All Amazing Babies

That morning, everything was as usual. I was the first to arrive at the office, turned on the computers, brewed coffee for my colleagues—just as I had done for the last ten years. An office manager is almost like the mother of a big corporate family. At least, that’s always what I believed.

The monitor was predictably glowing with open spreadsheets. The quarterly report, the vacation schedule, the office supply order—everything demanded my attention. I took a lunch container out of my bag: I’d have to eat lunch at my computer again, there was just too much work.

“Elena, come into my office,”—the boss’s voice came through the intercom sounding strange. Usually, Sergey Petrovich always added “please,” but not today. In his office, the scent of coffee mingled with something else—perhaps tension? Seated at his desk was an unfamiliar woman in a strict suit. “From HR,” I realized, and something inside me clenched.

“Have a seat,” Sergey Petrovich said, avoiding eye contact. “Elena, you are an excellent employee, but… the company is forced to downsize. I’m sorry, but you are being laid off.” I looked at his graying temples, the folder of documents on his desk, the perfectly neat stack of papers—probably my “severance package.” Ten years of service shrunk down to a few sheets of A4.

“But how… I have a project… and the quarterly report…” words spilled out on their own, meaningless, unnecessary.

“We’ll transfer everything to another employee,” the woman from HR was saying something about compensation, recommendation letters, and the termination procedure. I nodded, not hearing a single word.

Marina from accounting peeked into the office:

“Len, there’s a courier out there…”

“I’ll take care of it,” Sergey Petrovich looked at me for the first time. “Elena, you can pack your things. Security will see you out.”

Pack my things. As if ten years of life could simply be packed away in a cardboard box. The photograph of Marina’s children on the monitor—I had been at their christenings. The cactus that the girls and I had bought for March 8th. The mug that read “Best Manager”—a gift from my colleagues on my last birthday.

“Lena…” Marina stood in the doorway, flustered. “Maybe some tea?”

 

I shook my head. Inside, I felt empty and cold, as if someone had turned off the light in a room I knew so well.

Security guard Vitya— with whom I had shared countless morning coffees—awkwardly shifted from foot to foot:

“Let me help you with the box.”

Outside, it was drizzling. The gray sky, the gray faces of passersby, the gray emptiness inside. I stood on the office steps, clutching the box containing ten years of my life, not knowing where to go.

The phone vibrated—Andrey, my husband.

“Yes?”

“Where are you? Don’t forget to buy coffee—the house is out.”

“Andrey, I’ve been fired.”

A pause. Only the sound of rain and honking cars.

“What do you mean, fired?”

“Downsizing…” I tried to speak calmly, but my voice trembled.

“Come home,” he sighed. “We’ll talk.”

At home, Andrey sat on the sofa, buried in his phone. He didn’t even look up as I entered.

“So, what are you going to do now?” His voice sounded irritated, as if I had deliberately arranged this layoff just to ruin his evening.

“I don’t know… Maybe I’ll look for something similar…”

“Well, are you just going to stand there? Maybe it’s time to look for a new job? Do you think I’m supposed to carry you on my back?”

I stared at my husband, not recognizing the man with whom I had spent twelve years. Where was the Andrey who promised he would always support me? Who vowed to be by my side in good times and bad?

“I’m tired,” I said quietly. “Can we talk tomorrow?”

He shrugged without taking his eyes off his phone:

“Tomorrow is tomorrow. Just don’t forget, the apartment mortgage won’t pay itself.”

I lay awake, listening to his steady breathing beside me. My mind swirled with fragments of thoughts: a resume, interviews, bills, the mortgage… And above all—how had I not noticed that I was now alone? Not only without a job—without support, without understanding, without love.

Morning greeted me with a new reality: now I was unemployed. At thirty-five. With a mortgage and a husband who considered me a burden.

I turned on my computer and opened a job website. “Office Manager, experience of at least 3 years, age up to 30…” The lines blurred before my eyes.

The phone chimed with a message from Andrey: “Don’t forget to pay the internet bill.”

And then I cried— for the first time that day. Not because of work, not because of money. But because I realized: I had lost not only my position. I had lost myself.

Two weeks passed. Every morning I woke at seven—a habit I couldn’t shake. But now, instead of preparing for work, I spent hours at my computer sending out resumes. “Experience – 10 years,” I typed, and then paused: had this advantage suddenly become a disadvantage?

A call from yet another employer found me with a cup of cold coffee.

“Elena, thank you for applying. Your experience is impressive, but… we are looking for a younger employee. You understand, we have a dynamic team…”

I understood. At thirty-five, I was suddenly too old for my former job and not qualified enough for a new one. What irony.

“Maybe you should try something else?” Andrey stood in the doorway, watching me close yet another job listing tab. “I don’t understand—are you just standing there? Maybe it’s time to look for a new job? Do you think I should carry you around?”

He was right—money doesn’t smell. Yet his words always left me feeling broken inside.

The next day, I took a job at a call center. Temporary, I told myself. Just so I wouldn’t sit at home, so I could contribute to the mortgage, so I wouldn’t feel that condemning look from my husband.

“Hello, my name is Elena, how can I help you?” I repeated that phrase hundreds of times during my shift. Clients screamed, demanded a manager, hung up abruptly. And I smiled into the microphone—we were taught that a smile can be heard in one’s voice.

“How was your first day?” Andrey asked in the evening, not taking his eyes off the TV.

“Fine,” I lied as I took off my shoes. My head buzzed with endless responses.

“See, it’s not that terrible,” he said, switching channels. “The main thing is to be busy.”

Busy. As if work were just a way to pass the time. As if it didn’t matter that inside I was crumbling from humiliation every time a client called me “a girl” and demanded to be connected to a manager.

One evening, I stayed late at the store—buying groceries for the week. When I got home, I heard Andrey’s voice from the kitchen. He was on the phone, apparently talking to a friend:

“Yes, my dear, she’s still looking for herself. She should at least look in the mirror. She only managed to get a job at a call center, can you imagine? After working in an office for ten years, she thought she was indispensable. And now—real life…” I froze in the hall; the groceries slipped from my hands. A milk carton shattered, and a white puddle spread across the floor. Andrey looked out at the noise:

“What are you rummaging around for? And what’s this mess? I have to clean up after you…”

“Sorry for disappointing you,” my voice sounded uncharacteristically calm. “Maybe you should look for someone more successful?”

He looked surprised:

“What? Were you eavesdropping on my conversation with Dimka?”

“No, I just came home. To my home. Where, it turns out, I live with someone who is ashamed of me.”

“Stop with the drama, Lena,” he said, rolling his eyes. “Better get cleaning.”

I stared at the white puddle on the floor and thought: that’s the metaphor for my life. Everything had spilled, soaked in, and now needed to be wiped away. Or maybe, I just needed to get up and leave.

At the call center, I began to notice other “temporary” employees. The woman at the next desk, Vera, turned out to be a former accountant. “I couldn’t find a job in my field for three months,” she explained during a break. “My husband left, my kids are in college, and there’s no real choice. We’re already considered old by employers.” I looked at her and saw my possible future. Another year here, then two. Getting used to the shouting in the headphones, to the fact that temporary becomes permanent.

That evening, I stood for a long time in front of the bathroom mirror. “At least look at yourself,” Andrey’s words rang in my ears. I looked. I saw tired eyes, new wrinkles at the corners of my lips, a gray hair at my temple. When did I stop smiling? When did I start slumping? When did I allow myself to become a shadow?

The phone rang with a message from a former colleague: “Hi! How are you? Maybe we can meet up?”

I didn’t answer. What could I possibly say? How do I explain that I wake up in a cold sweat at the thought of tomorrow’s shift? That I count every penny until my next paycheck? That my husband tells his friends I’m “looking for myself,” as if it were some mere whim?

That night, I dreamed of our first apartment with Andrey—a rented one-room on the outskirts. We were young, poor, and happy. I worked as an administrator in a beauty salon, he as a manager in a car dealership. We dreamed of something bigger, made plans. When did it all change? When did success become more important than support? When did we stop being a team?

The next morning, I overslept. For the first time in two weeks at the call center. The shift supervisor greeted me with a disapproving look:

“Elena, this is unacceptable. We have a strict schedule.”

“Sorry,” I tried to smile. “It won’t happen again.”

“I hope not. And one more thing—the clients have complained. You’re processing calls too slowly.”

I put on my headset. “Hello, my name is Elena…” My voice faltered. The smile in my voice just wasn’t coming through. The clients could sense it—the calls were becoming increasingly difficult.

By lunchtime, I realized: I can’t do it anymore. I just can’t. I took off the headset, packed my things. The shift supervisor shouted something after me, but I couldn’t hear him anymore.

Outside, it was raining—just like the day I was fired. I trudged through puddles, not paying attention to the road. In my pocket, the phone vibrated—it was Andrey.

“Yes?”

“Where are you? At work? What’s all that noise?”

“I’m not going back there.”

“What do you mean, not going back? And the money? The mortgage?”

“I don’t know, Andrey. I just don’t know.”

He was silent. Then he said tiredly:

“Come home. We’ll talk.”

But I didn’t go home. I got on the first bus I saw and just rode along, staring out the window at the city blurred by rain. Inside, there was an emptiness—the same emptiness that is scarier than any shout, any humiliation. The emptiness of a person who has lost not only their job, but also themselves.

The phone rang again. This time—it was Anya, a friend from college. We hadn’t seen each other in several months—since that birthday where I boasted about my stable job and successful life.

“Hello?”

“Lena, hi! I just heard… Anyway, how about we meet?”

I looked out the bus window. The rain had stopped.

“Okay,” I said. “Right now.”

We met at a small café near the center. I hadn’t been here before—it was too expensive for an unemployed person, but Anya insisted: “My treat.”

She hadn’t changed at all—still with bright lipstick, a ringing laugh, a confident gaze. Only now, at the corners of her eyes, were the wrinkles that age reveals, no matter how much you hide it.

 

“Tell me everything,” she said, moving a cup of cappuccino with the perfect latte art closer to me.

And I told her everything. About being fired, the endless interviews, the call center. About Andrey and his conversations with friends. About the emptiness inside.

“You know,” Anya said thoughtfully while stirring her sugar, “I went through that too. Two years ago.”

I looked up in surprise. Anya—the successful event manager, who owned her own agency, always seemed so self-assured.

“Remember when I worked in a bank? Head of department, stable salary, benefits—the whole nine yards. And then—a downsizing. At forty. I thought life was over.”

She smiled and took a glossy brochure out of her bag:

“And then I got into this.”

“A personal growth masterclass?”

I looked skeptically at the bright cover. My God, what nonsense. I never imagined she’d be into that kind of thing:

“Anya, you know. I don’t believe in that! It’s just motivational rubbish.”

“I didn’t believe it either,” she shrugged. “But I had nothing to lose. Come with me? This evening. It’s on me.”

The hall was full—about fifty people, at least. I sat there, cradling a glass of water in my hands, feeling out of place. Around me were people just as lost as I was. Well, except for my friend.

Then the speaker took the stage. A tall woman, about fifty years old, in a simple black dress.

“My name is Marina,” she said, looking at us. Her voice was deep. Calm.

“And I know why you are here,” Marina continued. “Each of you has lost something important. Isn’t that right? A job. Confidence. Purpose. But I want to ask you: What if this isn’t a loss? What if it’s a gift?”

I snorted. A gift? Seriously?

“Ten years ago I was a successful financial director,” Marina continued. “And then I was fired. And do you know what I realized? I had never lived my own life. I lived by others’ expectations. I did what I had to, not what I wanted.”

Something inside me trembled. It was as if someone had voiced a thought I was afraid to admit.

“Losses aren’t the end,” Marina swept her gaze across the hall. “They are a chance to start anew. If you have been fired—ask yourself: Have you been living as you wanted? Have you been doing what you dreamed of?”

I remembered my first course at the university. How my eyes sparkled when I organized student parties. How I dreamed of opening my own agency. When did I stop dreaming?

After the masterclass, Anya and I sat in the same café. It was late, but I didn’t want to leave.

“You know,” Anya said, gazing out the window at the twinkling lights of the night city, “when I started my agency, everyone shook their heads. My husband left—couldn’t handle my ‘adventures.’ My parents said I was crazy. And yet, for the first time in my life, I was doing what I wanted.”

“And you don’t regret it?”

“What? Regret pretending? Regret finally living my own life?”

At home I returned after midnight. Andrey was waiting in the kitchen:

“Where have you been? Your phone was off—I was worried!”

“Really worried?” I looked him in the eyes. “Or afraid that your failure-prone wife would do something stupid?”

“Lena, stop…”

“No, you stop,” a surge rose within me—not anger, but determination. “You know what I realized today? I’m not a failure. I’m just a person who lost herself. But I’m going to find myself.”

“And how do you plan to do that?” His tone carried its usual irony.

I smiled:

“You’ll see.”

That night, for the first time in a long while, I slept peacefully. And in the morning, I opened my laptop and typed into the search engine: “Event management courses.”

It was time to return to my dream.

“What is that?” Andrey looked at my laptop screen, which had the payment page for the courses open.

“I signed up for an event management course,” I tried to speak calmly, even though my heart was pounding. “A three-month course with practical training.”

“Courses? Seriously? That’s nonsense. How much did you pay?” He scrutinized the numbers and whistled. “Have you lost your mind? That’s equivalent to two months’ salary from the call center! Money, you never earned it!”

“I took part of the money from my savings.”

“From which savings? The ones we were setting aside for renovations?”

I took a deep breath:

“No, from the money I saved from my salary. It’s my money, Andrey.”

“What do you mean, your money? Maybe you should start earning properly already! What courses? You’re thirty-five!”

“Exactly,” I closed my laptop. What’s the point of arguing? “I’m thirty-five! Do you think I forgot that? I no longer want to live someone else’s life.”

He cursed and left the room with a slammed door. And I reopened my laptop and paid for the courses. Five minutes later, the student’s dashboard on GetCourse opened. I opened the learning materials and immersed myself in reading.

The courses proved to be intensive. Every evening—lectures; every weekend—practical work. I learned to prepare estimates, to work with contractors, to create event concepts. Everything that once seemed a distant dream was becoming reality.

“Look,” I showed Andrey my first project—a boho-style wedding concept. “What do you think?”

“Beautiful,” he shrugged. “But who will order that? You have no experience.”

His words no longer hurt. I had learned to perceive them as fear—his fear of change, of risk, of something new.

And then something unexpected happened. Anya offered me a chance to help organize small events at her agency.

“This will be your practice,” she said. “Unpaid,” she warned, “but with invaluable experience.”

I agreed without hesitation. Now, after the online lectures, I rushed off to meetings with clients, prepared technical assignments, coordinated the work of decorators and photographers.

One evening I returned home late—we were preparing for a wedding exhibition. Andrey was sitting in the kitchen:

“Maybe stop playing the businesswoman? You can’t even cook dinner! You could, at least, if you weren’t not contributing financially…”

“I’m not playing,” I said, taking a container of salad from the fridge. “I’m learning something new.”

“And what about the family? Or is that not important anymore?”

I looked at him intently—as if for the first time:

“You know what matters? Being happy. I want to wake up every morning thinking that I’m doing what I love. I want to be proud of myself. I want to grow.”

“And what about me? Don’t my desires matter?”

“What do you want, Andrey? For me to go back to the call center? To continue feeling like a failure?”

He fell silent. And suddenly I realized: we hadn’t truly talked in such a long time. Not about everyday trivialities. Not about bills. But about life. About what truly matters.

The exhibition was a hit. I met industry professionals. I collected contacts. I received my first offers.

“You have talent,” Anya said as we dismantled the decorations. “You notice the details, feel the style. And most importantly—you burn for it.”

At home I told Andrey about my successes. He listened silently, then asked:

“And how much did you earn from it?”

“Nothing yet,” I smiled. “But it’s only the beginning.”

“The beginning of what? A new life? You’re almost forty, and you’re talking about a beginning?” His voice was bitter.

“Maybe,” I looked him in the eyes. “I’m changing, Andrey. And that’s perfectly fine.”

That evening, for the first time in a long while, we spoke openly. About our fears. About our dreams. About how we had changed over the years. He admitted that he was afraid of change. He was used to stability. And he didn’t know how to live differently.

