if nothing special had happened.

«What did you tell her?»

 

Mother didn’t even turn around: «The truth, sonny. The very one you’ve been so diligently hiding.»

«Do you even realize what you’ve done?» grabbing her shoulder, I raised my voice. «How much money and effort were wasted!»

Finally, she looked up: «And do you realize what you were about to do? Destroy a girl who believed in you?»

«Business, Mom. No personal emotions.»

«Business?» she laughed bitterly. «When did you turn into such a person? Could that little boy who cried over his hamster’s sore paw calmly plan murders?»

«Enough!» I knocked the watering can from her hands. «You’ve ruined everything. But don’t worry, I’ll find a way to fix the situation.»

«How exactly? Will you destroy me too?»

I froze. In her gaze, there was no fear—just boundless fatigue and deep disappointment.

«No, Mom. However, you will have to step back from participating in the company’s affairs. For your own good.»

A week passed. The story of the mysteriously vanished bride gained wide publicity. I gave interviews, offered a reward for information, displayed the sorrow of an alleged groom. The press swallowed this story whole.

«And where to now?» Igor asked when we met in the new office.

«We’ll develop the business in other ways,» I handed him a folder with documents. «There are a few companies that can be acquired at a reasonable price. Their owners suddenly found themselves in a difficult situation…»

«A coincidence?» he smirked.

«Something like that,» I smiled. «Main rule—no more weddings. Too complicated to organize.»

Looking out the window where city lights twinkled in the darkening sky, I thought of Nastya. Wherever she was now, it no longer mattered. New prospects lay before me, and this time, no one could break them.

Even my own mother.

However, she still managed to do it, and you know the ending.

Dear, think up there—up high—about how to offend your wife. When you’ve figured it all out, let me know! I’ll let you down, – shouted a pretty woman from the cab of the crane. And dangling from the hook was a little house, the kind you’d see in every village courtyard.

When this story is recalled in the village, the women burst into laughter while the men lower their eyes shyly and blush. Everyone in the vicinity knows the legend of how Taya taught her husband a lesson. Now it’s time for you to hear this tale.

Taya, a delicate and attractive girl, had dreamed of becoming a crane operator since childhood. It is unclear exactly what drew her to this profession. While other girls played with dolls, she happily tinkered with toy cars alongside the boys and constantly pleaded with her parents to buy her a toy crane.

But her mother and father were not accustomed to indulging childish whims. Village life is harsh; there is little time for amusement. Instead, her parents kept telling her that it was time to leave childish pastimes behind and take care of the household.

Obediently, Taya followed the cows to the herd, watered endless vegetable beds, scrubbed the floors, fed the livestock, collected eggs, and carried firewood and water for the bathhouse.

At school, the girl didn’t stand out in any special way. She was an average student. There were no failing marks in her diary, and for that she was grateful. In every subject, she consistently earned average grades.

Teachers shook their heads. They advised Taya’s parents to send her to learn a trade as a seamstress or a cook. At least she would have some profession. In their opinion, she shouldn’t dream of anything greater.

But Taya dreamed. In her fantasies, she saw herself not as just anyone, but as a crane operator skillfully handling a machine on a big construction site.

She considered this work romantic and easy. To her, sitting in a cab and moving levers was a trifle—just grab the loads and move them from place to place. Beautiful!

So Taya finished school. The time had come to choose an educational institution. She understood that with her mediocre certificate, dreams of getting into an institute were out of the question, so she called technical colleges and vocational schools in neighboring towns with one question: do you have a department that trains future crane operators?

And finally, such an institution was found. They even admitted students without exams. In the admissions office, they told her that there was a shortage of students that year, and she would be accepted. Yet they still advised her to choose another field.

 

The teachers looked at the slender girl, as delicate as a reed, with doubt and said:

“You, little one, must have come here to look for husbands? Only boys study here! Of course we’ll take you, since you so desperately want to become a crane operator. But remember: things are strict here. If need be, we’ll expel you right away. Don’t you dare bother our boys!”

But Taya had no intention of bothering anyone’s head, much less searching for a husband. She rejoiced that her dream was coming true. She would master the profession and become a real crane operator!

Astonishingly, her studies came easily to her. She quickly absorbed the theory, learned all the rules and regulations, and passed all the tests and exams.

Perhaps she was motivated by the words of one of the instructors. He told the students:

“Anyone who does not know the theory will not be allowed to practice! Remember that. And don’t even think about taking the controls until you’ve learned everything taught in the lectures.”

And so Taya studied. Then she became fully engrossed in her training, mastered the new terminology, and answered the teachers’ questions so confidently that they had no choice but to give her solid top marks.

Her fellow male students initially laughed at the girl, but soon they fell silent. Moreover, the strict teachers began to hold her up as an example, which greatly bruised the men’s pride.

During practical classes, Taya impressed not only the teachers and fellow students, but even experienced masters marveled at her skill in operating the crane. Yet one of them said to Taya:

“You, dear, are a natural crane operator! But you’ll never work with a crane. No self-respecting foreman will take a woman to a construction site! And at such heights, no less! Your hormones will control you! You never know what’s going on in your head!”

Taya merely smiled and eagerly awaited her graduation from the school. In the city, construction of a new residential complex was just beginning. She firmly decided that she would work there.

And Taya carried out her plans. With a red diploma in hand, she went to the construction manager. He listened to her but shook his head:

“No, dear, I won’t take you, so don’t beg! If you want, take a paintbrush and go join the painters! Or serve lunches to the workers—there’s no way I’m taking you as a crane operator. It’s not a woman’s job. It’s like with sailors: a woman on a ship brings trouble. Don’t even ask!”

But Taya went to him every day. She pleaded for a chance to show her abilities. In the end, he relented. He ordered her to sit at an unused crane and move a small load. It had to be placed exactly where the spot was marked with chalk.

The clunky machine obediently followed all commands of its unusual operator. In an instant, the little box was hooked onto the crane’s hook and, after a brief pause in the air, gently lowered onto the marked spot, drawn by the foreman with chalk.

The workers, who were watching, whistled in admiration! The manager, meanwhile, rubbed his head. He already regretted allowing the girl to take the controls. But a man’s word is law, and he had promised Taya a place on the team if she succeeded with the task.

Thus, Taya became a crane operator. She felt on top of the world, like a fish in water. She was trusted with transporting the most valuable loads. Everyone knew that the petite girl could handle the job. Even fragile structures were delivered intact.

Taya began to earn well, receiving bonuses. Yet she didn’t rush to spend her money on fancy outfits or cosmetics. She had another dream: to build her own house with her own hands.

After all, Taya was from the village. She dreamed of returning there. The city felt cramped to her. But she didn’t want to be a burden on her parents. So she dreamed of having her own home.

One day, the workers noticed that the cheerful Taya had changed. She no longer joked and seemed somehow depressed.

“She’s in love,” said one of the masters. And he wasn’t wrong.

Taya indeed fell in love. She met Misha by chance as she was walking home from work. The young man almost knocked her off her feet. He was riding a bicycle and in a hurry. He immediately apologized and suggested meeting up.

From then on, the young couple started spending time together. They strolled and laughed, yet Taya couldn’t bring herself to confess that she was a crane operator. She was ashamed of her “unfeminine” profession.

But when it turned out that Mikhail was not a professor, but merely a tractor driver who had come to the city for an advanced training course, she opened up to him.

Mikhail said:

“Taya, I dream of building my own house in the village. But without a wife it will be difficult. Be my wife. And that you’re a crane operator—it doesn’t matter. A woman’s place is to cook lunch for her husband and take care of the children. Everyone has a past.”

Taya could hardly believe that this handsome man was asking her to be his wife. His words about a woman’s fate did not wound her. She gladly agreed.

Thus, Taya found herself in Mikhail’s village. At the wedding, the relatives gifted them a respectable sum, which was enough to immediately start construction. The young couple didn’t delay.

Work sprang into action in the spring. Taya’s skills came in handy. One day, while observing another crane operator, she frowned and said:

“Get out of the cab. I’ll do it myself!” From then on, she personally supervised the construction of her house. The workers obeyed her, while her husband merely clicked his tongue and said:

“That’s a wife! Truly, one who can stop a galloping horse and even enter a burning hut!” – exactly the kind of partner he had dreamed of.

The construction neared completion. The house was ready. The couple held a housewarming party and went on to live in love and plenty.

Of course, there was no mobile crane in the village. But Taya was undaunted. Her character had changed. She became obedient and gentle, allowing Mikhail to command her, after all, he was the man.

And so their married life flowed. Everything went smoothly for them. The house shone with cleanliness, the aroma of fresh baked goods filled the air, and the garden yielded a rich harvest.