And I realized: sometimes you need to let go of the old to start a new chapter. Even if it hurts. Even if it’s scary. Even if someone doesn’t believe in you.

Because the most important thing is to believe in yourself.

“Lena, it’s perfect!” Masha, Anya’s friend, hugged me after the children’s party I organized for her daughter. “The kids loved it, the parents were happy, everything went like clockwork!”

I looked at the joyful faces of the children, at the photo booth with balloons, at the costumed entertainers—everything that existed only in my mind a month ago had become real.

“How much do I owe you?” Masha asked, pulling out her wallet.

“No, no—it’s my gift,” I shook my head. “Consider it my trial project.”

“Not a chance!” she resolutely extended an envelope to me. “These are honestly earned dollars. I’ve already recommended you to my colleague—she has a corporate event coming up soon.”

 

I flew home as if on wings. In my bag lay an envelope with my first fee, on my phone—three new contacts of potential clients, and in my soul—a feeling that was indescribable: I can do it. I’m succeeding.

Andrey sat in the living room, as usual, absorbed in his phone.

“Can you believe it? I did it!” I began recounting the party, the guests’ reactions, the new orders.

“Yeah,” he barely looked up, “is that how you’re going to support the family? With children’s parties?”

His words hit harder than I expected. Not because I doubted my choice, but because I suddenly realized with crystal clarity: he will never change. He will never support me. He will never be happy about my successes.

“You know, Andrey,” I sat down across from him, “I’ve long wondered: when did you stop loving me?”

He finally looked up from his phone:

“What nonsense is that? What does that have to do with anything?”

“With the fact that a loving person rejoices in the other’s success. Supports. Believes. And you… you’re just waiting for me to fail.”

“You’re being unfair,” his voice hardened. “I’ve always cared about us, about our stability…”

“Stability,” I bitterly smiled. “You know what I’ve realized over these months? Stability is not a dead point where you must remain frozen. It’s an opportunity to grow, to change, to try something new…”

“And now you think you’re an expert on life?” he stood up, towering over me. “You spent three months playing event organizer and think you’ve got it all figured out?”

“No,” I too stood up. “I learned one thing: I no longer want to be convenient. I don’t want to live up to someone else’s expectations. I don’t want to ask for permission to live my own life.”

“And what does that mean?”

“It means I’m leaving.”

Silence rang in my ears. Andrey looked at me as if seeing me for the first time:

“You won’t do that. Where will you go? How will you live?”

“I’ll rent a place. I have some savings and a few initial orders. I’ll manage.”

“You’re crazy,” he shook his head. “It’s all because of your courses, your friend Anya with her ideas…”

“No, Andrey. It’s me. The real me—the one you stopped noticing many years ago.”

I went to the bedroom and began packing my clothes. My hands trembled, but inside there was a surprising clarity. As if I had been walking in the dark for a long time and finally seen the light.

Andrey stood in the doorway, watching me pack my clothes into a suitcase:

“You’ll regret this.”

“Maybe,” I zipped up my suitcase. “But you know what I’ll definitely regret? Spending one more day afraid to be myself.”

In the morning, I moved into a small rented apartment not far from the center. Sitting on the floor amidst the boxes, I felt… free for the first time in ages.

The phone buzzed with a message—a new client, a serious order for a corporate event.

I smiled: sometimes you have to lose everything to find yourself. And that really becomes the best gift fate can give.

A year later, I was sitting in my small office—a bright studio in the city center where I met with clients. On the walls hung photographs from the events I organized, on the desk fresh flowers and a laptop with a calendar scheduled months ahead.

“Elena, your clients are here,” Katya, my assistant, peeked into the office. A twenty-two-year-old graduate, she had come to intern with me three months ago and stayed on. She said she had never seen anyone so passionate about their work.

That evening, after meetings and calls, I stayed late at the office. I took out an old photograph—the one from the corporate event when I was still an office manager. How long ago that was. It seemed like a different life.

The phone vibrated—a message from Andrey. The first in half a year:

“You were right. I’m sorry.”

I stared at the screen, remembering our last conversation, his words that I would regret it. I didn’t regret it. Every day was filled with new challenges, yet for the first time I felt alive.

“Thank you for not supporting me back then,” I wrote in response. “It turned out to be the best gift fate could give.”

The next day, we organized a charity event at an orphanage. It became a tradition—to organize an event once a month for those who can’t afford it.

“Look, here they come!” a little girl named Tonya showed me a drawing: a bright sun, flowers, and smiling faces. “This is the best birthday ever!”

I hugged the girl, feeling tears well up in my eyes. That was real happiness. Not in stability, not in someone else’s approval, but in the ability to do what you love and see it change others’ lives.

That evening, Anya and I sat in that same café where, a year ago, she had invited me to the masterclass.

“Remember how scared you were?” she smiled, stirring her coffee.

“I remember. Every day was like a leap into the void.”

At a nearby table, a young woman was quietly crying, absorbed in her phone. I recognized that look—lost, frightened. It was the same look I had a year ago.

“Excuse me,” I approached her. “Are you okay?”

She looked up through tearful eyes:

“I got fired today. Ten years of service, and that’s it…”

I handed her my business card:

“You know, a year ago I was in your place. And it turned out to be the best thing that ever happened to me. Come by my office tomorrow. Let’s talk.”

At home, I opened the diary I had started after being fired. The first entries were filled with despair and fear. The later ones—plans and dreams. And somewhere in between was the moment I realized: there is no wrong age for change, no wrong time to dream.

The phone rang—a major client, an order for a series of corporate events. My hands used to shake at such calls. Now, I simply opened my laptop and began jotting down the details.

Outside, darkness fell. In the small, cozy apartment I now called home, a warm light burned. On the wall hung a painting gifted by grateful clients: a dandelion with seeds blowing in the wind. Symbolic.

 

I approached the window. The city shone with lights, full of opportunities and stories. Somewhere out there was my former life—the office with the cactus on the monitor, the despised job, the husband who never believed in me. And here, now—I was real. Alive. Happy.

The phone buzzed again—this time, a message from an unknown number:

“Hello! You come highly recommended as an event organizer. We have a wedding in three months…”

I smiled. A year ago, those words would have frightened me. Now, they sounded like music—the music of a new life I had built myself. Without fear, without regrets, without worrying about others’ expectations.

Because sometimes you have to lose everything to find yourself. And that truly becomes the best gift of fate.

Life doesn’t begin at twenty or thirty. It begins at the moment you decide to be yourself. Even if that happens at thirty-five. Or forty.

Sorry for coming so late, but we have nowhere else to go. -This is your home now too,» said his wife’s best friend, blushing, holding her son in her arms, and confidently stepping in. The husband shamefully lowered his eyes.

Svetlana was holding her little son, dragging a big suitcase into the hallway.

«Of course, come in,» Nastya opened the front door wider. Sergey stood silently, his head bowed.

«Can you believe it, the landlady kicked us out without any warning, in the middle of the night?!»

The best friend, with tears in her eyes, told them about her misfortunes.

«We always pay on time, I don’t know what got into her.»

«What’s her reason?» Nastya asked. «You can’t just kick people out like that!»

«She says some relatives are coming, and she needs the apartment freed up urgently. What can I do? We had nothing in writing.»

«Well, don’t worry, you can stay with us until you find another place. We’ll make room.»

Svetlana was the best friend, Nastya had been friends with her since childhood. She was a bridesmaid at the wedding and the godmother of their daughter. When Svetlana herself had a baby, Nastya was surprised, as she hadn’t seen any young men around her, but she didn’t question her friend.

Svetlana lived in a rented apartment. Who supported them while she was on maternity leave, Nastya didn’t know, but she suspected it was the baby’s father. Svetlana didn’t share such information.

The two-bedroom apartment where Nastya lived with her husband and little daughter was inherited from her grandmother. It was, of course, cramped for two families, but there was nothing to be done, friends must help each other.

A week later, coming home earlier than usual, Nastya froze at the door. Loud voices were heard from the apartment; the husband and the best friend were arguing. The woman quietly opened the door and entered. Not that she intended to eavesdrop, but the speakers were yelling so loud that they wouldn’t have heard her anyway.

«Why did you even arrange all this?!» shouted Sergey. «Wasn’t I giving you enough money?»

«You should have given it! Otherwise, Nastya would have found out three years ago!» retorted Svetlana.

«Explain to me, what are you trying to achieve? Why did you leave the apartment? I found this place with such difficulty at a reasonable price! And now what? Search again?»

«Don’t you understand? I’m tired of being nobody! My child should have a father and a normal life!»

«I have a family, you knew that from the start. You agreed to my terms when you decided to keep this child. What’s changed?»

«I’ve already said, the child needs a father!»

«But I’m married, and I have a daughter, I can’t be torn apart!»

«I don’t care. I’m tired of hiding. Now this is our home, and we will live here.»

«And how are you going to explain all this to Nastya?»

«That’s your problem, you explain it!»

 

Nastya put her hand to her mouth to keep from screaming. It was clear: her husband and best friend had betrayed her. And this had been going on for a long time and continued to this day. And the living witness to it was the little son of her friend Antoshka.

Not knowing yet what she would do next, the woman quietly returned to the corridor and loudly slammed the door, as if she had just entered.

«Sergey, I’m home!» the wife tried not to betray her agitation and spoke artificially cheerfully.

«Is Antosha still at kindergarten? Let’s pick up the kids and go to the park, the weather is wonderful today?»

She needed to calm down, immerse herself in domestic cares, to put her thoughts in order.

During the walk, the husband and the friend did not give themselves away, interacting with exaggerated politeness. But Nastya saw the angry looks they stealthily threw at each other.

The woman didn’t understand how best to act in such a situation, all she could do was cry into her pillow at night, and during the day pretend that nothing was happening. After a week, she decided she needed to share her grief with someone, someone who would listen and help.

A friend and coworker, Karina, noticed that something was happening with Nastya and offered to talk over a cup of coffee.

«Yes, it’s an ugly situation,» Karina acknowledged when her friend laid out all her grievances.

«I can’t take it anymore, Kari! I have to stay in the same house with them, and I can’t even look at them.»

Nastya had no more tears left, and she just stared blankly into space.

«Why don’t you talk to them?»

«I don’t know how. They’ll deny everything, make up something, and I don’t have the strength to watch this circus.»

«What do you actually want? Kick her out? Or him?»

«I want to kick them both out! But not just throw them out so they can live happily ever after. I want them both to regret what they’ve done. I want them to have no life together after this!»

«Well, if your hubby doesn’t particularly value marriage vows, then it’s quite easy to arrange,» the friend smirked. «And whose apartment is it anyway? Otherwise, we kick out the philandering husband, and he takes the living space with him, leaving you at a loss.»

«It’s my apartment. That’s the thing, they’re living on my territory, under my nose…» the woman sobbed.

«Alright, don’t cry, my friend, here’s what we’ll do…»

The next day, Karina sat in a car next to Sergey’s office. The workday had ended, and employees were leaving the building one by one and in groups, chatting animatedly. Sergey came out alone and headed to the parking lot. Karina quickly got out of the car, opened the hood, and leaned over thoughtfully.

The trick was old as the world, but no less effective. To make sure the trick worked, the woman had prepared: she wore a form-fitting suit and high-heeled shoes, her makeup was attractive, and the scent of her perfume was enticing.

«Miss, can I help you?»

The trap snapped shut.

«Why are you so gloomy?» Svetlana nagged at her friend. «Or did you eat something? You really look ill.»

They sat in the kitchen, drinking tea. Sergey had not yet returned from work, and the kids were in kindergarten. For the planned scheme, Nastya’s look was quite fitting; she didn’t even have to pretend.

«I think, Svet, that Sergey is cheating on me,» Nastya sighed, secretly observing her best friend.

She tensed, but her voice remained unchanged.

«What? That can’t be. And why would he, he’s got a whole harem here,» Svetlana laughed at her own ambiguous joke.

«I don’t know, but he comes home late from work, and he smells of other women’s perfume, haven’t you noticed?»

«I haven’t noticed anything, I don’t sniff your husband,» the friend snorted nervously.

But Nastya saw a spark of suspicion flicker in her eyes.

«Well, yes, you’re right, it seems unnoticeable from the outside. But I feel something’s not right…»

A week later, the friends sat again over a cup of coffee, relaxing after work.

«How are you, Nast? I see you’re looking better,» Karina stirred the fiery liquid in her cup.

«Fine, Kari, I’ve calmed down and know exactly what I’m doing. How about you?»

«Everything’s fine, our Don Juan got tangled up to his sideburns,» the woman smiled, covering her mouth with her hand. «Brought flowers yesterday, such a romantic!»

They both burst out laughing.

«And you? Started treating the target?» Karina asked cheerily.

«The treatment is in process, the target is in doubts and reflections, eats poorly, sleeps restlessly,» Nastya reported jokingly and saluted her friend.

They laughed again.

Now, having made her decision, Nastya felt much lighter. She no longer cried about her bitter fate but coldly avenged the betrayal. But the last and main act of this drama was still ahead.

«So, can we finish?» Karina concluded. «When shall we do it?»

 

«I think on Friday, not too late, while the kids are at kindergarten.»

«Are you sure you’ve decided, Nast? Maybe just kick out the cheeky woman and forgive your husband?» the friend clarified just in case.

«No, Karina, I can’t forgive either him or her. Let my daughter be without a father rather than with such a traitor.»

«Well then, it’s decided…»

«Svet, let’s go have coffee, get some fresh air? There’s a nice café nearby, let’s sit there until we need to pick up the kids. Sergey won’t be home from work until late anyway.»

«Let’s do it. After all, we really haven’t been anywhere alone for a long time. It seems like we’re always together, but no time to relax and chat,» Svetlana perked up.

Arriving at the café, the women ordered and sat at a table from where they could see everything happening in the hall.

«How’s the apartment search going?» Nastya asked.

«Well, not at all, I just started working, you know,» replied the best friend.

«What, are you kicking us out, tired of us?» the woman smiled, but Nastya noticed her tension.

«No, stay as long as you need. I just thought you don’t need our squabbles with Sergey, and they will likely happen.»

«Did you find out something?» Svetlana braced herself to listen to the details.

«No, I haven’t figured out anything for sure, but small details indicate that he’s cheating.»

Svetlana thought, it was clear that such a scenario was not in her plans.

At that moment, the doors opened, and a couple entered the café. The woman laughed joyfully, throwing her head back, the man held her by the arm, and a huge bouquet of white roses, which the woman held with both hands, loomed in the foreground.

The newcomers immediately caught the attention of the patrons. Some smiled, some looked on with interest. Nastya watched Svetlana, who first frowned, recognizing, and then turned pale with anger.

«Ah you…» began the friend but didn’t finish.

The woman with the bouquet, who was Karina, confidently approached their table.

«Oh, Nastya, hello!» she leaned in and gave Nastya a friendly kiss on the cheek. «Long time no see!»

«Hello,» the woman responded as if nothing was wrong.

«Your boyfriend?» she asked, nodding at Sergey.

He seemed petrified and couldn’t move.

«Yes, this is Sergey, my boyfriend,» Karina introduced her companion to his own wife and secret friend.

«And who are you with?»

«And this is Svetlana, my best friend,» Nastya introduced her companion.

«And she’s sure that Sergey is her boyfriend,» she finished cheerily.

Svetlana choked with anger and couldn’t say anything coherent, just some unintelligible hissing. Sergey stood like a statue.

«Well, why don’t you? Sit down, join us,» Nastya invited.

Karina nudged Sergey, and he sat down, the woman laid the bouquet on his lap.

«What does this mean?» Svetlana finally managed to say. «What is this circus?»

She spoke quietly, but her face betrayed her fury.

«Is this a circus?» Karina wondered. «It’s fun in a circus, but it’s not very here. So I guess I’ll go.»

She shook Nastya’s hand, encouraging her friend and walked to the exit. The trio remained sitting at the table.

«Will someone explain to me what’s happening?» Sergey asked in a half-fainting voice.

«What do you think, Sergey?» the wife asked cheerily, but her eyes were serious.

The husband was utterly disheartened.

 

«Wasn’t a wife and … a friend enough, you decided to get another girlfriend? What was the plan, Sergey? Live with four people?»

«Why are you even talking to him?!» suddenly flared up Svetlana. «He betrayed you, you should be driving him out, not talking!»

«And you? You didn’t betray me when you started a relationship behind my back with my husband? Antosha is his son, isn’t he?»

«What are you…» began the friend.

«No need,» Nastya dismissed. «I knew everything from the moment you moved in with us, heard your conversation.»

«Nastya, you misunderstood,» the husband found the strength to say.

«Maybe that was true before, but now everything is absolutely clear to me. You, Sergey, are unlikely to ever change, any pretty face can easily hook you. Svetlana is probably not the only one.»

She turned to her friend.

«Did you want my husband to leave me and marry you? Well then, congratulations, you got what you wanted. I’m giving him to you. He’s really not a fresh groom, and he’s unlikely to be faithful to you, but… dreams must come true! So…»

Nastya got up from the table.

«My daughter and I will go to the country for the weekend, my friend Karina has a country house. Meanwhile, you pack your things and leave my apartment, so that there’s no trace of you by the time I return.»

And she walked to the exit without looking back. On the table between the husband and the best friend, a pink bouquet wilted.

When Nastya returned, there was neither husband nor friend in the apartment. Half a year later, she learned that they tried to live together but couldn’t. Now each of them resents Nastya for «ruining their lives.

Darling, maybe we could skip going to the dacha this weekend?» I suggested, hoping for a positive answer.
«I can’t, dear,» he replied without even looking up from his laptop. «You know how much work I have.»
And so I went alone. I got on the commuter train and settled by the window. I don’t like going to the dacha by myself – there are always so many tasks that I can’t manage. But what can I do?

 

—

The train started moving, and I stared out the window, trying not to think about how I would cope on my own. And suddenly… he entered my carriage. My husband. Georgiy. Next to him was a young woman. My heart pounded as if it were trying to burst out of my chest. The favorite jacket I had chosen with such excitement suddenly felt unbearably tight, as if it were squeezing me in a vise.

He didn’t notice me. Or he pretended not to notice. She… the woman… was holding his hand, chattering away, laughing. Her voice sounded so light, as if her life were free of worries or troubles.

Where are they going? Why isn’t he at work? Questions buzzed in my head like a swarm of wasps, preventing me from concentrating. Should I get off? Hide? Or approach and ask him straight in the face: “What does this mean?”

I froze, as if I had turned into a statue. It seemed as though the entire carriage was watching me, seeing my confusion, my pain. But no one was watching; everyone was busy with their own matters.

They sat a few meters away from me, with their backs turned. I saw her lay her head on his shoulder and saw him smile at her with that smile which used to belong only to me. The tenderness in his eyes, the softness in his movements – all of it was directed at her. Not at me.

How could he? Why wasn’t he afraid to take this route? Oh, right… I hadn’t told him I was going to the dacha. Usually, when he works, I stay in the city.

I got up and moved to another carriage. It was stuffy there, smelling of dust and something stale. I stared out the window, trying to figure out how to go on living. The fields, the forests, the houses – everything passed by as if in a fog.

The dacha could wait, I decided. Now I needed to find out where they were heading.

—

They got off at the “Sosnovaya” station. She took his arm and they walked along a path leading into the forest. I got off behind them, trying to keep my distance. My heart was pounding furiously; anger and hurt mingled with a cold, sticky fear.

The path led to a small house with blue shutters. Georgiy pulled out a key, opened the door, and they disappeared inside. I stood behind a tree, unsure of what to do. Call out? Leave?

In the end, I turned back. I needed to be alone now. To think everything over. Otherwise, I might do something I’d later regret.

My steps felt heavy, as if I were carrying an unbearable weight. There were hardly any people on the platform. I sat on a bench; the cold metal sent shivers through my body. I closed my eyes, trying to block out reality. Inhale—exhale. I needed to calm down. I needed to collect myself.

I didn’t want to go home. Everything there reminded me of him, of our life. A life that turned out to be a lie. I needed time. Time to figure out what to do next.

And then… then I’d make a decision. But not today. Today I just needed to survive.

“I’ll go to a friend’s place,” I whispered to myself. Dina lived not far away, on the same branch. —

I dialed her number and, with a trembling voice, told her I’d be there in an hour. Dina immediately understood and didn’t ask any questions.

“Come over, I’m waiting,” she simply replied.
On the train, I once again stared out the window. The trees, the houses, the people – all living their own lives. And my life seemed to have come to a halt. Shattered into thousands of fragments. I wasn’t ready to gather them yet. Maybe I never would.

At Dina’s house, it smelled of cinnamon and fresh pastries. She hugged me without saying a word. And that was exactly what I needed. Just warmth. Just silence.

Tea with buns turned out to be a salvation. Dina sat next to me, stroking my hand. And I looked out the window, and for the first time that day it seemed as if the sun might eventually shine through. Someday.

«Where have you been?» Georgiy snapped at me as soon as I crossed the threshold. «Do you have any idea how many morgues I’ve called?»
I returned home only by Sunday evening. Dina – my guardian angel, even without a psychology degree – practically “filled me up” with advice, support, and the confidence that I could survive even a divorce. It was she who urged me not to delay the conversation. “By his reaction you’ll immediately understand what’s going on,” she said. “Maybe it’s not as serious as you think.” But I disagreed with her. Even if it were just an affair, does that change anything? To forgive and carry on as if nothing happened? No, that wasn’t for me.

«I was with Dina,» I replied calmly.

«And why was your phone off?» he persisted.
«Turned it off.»
«What happened?» His voice grew sharper.
«What happened?» I repeated, as if in an echo. «I saw you with another woman on the train. You got off at the ‘Sosnovaya’ station and went into that little blue house behind the forest.»
Georgiy slumped as if knocked off his feet.

«Were you following me?» he asked, his voice a mix of surprise and irritation.
«Yes.»
There was a long pause. He remained silent, and I waited, feeling as if everything inside me was tightening.

«Alright,» he finally said, glancing at his watch. «Let’s go!»
«Where?» I asked, surprised.
«To that little blue house. Rita has some very tasty raspberry jam—she wanted to give some to me, but I refused. Thought you didn’t know anything. Let’s go, pick up the jam! We’ll make it back before dark.» —

At first, I categorically refused. Then Georgiy began to explain, and I didn’t believe him. But to get to the bottom of it, we still went to the “Sosnovaya” station.

It turned out that Rita was his sister—from his father’s second marriage. Georgiy’s mother had always been against him communicating with his father, and he did it in secret. But it turned out that he didn’t trust me either, since he hadn’t told me anything. I knew he sometimes called his father, but I had no idea about a sister.

Rita’s husband was ill, and Georgiy was helping them. Sometimes he went to their place in “Sosnovaya,” sometimes they met in the city and traveled there together…

“Sosnovaya”… That name now cut like a knife. So, behind every “I’m at work” were meetings with his sister and her ailing husband? Behind every sigh about “not having enough money” – were acts of helping people he hadn’t mentioned to me?

Rita needed his help because her husband was confined to a wheelchair. And me? Don’t I need his support?

The jealousy faded, but the hurt remained. Deep, sticky, all-consuming. He had built our life on lies. Why did he decide that I wouldn’t understand if he told the truth?

The pain suffocated me. Pain at his mother, who forbade him from communicating with his father. Pain at his father, who apparently was far from ideal, judging by his mother’s harsh reaction. But most of all, I was angry at Georgiy. He was my husband, my support. And that support turned out to be shaky, unreliable.

Now I need time. Time to come to terms with all of this. Getting divorced over a hidden sister seems foolish. But living on as before, with complete trust—I simply can’t…

Without me, you’re nothing but empty space, Anna. Remember that well,» Igor said as he threw the last piece of clothing into the suitcase and slammed the zipper shut. His words sliced through the dim apartment like a cold blade. Anna stood in the doorway, her fists clenched until it hurt. She remained silent—not out of fear, but due to a strange numbness, as if watching an inevitable disaster unfold—terrifying, yet mesmerizing.

«Not saying a word?» Igor straightened, casting a contemptuous glance at her. «For ten years, I kept you afloat. For ten years, you hid behind my back. And now what? Do you think you can manage without me?»

Anna slowly raised her eyes. They held no tears—only the glimmer of the desk lamp and something new, something unfamiliar to Igor.

«I’m already managing,» she said softly but firmly. His laugh sounded as confidently as ever, yet now it carried a distinctly false note.

«Let’s see,» he said, slinging his bag over his shoulder. «A month. I’m giving you a month. Then you’ll come running back to me.» The door slammed loudly, and the photograph in the frame on the shelf cracked right between their faces.

The first days after his departure felt like a strange dream. The silence in the apartment was so oppressive it seemed almost like physical pain—not calm and cozy, but rather like a taut string, vibrating with tension. Anna constantly found herself listening for every rustle in the hallway, every creak of the elevator, every turn of a key in the neighboring locks.

At the table, she mechanically prepared meals for two, pouring two cups of coffee every morning. Each time, as she became aware of it, her hands trembled treacherously.

«You are nobody without me»—those words haunted her everywhere: in the sound of the water, in the hum of household appliances, in the measured ticking of the clock. What hurt most was that there was a kernel of truth in them. Who was she, really? The wife of a successful man—how she was presented at business meetings. The owner of a flawless home—how the neighbors described her. But who was she without those definitions?

Her bank balance was rapidly melting away, frighteningly fast. Igor had «invested» their joint savings in his business six months ago. All that was left was her personal account—a very modest sum, enough for at most two or three months. After that, she’d have to ask to borrow money.

Her résumé looked pitiful: she had an education, but her work experience was minimal and outdated. Skills? What skills? «Professional shirt ironing,» «stain removal specialist,» «has access to her husband’s contacts»?

The phone remained silent. Not only did potential employers ignore her calls, but even her friends did. It turned out that most of her mutual acquaintances were, in fact, his acquaintances. They began to avert their eyes awkwardly during encounters, cancel scheduled meetings, and gradually vanish from her life.

 

In the evenings, Anna sat by the window watching passersby. They were all hurrying somewhere, knowing exactly where they were headed. They had goals, plans, dreams. And what did she have? Only emptiness.

One night, she went up to the attic and retrieved an old box. Inside were her college projects—interior design sketches, blueprints, drafts. Once, she had dreamed of creating spaces where people could feel comfortable. As she flipped through the yellowed pages, she felt something inside her begin to stir.

«This is all nonsense,» she muttered, slamming the folder shut. Yet the next day, she opened it again.

«Anna? Anna Sokolova? It can’t be!» In the supermarket, a familiar voice called her name. Marina, her university friend, looked almost the same as before—only with shorter hair and a newfound confidence in her eyes.

«How many years, how many winters! You’re still as beautiful as ever,» Marina embraced her. «How’s life? Still creating your magical interiors?» Anna shook her head, feeling awkward.

«No… I haven’t done that for a long time. There was a family…»
«Ah, I see,» Marina nodded. «You married that conceited lawyer from your third year. What was his name…»
«Igor. We… we broke up.» Anna surprised even herself by speaking those words aloud. All this time, she had lived in expectation of his return, but now, having said it, she realized the matter was settled.

Marina didn’t ask any further questions; she just looked at her carefully.

«You know,» after a pause, she said, «our studio is actually looking for an intern. Mostly paperwork, but it’ll help you get back into the profession. If you want, of course.»

Anna felt her heart begin to beat faster. Something akin to hope stirred in her chest—a cautious, barely noticeable movement.

«I… I’ll think about it,» she replied, accepting the business card. Back in the kitchen, while unpacking groceries, her gaze kept returning to the small rectangle of cardboard bearing the design studio’s emblem. It was a chance—a fragile and uncertain opportunity, but still a chance to change her life.

«You are nobody without me.»

She took a deep breath and dialed the number. Her voice trembled, but her words came out firmly:

«Marina? It’s Anna. I accept.»

The «Kontrast» studio was housed in an old building, yet inside the atmosphere was entirely different: high ceilings, huge windows flooding the space with light. Anna stood at the entrance, feeling her fingers grow cold. Her heart pounded so hard it seemed about to leap out of her chest. Behind the glass, people were bustling about in constant haste, voices could be heard, and the coffee machine murmured. It was a world that seemed distant and alien after so many years of domestic comfort.

«Be brave,» Anna ordered herself and pulled the door open.

The first week of the internship turned out to be a real trial. The computer seemed to mock her; programs refused to obey, and her colleagues embodied confidence and professionalism. She felt out of place among these young specialists, whose fingers flew over the keyboard faster than thought. Every evening, she returned home only to cry quietly, curled up on the couch.

«You are nobody without me.»

Those words still held power over her, though she despised herself for it.

On Friday, she was ready to run away. A mistake in a blueprint, the manager’s criticisms, mocking looks from colleagues—all of it weighed her down, draining her strength. But Marina stopped her at the door.

«Hey, where are you off to in such a hurry? We have a corporate event today. Come in, meet the team.» Anna wanted to refuse, but Marina had already pulled her out onto the street, chatting about the new place with great cocktails.

«You’re just not settled yet,» she said as they squeezed through the crowd to a table. «Everyone goes through this. You know, you have an amazing sense of space. I saw that sketch for the café—it’s very stylish. A little more practice with the programs and you’ll be able to do incredible things.»

Anna looked up in surprise:

«You saw it? But I didn’t even send it…»

«I just happened to peek,» Marina smiled. «And you know what? It’s really cool. Maybe you should consider working on your own projects?»

The cocktail turned out to be truly splendid. Or perhaps it was the company—after a long time, Anna finally felt part of something bigger. They discussed projects, debated design decisions, laughed at inside jokes. And no one saw her merely as «Igor’s wife.»

She returned home late, her head brimming with new ideas, and her phone now adorned with several new contacts. On the table lay her sketches—now she saw in them not only mistakes but endless possibilities.

She took a clean sheet of paper and began to draw. Not for work, not for a task—just for the pleasure of it. For the first time in many years.

The first independent order came unexpectedly. It was an ordinary workday, an ordinary Tuesday. Anna had been working as a junior designer for a month.

«A client is here for you,» Marina announced, peeking into the room. «A café on Sadovaya. They want a renovation. Can you handle it?» Anna nodded.

«I can.»

The café was very small—six tables in a former bakery space. The owner, a young man with a beard, seemed vaguely familiar to her.

«We went to school together,» he explained, noticing her confusion. «Only you were in design, and I was in economics. I remember us dancing at one of the university celebrations.» Anna blushed. She didn’t remember him at all.

«I always thought you were talented,» he continued as they inspected the space. «I saw your work at the student exhibition. So when I learned you were back in the profession, I immediately decided: my interior will be done only by you.»

«You are nobody without me,» Anna recalled Igor’s words, but now they were just sounds, stripped of any power over her.

She worked day and night. She drew, created plans, selected materials, negotiated with suppliers. For her, it became a challenge, a starting point for a new life.

When the project was completed, even the stern Arkady gave an approving snort:

 

«Not bad, Sokolova. Could have added a bit more audacity, but for a first time—it’s commendable.»

It was the equivalent of applause.

The «Sadovoye» café opened in the fall. Dmitry insisted that Anna’s name be credited as the interior designer. It was elegantly displayed in small, refined letters on the glass door next to the logo.

It was a moment of triumph. Anna watched from the shadows as people admired her work, not suspecting who the true creator was. She felt the special joy of a creator.

«Let me offer you a share in the business,» Arkady said three months later, when «Sadovoye» had become one of the city’s most popular spots and a line of clients had formed for Anna. «Five percent. You attract customers, you have your own vision, and you’re effectively leading the department. It’s time to formalize our relationship.»

Anna studied the contract carefully. Owning her own studio—even under the aegis of «Kontrast»—exceeded all her expectations from a year ago.

As she signed the document, she felt her fingers tremble.

«Congratulations, partner,» Arkady extended his hand.

That evening, she and Marina spent time in the same bar where they once celebrated small victories.

«I always knew you would achieve this,» Marina toasted. «You’ve had potential since the very first year. It’s just a pity it took ten years for you to uncover it.»

Anna shook her head.

«No regrets. This journey was necessary. Every step, every mistake made me who I am today.»