Mikhail worked on the local farm. He left early in the morning and returned only at sunset. From his wife he demanded love and respect, and she tried her utmost to give it. After all, Taya truly loved her Misha.

However, over time, Mikhail began to abuse his position. He started to allow himself rudeness and sharpness. In the house, his orders were heard time and again:

“Tayka! The floors are filthy today, and the garden beds—I checked, and they’re overrun with weeds! What on earth have you been doing all day? And yesterday’s borscht you served me—how can that be?”

“Misha, I’m struggling with the household work. After all, we’re expecting a baby soon!”

The thought of impending fatherhood somewhat calmed Mikhail. He smirked smugly and patted his wife on the back:

“Give me a son! Otherwise, I won’t let you into the house! You’ll be sleeping in the chicken coop!” He was convinced that Taya would “obey” him and give birth to a boy who would be his exact replica.

But a daughter was born. Blue-eyed and fragile. Yet she cried out at night so loudly that it seemed as if a real man had taken up residence in the house. Mikhail, of course, did not send his wife to the chicken coop. But his dissatisfaction began to show more and more.

Every day in the house, his commanding voice resounded:

“Tayka, the cutlets are burnt! The bathhouse is barely warm, not properly stoked! It’s time to dig up the potatoes! What on earth have you been doing all day?”

“Mishenka, I was with Katyenka. I can’t be away from the garden for too long. She’s a very capricious little girl. She won’t let her mother go!”

Mikhail frowned in discontent and hurriedly left the house, leaving his wife alone with the noisy daughter.

Soon, his behavior became entirely inappropriate. Sometimes he would come home at dawn, other times he would get so drunk he lost consciousness, and sometimes he would hurl dishes, which, in his opinion, were not clean enough.

Taya endured. She blamed herself for having a daughter instead of a son. She tried to please her husband to avoid inciting his displeasure.

If her former classmates or former colleagues from the construction site saw her now, they would not recognize the once slender and cheerful girl in this exhausted woman. The spark in her eyes had gone out; she stopped dreaming and seemed to have completely forgotten that she was a talented specialist—a far cry from the woman her husband desired.

One day, a relative invited both Taya and Misha to a visit. She insisted that the couple must attend the feast because an important guest was expected.

Taya arranged with her neighbor to watch her daughter. The neighbor agreed. And Taya happily began to choose an outfit. She hadn’t left the house for a long time and was delighted about the occasion.

She cheerfully styled her hair, ironed her dress, and was just applying mascara when Mikhail returned home. He was in a foul mood. Taya immediately shrank under his gaze. He furrowed his brows and asked:

“Where do you think you’re going all dressed up? Where are you off to? Trying to attract men? A woman’s place is to cook her husband’s lunch and look after the children! I’ve told you a hundred times! Go and clean the toilet. I made a mess in there. It’s not a woman’s job to go about visiting people. Stay home; I’ll go alone.”

Taya couldn’t believe her ears or eyes. Her husband had turned out to be a true despot and tyrant. She obediently removed her dress, started wiping the mascara from her eyes. Meanwhile, Mikhail changed his clothes and left, smiling smugly.

As soon as he was out of sight, Taya burst into tears. She let the long-suppressed tears flow. At that moment, the neighbor arrived, as arranged, to look after the child. Seeing the distressed, crying woman, she said:

“Taya, what happened? Why are you crying? Go on, get ready to go out! I ran into Mikhail. He looked all puffed up and handsome!”

“But he forbade me, Natasha!” Taya bitterly exclaimed. “He ordered me to clean the toilet!” She began to cry even harder.

“Good grief, that scoundrel! I wasn’t going to tell you, Taya, but it seems it’s time. Your Mikhail has taken a mistress from the neighboring village. She’s an accountant, a fashionista; men flock around her, and she chose your Misha!”

He had gone out without you because he had arranged it with the relative. And she, that city beauty, will be there! Just think what you’ll do! They’ll take the man away from your family!

Suddenly, Taya composed herself. She looked at her tiny daughter, remembered how affectionate her Mikhail had been before the wedding, and asked Natasha:

“Watch my daughter, Natasha. I’ll be back before dark.”

“Of course, I’ll watch her, don’t worry! Are you going out? Give her a good talking-to so that she doesn’t run after other men and confuse them!”

But Taya was in no hurry to go out. She took a regional bus and headed out. There she found her former foreman. It’s unclear what they talked about, but Taya returned to the village in a crane.

She parked the machine in the yard, deciding that her drunken husband simply wouldn’t notice. Then she went into the house and relieved the neighbor of her duties.

Night was drawing near. It was getting dark. Taya put her daughter to bed and lay down herself. Mikhail was still not home. Finally, in the darkness, his footsteps were heard. The husband returned, cheerful and tipsy. He was humming something and dropping his belongings. It was evident he was eating in the kitchen.

Taya did not come out. She waited until her husband entered the room. Finally, he did. The woman pretended as if she had just woken up and said to her husband:

“Misha, the toilet at home is broken. I’ve shut off the water. Please go out to the yard. Otherwise, you might get confused right after waking up and head to the outdoor lavatory.”

Mikhail grumbled:

“Leave you at home! You’d mess everything up. Now you have to go out. Well, at least they haven’t disassembled the outdoor toilet! Still, I’m resourceful and clever. I sensed you’d mess everything up.”

Misha went to the toilet. As soon as he sat down to take care of his business, something inexplicable began to happen. The little house started swaying, spinning, and it seemed to hang in the air. He hesitantly opened the door and nearly lost the gift of speech.

The outdoor toilet was hanging in mid-air. And his wife’s voice echoed:

“Dear, think up there, up high, how to offend your wife. When you’ve figured it all out, let me know! I’ll let you down!”

Mikhail just sat back down. This abnormality had hoisted the wooden little house with the crane. She had gone mad! He shouted:

“Tayka! Immediately stop fooling around! Lower me to the ground. I’ll have a word with you!”

“What are you saying, dear? I can’t hear a thing. You’d better be careful! You might fall—this height is several meters. And have some shame for the neighbors! What will they think when they see you screaming without pants in the sky? They’ll report you to your dear queen! How will you ever look her in the eyes?”

 

Mikhail thought he must have overdrunk and was simply dreaming a terrible dream. He leaned against the side of the little house and closed his eyes. Soon the intoxication would wear off, and he would find himself in a warm bed next to his wife.

But nothing like that happened. As soon as the roosters crowed and dawn broke, he again found himself suspended in the air. His wife was no longer in the crane’s cab. Evidently, she had gone home to be with her daughter.

And the wooden little house swayed in the gusts of wind, threatening to collapse. Mikhail screamed at the top of his lungs:

“Good people, help me! Taya has suspended me! Taya, get me down from here, you know I’m afraid of heights!”

On the porch, Taya appeared, and neighbors began to gather around the house, roused by Misha’s cries.

And Taya stood on the porch and said:

“Dear, have you forgotten how you used to love me? I decided to remind you! Think about your behavior. If you want to leave the family, go ahead. I won’t hold you back! And I won’t allow you to abuse yourself anymore. And clean the toilet after yourself. I bet you made such a mess!”

“And cleaning isn’t my thing—I’ve got another talent! The foreman has invited me to work; I’m going to the city. It’s only a 15-minute bus ride. I’ll make it! And Natasha will watch the daughter. You’ll have to learn to cook lunches, do the washing, and everything!”

Mikhail realized his wife was not joking. He wailed:

“Taya, please forgive me for Christ’s sake! I’ve lost my mind! I love you. I love our daughter. I swear I won’t hurt you again! Get me down from here!”

Taya slowly walked to the machine, settled into the cab, and started the engine. The toilet swayed a little longer in the air and then gently landed back in its rightful place.

The neighboring women laughed and elbowed their husbands, threatening that they’d call Tayka if they dared to disrespect her. They say that in that village there are no more quarrels or discord. And the men now live with respect for the female half and are gentle! Don’t believe it? Come and see!

— Yulia, I’ve prepared a surprise for you! — said the mother-in-law with a strange and slightly frightening tone. — I know you love surprises! You’re definitely going to like this one!

Yulia looked skeptically at her husband’s inexplicably cheerful mother, who was also oddly dressed—in a white medical coat and bright, multicolored polka-dot trousers.

Arina Mikhaylovna stood in the doorway of her apartment and was clearly tipsy.

— Arina Mikhaylovna? — the daughter-in-law wondered as she scrutinized her mother-in-law. — What’s gotten into you? And what’s the occasion for such merriment? And you’ve even come up with a surprise. Why? After all, you’ve never loved me! — Yulia was bold and spoke without reservation.

— I’m having fun because as soon as you see my surprise, everything will finally fall into place. And I’ve been waiting for that!