She didn’t mention the most important part: all these months she had been waiting for a call from Igor. First, she was afraid of him, then she hoped, and then she just waited, as if expecting some ordinary natural phenomenon—without much excitement. But the call never came.

At home, she walked through the rooms that now felt different. Not because she had renovated, but because the space was no longer shared. Now it was her territory—with her own scattered belongings on the table, her shoes in the hallway, her favorite cup that was no longer hidden in the far corner of the cupboard.

In the bathroom, a photograph from grateful clients of the «Sadovoye» café hung on the mirror. In it, she smiled, holding a glass, in front of her first successful project.

«You are nobody without me.»

Anna looked at her reflection and smirked.

«I am somebody without you,» she said aloud. «And that’s all that matters.»

A bright spring noon. A light office filled with the scents of fresh coffee and blooming plants. Anna sat at the desk of her very own studio «ASdesign,» now separated from Arkady. Before her lay the sketches for a new project—a restaurant in a historic riverside building. It was one of the most large-scale and prestigious orders of her career.

The studio thrived. In two years, Anna had set up a modern office overlooking the city center, assembled a team of seven talented specialists, and built a portfolio that evoked envy even among competitors. Of course, not everything went smoothly—failed projects, financial difficulties, conflicts with clients did occur. But each trial only strengthened her character.

«Anna Sergeyevna,» Svetlana peeked into the office, clutching the doorframe, «a candidate for the manager position has arrived. A tall man in a blue jacket.»

«Very well,» Anna finished the final touch on her blueprint without looking up. «Please take him to the meeting room and offer him some coffee.»

She checked her appearance in the mirror and walked downstairs. The position required the perfect candidate—a person capable of managing all projects, finding an approach to even the most capricious clients, and ensuring deadlines were met. After the previous manager left, the team was operating at full throttle.

When she opened the meeting room door, Anna froze on the threshold.

Sitting at the table was Igor.

His reaction was just as astonished. His face revealed a whole gamut of emotions: from shock to embarrassment.

«Anna?» His voice sounded different, stripped of its usual self-assurance. And he himself looked different: his suit no longer fit perfectly, his hair was beginning to gray, and wrinkles had become more noticeable.

«Good afternoon,» she calmly took her seat. «Are you here for an interview?»

Igor nodded, still unable to hide his astonishment.

«I… I didn’t know this was your company. The ad just said ‘ASdesign.’»

«My initials,» Anna smiled. «Anna Sokolova. So, are you interested in the project manager position?»

«Yes,» he replied, gradually regaining his confidence. «I have extensive experience managing teams…»

«Tell me about your last job,» she interrupted, opening the folder containing his résumé.

It turned out that his business had collapsed like a house of cards. His partner had deceived him, taking the money, clients had fled, and debts continued to grow. For the past year, he had been aimlessly drifting from job to job.

«Why our company specifically?» Anna asked, making notes in her notebook.

Igor hesitated, choosing his words carefully.

«Honestly, I’m tired of living out of a suitcase,» he finally admitted. «I’ve heard a lot about your studio—’ASdesign’ is well-known. You create truly high-quality projects, not just facades. Your team consists of real professionals. I’d love to be part of this collective.»

Anna looked at him intently. Something in his demeanor had changed—any trace of his former arrogance was gone. Before her sat a man with a dimmed gaze, as if life had wrung all the strength out of him.

«What is your level of design knowledge?» she asked calmly.

«To be honest, it’s minimal,» he answered with a slightly crooked smile. «But I learn fast; I absorb everything like a sponge. Besides…»

He fell silent, as if preparing for something important.

«Anna, I must apologize,» he said quietly. «For those words, for everything that happened between us.»

Her face remained impassive, devoid of emotion. There was a time, two years ago, when she had dreamed of this moment, imagined every detail of this scene: how she would react, what she would say, whether she would forgive or not. But now she felt complete indifference, as if meeting an old acquaintance from a distant past.

«Unfortunately,» she said, closing the folder containing his résumé, «we cannot offer you the position. It’s best to keep personal matters and professional affairs separate.»

Igor flinched, as if struck. A twitch passed across his face, his eyes darkened.

«So, you decided to take revenge?» he spat, gripping the armrests of the chair. «Do you recall old grievances?»

«Nothing of the sort,» she replied coldly. «This is purely a business decision.»

«Business?» His voice trembled. «You just want to get your revenge! You’re enjoying this moment! And I thought…»

«You thought that I was still ‘nothing’ without you?» she interrupted, raising an eyebrow. «As you can see, it’s quite the opposite. Thank you, the interview is over.»

He abruptly stood up, knocking over a glass of water. A dark stain spread across the documents on the table.

«You’ll regret this,» he hissed, grabbing his briefcase. «The world of business is very small.»

«I have no doubt,» she replied with a barely perceptible smile. «Svetlana is seeing you out.»

He left, slamming the door so hard that the glass trembled. From the corridor came his muffled muttering.

Anna looked at the ruined papers. To her surprise, she felt neither schadenfreude nor triumph—only a lightness, as if freed from long-entrenched shards.

When she returned to her office, Svetlana cautiously asked:

«Are you alright? That man was… unusual.»

«I’m fine,» Anna answered, and it was the first time in a long while that she meant it.

Stepping up to the window, she watched the city’s bustle below: people hurrying about their business, cars honking, chestnut trees in bloom. In the glass, she saw her own face—a face of a woman who feared nothing anymore.

«You are nobody without me.»

 

Now, those words had lost their power. They had become nothing more than echoes of a past that she could finally leave behind.

Anna smiled and returned to work. A new project awaited her, her team, her life—reborn, entirely her own.

Bright spring noon. A luminous office filled with the aroma of fresh coffee and blooming plants. Anna sat behind the desk of her very own studio, «ASdesign,» now separate from Arkady. Before her lay sketches for a new project—a restaurant in a historic building along the embankment. It was one of the most ambitious and prestigious orders of her career.

The studio flourished. In two years, Anna had set up a modern office overlooking the city center, assembled a team of seven talented specialists, and built a portfolio that evoked envy even among competitors. Of course, things didn’t always go smoothly—there were failed projects, financial difficulties, and conflicts with clients. But each trial only hardened her resolve.

«Anna Sergeyevna,» Svetlana called from the doorway, holding onto the frame, «a candidate for the manager position has arrived. A tall man in a blue blazer.»

«Very well,» Anna said, finishing the final stroke on her blueprint without looking up. «Please take him to the meeting room and offer him some coffee.»

She checked her appearance in the mirror and walked downstairs. The position demanded the perfect candidate—a person capable of overseeing all projects, connecting with even the most temperamental clients, and ensuring deadlines were met. After the previous manager had left, the team was operating at full capacity.

Opening the meeting room door, Anna paused on the threshold.

There, seated at the table, was Igor.

His reaction was just as surprised. His face revealed a whole range of emotions—from shock to embarrassment.

«Anna?» His voice sounded different, devoid of its usual self-assurance. And he himself looked changed: his suit no longer fit him perfectly, his hair had started to gray, and wrinkles were now more pronounced.

«Good afternoon,» she said calmly, taking her seat. «Are you here for an interview?»

Igor nodded, still unable to hide his astonishment.

«I… I didn’t know this was your company. The ad only said ‘ASdesign.’»

«My initials,» Anna smiled. «Anna Sokolova. So, are you interested in the project manager position?»

«Yes,» he replied, gradually regaining his composure. «I have extensive experience managing teams…»

 

«Tell me about your last job,» she interjected, opening the folder containing his résumé.

It turned out that his business had collapsed like a house of cards. His partner had deceived him, taking the money, clients had fled, and the debts kept mounting. For the past year, he had been drifting aimlessly, switching from job to job.

«Why our company in particular?» Anna asked, making notes in her notebook.

Igor hesitated, carefully choosing his words.

«Honestly, I’m tired of living out of a suitcase,» he finally admitted. «I’ve heard a lot about your studio—’ASdesign’ is well-known. You create truly high-quality projects, not just show facades. Your team consists of real professionals. I’d love to be part of this collective.»

Anna looked at him intently. Something in his demeanor had changed—any trace of his former arrogance was gone. Before her sat a man with a dimmed gaze, as if life had squeezed out all his strength.

«What is your level of design knowledge?» she asked calmly.

«To be honest, minimal,» he replied with a slightly crooked smile. «But I learn fast; I absorb everything like a sponge. Moreover…»

He paused, as if preparing for something significant.

«Anna, I must apologize,» he said quietly. «For those words, for everything that happened between us.»

Her face remained impassive, devoid of emotion. There was a time, two years ago, when she had dreamed of this moment—imagining every detail of the scene: how she would react, what she would say, whether she would forgive him or not. Now she felt complete indifference, as if she were meeting an old acquaintance from a distant past.

«Unfortunately,» she said, closing the résumé folder, «we cannot offer you the position. It’s best to keep personal matters separate from professional ones.»

Igor flinched, as if struck. A twitch passed over his face, and his eyes darkened.

«So, you decided to take revenge?» he spat, gripping the armrests of his chair. «Are you dredging up old grudges?»

«Nothing of the sort,» she replied coldly. «This is purely a business decision.»

«Business?» His voice trembled. «You just want to get your revenge! You’re enjoying this moment! And I thought…»

«You thought I was still ‘nothing’ without you?» she interrupted, raising an eyebrow. «As you can see, it’s quite the opposite. Thank you—this interview is over.»

He abruptly stood up, knocking over a glass of water. A dark stain spread across the documents on the table.

«You’ll regret this,» he hissed, clutching his briefcase. «The business world is very small.»

«I have no doubt,» she replied with a barely perceptible smile. «Svetlana will see you out.»

He left, slamming the door so hard that the glass trembled. His muffled muttering echoed from the corridor.

Anna looked at the ruined papers. To her surprise, she felt neither schadenfreude nor triumph—only a lightness, as if freed from long-entrenched shards.

When she returned to her office, Svetlana asked cautiously:

«Are you all right? That man was… unusual.»

«I’m fine,» Anna replied, and it was the first time in a long while that she truly meant it.

Stepping up to the window, she watched the city bustle below: people hurrying along, cars honking, chestnut trees in bloom. In the reflection of the glass, she saw her own face—the face of a woman who feared nothing anymore.

«You are nobody without me.»

Now, those words had lost their power. They had become nothing more than echoes of a past that she could finally leave behind.

Anna smiled and returned to her work. A new project awaited her, her team, her life—reborn, entirely her own.»

Ten-year-old Grisha was hurrying home from school. His mother had strictly ordered him not to dawdle. That night, their cow had calved, and Lyudmila Sergeyevna spent the entire day by Zoryka and the newborn calf.

Grisha was supposed to heat up lunch, wash the dishes, and do his homework. But it wasn’t household chores that drove him home—it was his eagerness to see the little one. Newborn calves are so cute and gentle, and they drink milk from a bottle so amusingly—how could one miss such a wonder?
He happily bounced along, walking by the river where the ice had completely melted, and young grass curled along the banks. As he got closer, the boy noticed an elderly woman, soaked from head to toe, trembling from the cold and bursting into tears.

«Hello! What happened?» he asked, and he saw a pile of wet rags lying nearby. «Did you fall into the river?»

«Oh, dear! I didn’t fall—I was pushed! And now I weep, having learned what cruelties people are capable of!» the old woman sniffled, trembling even more. «I thought I’d make it to the village, maybe someone would let me warm up, but a cramp seized me so badly I can neither breathe nor move!»

«Grandmother, wait, I’ll be right back!» Grisha shouted as he ran to the village.

Lyudmila Sergeyevna had just returned from the cowshed, washed up, and gone to lie down and rest. Zoryka stubbornly refused to give milk; apparently, she was afraid that people would take everything, leaving nothing for little Mayka—the name they had given to the calf born in May.

Lyuda did not want to let the little one near the mother; later it would be difficult to train him to drink from a bucket. And Zoryka, having fed the calf herself, would no longer allow herself to be milked.

Through the open window, Lyudmila could hear a conversation between a mother and her son in the cowshed. Her rest was interrupted by a sharp slam of the front door.
«Grisha, is that you?» she asked. «What’s with slamming the door, a fire or something?»

«No, Mom, not a fire—worse! There’s a person dying by the river!»

 

«What person?» Lyudmila immediately sprang up.

«Some old woman, all wet, saying she was pushed into the river, that she’s frozen and can’t move! I’ll bring her something warm!»

«Oh my, what a calamity!» the mother began frantically rummaging in the closet. «Here, take your father’s old sheepskin coat and shawl. Wait!» she suddenly exclaimed. «Let’s take the cart for the milk jugs; it might come in handy!»

Grisha dashed to the shed and rolled out the four-wheeled cart on which Lyudmila usually transported the milk to the highway. She covered it with a sheepskin, tossed her late husband’s sheepskin coat on top, and almost ran towards the river.

The old woman was no longer sitting by her belongings but lying on the grass, curled up from the cold. Lyudmila quickly threw some clothes over her, then carefully lifted her and placed her on the cart. The woman was as light as a child. She regained consciousness, looked around with unfocused eyes, and tried to smile.

«Don’t worry, Grandmother, everything will be alright,» said Lyudmila, and she and her son took her home.

When Ksenia Petrovna was warmed in a hot bath, fed, and given hot tea to drink, she did not know how to thank her rescuers.

«Oh, my dears, may God grant you health, happiness, and prosperity for your kind hearts! Thank you, Lyudochka, for raising such a fine son!»

«Oh, Ksenia Petrovna, anyone in our place would have done the same,» replied the hostess, but old lady Asya, as she insisted on being called, objected:

«Don’t say that—I was the one pushed into that river!»

«And where will you live now?» asked Lyudmila.

«We almost reached our destination. What’s the name of your village?»

«Rubtsy.»

«And the next one is Lozovaya. There, my younger son farms; he manages orchards and fields.»

«So you’re the mother of our famous Rudkovsky? He is a well-known sponsor and patron!»

«Yes, Rudkovsky. My husband and I hail from Lozovaya. Vitalik went to the city, and when his father died, he took me in. He said that there are no women in Vitya’s house, so how could he take care of his mother? And at that time, his wife was Lenochka.»

Suddenly, Grisha returned, his face flushed from running, and sprinkled with grass blades.

 

«What’s with you, Grish? Were you rolling in the hay?» his mother marveled, pulling dry stalks out of his hair.

«No, I went to see Mayka. I climbed into the stall, lay down beside him, and he licked my face! Wow, what a rough tongue!»

His mother smiled: «Grishenka, remember, we have guests coming over on Saturday?»

«Of course I remember! We even rehearsed everything, so I’m ready.»

«That’s wonderful!» rejoiced Lyudmila. «Ksenia Petrovna, please stay with us until Saturday, and then we’ll hand you over to my son.»

«Oh, why would I trouble you for an extra three days? Maybe I can make my way to Lozovaya on my own?»

«No-no-no!» Lyuda firmly objected. «Stay, rest, and do your laundry. And we’ll even give you clean bags.»

«Oh, how inconvenient, that I even added laundry to your chores…»

«Don’t worry, the washing machine is already running; it will dry quickly in the sun.»

Old lady Asya got up, walked around the room: «Well, I feel a little better now. Perhaps I can help with something. I can help Grisha with his homework—I used to work as a teacher in Lozovaya.»

Grisha took her to his room, laid out his textbooks and notebooks. When she asked about the teachers, it turned out that almost half of the teachers in Rubtsy were her former students. She remembered everyone and recounted amusing stories. Grisha was amazed: «Grandmother Asya, how do you remember so many people? That’s more than a hundred!»

«I loved my work and the children,» she sighed. «It’s just a pity that Vitalik doesn’t delight in grandchildren.»

Three days later, old lady Asya put on an evening dress, took out her «concert» shoes, and fixed her hair. When Lyudmila entered the house, she did not recognize her.

«Ksenia Petrovna, you’re a beauty!»

«Oh, but I’ve greysed so much,» the old lady smiled. «There are so many fine young ladies these days, and Vitya went to the city in search of happiness.»

At the school, music was playing. Ksenia Petrovna quietly followed Lyudmila and sat on a bench.

The celebration was dedicated to the school’s tenth anniversary. After the principal’s speech, an SUV arrived, and out stepped Viktor Rudkovsky. He congratulated everyone and presented bouquets to the teachers. Suddenly, one teacher announced loudly: «Today with us is the first teacher of many of our educators, the honored Ksenia Petrovna Rudkovskaya!»