Arina Mikhaylovna laughed so heartily that the daughter-in-law got goosebumps. Then, with confident steps, she strode into Yulia’s bedroom along with her son Vyacheslav.

— Now, open it! — the inebriated woman pointed to a large built-in wardrobe, to which she had absolutely no connection.

— What do you mean? — Yulia was surprised by her mother-in-law’s insolent act.

— Come on, come on, don’t dawdle! Open it; a surprise awaits you.

Suspecting something was amiss, Yulia dashed to the wardrobe and, upon opening it, was stunned.

All her clothes were wrinkled and marred by some terrifying dark stains, and some were simply torn to shreds!

— What is this? — gasped Yulia and finally… woke up.

The bedroom was unusually dark and stuffy. Slava had somehow drawn the night curtains, even though his wife didn’t like that—she preferred to see the sky and stars as she fell asleep. And the window was closed, even though Yulia clearly remembered leaving it on the ventilation setting before going to bed.

— Slava, Slava? — she reached out for her sleeping husband nearby. — Where are you? Why did you close the window? It’s unbearably stuffy. You know how much I love the cool air.

She needed reassurance. The strange dream had pulled her from a blissful sleep and, for some reason, greatly disturbed her.

But where her husband should have been—peacefully snoring and caught up in his tenth dream—there was emptiness. The bed had even cooled down, indicating that Slava had gotten up long ago.

— I don’t understand. But where is he? — the woman said in astonishment, not yet fully recovered from sleep.

The bedroom door was ajar, but Yulia could clearly see that there was no light anywhere in their small apartment. Not in any room. Everywhere there was an ominous, frightening darkness.

Yulia got up and decided to search for her missing husband. What if he needed help and was lying in the living room or in the hall, unable to move?

“Ridiculous! What kind of thoughts are these? Surely he must have gone to the bathroom with his phone. I told him—don’t drink so much beer at night. No way! He drinks and drinks like he’s out of his mind!” she thought as she moved through the apartment in search of her husband.

Imagine her surprise—and even perplexity—when she didn’t find Slava in the toilet or the bathroom.

— I don’t get the humor… What’s going on? — the woman looked around at the empty rooms in bewilderment. — Has he been abducted by aliens? What a fine mess! The wife is sleeping peacefully, and the husband has disappeared to who-knows-where.

Yulia even went to the balcony to check if perhaps he was there. The door was tightly closed, and there was no one on the balcony.

 

— What wonders! What is happening?

Trying not to panic and hoping that the situation would soon become clear, she found her cell phone and dialed her husband’s number.

Her fingers wouldn’t obey; she began to tremble. No matter how hard Yulia tried to calm herself, it was in vain. Panic started to grip the woman, who was completely overwhelmed with fear.

When the call to her husband finally went through, another shock awaited her. She even jumped in surprise and gasped. The phone lay quietly on the small table in the hall, silently vibrating.

— He left without his cell! How is that possible? Slava never goes anywhere without it! — Yulia stared at the gadget in disbelief.

She picked it up and tried to check the call and message history to see who her husband had last contacted. But, unfortunately, she couldn’t discover anything new or interesting.

— And what now? — she asked the picture of the beautiful girl standing in the rays of the setting sun, with a foolish expression. The beauty remained silent.

Yulia began pacing back and forth in the apartment, unable to settle down from worry. Then she sat on the sofa and started thinking.

Maybe Slava had said something to her that evening, and she just hadn’t paid attention?

— Okay, I need to concentrate and try to remember what he told me. What did he say? Nothing! We sat in silence all evening. I was texting with Dashka, and he was once again browsing his favorite car website.

She desperately wanted to share what had happened with someone, to hear words of support and at least some theory about where to look for her missing husband. But when she glanced at the clock, Yulia realized it was too late to call anyone—it was three in the morning.

Thinking logically, she decided to check what clothes and shoes her husband had disappeared in. And then another shock: Slava had left in his home clothes and slippers—the ones he always wore at home.

— I just don’t understand any of this! Has he really been abducted? What normal person leaves home in the middle of the night in their pajamas and slippers without taking his cell? Who can answer that? Am I going crazy? Slava, where are you?

Yulia shouted these words quite loudly, as she was beginning to have a mild breakdown.

Suddenly, in the deafening silence, she heard a noise. Yulia didn’t immediately understand what it was. Then she dashed to the hall, hoping to see Vyacheslav coming home safe and sound. After all, the entrance door was creaking.

But when she ran to the door, Yulia sadly saw that the hall was empty. However… the entrance door was slightly ajar.

— My God! How did I not notice that sooner? I’ve walked past it several times.

Yulia looked out into the stairwell. It was quiet. No one! Not a soul! So her husband must have left somewhere, leaving the door unlocked. Otherwise, it would have been bolted, and he would have had to unlock it with a key—waking Yulia, who always slept very lightly.

— So, so… Where on earth did my dear husband go off to, practically in his underwear and slippers, and without closing the door behind him? Did he decide to take out the trash in the middle of the night? Maybe he had a silly dream too? What if he’s a sleepwalker? What a mess! — one absurd theory after another raced through the woman’s agitated mind.

Yulia even leaned toward the kitchen window, from where she could clearly see the entire courtyard. Vyacheslav was not there. And there was no one—the city was sleeping peacefully.

There was only one possibility—her husband was somewhere nearby, perhaps even in one of the neighboring apartments.

She went out into the entrance hall and quietly walked past all the apartments on her floor, listening for any sounds. Then she went down one floor and did the same. After that, she climbed to the top floor, checking all five floors of her building. Everywhere was silent. Only from one apartment, where a young couple had recently had a baby, could she hear some noise. The parents were too awake to sleep.

Returning home, Yulia sat down to wait for her missing husband. She was sure that sooner or later he would return, and then… then he would get it!

To calm her nerves a bit, the bewildered woman took a half-finished bottle from the refrigerator and poured herself some wine into a large goblet. Then, after a moment’s thought, she drank it almost in one gulp. A warmth spread through her chest, and Yulia even managed to look at the situation with humor.

— Really, like in a joke, oh my! — she giggled, adding a bit of a soothing agent to her goblet.

In the stillness of the night, all sounds were heard clearly and distinctly. Twenty minutes later, Yulia heard a door opening in one of the apartments on the lower floor. Like a cat trying to be silent, she dashed down the stairs and witnessed a rather telling scene.

Her dear husband was now tenderly embracing the neighbor, Lena, seemingly saying goodbye to her after a wonderful time together.

— Slava, I’ll miss you, — whispered the neighbor, flushed after their pleasant encounter.

— Me too, — he said, clinging to the other woman as if she were his.

The enamored couple was completely unaware that an incensed wife was watching them, barely containing her anger.

— Now you must try to return home unnoticed. Can you do that? — Lena quietly asked Slava.

— I’ll try; maybe it’s not the first time, — the man replied with a laugh.

Yulia could no longer tolerate this mockery.

— Ah, there you are, dear! And here I thought you’d been kidnapped! — the wife declared loudly, looking down at the lovebirds from above.

Both, caught off guard and not expecting such a twist, were momentarily confused, dumbfounded, and staring at Yulia.

That was all the time she needed to pounce like a tigress, rushing down to grab her rival by the long hair that lay in a coquettish wave on her shoulders.

— Aaaah! — Lena shrieked throughout the entrance. — Help! Slava, save me! Help!

— Yulia, stop what you’re doing! — Slava stammered, trying to remove his furious wife from the back of his companion.

Yulia managed to sit so deftly on the neighbor, grabbing her by the hair, that it wasn’t easy to shake her off. Meanwhile, she didn’t forget to administer heavy slaps to her victim, declaring:

— I’ll show you how to deceive me! I’ll arrange for you to have nighttime rendezvous!

She also managed to use her legs. Skillfully, she managed to kick Vyacheslav, who was spinning nearby, unsure how to separate the two women. The kick landed squarely in the eye.

— Ladies, please, calm down! Stop fighting! — the man pleaded, dancing around while rubbing his bruise, but it was all in vain.

Screams, noise, and shouts soon woke up the entire building. Neighbors began peering out in surprise and discontent. Some, deciding to watch the outcome of the fight, even stepped out onto the landing. The men laughed, making bets on one or the other rival. The women gasped and pleaded for someone to break up the brawl.

— They’re about to kill each other! Do something already! Why are you just standing there, men!

— What, Slava, did you finally get what you deserved? — joked an elderly neighbor. — Don’t you know the saying: “don’t behave like the one where you live.” Now, here’s your problem.

— All you men are the same, always looking for a place to settle, — his wife retorted indignantly, standing right there.

— Were you trying to catch me? Huh? To make such claims? Look, you got carried away. Go home, stop staring! — her husband replied, shoving his wife toward his apartment door.

Finally, Yulia exhaled and let her victim go. The neighbor looked miserable—her face scratched, her hair quite disheveled, and a bruise beginning to redden under her eye. Yulia had also been hit, but at that moment she felt no pain.

 

Stunned by the events, the betrayed wife silently walked through the crowd of onlookers and headed home. Slava obediently followed her. A confrontation even worse than the one that had just occurred awaited him.

But the wife decided she’d had enough. It wasn’t worth spending any more energy on her husband.

— Yul, you… — Slava began uncertainly as he entered the apartment.

— Don’t even start! Don’t open your mouth! Just gather your things in silence and get out! — Yulia declared, still overwhelmed by her emotions.

— You won’t forgive me? — Slava tried once more. — That Lena, she seems to have bewitched me, hypnotized me. I didn’t mean to, honestly! I never intended to go to her. I don’t know how it happened. I wasn’t myself when I went to her. Listen, maybe she’s a sorceress?

— Oh, don’t make me laugh! Even if she did cast a spell on you and muddled your mind.

— Forgive me? — Slava asked again hopefully.

— Forgive? Are you completely out of your mind? Do people forgive such things?! I never want to see or hear from you again. I simply can’t. And you talk about forgiveness! We’ll sell this apartment; I can’t live here after such disgrace. And you, get out right now. That’s only fair. You messed up, and you must leave.

And then, rather inopportunely, Yulia suddenly remembered that silly dream with her mother-in-law.

— Well, that dream came in handy! — she exclaimed in surprise. — See, don’t trust dreams! Oh, mother-in-law! At least in one thing, I got something good from you. You woke me up in time.

Yulia and Vyacheslav soon divorced and sold their shared apartment. And for a long time afterward, all the residents of that building recalled the farcical incident that had occurred with their neighbors.

And as a warning to husbands, wives often said—don’t behave like Slava, or you’ll end up badly.»

Chapter 1. The Shadow Player

Kira had learned to be inconspicuous.

Her wardrobe consisted of simple items – beige sweaters, modest trousers, and minimalist earrings. She didn’t mind when her husband disdainfully introduced her as his “unemployed but thrifty” wife. She didn’t argue when he declared before his friends that “women were not made for business.” And she never contradicted his belief that the head of the family was the one who brought in the income.

Kira remained silent. Because her game was much deeper.

Secret Strategy

At the beginning of their relationship, she truly believed in Nikolai – in his strength, intelligence, and business acumen. He was building a company, confidently negotiating, and sketching out grand plans for the future.

But the more Kira observed, the more it became clear: he was not a strategist, but an adventurer.

He couldn’t plan, analyze risks, or devise a backup plan. Nikolai pursued quick deals, easy money, and dubious partnerships. What mattered most to him was appearing successful rather than truly being so.

And then Kira decided: if you can’t trust your husband, you must build your own foundation.

She started small – investing her saved funds in young internet projects. Marina, her longtime friend, assumed official leadership as the public face of the business.

After several years, this modest investment turned into a significant success. Their company specialized in logistics solutions, marketplaces, and digital technologies, and now Kira was earning considerably more than her husband.

But he didn’t know. And Kira wasn’t in any hurry to tell him. She waited.

Chapter 2. Warning Signs

Nikolai always ignored the details.

For him, only grand gestures mattered – flashy deals, extravagant parties, and expensive gifts that he bought more for image than from any genuine desire to please.

And Kira? She noticed everything.

She saw how her husband’s business began to crumble. Clients were leaving. Suppliers were delaying deliveries. Debts were mounting, yet Nikolai continued to act as if everything were under control.

Kira knew that telling him directly was pointless – he would just brush her off. So she tried to gently steer him.

“You’re investing too much in risky projects,” she cautiously remarked over dinner.

Nikolai raised his eyebrows in surprise: “Oh, of course! A woman who doesn’t even know how to negotiate is going to advise me!”

Kira fell silent. “Should I even ask for your permission?”

She fell silent again.

At that moment, Kira realized: the situation was hopeless. He not only didn’t listen to her – he was incapable of doubting his own correctness. His downfall was inevitable. And when it came – Kira would be ready.

Chapter 3. The Fall

Nikolai did not believe in failure.

Every time he faced difficulties, he convinced himself: “It’s temporary,” “Things will get better soon,” “I’ll manage somehow.”

But this time, he couldn’t cope.

The problems Kira had suspected crashed down on him all at once.

A key partner refused to renew the contract. Loans taken to cover old debts turned into an insurmountable mountain of obligations. New suppliers demanded advance payments, yet the company had no funds.

Kira watched the events unfold from the sidelines without intervening.

She knew that if she tried to help now, he would reject her assistance.

 

And when Nikolai burst into the house with a lost expression and immediately shouted: “Can you believe what happened?!”

…she simply placed a cup of tea before him.

“I’m bankrupt!” he cried, unbuttoning his shirt collar in a frenzy as if he were suffocating. “It’s all over. I’ve been completely ruined!”

Kira looked at him intently. “Who ruined you, Kolya?”

He grew sullen. “What difference does it make now? The main thing is – we have no money!”

We.

Kira almost smiled. He still considered them a team. But her ship had long left the harbor. His, on the other hand – was sinking.

For the first time in a long while, Kira felt powerful.

Nikolai sat before her confused, broken, vulnerable. He expected a reaction – support, tears, panic.

But she offered him none of those emotions.

“What are you going to do?” Kira asked calmly.

He ran his palms over his face. “I don’t know yet… I’ll find some kind of job. Damn, I can’t believe…” Kira nodded. “You can work for me.”

Silence. Nikolai slowly raised his head. “What?!”

“I’m offering you a position in my company.” It was said simply, matter-of-factly.

“But you don’t even have your own business,” he murmured in astonishment.

Kira tilted her head slightly. “Are you sure about that?”

Chapter 4. The Veil Falls

A heavy silence hung between them. Nikolai looked at Kira as if he had met a completely different person.

“What did you just say?” he asked again, blinking as if to make sure he hadn’t misheard.

Kira calmly took a sip of her tea. “I’m ready to hire you.”

He snorted in disbelief. “Don’t joke with me, Kira. What business? You have…”

He faltered, noticing something in her expression.

“What business are you talking about?” he asked cautiously, already feeling alarmed.

“Mine.”

Nikolai frowned. “Did you find a job somewhere?” Kira smiled slightly. “No, I created this business.”

Moment of Revelation

Irritation flashed in his eyes. “Are you trying to crush me with this? That I’m a failure and you suddenly became successful? How much are you even earning? You have no business experience!”

Kira set her cup on the table. “Enough to offer you a position.”

Her tone held no challenge or mockery. She wasn’t trying to humiliate him.

Yet Nikolai still felt as if he’d been hit in the gut. “I want to see the documents!” he demanded sharply.

Without a word, Kira pulled out a folder, retrieved the papers, and calmly slid them over to him.

Nikolai quickly scanned the contents. Reality hit him with renewed force. Her company was worth far more than his own business ever was in its most successful years. She was wealthy. His Kira. The very one he had considered unemployed.

“How long has it been around?” he asked dully. “A few years.” “And you kept it hidden?” “I didn’t hide it. You just never cared.”

Her voice was calm, without a hint of offense. That struck him the hardest.

First Reaction – An Attempt to Defend

“Isn’t it true that it’s not only your money?” he said with a hopeful tone. “We’re married, so half belongs to me!”

Kira calmly folded her hands on the table. “No.”

“What do you mean ‘no’?!” he exclaimed.

She patiently took the documents and pointed to a line. “Legally, the business belongs to Marina.”

Nikolai froze, absorbing the information.

“To whom?!” “Marina.” “But you…” “I’m merely an analyst. I work behind the scenes, providing consultations. Formally, I’m not part of the company.”

His face drained of color. Nikolai realized he had no right to any claims. All these years, Kira had been not only smarter than he thought – she had planned everything in advance.

He clenched his fists. “Did you set this all up on purpose? Wanted me to collapse and then laugh at me?!”

Kira tilted her head slightly. “No, Kolya. I was striving for stability. You never cared about the future, so I took care of it for both of us.”

She stood up. “If you want to work – there’s a place for you. But if you’re planning to fight for what isn’t yours…”

Her gaze was direct and resolute. “Then deal with the law.”

With those words, she headed to the bedroom, leaving him alone.

Chapter 5. A New Reality

Nikolai’s first day at work began with a shock. Kira turned out to be wealthier than him. The very Kira – quiet, unobtrusive, whom he had long considered weak. And now he worked for her.