Old lady Asya looked at Lyuda in surprise, who clapped and beckoned her to the stage. Limping slightly, she approached the microphone: «What joy it is to see so many of my former pupils among the teachers!»

Viktor ran up to her, handed her a bouquet, and almost whisked her off the stage. They embraced tightly around the corner of the school.

«Surprise! They told me to bring an extra bouquet. But what are you doing here—I didn’t expect you! What brings you here?»

«Oh, Vitenka, I’ll tell you at home. If it hadn’t been for Grisha and Lyuda…»

The next morning, as soon as Lyuda had finished milking Zoryka, Viktor pulled up to the gate. He produced a huge bouquet and knocked on the gate.

«Lyudmila, hello! My mother and I invite you and Grisha to dinner at seven. What do you say?» he offered the bouquet.

«Thank you, Viktor! I’d love to, but I just gave birth and can’t leave.»

«Then we’ll postpone it. And why do you milk by hand?»

«We only have one cow, so why mechanize?»

«Today I’ll bring the machine,» the farmer promised.

By evening, Lyuda had a milking machine. Viktor had delivered it and asked to see the cowshed.

 

«Oh, why such gifts?»

«You need to take care of your health. Your son is growing up, and maybe there will be more children.»

In the evening, he brought fruit and gifted Grisha a bicycle. The boy couldn’t believe it: «This is for me, for keeps?»

«Of course! For all your boyish adventures,» Viktor smiled.

Grisha rushed to hug him. Earlier, Rudkovsky had helped families with groceries or stationery, but such a gift was something special. Old lady Asya brought a pie: «Lyudochka, I decided to bake one like in the old days. Let’s have some tea—I’ve missed you!»

Viktor’s visits became a regular occurrence. Each time, Ksenia Petrovna did her best to prepare something delicious. Sometimes he came alone, showed interest in the household, and offered help. One day, he warmly said: «Lyudochka, over this time I’ve grown so attached. You’ve become a real comfort.»

«I feel the same… But you’ve probably noticed,» Lyudmila admitted.

At the end of June, they got married. Viktor moved the entire farm to Lozovaya, the house was rented out to summer residents, and Grisha was transferred to a new school. In July of the following year, they celebrated Viktor’s anniversary, but Lyuda couldn’t attend—she had just given birth to her second son, Stёpka.

And Viktor’s brother, Vitaly, appeared in Lozovaya a week after the rescue of his mother. His young wife was involved in an accident—her car was thrown into the river. She suffered a spinal injury and was bedridden.

When Ksenia Petrovna asked her son if he was surprised by her disappearance, he replied without any hesitation: «Mila said you had gone to Vitya’s, so I wasn’t worried.»

Meanwhile, Grisha was enjoying his bicycle. He rode to his friends’ houses, to the store, to get medicine for his grandmother. The boy felt needed and happy.

Nina sat with her legs drawn up beneath her amidst scattered magazines and glossy catalogs of wedding dresses. Outside the window, a gloomy October played with the last leaves, yet inside Nina felt light and joyful. There were only two months left until the wedding! Nina flipped through the pages, stopping now on one style, now on another.

«Maybe this one?» Nina held a magazine closer to the monitor, showing the picture to her friend over a video call. «Is it too extravagant?»

 

«In my opinion, it’s perfect!» Masha exclaimed, simultaneously typing something on her keyboard. «Has Vanya seen it yet?»

«You kidding!» Nina laughed, quickly closing the magazine. «They say a groom shouldn’t see the dress before the wedding—it’s bad luck.»

Nina got up from the sofa, dusting off her soft, fluffy lounge pants. Masha was mentioning something about a stylist and a salon, but Nina’s thoughts had already wandered. It had been almost a year since she and Vanya had been together. These were her first truly serious relationship, where everything was planned and reliable. No more rebellious artists or rock musicians, perpetually broke. Vanya was an engineer at a construction company with a good salary, plans for the future, and steady work.

The only thing that slightly bothered Nina were Vanya’s parents. Margarita Pavlovna, a stately woman with a severe look that seemed to pierce not only Nina but her entire lineage up to the seventh generation, and Nikolai Petrovich, a gaunt, always taciturn man who, at the table, answered only with “yes” or “no,” and spent the rest of the time seemingly lost in his own thoughts.

«Nina!» Masha impatiently brought her friend back to reality. «Are you even listening to me? I’m asking, when did you book an appointment with the stylist?»

«Sorry, I got lost in thought,» Nina said, rubbing the bridge of her nose. «Next Thursday, in the evening.»

When the call ended, Nina returned to thoughts of Vanya’s parents. At the last meeting, Margarita Pavlovna had not missed an opportunity to needle her daughter-in-law:

«Cutlets, dear, have to be made with love,» her mother-in-law said, setting the plate aside. «My little Vanya likes them juicier.»

«I’ll definitely keep that in mind next time,» Nina tried to smile, though her jaw was tense.

«And where did you bake the bread?» Margarita Pavlovna inspected the table.

«I bought it at the bakery…» Nina began, but Margarita Pavlovna already shook her head as if to say, «I knew it.»

«Vanya likes homemade bread. I always bake it myself.»

Vanya never reacted to such remarks. He just smiled, as if it were an innocent joke rather than constant attacks on Nina. Only once, when Margarita Pavlovna began to criticize Nina particularly harshly, did Vanya place his hand on Nina’s wrist and say:

«Mom, enough, alright?»

But it didn’t sound very convincing.

By the way, Vanya’s parents lived in the countryside, nearly three hours away from the city. They rarely visited. Nina tried not to think about it—in the end, she was marrying Vanya, not his parents.

Occasionally, Vanya would throw out odd remarks about how boring life was for his parents in the village, that they needed to be rescued from there. Nina took it as just typical sonly concerns.

The sound of a key in the lock interrupted Nina’s thoughts.

«Baby, I’m home!» Vanya burst into the apartment, laden with bags. His light brown hair was damp from a light rain, and a satisfied smile played on his face. «I bought the wine you wanted!»

Nina rushed over, helping him remove his jacket.

«And what are we celebrating?»

«Nothing, I just wanted to make you happy.»

The evening was unfolding perfectly. They sipped wine, watched a comedy, and laughed. Vanya talked about a new project at work, making plans for the future. And everything seemed almost perfect. Almost.

«By the way,» Vanya casually mentioned after the movie ended, «my father called today. He complains that mom got really down in the village.»

«Maybe they should see a doctor?» Nina suggested, settling more comfortably on the sofa. «There are excellent modern antidepressants available now.»

«What does depression have to do with it?» Vanya raised his eyebrows. «They’re just bored. The neighbors left, the store closed… Everything is getting tougher.»

«Maybe they should move to the district center? There are more opportunities there,» Nina proposed.

«Yeah, but how are they going to afford living there?» Vanya countered as he finished his wine. «Their pension is small.»

 

«Well, you help them,» Nina reasonably noted.

«Yes, but…» Vanya fell silent for a moment, gazing out the window. Then he smiled oddly and blurted out: «Honey, it’s a good thing you have a big apartment! My parents can take one room, since they’re tired of living in the village!»

Nina froze. That moment reminded her of a strange dream in which she was desperately trying to run but her legs wouldn’t move. The individual words made sense, but together they didn’t add up in her mind.

«Are you joking?» Nina forced out a nervous laugh.

«Why would I joke?» Vanya reached for the wine bottle, pouring himself another glass. «They’re having a hard time, you know. And here we’re going to help them. You’re not against it, right?» he asked in a tone as casual as if he were asking if she wanted to go to the movies tomorrow.

«Vanya,» Nina set her glass on the table. «But we never even discussed this. And besides, my apartment isn’t that big. Three rooms, one of which is my office.»

«Well, the office can be moved to the kitchen,» Vanya suggested lightly, as if he were merely talking about shifting a flowerpot on the windowsill.

«Wait,» Nina straightened up. «You didn’t even ask for my opinion. You just presented it as a done deal.»

«Well, you can’t kick them out!» Vanya looked at her in surprise. «Why are you getting so worked up?»

«Because it would be normal to discuss it first—find out what I think, and then decide,» Nina said, feeling her heartbeat quicken.

«They’re my parents,» Vanya’s voice was edged with irritation. «I warned you, wasn’t that enough?»

«Nina took a deep breath, trying to speak calmly. «Vanya, this is my apartment. I bought it with my own money, money I worked for for five years.»

«I thought you understood that family is shared,» Vanya turned away dramatically, folding his arms across his chest. «But it turns out you’re too attached to your own space for my parents.»

Nina couldn’t believe her ears. Where did this idea of “a space for my parents” come from? They were talking about a full move.

«Listen, maybe we could rent an apartment nearby for them?» Nina suggested. «I could even help pay for the first few months.»

«Why spend money when we have your apartment?!» Vanya threw the TV remote onto the sofa. «I don’t understand what the problem is!»

«The problem is that you didn’t even ask me!» Nina raised her voice, which was extremely rare for her. «You decided for both of us without caring about what I wanted!»

«Am I supposed to ask for permission to help my parents?» Vanya leapt from the sofa.

At that moment, Nina was struck by the realization. Vanya didn’t even consider her opinion. He had already made up his mind. And they weren’t even married yet. What if Vanya decided to quit his job and live off her income? Or decided to sell her car without asking? Who knows what else!

«Vanya,» Nina began.

«You know what,» Vanya interrupted, «if you can’t accept my parents, maybe we need to reconsider our plans altogether.»

Nina froze. Was he really making their relationship contingent on whether Nina was willing to let his parents live with them?

«Are you serious right now?»

Vanya fell silent, his gaze boring into Nina. Suddenly, a wave of heat rushed over her.

«Maybe we both need to calm down and talk tomorrow,» Nina said as she rose from the sofa, heading for the bedroom.

«What else!» Vanya abruptly grabbed her wrist, not letting her go. «We’re going to settle this right now.»

His grip was so unexpected and strong that Nina froze, not believing what was happening. Who was this man? Was he really the Vanya she had spent the last year with?

«Let me go,» Nina whispered.

«I won’t let go until we decide,» Vanya insisted stubbornly.

«Either you let go of my wrist right now, or I call the police,» Nina stared right into his eyes. «Your choice.»

For several seconds, a heavy tension hung between them. Nina didn’t look away, though she trembled inside. Finally, Vanya relaxed his grip, leaving a reddish mark on her wrist.

«Sorry,» Vanya mumbled as he stepped aside. «I just hate that you won’t help my parents.»

Nina rubbed her hand, feeling the growing hurt inside. Does this man really not understand what just happened? He grabbed her, caused her pain, and now acts as if he’s the victim?

«I’m going to sleep,» Nina said quietly. «We both need to cool off.»

«Sure,» Vanya flopped back onto the sofa and turned up the TV volume demonstratively.

The following days turned into a tense truce. Nina and Vanya behaved politely but coolly. Their conversations were limited to trivial household matters: «We’re out of bread,» «I’ll be late today,» «Masha got called to the doctor.» There was no talk about the parents or the upcoming wedding.

On the morning of the fifth day, when Vanya left for work, Nina’s phone rang. The caller ID showed «Margarita Pavlovna.» Nina sighed deeply, gathering her strength, and answered:

«Good morning.»

«It won’t be good!» Margarita Pavlovna’s voice was sharp, like a whip crack. «I heard you don’t want to have us over! Well, fine, we’ll manage without you since Vanya has already decided everything.»

Nina froze, phone in hand, trying to process what she had heard.

«Margarita Pavlovna, Vanya and I are still discussing this…»

«What is there to discuss?» the mother-in-law interrupted. «My son said we’re moving in two weeks. Nikolai has already arranged for a truck for the furniture.»

The room seemed to sway before Nina’s eyes. Had Vanya already set a moving date? Without even telling her?

«Margarita Pavlovna, I’m sorry, but I need to make a call,» Nina said hurriedly, hanging up.

Her hands trembled as she dialed Vanya’s number. He didn’t answer. Of course, he had a meeting. Nina sent a message: «Your mom called. She said you’ve already decided on the move. We need to talk today.»

The response came only three hours later: «Yes, we’ll talk in the evening.»

The day dragged on endlessly. Nina couldn’t focus on work; her thoughts kept returning to the conversation that awaited her that evening. When Vanya finally returned home, Nina was already waiting in the living room, composed and determined.

«Hi,» Vanya said, looking tired but calm. «Let’s talk.»

«Let’s,» Nina gestured to the chair opposite her. «Your mom said that you’ve already set a moving date. Is it true?»

«Well, I roughly planned it,» Vanya shrugged, avoiding her gaze. «What’s the delay?»

«Vanya, I want you to listen to me,» Nina tried to speak calmly. «This is my apartment. These are my boundaries. I’m not ready to live with your parents.»

«Are you really upset about one room?!» Vanya waved his hand irritably. «You have three! Don’t my parents deserve even a corner?»

«It’s not about the room,» Nina shook her head. «It’s about you making decisions without considering me. This is the second time you’ve cornered me. First, you say the parents are moving in, then you set a date. And you have no interest in what I want.»

«Because your opinion is selfish!» Vanya sprang to his feet. «I thought you were kind and caring, but it turns out…»

«What turns out?» Nina also stood up. «That I have an opinion? That I want to be considered? That’s called self-respect, Vanya.»

«No, that’s called selfishness!»

 

Nina looked at Vanya’s flushed face, at his clenched fists, and suddenly realized—she would have to fight for her personal space all her life if she didn’t set a boundary now.

«You know, Vanya, I’ve been thinking over these past few days,» Nina slowly removed her engagement ring from her finger. «And I’ve realized that I’m not ready to marry someone who considers my opinions insignificant.»

Vanya stared at the ring in her hand without blinking.

«You can’t just cancel everything.»

«I can,» Nina said firmly. «And I’m canceling.»

Leaving the ring on the table, Nina walked out of the room. The next hour she spent packing Vanya’s things into a suitcase. When she returned to the living room, Vanya was still sitting on the sofa, but anger now burned in his eyes.

«So, that’s it?» he spat through gritted teeth. «You’re just abandoning me?»

«Vanya, this isn’t revenge,» Nina answered wearily. «I just realized that we view relationships very differently. It’s better to part ways now than to torture each other later.»

Vanya abruptly stood up and snatched the suitcase from Nina’s hands.

«You’ll regret this. You’ll understand what you lost.»

As the door slammed behind him, Nina sank to the floor and finally burst into tears. Not because of the breakup—she knew deep down that she had done the right thing. She cried from exhaustion, from the tension of the past few days, from realizing how many things had to be canceled: the restaurant, the dress, the photographer… Yet strangely, that prospect didn’t scare her.

The phone rang as it grew dark outside. Margarita Pavlovna.

«Yes, I’m listening,» Nina tried to keep her voice even.

«What have you done?!» Margarita Pavlovna almost screamed. «Vanya told me everything! Are you heartless? You kicked the boy out over nothing?!»

«Margarita Pavlovna…»

«Silence! My son loved you, and you… You’re so greedy, so selfish! You’ve destroyed a family!»

Nina listened to this torrent of accusations, holding the phone to her ear, yet strangely remaining calm. When Margarita Pavlovna finally finished her tirade, Nina said:

«I didn’t destroy a family. I didn’t create one. Goodbye.»

And she hung up.

The following days were filled with a flurry of tasks: canceling the restaurant reservation, notifying the guests, sorting out the dress… But with each resolved issue, Nina felt lighter. It was as if she were shedding an invisible burden.

A week after the breakup, Nina met Masha in a café.

«How are you?» her friend asked with concern.

«You know,» Nina stirred her coffee thoughtfully, «I feel light. I thought I’d be miserable, crying, feeling sorry for myself. But instead, I feel… free.»

«Don’t you regret it?»

«Not for a second,» Nina smiled. «I realized something important, Masha. It’s better to be alone in my own apartment than with moochers I never even invited.»

«Good thing you saw his true colors in time.»

«Yes,» Nina nodded. «Can you imagine what would have happened if we had married? Instead… my whole life is ahead of me. And I know for sure—I’ll never let anyone decide for me again.»