When Nikolai entered the office, he expected ridicule. He assumed that Kira’s employees would treat him with arrogance, whispering behind his back.

But their reaction was calm. Marina, the company’s co-founder, nodded briefly: “Welcome. HR has prepared all the documents. Come on, I’ll show you what you’ll be doing.”

She led him through the office, explaining the processes. Nikolai listened distractedly. His thoughts swirled around one idea: How do I regain control?

The first surprise awaited him in the office when Marina handed him a contract: “Sign it.”

Nikolai scanned the text. Salary – ordinary, average by market standards, with no bonuses or perks. Position – a regular employee in the logistics department, with no managerial duties. Probation period – three months.

He looked up. “I was hoping for a higher position.”

Marina smiled wryly. “Of course. But you’re on probation now. Just like everyone else who comes without experience.”

Nikolai clenched his jaw. Without experience. After twenty years in business, he found himself in the same row as novices just starting their careers!

But if he refused… He no longer had a financial cushion. Through gritted teeth, he took the pen and signed the contract.

The First Days – A Test of Pride

His workstation turned out to be in a regular open space, among ordinary employees. No private office, no assistant. His first assignment? Analyzing warehouse documents. “Didn’t you insist before that your employees start with the basics?” Marina reminded him with a smile.

Nikolai silently took his seat at the computer. He wasn’t used to taking orders. He was used to giving them. But now, there was no choice.

The First Attempt to Demonstrate Authority

 

Within a week, he began to feel more confident. A plan gradually formed in his mind: he would showcase his leadership skills, prove his competence – and regain his lost status.

However, one day he made a mistake. In the office kitchen, he encountered Kira. She was washing a cup. Without thinking, he blurted out: “And you still can’t afford a dishwasher?”

She didn’t even turn around. After carefully drying her hands with a towel, she calmly turned and said in an even tone: “Today you’re working the night shift.”

Nikolai blinked in surprise. “What?!”

“You heard correctly.” “But my schedule is for the day!” Kira smiled – softly, yet without any hint of warmth. “Now you have a new schedule. Nighttime loading. If you want to complain – contact HR. They know where you are.”

Nikolai froze. He realized that Kira would not let him feel his superiority. And then, for the first time in a long while, he said: “Understood.” And went off to prepare for the night shift.

Chapter 6. Changes

Nikolai was changing. At first, he thought he was only working temporarily until he found a better option. But weeks passed, and the new reality sank deeper into his consciousness.

Kira no longer depended on him. She didn’t ask for his consent. And, surprisingly, now he depended on her.

Decisive Moment

Two months had passed since he declared himself bankrupt. He woke up early, worked late, and was mastering a new field. Had he given up? No. But he had learned to follow Kira’s rules.

He stopped trying to command her. He didn’t ask for money, nor did he demand a share. Even Marina noted that he began working diligently, without hysteria or complaints.

Yet there was one thing that troubled Nikolai. He saw the new Kira. She had become calm, confident, untouchable. She no longer sought his approval. And most importantly – her gaze had changed.

Previously, he saw love, devotion, and hope in her eyes. Now, there was only confidence.

And that became his real test.

The Final Dialogue

They were in the kitchen. Just an ordinary evening, like many others. Kira placed a cup of tea before him. Nikolai silently took it, studying it thoughtfully, and suddenly said: “Before, I was sure I could lead you…” He paused, gripping the cup tighter in his fingers. “But now, you are the one who sets the rules of the game.”

Kira gave a barely perceptible smile. She slowly poured the tea, remaining calm. Then she raised her eyes and replied softly yet firmly: “I’ve always made the decisions. You just never noticed.”

Nikolai looked away. He realized – his power was gone. He understood that Kira had stayed with him. But one thing he knew for sure: now everything depended solely on her choice.

— Yulka, it’s no use running from me. You’re going to be mine anyway—whether you like it or not.

— Oh, come off it! Do you really think that just because your dad works in the police everything’s allowed for you? The law is the same for everyone. Just try it—and you’ll end up behind bars.

 

— I’ll try, but for now it’s difficult. After that incident, your granny started taking you to school and picking you up. She even keeps an eye on you at home.

— That’s all your fault. Why did you drag yourself into the schoolyard bushes during recess? A janitor saw you from the window and intervened.

— And that’s why he got his comeuppance. His father forced him to resign, sell his house, and leave town.

— Your father did that?

— I said all that to him… He’ll always remember how he tried to interfere with me.

— You’re just spoiled by your father’s attention. How could he have fallen for your provocations? Vadim Sergeyevich is a respectable man—our local officer.

— And what about mom? Seven years ago she left me and dad, ran off with some outsider. She didn’t even show up for the divorce proceedings; dad handled everything himself. You women are all the same. You fixate on someone, but not out of love. Understand?

Nikita stepped away from the girl, and at the classroom door his friends burst into laughter.

— So, are you going to keep humiliating yourself, Nikitos? Yulka is a tough nut to crack.

— I’ll crack her when the opportunity arises. How about a bet—at graduation I’ll charm her into it? Dimka, you’re on for the computer, and Yurka, you’re getting a new phone.

The boys high-fived and went into the classroom. Yulia sat at her desk, and Nikita stuck his tongue out at her. His friends only smirked.

The graduation day arrived. In the assembly hall, diplomas were handed out, and the celebration continued in the gymnasium where tables were set up.

The graduates didn’t linger long indoors. According to a long-standing tradition, at ten o’clock they headed to the river. There, they lit a bonfire, and plenty of conversation topics arose. Yulia sat between her friends Katya and Sonya, feeling protected from Nikita. They promised to see her safely home at dawn.

— Girls, let’s slip away into the bushes before Nikita, Yurka, and Dimka show up in the clearing. They took Larka to the river, — Katya suggested.

Of course, each chose her own spot among the bushes, but it was all in vain. It seemed Nikita had been waiting for this. He crept up from behind, covered Yulka’s mouth with his palm, grabbed her waist, and dragged her into the woods. Thanks to his training in a sports club, he was strong and enduring. Yulia, though she struggled, couldn’t do anything. From afar, her name was being shouted, but she couldn’t answer.

Nikita ran until the voices completely died down. He crossed the road, reached the edge of the settlement, veered towards the forest, and stopped at a small hut, where he finally dropped her.

— There, Yulka, now you’re going to get exactly what I’ve longed for. Don’t complain later. After all, your father will blame you…

Yulia appeared at her home at daybreak. Her grandmother, grandfather, and parents, having lost hope of finding her in the woods, were waiting in the yard.

— Yulenka, darling, — her mother wept, looking at the tattered, dirty graduation dress with its ruffles dragging on the ground. The bodice, missing its buttons, was wrinkled on her chest. Makeup mixed with tears.

Her grandmother hugged her, and her father asked:

— Who did this to you, darling? Nikita?

— Him, dad, — she immediately admitted.

Her father rushed outside. His path led him to the local officer, where he filed a report.

— Take this, Vadim Sergeyevich, and do what’s right by conscience and law. I’m taking my daughter to the clinic for tests. If you try to interfere or swap the results, you’ll have only yourself to blame. Under Yulka’s nails, there’s the skin of your son.

— Calm down, Valentin Ignatievich. My son will answer for everything under the law. I’m not going to cover for him. I’ll personally take him to the clinic. He’s sleeping at home now. I noticed scratches on his shoulders and arms, but he said he got into a fight.

Nikita received his sentence. His father resigned from service and started working as a private detective, opening his own agency.

Yulia learned about the pregnancy and signed up for an abortion. At the clinic, she encountered Nikita’s father and tried to pass by, but he stopped her.

— Wait, Yulia. We need to talk.

— I have nothing to discuss with you. Your son ruined my future. I had so much trouble scheduling the procedure. I have a rare blood type, and there’s a risk I might never be able to have children again. But I definitely don’t want this child.

— Let’s get into the car. I have an important conversation to have. Please, listen.

— Fine, I’ll listen.

In the car, Vadim confessed: — I went to the colony to see my son… and buried him there. I couldn’t bring myself to take him home, so I left him in the local cemetery. You’re carrying his child, and I have no one left. I grew up in an orphanage myself; my mother abandoned me in a cardboard box by a dumpster. I survived to always act honestly. But I lost my son.

— Lost him? Is that what it’s called now? And who forced the janitor to resign from the school, sell his house, and leave?

— Yulia, I swear, I had nothing to do with that.

— And Dina, the saleswoman? Her boss fired her for refusing to sell cigarettes to your son. And you deny that too?

 

— I swear, I didn’t know anything. For such “exploits” I was always very strict with Nikita—confiscating his phone, laptop, money. He was never a spoiled kid.

— That’s enough, I’ve heard you. I must go.

— Wait. If you decide to keep the child, he will be my grandson, a part of my family.