Outside, the autumn sun shone. For the first time in a long while, Nina caught herself breathing deeply. Without fear or doubt. The breakup with Vanya, which seemed like an ending, had actually become a beginning. A beginning of a life in which she had finally learned to value herself and her boundaries.

Nadezhda, who had just turned 72, had lived her entire life in the village. For many years, she worked in the poultry house, where the grueling physical labor and endless household chores gradually wore down her health. In her old age, the woman had completely lost her sight, unable even to distinguish the silhouettes or outlines of objects.

In her youth, Nadya had been eager to earn more money to improve her living conditions. There was no time left for a personal life. It wasn’t until she was 40 that she realized finding a life partner would now be extremely difficult: most of the village men were already married, some had fallen into alcoholism, and others had left for the city in search of a better fate.

 

However, fate brought her together with Evgeny—a tractor driver with whom she had worked side by side on the farm for many years. One day, Nadezhda looked at him with different eyes. A romance blossomed between them. But the man proved unreliable: he often disappeared with his friends, getting drunk until he lost all memory. For a year, he toyed with her, unwilling to commit to anything serious or to give up his harmful habit for the sake of family. Tired of his indecision, Nadezhda was ready to break off the relationship. Yet, as it often happens, he beat her to it and disappeared on his own. Nadezhda decided that she was lucky.

Later, she learned that she was pregnant and chose to keep this news from Zhenya. A few months later, he ended up in his own home after yet another binge with his irresponsible friends. And Nadezhda gave birth to a son, Maximka.

From his first months of life, the boy showed a headstrong character. Nadezhda found it hard to manage such a lively and stubborn child who demanded constant attention. Already in primary school, she was regularly called in for meetings to discuss her son’s behavior. Maxim was insolent and refused to listen to anyone. There were no role models in his life, and he perceived his mother’s reproaches as empty sounds. Because of his fearlessness, the young man constantly got into trouble, testing both his mother’s patience and her heart.

When Maxim became a teenager, Nadezhda shed many tears, hoping that he would come to his senses and change. She often had to meet with the local policeman, who threatened to take serious measures with the boy. At the age of 20, Maxim told his mother that he was leaving for the North to work on a shift basis. Nadezhda tried to dissuade him, but she knew it was useless.

The young man made three trips back and forth, and then he disappeared. Nadezhda’s friend, Valentina, frequently visited her to offer comfort: “Your Maxim will come back, where else can he go? Maybe he met a girl there and decided to stay.” “No, it’s something else here,” Nadezhda replied through tears. “I know him; nothing just happens to him. At least let him come back healthy. I’m beside myself.” But the years passed, and there was no word from Maxim. Nadezhda placed advertisements in newspapers, reached out to hospitals, and tried to find him through his colleagues and the company where he worked, but all in vain.

Ten years went by. During that time, Maxim never once gave any sign of life. From the heavy labor and constant worry, Nadezhda finally lost her sight completely. Her faithful companion became a large dog named Polkan, who never left his mistress’s side.

Three years ago, Valentina passed away, and Nadezhda was left alone with her grief. She had no one else to support her. In their isolated village, new people appeared only rarely. The elderly died, and the youth left for the city. There were no more than ten inhabited yards left. And so, Nadezhda spent her remaining days in an old house on the outskirts.

Zlata, a young postwoman of 24, treated the blind old lady with warmth and often visited her, even when it was beyond her official duties. Nadezhda did not receive newspapers or magazines anymore, as she could no longer read. She only listened to the radio or watched television. Zlata ran errands for groceries, helped around the house, and sometimes read books or magazines aloud.

“Leonidovna!” cried the neighbor, Sveta. “Be careful! They say some realtors have appeared, circling around, scouting things out. Before you know it, they’ll start evicting us!” “What do you mean? What do they need?” the old woman asked in alarm. “They’re planning to build something. Either summer cottages for the rich or a recreation center. I’m not exactly sure, but be on your guard. And don’t let anyone into your home. If need be, call me and I’ll send my son over.” “Thank you, I’ll keep that in mind. I won’t sell this house. I was born here, and I will die here. I don’t need the hassle of moving. I want to live in my hometown.”

A few days later, someone knocked on Nadezhda’s door. She asked, “Who’s there?” but received no answer.

 

The old woman opened the door, ready to chase off the developers with her broom. But standing on the doorstep was a young man who introduced himself as her son! “Maximka!” she gasped. “Where have you been? Let me give you a hug.”

Nadezhda held her son tightly, weeping. Though she could not see his face, she traced its contours with her hands and ran her palms over his hair. “Mommy, can’t you see me at all?”

Her son’s voice sounded to Nadezhda a bit changed. He had grown up. Eleven years had passed. Who knew how much he might have changed during that time? Only his character remained the same—confident and bold. Maxim began to explain why he had been gone for so many years: “I got caught up in a mess. My bosses turned out to be crooked, and there were guys from different regions all around. The area was isolated, and there was no help to be found. I had to work hard just to get out. Honestly, they didn’t let me go. But now it’s all behind me. I’m home, and I’m not going anywhere,” he reassured his mother.

At first, Nadezhda was overjoyed at her son’s return, but soon his behavior began to change. He started disappearing again, coming home drunk, even drinking in the morning. Sometimes his friends would drag him to the porch, and sometimes the local policeman would drop by for an explanatory talk.

“I don’t know what to do with him,” the old woman lamented in a conversation with Zlata. “He seems like a different person. He no longer respects me.” “Maybe he’s seen so much during these years that he couldn’t come back earlier,” the young woman replied softly. “Talk to him, ask him to be more calm.”

Nadezhda took the advice and decided to discuss her worries with her son. But he was rude and refused to listen to her complaints. “You have no idea what I’ve been through all this time! Yes, I’ve changed. So what? I’m a grown man now. Why are you nagging me?” he exploded. “Keep an eye on me, if you want to, so I don’t get into any trouble.”

“Why are you so worked up, son? I mean to say that you can’t keep living like this. You might get into trouble, and with my meager pension, I won’t be able to help you get out of it. Have some mercy on your mother’s heart—I’m at a loss when you leave at night.” “None of your business! I’m the master of my own fate,” Maxim snapped, and the conversation ended there.

Nadezhda couldn’t calm down. Doubts tormented her: what if her son had been replaced? She could not believe that her mischievous yet loving son could speak to her so rudely and disrespectfully. Unable to see with her eyes, she tried to “see” with her heart, but she knew that her suspicions were nothing more than guesses. In the village, there was no one left who remembered her Maxim. No one could confirm whether this was truly him or not.

The old woman was afraid to raise the issue, fearing gossip. She did not want to be shamed in her old age, and who knew—perhaps she might be accused of senility for not recognizing her own son?

Meanwhile, the man began actively meeting with realtors, discussing something with them.

“Son, dear, who are you always whispering with? Perhaps you’ve even found a fiancée? At least bring her, show her to me,” Nadezhda said, trying to hide her anxiety.

“You, mother, should stay out of my business, or who knows what might happen. You can’t see anything, but I see. It would be better if you kept your distance. Mind your own affairs, or you might end up in the hospital prematurely, or even not at home at all.”

These words frightened Nadezhda to the depths of her soul. She understood that she had no one to help her. And what could she say? As long as her son had not committed any crime, there was nothing she could do. It pained her deeply to realize that she was old and helpless, unable to think of a way out of this situation.

The only person she trusted was Zlata. The young woman genuinely empathized with the old lady. “I don’t know what to do about him. I’m scared to stay alone with him in the house. I can’t see, and I can’t stand up to him. He’s not like my Maximka at all. My Maximka would never speak to his mother like that. But how can I be sure if it’s him or not?”

“Give me his old photographs, I’ll compare them,” suggested Zlata.

“I wanted to find them, but he said he had burned them. He claimed he was cleaning out the shed and burned all sorts of junk. Then I rummaged through the wardrobe for the family album—but everything was turned upside down, and things weren’t in their proper places.”

One day, Nadezhda received a call from an unknown number. Zlata was nearby and overheard the conversation.

“Hello, Nadezhda Leonidovna. This is the local policeman calling.” “What happened? Did Maxim do something?” the woman asked in distress. “No, but it’s urgent. Please come immediately.” Zlata volunteered to accompany the old lady to the station. There, they were told a shocking story: a young man, who outwardly resembled Nadezhda’s son, had been found enslaved by criminals in the North. This man confidently claimed to be her son. “He gave the exact address, his personal details, your year of birth, your maiden name, even the street of the village and the names of those who lived on it in his childhood,” the policeman explained. “My God! Is it really true? I always felt that that man wasn’t my Maxim. Where is my boy? What happened to him? Why was he gone for so long?” the old lady wept, clutching a glass of water. Zlata had already given her a sedative to prevent a heart attack. “Your Maxim was turned into a slave. They took his passport and money, and forced him to work for free. The enterprise was located in an isolated area. This sometimes happens, and only a few manage to escape. Thanks to your son, we will be able to rescue other people. He is very strong and brave. You, Nadezhda Leonidovna, can be proud of him.” “Then who is living in my house? Who is that scoundrel?”

The police immediately launched an investigation. Help arrived from the city, understanding that the case could take a serious turn. Alexander, who had introduced himself as Nadezhda’s son, turned out to be a fraudster who had planned to seize her house by taking advantage of her blindness.

The news spread throughout the village in an instant. All the newspapers carried the story on their front pages. Reporters arrived to interview Nadezhda, Alexander, and anyone who could provide useful details for their report.

 

And the old lady felt relief. Her heart had not deceived her—she knew that something was amiss.

Following the investigation, Alexander was exposed as a fraudster, his scheme was uncovered, and he was arrested. He had planned to sell Nadezhda’s house to developers, caring nothing for the fate of the blind old woman.

And then, the real Maxim returned to the village. He rushed to his mother and fell to his knees before her. “Mommy, dearest…” He kissed her hands. This time, Nadezhda did not cry. Now she was certain: this was her son. “I was afraid I’d never hear your voice again, my little boy.”

Maxim was severely weakened by his long captivity, poor nutrition, and hard labor. He spoke little about what had happened to him. It was too painful to recall, and he did not want to trouble his mother further. “I didn’t know you were alone here. How did you manage, Mommy?” “I wasn’t alone. Zlata helped me. She is such a kind and good girl. She never asked for anything in return, but was always ready to help.”

Maxim immediately noticed the young woman. She had supported Nadezhda when she heard the sound of her son’s footsteps. Zlata continued to help the family and care for the ailing man. He recovered quickly. She was not afraid of his past. In time, feelings grew between them, and they began dating. Their romance was met with approval by the villagers, who predicted a swift wedding for the young couple. And so it happened. Soon, Nadezhda blessed the children’s marriage and became the happiest person in the world. She lived to see these years, waited for her son, and gained a wonderful daughter-in-law. Maxim told his mother that he wanted to renovate the family home and take care of the estate. Nadezhda rejoiced in every day spent with her family and wished them nothing but happiness and good fortune.

Despite his status and financial situation, Yegor Petrovich always rose with the first rays of the sun, adhering to the belief that «the early bird catches the worm.» Even today, on his fiftieth birthday, the man did not stray from his long-established habit. Yegor Petrovich did some exercises, took a shower, and dressed in his everyday clothes: trousers with creases, a crisply ironed shirt, and an understated knitted sweater. Smiling at his reflection in the mirror, he strutted confidently and walked into the living room, where his beloved wife and daughter were waiting for him. A huge cake with fifty candles was set on the table for the occasion.

«Happy Birthday, Daddy!» exclaimed Alina, throwing herself around her father’s neck.

His beloved wife, Lenochka, with whom Yegor Petrovich had spent many happy years in marriage, joined the embrace shortly after.

«Thank you, my dears! I’m so pleased! What a celebration you’ve organized! I’m at a loss for words!» Yegor Petrovich said, moved to tears, as his mind involuntarily returned to events nearly thirty years ago. Back then, at the age of twenty-three, a tiny cake on his table was hardly comparable to this magnificent culinary creation. At that time, the young man led a very poor existence and could not afford to live in a spacious house located in an elite cottage settlement.

Despite the fact that his father was a wealthy man during his lifetime, young Yegor rarely had extra money. This was because his father, Pyotr Vasilyevich, left his eldest son practically nothing when drafting his will. Officially, he handed over to his son a loss-making car repair shop on the outskirts of the city, which had long fallen into disrepair and ceased to be profitable. Meanwhile, the businessman himself had an entire network of gas stations and repair shops throughout the city, which brought him stable and high income.

Unfortunately, this financial empire, after the father’s last will, passed into the hands of Yegor’s younger brother, Maxim. Naturally, deep down, it was very painful for the young man that his father had deprived him so much when drafting the will. At that time, he did not know why this was the case and preferred not to be unnecessarily upset due to his youth.

Maxim, Yegor’s younger brother, besides being smaller, did not excel at work, preferring a leisurely and fun life free from financial problems. He loved visiting nightclubs and restaurants more than anything, spending parental money in amounts unimaginable for an ordinary person. Maxim and Yegor were about the same age, and few knew that the elder brother was actually his adopted sibling.

It turned out that Pyotr Vasilyevich and Darya Ivanovna could not have children for a long time, and when they finally despaired, they decided to adopt a child from an orphanage. Of course, the choice was agonizing and deliberate, as the head of the family understood that, given his financial situation and status, it was extremely important to have an heir who would take over the business after his departure and not give competitors the slightest chance.

Among all the adoption profiles, the wealthy parents chose little Yegorka, who, despite being born into a good family, became an orphan by a cruel twist of fate. The boy’s real parents died in a horrific car accident, which brought their three-year-old son to the walls of the orphanage. The tragic fate of his parents was only averted because, at that moment, he was in the nursery group of a kindergarten.

At first, when little Yegorka found himself in the family of his adoptive parents, he was surrounded by unearthly tenderness and care… But then, when Darya Ivanovna, to her astonishment, found out that she was pregnant, the attitude towards the boy changed dramatically. The birth of little Maxim drew a distinct line between the native son and the adopted one. Yegor lacked nothing, but still, he involuntarily felt a certain chill coming from his parents…

If the boys received gifts for New Year, Maxim’s were always better and more expensive than his older brother’s. The same was true for clothes and everything else. When Yegor graduated from school, his father advised him to apply to university on his own.

«Why are you looking at me like that, Yegor? If I help you with everything, you will never become a real man,» Pyotr Vasilyevich explained, while demonstratively giving his younger son money to take a girl to a cafe and the cinema.

«Alright, dad… Of course… I will prepare for admission,» Yegor meekly responded then.

His father passed away when the young man was twenty-two. It goes without saying what a blow this was for the unfortunate young man. While his younger brother slept off another night of revelry, Yegor helped his mother organize the funeral and the memorial dinner. At that moment, the young man hardly thought about the inheritance or anything related to his father’s will. But a month after the father’s death, when the notary public announced the last will, tears welled up in Yegor’s eyes…

«How could you do this, daddy? … Why did you treat me this way? And why do I now need this half-ruined car repair shop on the outskirts of the city?» the young man thought, trying not to notice the gloating expression on his younger brother’s face, who at eighteen became a millionaire, now owning nearly half the city.

Aloud, of course, Yegor did not express his disappointment but bore the resentment in silence. However, after his father treated him that way, the young man could not stay in his parents’ home and rented a room on the outskirts of the city. Maxim, on the occasion of his inheritance, threw a lavish banquet for a hundred people and partied for three days straight, dousing all the guests with champagne and expensive wine.

Meanwhile, his elder brother tried to bring the car repair shop, bequeathed to him by his father, into order. Initially, upon seeing it, the young man’s hands simply dropped. It was an old, dilapidated building with broken windows and peeling, partially faded paint on the window frames and door… The room was drafty, and it was as cold as in a cellar… Trying to find money for repairs, Yegor approached his younger brother with this request.

«I would gladly help… But I don’t have any free money right now… I’ve put everything into the business… I’m developing a promising direction, bro… So, come by some other time, alright?» Maxim responded.

Yegor, who didn’t even get a chance to tell his brother that he would return the money with any interest, left with nothing. Since childhood, the young man felt that there was a huge difference between him and his younger brother in the eyes of their parents.

«And how am I worse than Maxim? Maybe I didn’t turn out as handsome? Or did I not meet your expectations?» Yegor thought sadly, returning to his car repair shop.

At the same time, he was repeatedly offered to sell the building for a purely symbolic payment… But Yegor, honoring the memory of his late father, even dying of hunger, would not have agreed to this.

«Why do you need these ruins, boy? After all, you don’t have the money for restoration anyway… But with it, we could turn your workshop into an elite auto service…» competitors told Yegor.

But our hero was resolute and firmly stood his ground. Yegor tried to take out a loan at the bank, but due to the low financial status of the client, he was denied. And then, the young man decided to raise his business by his own efforts. Of course, he could not combine work at the car repair shop with university studies, so he chose the former and gave up all hopes of obtaining a higher education.

Making such a fateful decision in his life, the young man began to repair cars in a damp, unheated room at his own risk and peril. Initially, there were very few clients. But everyone who, one way or another, turned to Yegor for help, remained satisfied with the services and the quality of the work performed. As is known, word of mouth works much more effectively than any advertising. Therefore, grateful clients began to recommend the small workshop on the outskirts of the city to all their acquaintances.

 

Little by little, by his own efforts, the young man repaired the workshop and purchased new equipment. Then, he expanded the premises and hired a couple of skilled auto mechanics. Business picked up, gradually increasing its turnover. That’s when competitors and enemies of Yegor stopped laughing. And the young man, working up to the seventh sweat, intensified his efforts, got on his feet, and expanded his business. After all, bloodied hands, elbow-deep in car grease, and chronic sleep deprivation and fatigue were a very high price for his hard-earned success.

And when Yegor managed to save enough money to open a second car repair shop, his mother died, saying such shocking words to the young man before her death.

«Son… Forgive us, your father and I… We never told you… Basically, you’re adopted… I’m about to die soon… So I decided to confess… I’ve lived with this all my life… Endured… And now, it’s like a stone has fallen from my heart,» the old woman whispered, dying from an incurable disease.

«Thank you, mommy! There’s no one closer or dearer to me than you… After all, a real mother is not the one who gave birth, but the one who raised you,» Yegor whispered through tears, holding the thin hand of the sick woman.

Soon after, his mother was gone, and it was the last time the elder son saw her alive. But now, realizing that he was adopted, the young man understood why his father had been so cold to him. And this discovery gave him the strength and energy to continue working…

Meanwhile, his younger brother systematically squandered the parental fortune, amassing substantial sums for alimony and divorce proceedings. At the same time, Maxim did not work a single day, preferring the noise and revelry of the nightclub to the stuffy office atmosphere.

When Yegor turned twenty-four, Elena appeared in his life, becoming his faithful wife and helper for all the following years. Lena grew up in a poor family and, falling madly in love with Yegor, devoted her entire life to him. The young people recognized the sincerity of each other’s feelings, played a modest wedding, and led a quiet family life. A year later, the couple had a lovely little girl, whom the loving parents named Alina…

The birth of their daughter only spurred Yegor on to new achievements, and by the age of thirty-five, he earned his first million. Further, there was more… The smart and far-sighted young man restored himself at the university and graduated with honors. Having knowledge and money in hand, Yegor began to invest them in real estate and other profitable business projects.

By this time, his younger brother Maxim had completely squandered the parental fortune and, living below the poverty line, turned to Yegor for help.

«Sorry, bro, but I don’t have any free money right now… If you want, I can offer you a mechanic’s position in one of my auto services,» Yegor responded, who had not forgotten the royal generosity his brother had shown him many years ago.

Not wanting to repeat the mistake of his parents, the newly minted millionaire raised his daughter Alina with strictness, implying the absence of any kind of extravagance. Of course, this did not mean that the girl lacked anything or lived in a monastic cell. Just Yegor, from childhood, instilled in the girl a love for labor, so that she would not turn into a capricious princess, tirelessly squandering her parents’ money. Instead, she became a sweet Cinderella, understanding the value of earned money and that, at any moment, the fairy-tale carriage could turn into a pumpkin.

By the age of sixteen, despite the presence of servants in the house, Alina already knew how to cook beautifully, was familiar with a mop and washing machine. And now, as the girl turned twenty-one, her father realized it was time to think about her marriage. The thing was that business partners had repeatedly hinted to Yegor Petrovich that they would not mind becoming related to him. But the wise businessman did not want to give his daughter away to another representative of the «golden youth,» commonly called «majors» among the people.

He knew that they, just like his younger brother Maxim, were accustomed only to luxury and wealth. Such unions usually lead to the ruin of parents’ capitals or a painful and burdensome divorce process laden with infidelity.

Many of Yegor Petrovich’s companions considered him a stuck-up upstart who did not know what he wanted for his daughter. But this was not the case at all. And some influential businessmen even considered the millionaire’s refusal a personal insult and harbored bitter resentment in their hearts. That’s why today, in the midst of celebrating the fiftieth anniversary, Yegor Petrovich occasionally glanced at his daughter, involuntarily noting her beauty, intelligence, and charm…

«Ah, you need to get married, my dear…,» the man thought, understanding how important a proper marriage is.

The next day, the businessman, as usual, went on a tour of his enterprises and industrial facilities. This work could have been entrusted to his manager, but Yegor Petrovich preferred to do everything himself and did not trust the conduct of business to outsiders. On the way, the businessman stopped by the very car repair shop, bequeathed by his adoptive father and with which his ascent to the financial Olympus had begun.

It still belonged to Yegor Petrovich, so from time to time, he visited there to indulge in moments of nostalgia and pay homage to his past. The businessman, out of habit, mentally greeted the building that made him a millionaire and entered inside.

Looking around, to his surprise, he saw a mechanic sleeping in a corner of the workshop. The young man was in tattered pants, sneakers in need of repair, and a patched-up jacket. At the same time, he was covered from head to toe in grease and machine oil.

«Is he drunk?» the businessman asked his partner in astonishment.

«No, Petrovich… This is Danil… He doesn’t drink a drop… An orphan from an orphanage… Has nowhere to live, so he works around the clock in the workshop… Wants to save up for a house… And sleeps in between clients… Don’t scold him… He’s already having a hard time,» the man explained, guiltily looking at the owner.

But Yegor Petrovich had no intention of punishing the young man… Instead, he gently touched his shoulder and gestured for him to come outside. There, after a couple of polite words, the businessman got to the point…

«Danil, I want to make you an offer… How you respond to it will determine your future life. The fact is, I’m looking for a groom for my daughter… I think you could be the one! What do you say?» Yegor Petrovich straightforwardly laid out the essence of the question.

The young man looked at the millionaire in surprise and then said:

«With all due respect to you… I am resolutely against it… I don’t need your money and I want to marry only for love… And now, sorry, I need to go to work.»

Yegor Petrovich thoughtfully watched the departing worker and mentally admired his response. The businessman realized that with such a young man, Alina would certainly not be lost… Yegor Petrovich saw in Danil’s eyes the same spark that once burned in himself… Throughout the entire return journey, the businessman thought only of this young man. Yegor Petrovich was so impressed by his story that he knew he could not let such a candidate slip away.

 

Returning home, the millionaire called Alina to his office and asked his daughter to take his second car and go to the workshop to change the oil in the engine. Naturally, he did not tell her that he had been there just half an hour ago. The businessman’s calculation was simple… He hoped that Danil would either notice his daughter or, conversely, become reserved and reduce communication with her to a minimum.

Fortunately for the father-millionaire, the first scenario played out and the daughter returned home very late. When Yegor Petrovich asked where she had been, the girl, smiling sweetly, answered that she had met a nice young man working in his workshop. As it turned out, mutual attraction sparked between the young people within the first minutes of communication, engulfing them completely.

From that day on, Alina and Danil started dating, although the girl did not tell the young man who her father really was. After all, more than anything, Alina did not want the young man to think of her as a princess – a white-handed lady who only knew how to spend her parents’ money and shop. But when Danil asked the girl to introduce him to her parents, everything fell into place…

Not knowing what to say, Danil looked amazed at the exquisite decor of the living room where Yegor Petrovich and his wife were waiting for him. Looking at the embarrassed young people, the businessman got up from the table and, anticipating their faltering explanations, said:

«I know… What you’re thinking about marriage… I’ll say more… We, your mother and I, are not against it and bless you, my dears, for a long and happy life!»

Hearing the words of the bride’s father, who turned out to be the owner of the workshop where he worked, Danil firmly shook his hand and gently embraced Alina’s mother.

Some time later, the young people played a modest, quiet wedding. Partly, this was due to Danil and Alina’s reluctance to spend money on ostentatious luxury and pomp. Instead, they made the first payment on a mortgage they took out right after the honeymoon. Danil flatly refused help from Yegor Petrovich and, over time, achieved everything on his own.

At first, he became a senior auto mechanic in the workshop, and then, working up to the seventh sweat and bloody calluses on his hands, he became a manager. After the wedding, Yegor Petrovich’s companions often teased him, thinking he had gone mad and given Alina away to a pauper.

«He’ll surely bankrupt you… How can a street boy understand how to run a business? Laughable, and that’s it,» the millionaire’s envious competitors and ill-wishers told him.

But the man, modestly smiling, thought otherwise and knew that his daughter was in safe hands. For, while the daughters and sons of his millionaire friends disappeared for days on end in casinos and nightclubs, Alina and Danil developed and strengthened the family business, inherited by Yegor Petrovich at the cost of incredible efforts and inhuman labor. Subsequently, the size of the business built by the wise businessman and his daughter’s family reached unprecedented proportions and even went beyond the borders of the country… This was explained by the fact that Alina’s son-in-law, like him, had gone all the way from the bottom to the very top and knew the value of human labor and a drop of sweat on the face of a working person.

When Vladimir learned that he was about to become the father of twins, a strange feeling of disorientation overwhelmed him. Before Svetlana’s pregnancy, he had truly dreamed of having children; together they made plans for the future and prepared for a new phase of life.

But as soon as his wife went to the maternity hospital—granting him an unexpected freedom—Vladimir suddenly realized: perhaps this was a mistake.

He spent the first day of solitude in gloomy idleness, but the next day he decided to visit his favorite café—he simply could not stand cooking himself. There, amid the aromas of fresh baked goods and coffee, a fateful meeting occurred.

He saw HER—Marina, the woman of his dreams. This realization came suddenly, as soon as she stepped over the threshold of the establishment. She scanned the room, smiled radiantly, and gracefully sat at an empty table.

Vladimir’s heart began to race. They started talking, and by the evening Marina found herself in his home. And by morning, Vladimir began to wonder: was his feeling for Svetlana genuine? Was it right to become a parent?

A phone call disrupted their tranquil morning. Marina frowned in annoyance:

— Who’s calling so early? I haven’t slept at all…

Vladimir looked at the screen—it was a call from the maternity hospital. Reluctantly, he answered:

— I’m listening. Yes, I’m a father now. Two sons.

— Ugh, diapers, sleepless nights, no personal life! Why did you need this? — Marina snorted.

Vladimir shrugged:

— Honestly, I’m not even sure myself.

That evening, Svetlana called. Vladimir tried hard to sound joyful, but apparently not convincingly enough.

— My dear, is something wrong? You don’t seem happy…

— Of course I’m happy! It’s just that I’ve been offered an important position, and the kids… I’m afraid they’ll get in the way of my career. But don’t worry, I’ll figure something out! — he lied.

— Figure something out? What do you mean? — Svetlana asked anxiously.

Vladimir hurriedly said goodbye, realizing he had let something slip. Time was pressing—his wife and the children were to return home in a week. A plan was needed.

— Listen, I have my ancestral house back in the village! — the idea struck him. — It’s quite decent, though far from the city. I’ll take Svetlana and the kids there, say they need fresh air while I have to work. I’ll promise to visit. Will that work?

— Of course! — Marina perked up. — Your gullible wife will believe anything! And we’ll be able to be together without extra hassle?

— Well, maybe not completely together, but at least we won’t have to hide! — he assured her.

Vladimir prepared an impassioned speech. Svetlana, of course, was upset:

— Darling, I feel like you’re hiding something… How am I supposed to manage alone in the middle of nowhere with two kids?

— You’ll manage! I’ll visit often. You wouldn’t want me to have problems at my new job, would you?

Svetlana didn’t understand her husband, but she didn’t dare argue. She was afraid he would get upset—and then what would she do? Straight from the maternity hospital, they were heading into the unknown. The young mother quietly wept, suspecting that the matter wasn’t about his career but another woman. But how could she bring that up?

The car stopped in front of a semi-ruined house, almost hidden by wild vegetation. Svetlana gasped:

— Vladimir, you’re not going to leave us here, are you?!

— Leave? — he replied coldly. — Don’t be dramatic. Be thankful the house is spacious—there’s plenty of room. Don’t worry, I’ll leave you some money, and later we’ll arrange for benefits.

— So… you’re leaving us? — she asked in a trembling voice.

— Svetlana, understand, we acted hastily. With the kids…

Vladimir hurriedly carried his belongings into the house, deliberately avoiding looking his wife in the eyes, got into the car, and drove off without even saying goodbye. And Svetlana was left alone with her sorrow and two helpless babies. What now?

Meanwhile, Vladimir was tormented by pangs of conscience. After all, many men behave like this! He hadn’t kicked his family out onto the street; he had provided them with a house. His own, by the way! Svetlana would manage somehow.

Gently laying the crying infants on an old sofa, the young mother burst into tears. They would perish here without help! Wouldn’t her husband come to his senses? Wasn’t this some cruel joke? Perhaps he had just gotten angry? The little ones wailed, demanding attention, and Svetlana seemed frozen with the overwhelming misfortune.

— What are you all sitting around for? — a gruff male voice suddenly said from behind her. — It’s hot, and your kids need to be wrapped up!

Svetlana jumped, turning around. In the room, as if out of nowhere, an elderly man had appeared. He frowned, inspecting the babies.

— Who are you? — she asked in fright.

— I’m your neighbor. I heard your conversation with your husband. I decided to check on you…

— How dare you?! — she protested, but stopped under the stern gaze of the stranger.

— All right, you’re awake now. Feed the kids, get them in order. They can’t be left like this, — he said gravely. — And I’ll help a bit. We’re only here for a short time. Vladimir will be back soon…

— Aha, I’ve known men like Vladimir, — the neighbor smirked. — You take care of the kids, and not him.

Svetlana was about to retort, but then she noticed the chaos surrounding her. Frantically, she began to pick up things one after another, but quickly she sagged:

— Oh my God, how are we ever going to live like this?

The neighbor smiled reassuringly:

— Ah, there’s no time for despair! Let’s feed the little ones, take them outside for some fresh air, and quickly tidy up. You’ll see, life can still go on.

Before she knew it, Svetlana began to follow the instructions of the new acquaintance, who introduced himself as Mikhail. It turned out that he had been living in the village for two years already.

— And if you don’t mind me asking, why did you move here? — she inquired curiously, handling a rag.

Mikhail laughed:

— In short— I became disillusioned with society. The details, maybe another time. By the way, I used to work as a pediatrician.

— I see! — she said, genuinely surprised. — Now it makes sense why you handle my little ones so skillfully. I still have so much to learn.

 

 

By evening, the neglected house transformed, gleaming with cleanliness. Svetlana was pleasantly surprised, though very tired. Of course, Mikhail had done most of the work, but at that moment it seemed unimportant. The main thing was that she was no longer alone.

— Well then, now you can actually live here, — the neighbor said with satisfaction. — I’ll go home and bring something to snack on. Then we’ll decide what to do next.

Svetlana nodded gratefully, marveling at the turns of fate. It was incredible that a barely acquainted man had done for her in one day more than her own husband had during the entire pregnancy! And it seemed he wasn’t planning to stop there.

Twenty minutes later, Mikhail returned with a large bag of groceries. In the meantime, Svetlana had managed to feed and change the babies, laying them on a neatly spread sofa.

— Excellent! Now we’ll set the table, have some tea to celebrate the new home, — Mikhail cheerfully announced as he unpacked the packages. — Tomorrow I’ll arrange with Mrs. Petrovna; she has a little goat—there’ll be milk for you. I’ll also take a look in the attic: I believe there’s an old crib or cradle there. Hey, why the long faces? There’s no such thing as a hopeless situation!