— I’m not going to be your incubator. Get married and let your wife have the baby. You’re not that old and you’re attractive. You’ll find someone.

— And will you agree to be my wife? Together we can raise the child.

— How can you suggest such a thing? I won’t tell anyone. — Yulia dashed out of the car.

At home, she told her grandmother about the impending abortion and its possible consequences.

— My dear, I understand your feelings. But when you find love, you’ll understand: without children, a family is incomplete.

— Grandma, what are you saying? This is Nikita’s child! I’ll never be able to love him.

— Think it over for a couple of days, and then we’ll decide.

At the store, Yulia met Vadim again. He approached her and led her outside.

— So, have you decided to marry me? The thing is, after my injury I became sterile. Now, I have neither a son nor any chance for offspring. The grandson you bear will be the meaning of my life. I’m willing to arrange a sham marriage; you move in with me. Everyone will believe that the child is mine. Do you agree? That way, you’ll preserve your health and the chance to be a mother again.

— With you? You’re sterile, and in marriage I won’t be able to stray or get divorced. You’ll take the child away immediately.

— That won’t happen, I swear. The main thing is—the child must be born. I’ll come by this evening; we’ll discuss it. Do you agree?

— Fine, you won’t let up anyway.

Yulia went home, while Vadim continued on his way.

In Yulia’s family, heated disputes broke out. In the end, they reached a compromise: Yulia would marry Vadim and move in with him.

There was no wedding celebration. They registered the marriage and returned to Vadim’s home.

— Make yourself at home, settle in. Nikita’s room is off-limits, but upstairs you can choose any room. My bedroom is large, and there are two spare rooms. One will become a nursery.

— Alright, Vadim Sergeyevich.

— No patronymic. So that everyone truly believes it’s a genuine marriage.

— Fine, Vadim. You’re my husband, and I’ll get used to it.

Yulia gave birth to a boy, and soon everyone noticed that he resembled Vadim.

The shock for her family came with the news of a second pregnancy. She explained: — I’ve come to love him. It turned out he thought he was sterile, but he was mistaken.

The second son was biologically Vadim’s, yet he also adored his grandson.

This is the story of an event that took place in one of the towns in the Moscow suburbs.

Triplets were born to us! It’s simply unbelievable, Ira!»

«Maxim could barely contain his emotions; his face shone with such delight as if he were witnessing a unique natural phenomenon.» – her voice came out barely audible.

The hospital room, illuminated by the March sun, seemed dazzlingly bright. Irina was half-seated on the pillows, turned away toward the window where the poplar branches scratched at the glass.

 

Maxim held a bouquet of tulips that had begun to wilt in his sweaty hands. Between them were three little bundles in transparent bassinets.
«Can you imagine, two boys and a girl?» he stepped closer, trying to catch her gaze. «I’ve come up with names for them, want to know?»

She was silent. Her fingers lay listlessly on the blanket, her nails with chipped polish.

Maxim sat on the edge of the bed, remembering how just nine months ago they were expecting one baby. They had planned a nursery, argued about the color scheme. Then the ultrasound revealed twins. And the fear in her eyes.

«Artem, Egor, and Masha,» he continued, trying to fill the silence. «Masha will be Daddy’s princess, right?»

At last, Irina turned around. Tears sparkled in her eyes, but not the ones he had expected.

«I can’t go on like this, Maxim,» her voice suddenly grew strong. «One child – that’s one thing. But three… It’s the end of everything. My career, our plans. Everything.»

He stood frozen in disbelief.

«What are you saying? They’re our children.»

«Your children. I’m not ready for this.»

Something clattered in the corridor; hurried footsteps of a nurse were heard. Outside, a poplar branch desperately scraped at the glass, as if warning of something.

Maxim remembered that conversation so vividly, as if it had happened just yesterday, even though many days had passed.

He stood in the middle of their apartment, holding Masha in his arms while Artem and Egor slept in carriers. The television was loudly broadcasting some talk show. The air was filled with the smell of baby formula and unwashed laundry.

«Give them up to the orphanage, I can’t live like this,» Irina said matter-of-factly as she packed her things into a suitcase. «I suggested not having the baby when we found out about the twins. You refused. Now there are three of them, Maxim. Three!»

Her hands feverishly stuffed the suitcase with blouses and jeans. On the wall, a wedding photograph from two years ago looked down with smiling faces.
«You can’t do this,» he whispered, fearing to wake Masha, whose tiny fingers clung to his T-shirt. «We’ll manage.»

«I don’t want to manage. I wanted to live. To travel. To build a career,» she closed the suitcase. «Children weren’t part of my plans. And now there are three.»

Maxim looked at her as if seeing her for the first time. The beautiful face he had kissed countless times now seemed foreign, cold, almost hostile.
«So this is who you really are,» he said.

«And you thought you knew me?» she replied bitterly with a smile. «I always said I wasn’t made for motherhood. You didn’t want to listen.»

She moved closer, pausing for a moment in front of Masha. She didn’t kiss her. Just turned her gaze away.
«Sorry,» she said, and Maxim couldn’t tell to whom it was addressed. «I’ll file for divorce and renounce parental rights. Don’t look for me.»

The door closed with a soft click. Thunder rumbled outside. A storm began. Masha started crying, followed by Artem and Egor, as if sensing they were left with a grief-stricken father.

Maxim clutched his daughter, not knowing what to do next, and suddenly felt something burst and harden inside him. The triplets were only 21 days old.

And he had absolutely no idea how to manage them on his own.

With trembling fingers, he dialed a number he hadn’t used in a long time.

«Dad,» his voice broke. «She’s gone. I’m alone with three children. Help me.»

The response came immediately, without a single question:

«We’re leaving with your mother.»

Maxim stepped onto the creaking wooden porch. It was five in the morning; the sky was just beginning to lighten over the horizon. Three months had passed since the day the family SUV took them from the city apartment. Three months of a new life.

«Finally awake, sleepyhead,» his father grumbled as he emerged from the barn with a bucket of warm milk. Steam rose into the cold air. «A cow won’t milk herself.»

Maxim only nodded, pulling on his work gloves. Hands that once only knew the keyboard were now covered in calluses.

His skin had become rough, his nails blackened from the soil. The city engineer disappeared on the day when the door of the apartment he shared with Irina slammed shut.

«Are the kids sleeping?» asked Pyotr, looking at his son with a concealed pride.

«Masha woke up once,» Maxim ran a hand over his unshaven cheek. «Mother rocked them back to sleep.»

The big log house, a family nest on the outskirts of the village, welcomed them without questions. They had a dairy farm, an apiary, and an apple orchard. Maxim’s parents, Pyotr and Lidia, seemed to have been waiting for his return. They simply said: «We have enough room for everyone.»

«Did you talk to the kindergarten director?» Pyotr said, gesturing with his pitchfork at the new cowshed. «Soon they’ll be growing up; we need to book a place in advance.»

«Not yet,» Maxim snapped, recalling how last night Masha had smiled at him consciously for the first time. Not just a reflex, but a real smile. His heart tightened. «They’ll be home a long time; they were just born.»

His father did not argue. He only winked and went off to feed the chickens.

Time passed, the children grew, and the family grew stronger.

One evening, with his hands trembling from fatigue, Maxim sat on the porch watching the sunset. His mother brought over a steaming plate of millet porridge and placed fresh flatbreads beside it.
«Eat, or you’ll collapse from exhaustion,» Lidia said as she sat down next to him. «The children are fed.»

Laughter echoed from deep within the house — the triplets adored splashing in the big wooden tub. Pyotr hummed, imitating a steamboat.

«Mom, I think we should sell the apartment,» Maxim suddenly said without taking his eyes off the blazing sky. «We need to expand the farm if we want to secure a future for the three of them.»

Lidia did not answer immediately. She ran her hand along his prickly nape, just as she used to in his childhood. «She won’t come back, son,» she finally said. «I’ve seen women like that. Once they renounce, they renounce forever.»

«I’m not waiting,» Maxim replied sharply. «Sometimes I’m even grateful. Better this way than to torment the children with your coldness for years.»

From the microwave in the kitchen came the crackle — a bottle with formula for Artem, who always woke before the others at night.

Maxim got up wearily. From the terrace, he had a view of the farm, the empty fields, the deep black forest on the horizon. His new world was harsh, demanding, but real.

And so were his responsibilities toward the three little beings who called him Dad.

«Masha, don’t even think about feeding Vasiliy semolina porridge!» Maxim caught the four-year-old daughter, who was about to overturn a bowl onto the ginger cat. «Artem, wipe your mouth. Egor, where are your boots?»