He looked at Svetlana intently:

— By the way, what do you do for a living?

— I’m an elementary school teacher.

— Perfect! Work is already half the battle!

Before she knew it, Svetlana had settled into a routine. She understood that it was all thanks to Mikhail, and that realization warmed her heart.

A couple of days later, he drove her and the kids to the district center, introducing her as a distant relative who had come to help the children’s health. He helped her arrange all the paperwork, register the children, and obtain benefits—who would have thought such things were even possible in a village!

Six months passed by in the blink of an eye. The twins grew stronger, and Svetlana had become accustomed to her new life. One day, Mikhail came in, sat on a chair, and looked at her mysteriously.

— Svetochka, have you ever considered doing some tutoring on the side?

She laughed:

— What are you talking about! Tutoring in the middle of nowhere?

— Nonsense! — the neighbor said, raising a finger in admonition. — A village these days is no worse than a city. It’s just that the kids are busy with everything except studying. I know a few families who would gladly hire you for their unruly ones.

Svetlana agreed. The boys grew up peacefully, and Mikhail often walked with them when his tutoring sessions with her began. He even managed to get a double stroller—from Mrs. Petrovna, who had become like a second mother to Svetlana.

She knew full well that she had long been looking at Mikhail not just as a neighbor or a friend, but as a man. Yet she was very afraid that he might notice. After all, who would want a young woman with two children?

On her birthday, Mikhail and Mrs. Petrovna dropped by Svetlana’s place. They sat down for a heartfelt chat. Suddenly, the elderly woman squinted mischievously:

— I just can’t understand you two. You look at each other with love, sighing secretly. Maybe it’s time you got married?

— No! — Svetlana and Mikhail exclaimed in unison, blushing.

Mrs. Petrovna gave a knowing snort:

— Well, well, I’m off. Thanks for the hospitality. You two sort it out yourselves—love is a young thing.

Barely after she closed the door, a tense silence fell. Finally, Mikhail cleared his throat:

— Svet, don’t think about that… I really like you. But I don’t want to disappoint you. My ex-wife always said I was a loser who’d never accomplish anything in life. It seems she was right—otherwise, I wouldn’t be living here. And you deserve a real, reliable man…

— What nonsense! — Svetlana retorted indignantly. — Your wife is simply an idiot! You’ve done more for me than anyone ever has. You solve any problem with ease, you care, you help. Never call yourself a loser!

She fell silent in embarrassment, then quietly added, looking at the table:

— And please, Misha, I could never let myself be a burden to you…

— A burden? What do you mean? — Mikhail asked, surprised.

— How can it be? I have two children!

Mikhail sprang up and began pacing nervously around the room. Then he stopped in front of Svetlana and spoke passionately:

— What are you talking about?! What burden? Your boys are closer to me than my own! I only imagined for a moment that you’d leave—and I got scared. I’ll miss you and them equally!

Listening to his heartfelt words, Svetlana realized: there were no more obstacles to their happiness. So why did they still hesitate?

Meanwhile, Marina had arrived in the village. Vladimir had explained in detail how to find the house but had been too afraid to go himself—afraid of facing the abandoned family.

To be honest, Marina even liked that she went alone. After all, she would put Svetlana in her place! Let her be kicked out of their home, and then they’d sell the rundown shack and renovate a city apartment.

Money was always in short supply in the family, even though Vladimir earned quite well. They often quarreled because, in his opinion, Marina spent too much on herself. And when he claimed that Svetlana managed finances much better, Marina nearly strangled him.

So, if they managed to sell the house for a higher price, all their problems would be solved. But first, they needed to evict Vladimir’s ex-wife.

Finding the right house turned out to be easy. However, what they saw shocked Marina: a tilted, decrepit building overgrown with weeds, nothing like the sturdy dwelling Vladimir had described. Who in their right mind would buy that wreck?! You’d barely scrape together a few pennies, if you managed to sell it at all!

 

 

Marina grabbed her phone:

— Hello, Vovka, why were you messing with my head? Everything here is overrun with weeds, the roof is about to collapse! Who needs such a shack?

— What do you mean? — Vladimir was taken aback. — Svetlana loves order. I thought she’d long since set everything up there…

— There’s no one there! — Marina shrieked. — The house is standing empty!

— Empty? Where are Svetlana and the boys?

— How should I know where your Svetlana is?! — Marina screeched, stamping her foot. — Why did I even come here… Wait, look, there she is—just as you mentioned! With the boys, you rascal. And some man with them. A new husband, apparently. Your dear wife isn’t lonely, then!

Svetlana, along with Mikhail and the children, passed by a stunned Marina and disappeared into a nearby well-maintained house.

— Hey, are you sure that’s the right address? They went into a different house, not that one, — Marina said dryly into the phone.

Vladimir gritted his teeth. Even Marina could hear that grinding sound.

— Exactly. Go home.

— What else! Was it a mistake for me to come to this backwater? I’ll go check, maybe I was wrong…

— Marina, — Vladimir sighed wearily. — Let’s go home.

And then he disconnected. It turned out that Svetlana was alive and well, the boys were growing up, and they had their own life. And he, on the other hand, was doomed to deal with Marina for the rest of his days. After all, she wouldn’t let go—unlike naive Svetlana. There was no way to escape. He had stirred the mess himself, now he had to clean it up.

Vladimir sighed and lit a cigarette, staring blankly out the window. And so ends the story. Although, no—not a story at all—for someone, a happy life was just beginning.

Vladimir gave a bitter smile and flicked the cigarette butt into the ashtray. Well, it was time to come back down to earth.

— Anna, I can’t comprehend what happened to him. He didn’t even pull me close,» Yuri said, running a hand over his temples as he stared at the closed door of his son’s room. «It’s as if… he’s a stranger.

«Enough,» Anna flinched, as if struck by sudden pain. «You speak as if this isn’t our Dania who returned. What absurd thoughts?»

Outside, the summer noon shimmered with sunlit glints, flooding the kitchen with a golden glow. Three weeks without their son felt like an eternity.

 

They had eagerly awaited his return from camp, imagining him bursting into the house—cheerful, tanned, brimming with new experiences. Anna had even baked his favorite chocolate cake. The aroma still lingered in the air, mingling with a heavy foreboding. Yet Daniil returned as a silent replica of himself.

Just a few hours earlier, they had been standing by the gate. Yuri leaned on the railing, while Anna shifted her weight from one foot to the other, gazing into the distance. When the bus stopped, she rushed forward, ready to enfold her son in an embrace. However, Daniil got off last, unhurriedly.

His hair was tousled—not from active play, but as if from lying down too long. His gaze was fixed on the ground.

«Danyechka!» Anna spread her arms wide, but her son only gave a brief nod.

He didn’t rush toward them. He didn’t light up with a smile. He didn’t even ask about his beloved aquarium fish, which he had missed so dearly. He simply walked past silently, carefully placed his backpack in the hall, and went upstairs.

Even the dog, joyfully bounding toward him with a wagging tail, failed to elicit any reaction.

«Maybe he’s simply exhausted,» Yuri remarked, though his voice trembled with worry.

Now, three hours later, Daniil still hadn’t come out of his room. He hadn’t tasted the cake, nor unpacked his belongings. He just lay there, turned away, his face directed at the wall.

Anna quietly ascended the creaking stairs. The wooden boards groaned beneath her feet, as always. Pushing the door open a crack, she saw her son—a fragile figure bundled in a blanket, despite the stuffiness of the room.

«Sweetie, maybe you’d like a snack?» she said, lowering herself to the edge of the bed. «I baked your favorite.»

Daniil barely shook his head, without turning around. Anna cautiously touched his shoulder—he flinched, as if from the contact of red-hot metal.

«Aren’t you feeling well? Should we call a doctor?»

«No.»

His voice cracked, like shattered glass. One word—and it held so much emptiness that it clenched Anna’s heart.

Even the dog, who had joyfully dashed toward him with a wagging tail, received no response.

«Probably he’s just overexerted himself,» Yuri said then, though a note of anxiety lingered in his tone.

Outside, evening settled over the village as gently as a fog. Dogs barked, and somewhere an accordion played—the ordinary sounds of their quiet street. But inside, the house was mute.

By nightfall, rain began to fall. Large drops pounded against the tin eaves. Anna sat in the kitchen, clutching a cup of coffee in her palms.

Fragments of thoughts swirled in her mind—perhaps he’d caught a cold? Maybe it was a case of first love and rejection? Or a conflict with the other kids? But her heart whispered that something far more dreadful had happened.

In the morning, when Yuri left on business, their neighbor, Valentina Petrovna—a gaunt, upright woman with a piercing gaze—knocked at the door.

«Anya, has your boy returned?» she asked as she entered the kitchen, leaning on her cane. «I saw how you greeted him.»

Anna nodded silently while pouring tea.

«And he…» Valentina hesitated, searching for the right words. «Did he have a good rest?»

«I don’t know,» Anna admitted honestly. «He barely speaks.»

Valentina pressed her lips together as if hesitating, then placed her wrinkled hand on Anna’s arm:

«Forgive an old lady’s bluntness, but your Dania… it’s as if he hasn’t returned as himself. Like he was replaced.»

Those words struck like a knife. What Anna had feared even to think, the neighbor now voiced aloud. And it became unbearably frightening.

«Maybe we should ask him directly?» suggested Yuri. «What happened at that cursed camp?»

Anna shook her head: «He withdraws even more when I try.»

That evening, Daniil came to dinner on his own. He sat at the table, mechanically bringing the spoon to his mouth. He flinched when Yuri dropped a fork—the clink of metal sounding like a gunshot.

«Sorry,» said Yuri, and something in his voice made the boy lift his eyes.

For the first time in days, Daniil truly looked at them. His pupils were dilated, as if he still saw something horrifying that wasn’t in the room. «There’s nothing to tell,» the words fell into silence like a stone in water. «No complaints allowed. They were angry. They laughed.»

Anna held her breath, afraid to scare away the rare moment of openness. Yuri slowly placed his hand on the table—closer to his son, yet without touching him.

«Who, Dan?» he asked quietly. «Who was angry?»

«Sanych. And also Vera Nikolaevna,» the boy murmured, lowering his eyes to his plate. «They said I was a wimp. That kids like me spoil the troop.»

 

His voice was monotonous, like a worn-out record. Nausea overwhelmed Anna. «Those are the counselors?» she asked.

Daniil nodded. Outside the window, raindrops began streaming down once again.

«I didn’t want to go into the water that day. It was icy. Sanych called me a coward. Then he locked me in the storage room,» the words rushed out, as if a dam had burst. «It was dark there. And there were spiders. I knocked, but no one came.»

Yuri’s hand clenched into a fist, his knuckles turning white, yet his voice remained calm: «How long were you there?» «I don’t know. It felt so long. Then Vera came and said it was necessary for me to become a man,» Daniil looked up, tears glistening in his eyes. «And then they took away my phone.»

«And they said that if I told you, they’d post a video of me crying. And everyone would laugh.»

A wave of fury overcame Anna. She rose, walked around the table, and knelt before her son.

«This will never happen again,» she said firmly, locking eyes with him. «Never. Do you hear me?»

That night, for the first time in days, Daniil burst into tears—loudly, hysterically, his wet face buried in his mother’s shoulder.

He spoke, choking between sobs: how they forced him to finish burnt porridge; how they terrorized him with loneliness—»nobody loves you, not even your mom willingly sent you there»; how Sanych made the whole troop stand at attention under the scorching sun if someone didn’t tidy up.

«I tried to hold on…» Daniil sniffled. «But I just couldn’t.»

«It’s not your fault,» Anna repeated softly. «Never your fault.»

The next morning, Anna and Yuri went to the camp while Daniil stayed with Valentina Petrovna. Before they left, he took a crumpled sheet from his backpack—a pencil sketch depicting huge, twisted faces of adults filled with rage and small, huddled figures of children under desks.

«I was drawing at night,» he whispered. «When I couldn’t sleep.»

The camp looked idyllic—lush with greenery, with neat buildings and bright posters. The director, a plump woman with a dulled gaze, recited memorized lines:

«We employ only professionals. Everyone has a pedagogical background. Perhaps your child is simply too emotional?»

«Emotional enough to return with bruises?» Yuri slammed photos on the table—photos showing dark stripes on Daniil’s thighs. «And he draws this?»

When the drawing was placed next to the photo, the director paled.

«I will personally get to the bottom of this,» she declared. «But children sometimes imagine things…»

«No!» Anna leaned forward sharply. In her, there was no trace of fear or uncertainty—only icy determination. «Listen. My son couldn’t meet my eyes for a week. He jumps at the sound of falling dishes. He cried all night, recounting how your ‘educators’ broke him. And now I ask: what are you going to do? Because if nothing is done—I’ll take further action.»

She didn’t shout; there was no need.

A ray of sunlight pierced the curtains in the psychologist’s office. Marina Viktorovna—a specialist with a warm voice and calm demeanor—handed Daniil a box of miniature figurines.

«Show me what it was like there,» she gently requested. «Not in words. Arrange them as you feel.»

This was their fourth session. The boy no longer shrank from harsh sounds. He could now maintain eye contact.

Slowly, as if overcoming invisible resistance, he chose a large figurine of a man and placed it in the center. Then he selected a small figurine of a child, setting it on its side in the corner.

«And now show me what home is like,» the psychologist said softly.

Daniil paused, then took three figurines—a man, a woman, a boy—and placed them close together, almost touching. And then—unexpectedly—he added a dog. His red Baron, whom Yuri had rescued from the street three years ago.

«They’re all together,» he explained. «And no one hurts anyone.»

At home, Anna recounted this moment to her husband. Yuri silently gazed out the window—there in the yard, Daniil cautiously tossed Baron’s ball. The dog dashed through the fallen leaves, stirring up golden whirlwinds.

«They called from the prosecutor’s office,» Yuri finally said. «Our report has been accepted. And three more—from other parents.»

Anna nodded. Two weeks had passed since their visit to the camp. Two weeks of calls, documents, and endless discussions. Sometimes she felt like she was drowning in it all, but every time she saw her son fall asleep peacefully, she knew it was all worth it.

A scandal erupted at the camp. The director initially maintained an air of superiority, but her confidence melted away day by day. It turned out first that «Sanych» (Alexander Petrovich) had previously been dismissed from school for bullying students.

Then a video surfaced—someone among the children had secretly recorded Vera Nikolaevna shouting at the boy: «You are nothing! Understand? Your parents don’t need you; that’s why they sent you here!»

«I thought it was just me,» Daniil confessed one evening while they watched cartoons. «That I was somehow wrong.»

«No, sweetheart,» Anna hugged him. «You are stronger than you think, because you managed to speak up.»

Marina Viktorovna explained that recovery is a long process—that trust is built over years but can be shattered in an instant. They all needed time.

Anna began keeping a diary, recording every small victory: «today he went out into the yard on his own,» «today he laughed,» «today he wasn’t frightened by a slamming door.»

By October, Daniil returned to school. Yuri saw him off—not as a chaperone, but simply by walking alongside him, silently saying, «I’m here if you need me.»

«You know,» Yuri later told Anna, «today Dan decided to go by himself.»

She smiled. Another victory.

At the end of the month, an official response arrived:

• Alexander Petrovich was dismissed with a lifetime ban from working with children;
• Vera Nikolaevna was held criminally accountable;
• The camp director was suspended from her position.

There were still lawsuits ahead, and possibly actual prison sentences.

 

«What do you think, will they really be punished?» Anna asked.

«I don’t know,» Yuri replied honestly. «But we did everything we could. And that already matters.»

In November, when the first snow blanketed the street, Daniil burst into the house, waving a notebook:

«Mom! I got an A in Russian!»

She watched as he took off his hat, shaking his chestnut hair—a familiar gesture, his own. The boy who was slowly returning to himself.

«That’s wonderful,» she hugged him. The jacket smelled of winter and sweet cotton candy. «You know what else? Yuri suggested we go to the museum—to that exhibit on knights you wanted to see.»

Daniil pondered, biting his lip as he always did when considering something serious.

«Can we take Baron?» he asked. «He’ll wait in the car. It won’t hurt.»

«Of course,» Anna smiled. «We’ll all go together.»

They knew that no matter what happened next, they would face it—as a family.