The kitchen had turned into a true testing ground. The three little ones, each with their own personality, were trying to run off in different directions. The worst part was that they had learned to cover for each other’s mischief.

«Sweetie, Dad needs to go to the market,» Lidia skillfully braided Masha’s hair. «Grandpa is already waiting in the yard.»

A three-ton truck, loaded to the brim with apples and honey, stood at the gate.

Over three years, Maxim’s farm had blossomed into a thriving enterprise: they had secured a milk supply contract with a dairy factory, expanded the apiary, and were developing new plots of land. All for the sake of the triplets, for their future. Maxim pulled on his old leather jacket, worn at the elbows, and stepped out into the yard. It was time to head to the regional market.

«Daddy, buy me a book!» Masha shouted from the doorway. «About princesses!»

«And a toy car!» yelled Artem, the most spirited of the three.

«And a candy!» added Egor, the quiet one who never asked for much.

Maxim smiled and waved. His world had shrunk to one point – this house, these children. Everything else had ceased to exist.

The market buzzed with people. The truck emptied quickly – the products from the Kravtsov farm were prized for their organic quality. While tallying the earnings, Maxim noticed her. A young woman, short, with chestnut hair cascading to her waist, was leafing through a book at a nearby stand. Her face – open, with prominent features – couldn’t be called classically beautiful.

But there was something attractive and warm about her. She looked up and smiled at him.

«Excuse me, is this your honey?» she asked, pointing to the last jar. «They say it’s the best.»

«Yes, it’s ours,» Maxim suddenly blushed, as if he were a teenager. «From the lime tree orchard.»

«I’m the new school librarian,» she said, extending her hand. «Olga.»

Her palm was rough, with ink stains between her fingers.

After a while, Maxim again shook her hand on the threshold of their home. Olga smiled, handing a book of fairy tales to Masha.

«You promised to teach me how to make paper cubes,» Masha seriously reminded her. «Origami, right?»

«Of course,» Olga knelt down to be level with the little girl. «I brought everything.»

Maxim watched as she spread out colored paper on the table, patiently showing each fold. The triplets, usually restless, sat quietly, paying close attention to her hands.

The air smelled of chebureks – Lidia had made them in anticipation of the guest’s arrival. Outside, the first snowflakes fluttered.

 

And for the first time in a long while, Maxim felt something new, fragile, and unexpected being born in his soul. A feeling he dared not name, so impossible it seemed after all that had happened. «Make a wish!» Maxim carried a huge cake with seven candles. The flame trembled, reflected in the eyes of the hushed children.

Eight years flew by like a single day. The triplets were finishing first grade at the rural school. Egor became fascinated with chess, Artem built complex models from construction sets, and Masha wrote stories that Olga carefully kept in a special folder.

The kitchen was filled with guests: grandfather and grandmother, several neighborhood children, and a teacher from the school. Olga stood to Maxim’s right, discreetly wiping her fogged glasses. Her eyes, too, shimmered suspiciously. «One, two, three!» Maxim commanded, and the children’s cheeks puffed out.

All the candles went out at once. The room erupted in applause.

«And now, presents!» announced Pyotr, producing three boxes from behind his back. «A compass for each. So you’ll always find your way home.»

Suddenly, Masha put her compass aside and looked into Maxim’s eyes. In the light of the festive garland, her face seemed older – not that of a little girl. «Daddy, will our real mom ever come back to us?»

The room fell silent. The sound of the ticking wall clock – brought over by Maxim’s great-grandfather – could be heard. Lidia stepped forward, but Maxim stopped her with his gaze.

«No, sweetheart, she won’t come back,» he said softly but firmly, looking into his daughter’s eyes. «Sometimes adults make choices they can’t change. But you have me. And you have…»

He faltered, glancing surreptitiously at Olga. They hadn’t spoken of it, even though over the years she had become part of their lives. Spending evenings with the children, helping with homework, and reading fairy tales. One time, she even stayed overnight when a blizzard broke out, and she stayed – first in the guest room, and then…

«And you have Mama Olya,» Egor finished for him, approaching Olga and taking her hand. «She reads us books.»

Olga trembled. Tears streamed down her cheeks.

«I only wanted to be helpful,» she whispered. «I never meant to replace…»

«Mom, don’t cry,» Artem suddenly said, hugging her knees. «You said crying isn’t shameful.»

«Mom.» A simple word that he had never been taught to say. It was born naturally, like breathing. Maxim looked at his now grown-up children, at their determined, open faces.

He remembered that day in the maternity ward – the fear, the despair, the confusion. That day when he heard the dreadful «give them up for adoption.» That day which could have broken him, but instead made him stronger.

He rose, overcoming the trembling in his knees, and went to embrace his children. The triplets who had become his salvation, his pride, his life. Behind him were years of hard work, doubts, small victories, and great joys. Ahead lay their adult lives – universities, professions, their own families.

But the invisible threads that had bound them all together on that fateful day were stronger than any blood ties. It was a true family – formed not by the chance of birth, but by the power of choice and the commitment to that choice.

«Well done,» Maxim whispered, holding all three close. «I’m prouder of you than words can express

Anna would never forget that spring day. Her friends had gathered at her modest apartment on the outskirts of Zarechnyy, preparing for the upcoming wedding. The air was filled with enticing aromas: juicy apple pies baked by her mother and fragrant lilacs brought by Tatyana. Outside, birds were singing, and the warm May breeze, slipping through the open window, playfully danced with the light curtains.

«His genes definitely aren’t the best!» her friends exclaimed, trying to dissuade the lovestruck bride-to-be. «We can see how he handles alcohol. Just think about his father! Remember how the elder Kravtsov used to cause a ruckus at the factory gate?» Yet, Anna merely stirred her tea with lemon absentmindedly, dismissing their words. For the twenty-year-old girl who had lost her head in love, such warnings sounded absurd. To her, Viktor was the ideal: handsome, confident, strong. At twenty-five, he already held the position of foreman at a machinery plant—where his father had once started as a simple mechanic. The occasional scent of alcohol on him she chalked up to youth and his circle of friends. “It’ll grow out of it,” Anna thought, recalling how romantically Viktor had courted her, showering her with roses and cruising around the city in his old Moskvich.

 

“Anya, dear,” her close friend Marina had said, “you saw his behavior on New Year’s Eve. He completely changes when he drinks. Remember how he nearly got into a fight with the guard, Petya?” But Anna remembered something entirely different—how Viktor had come the next day to apologize, kneeling in the courtyard with a huge bouquet of carnations, serenading her beneath her window, much to the delight of the neighborly grandmothers.

The wedding was magnificent—held at the city’s finest restaurant, with live music and fireworks illuminating the river. Viktor was sober and charming, dancing with his bride until they were both exhausted, and delivering beautiful toasts. Anna shone in a white dress, specially ordered from the regional center, while her friends whispered enviously about the happy couple. The first months of married life passed like a fairy tale. The new two-room apartment, purchased by Viktor’s parents, became their first shared nest. By then, the elder Kravtsov had become a shop floor manager and helped his son secure a home. Anna lovingly arranged the house—hanging curtains and decorating the window sills with flowers. Viktor would regularly return from work with gifts, whether it be candies or a new vase for her beloved chrysanthemums.

Their pregnancy came at the end of summer. They were returning from the country house, laden with baskets of apples and tomatoes, when that evening Anna felt an odd weakness and dizziness. Viktor attentively cared for her. He even bought a test himself, and upon seeing the two lines, he joyfully spun his wife around the room.

But the joy was short-lived. Just a week after that first burst of delight, everything began to change. For the first time, Viktor got so drunk that he lost consciousness. He shouted about being unready to become a father, that they were too young, that they should have waited. Anna cried for a long time, but then decided it was merely a fear of responsibility. The next morning, Viktor apologized, promised never to drink again, and swore to be a good father.

The pregnancy was difficult. Anna often found herself hospitalized for bed rest, while Viktor’s appearances at home became increasingly rare. When he did appear, he reeked of alcohol. Later he tried to mask his intoxication—speaking softly and moving cautiously—but his eyes betrayed his true state, clouded with red veins.

When Marina was born, Viktor didn’t even show up at the maternity ward. Later, Anna learned that he had spent three consecutive days drinking in a friend’s garage, celebrating the birth of their daughter. This marked the beginning of the end of their married life.

Five long years passed in a haze of endless quarrels. Little Marina grew into a smart and beautiful girl, yet her childhood was marred by constant conflict. Viktor’s drinking became more frequent, and money was squandered at the bar “Prichal” on the corner of Rechnaya Street. To make ends meet, Anna took a job as an accountant at a small firm. Her mother-in-law helped care for the granddaughter, and after her husband’s death from liver cirrhosis, Anna was too afraid to contradict her son.

“You must be drinking when I’m not around!” Viktor would bellow as he burst in late at night. “Where did you get the money for a new dress? Who are you having an affair with at work?” Anna remained silent—her dress had been bought by her mother. Talking to a drunken husband was futile; he wouldn’t believe a single word she said, suspecting her of infidelity, monitoring her every move, and causing scandals even at her workplace.

Marina was terrified of her father. At the sound of his footsteps on the stairs, she would either hide in a closet or run to the neighbor—Aunt Vale. The little girl became increasingly anxious, often crying at night, though she managed to excel at school as her escape from the turmoil at home.

That fateful autumn night, everything went awry from the very start. Late September was rainy, with a fine drizzle outside. Marina was turning six, and Anna had planned a small celebration for her daughter. A neighbor helped bake a “Ptichye Moloko” cake, balloons were hung throughout the room, and two of Marina’s kindergarten friends were invited. Viktor had promised to return sober—he had recently found a new job and was supposedly drinking less, giving hope for change.

However, he returned unusually early, around seven in the evening, already heavily intoxicated and reeking of cheap homemade liquor. Marina was just about to blow out the candles on her cake when her father burst into the room.

“What kind of party is it without me?” he exploded, overturning the table. The cake flew onto the floor, and the girls screamed as they scrambled into the hallway. Marina burst into tears.

“Why are you doing this?” Anna asked softly, trying to salvage the cake. “Today is her sixth birthday, after all…”

Viktor grabbed her by the hair.
“Shut up, you bastard! Who allowed you to boss around in my house?”

“Dad, stop!” Marina cried, trying to interpose herself between her parents as Viktor swung at her mother. He shoved Marina, and she hit a wardrobe, crying out in pain. That was the last straw. Anna grabbed a heavy crystal vase—a wedding gift from her colleagues—and struck her husband on the head.

Viktor collapsed like a felled tree. On the white carpet—a gift from his mother-in-law at the housewarming—a dark stain spread. Marina huddled in a corner, clutching her beloved stuffed bear tightly.

With trembling fingers, Anna dialed the police:
“Come… please come… I… I think I’ve killed my husband. Just take care of my little girl, please. She’s innocent.”

The trial was swift. Considering her state of emotional distress, her positive work record, and the fact that she had a minor, Anna received a sentence of ten years in a general regime prison.

Marina was taken in by her grandparents—Anna’s parents. They lived in a private house on the outskirts of the city, managing a small homestead. Grandfather Stepan worked as a carpenter, while Grandmother Klavdia tended the garden and raised her granddaughter.

Twenty years later, Marina sat in the cozy kitchen of her country home in the cottage settlement “Sosnovy Bor.” Her husband, Andrey—the director of the local machinery plant—was playing with their youngest son, teaching him how to assemble a radio-controlled car, while the two older children did their homework in the next room.

“Can you imagine,” Andrey said while tightening a motor with a screwdriver, “our Dimka assembled a radio all by himself today! He’s just like his grandfather. Remember how your grandfather Stepan always used to build things?”

Marina smiled as she looked at her happy family. She had met Andrey by chance at a class reunion. He had studied in a parallel class, graduated from a polytechnic institute, and begun his career as a junior engineer. A year after they met, they married—by then, Andrey had become the deputy head of the workshop.

She held no grudge against her mother, who had always defended them both. After serving ten years in prison, her mother was released but moved to another city to avoid reopening old wounds. They kept in touch by writing letters and congratulating each other on holidays, but they rarely met.

When Marina’s eldest son, fifteen-year-old Pavel, noticed that his father often clutched his side and winced in pain, she began to worry. Andrey brushed it off as ordinary fatigue, plenty of work at the plant, and a new contract with Chinese partners. But within a month, the truth emerged.

“Cancer, dear,” he admitted one evening when the children were already asleep. “But don’t tell the kids yet, okay? Especially not Dimka—he’s too sensitive.”

Andrey lived for another six months. He suffered greatly, yet continued to go to work as long as he could stand, played with the children, and made plans for the future. Marina was left alone with three children, but she didn’t break down. She found a job teaching piano at a music school—the education she had received in her youth proved invaluable. Grandmother Klavdia helped with the children, although she herself could barely move.

Then, Marina decided to learn to drive—having three children without a car was difficult, especially when the youngest, Dimka, started taking swimming lessons at a sports school on the opposite side of town.

At the “Svetofor” driving school, Marina was assigned to instructor Mikhail Yuryevich—a cheerful man in his fifties, with graying temples and lively brown eyes. He quickly built a rapport with his students, though he occasionally surprised them with unexpected gaps in his own knowledge.

“How is it that you haven’t read Lermontov?” Marina wondered after one lesson, as they discussed the recently adapted film «A Hero of Our Time.»
“Why?” Mikhail replied with a smile. “I’m more of a technical guy. I served in the tank corps in the army and worked as a long-haul truck driver for twenty years. And you are an excellent student—such a gentle start isn’t given to everyone!”

During one of the piano lessons, Marina noticed an unusual boy—Zhilya. His piano playing was so soulful, as if he were having a conversation with the instrument. It turned out he was Mikhail’s son.

“Let’s meet at a café to talk about Zhilya’s progress,” Mikhail suggested after the lesson. “He’s got quite a temperament—just like his mother.”

 

They went to “Poplavok,” a cozy little restaurant on the water built on an old barge. As the gentle rocking of the waves provided a backdrop, Mikhail shared his story. Many years ago, he had been hopelessly in love with a girl from an intellectual family. But her parents were categorically opposed to her marrying an ordinary driver. She married someone else. When Mikhail returned from the army two years later, he discovered he had a son—Zhilya, born to that very girl.

“Zhilya comes from the name Yulya,” Mikhail explained. “That unusual nickname stuck with him since childhood; now everyone calls him that. His mother died five years ago, and it’s just the two of us now.”

Fate’s quirks continued: once, during a driving lesson while practicing parking near the “Mechta” supermarket, Marina accidentally bumped into an elderly woman at a crosswalk. Fortunately, the woman escaped with nothing more than a fright—her groceries merely scattered across the asphalt. Mikhail insisted on taking the injured woman home… “Mom?” Marina could only whisper, recognizing her own mother in the elderly stranger.

They sat in a modest rented apartment, sipping tea with cookies, and her mother revealed everything. How she hadn’t been able to take her daughter after her release because her parents were against it, how she met the kind-hearted Ivan Petrovich—a bus depot mechanic who helped her start a new life—and how, after his death from a heart attack, she was left alone, taking on odd jobs wherever she could.

“Forgive me, my daughter,” her mother wept. “I thought of you every day. I watched your life from afar. Knowing you got married and had children… I was just too afraid to come near.”

Marina embraced her mother, forgiving the years of separation. In that moment, she realized there was no point in holding onto resentment—life was far too short.

A month later, Mikhail invited everyone to a family dinner. Zhilya played the piano—a gift his father had bought with earnings from long-haul trips—while the children listened with bated breath, and the grandmother discreetly wiped away tears.

Now they live together—a big, happy family. Mikhail and Marina married in the local church, quietly wed only among their own. The children call him “dad,” and Zhilya finally found siblings to call his own. Grandmother Klavdia moved in with them, helping with the household and taking care of the grandchildren. In the evenings, the whole family gathers in the spacious living room—some doing homework, others reading, and some playing the piano.

And no one ever talks about genes anymore—fate is determined not by them, but by love and forgiveness. Mikhail doesn’t drink even on holidays, though neighbors sometimes tease him about his mineral water. Prominently displayed in the living room hangs a large family photograph of them all—happy, smiling, and genuine.

Every Sunday, they visit Andrey’s grave. Marina has learned to live with this loss, though sometimes, seeing her eldest son so much like his father, she cannot hold back her tears. But Mikhail is always by her side—reliable, understanding, ready to support her at any moment.

Recently, Zhilya was admitted to a conservatory—he will study to become a pianist. At his first major concert at the philharmonic, the whole family gathered. And when the first chords of Chopin filled the air, Marina looked at her mother sitting beside her and realized: nothing in life happens by chance. Even the most terrible trials can lead to happiness if one keeps the ability to love.

Now, in the evenings, music often fills their large house. Zhilya is preparing for concerts, the younger children take lessons from him, and Mikhail, though not well-versed in classical music, listens to his children with pride. In these moments, Marina reflects on how strange fate can be—sometimes one must endure pain and loss to find true happiness.

And recently, Pavel, her eldest son, asked for permission to invite a girl over. Watching her love-struck son, Marina understood that the most important thing is to teach children to love and forgive. Only then can the cycle of pain and loneliness be broken, and only then can a true family be created—a family where no one ever raises a hand against a loved one.