All Amazing Babies

In the middle of the school year, a new student appeared when everyone had long since gotten used to each other. Nobody knew where she had come from, and few cared enough to ask. Her name was Masha — a thin girl with narrow shoulders and huge eyes filled with anxious anticipation. On her feet were worn-out slippers that had clearly seen a lot in their time. Instead of a regular backpack, she carried a knitted pouch with string straps.
The teachers immediately noticed her modesty: she spoke quietly, tried not to stand out, and avoided participating in school conversations. But in a group of children, even the smallest difference can be enough to become a target for ridicule.

The local boys would sneak glances at her and snicker as they passed by. They laughed at her slippers and mocked her, saying, «Look, she doesn’t even have a normal backpack.» The girls, slyer, pretended to be friendly, but the moment Masha turned away, whispering and giggling erupted at the back desks, accompanied by sidelong glances.
No one knew what story lay behind this fragile girl, why she flinched so often. The teachers noticed she didn’t fit in, but most just shrugged it off: «Well… she’s new, she’ll get used to it. She’ll adapt somehow.» Occasionally, a teacher would try to talk to her, ask how she was doing, but she would respond briefly, as if afraid to reveal too much.

Every day after school, avoiding contact with her classmates, Masha would quickly gather her notebooks, slip on her old slippers, and leave. Before long, it became obvious that she was heading toward the large pond at the edge of the settlement. Ducks lived there, and each time she would pull a packet of crumbs or grains from her pocket. She would sit on a wooden bench, quietly call the birds over, and they would swim up to her, as if sensing her trust. She would feed them, whispering something — maybe talking to the ducks or simply seeking comfort in that peaceful place.
Weeks passed: winter was ending, the ice on the pond was melting, and the ducks were gathering in flocks, waddling across the wet grass. And every day, Masha came to them with her humble offering.

One day, two boys from her class decided to prank the «strange» girl. They thought her silence was an invitation for «fun.»
They came up with the idea of tossing a rubber snake into the pond while she was feeding the ducks. One afternoon, they lay in wait. As usual, she walked down the path, sat on the bench, and pulled out her bag of crumbs. The boys hid in the bushes, preparing their «joke,» waiting for the right moment to throw the snake so it would surface near the shore, right in front of her.

Masha crumbled the bread and tossed it to the ducks. They quacked and paddled closer. At one point, one of the boys hurled the rubber snake into the water. It looked fairly realistic at a glance — green, patterned, long, and writhing.
When Masha noticed it, she didn’t immediately understand what it was. It seemed like some creature — long, slithering — was swimming toward her.
At first, she gasped in surprise, then was seized by panic. Perhaps she had once encountered a real viper, or maybe she was simply terrified of the unknown. She jumped up, stumbled, slipped on the wet grass, and with a scream, fell into the water. Her bag of crumbs dropped to the ground, and she plunged into the icy ripples.

 

The boys hiding in the bushes were stunned — they hadn’t expected things to go that far. They rushed along the bank, not knowing what to do.
Masha flailed, trying to grab onto a branch sticking out over the water. Her wet hair clung to her face; she screamed — from fear, maybe pain. The water was freezing, and her strength was fading fast. The more terrified she became, the more she choked on the icy water.

At that moment, Yegor from a parallel class happened to be passing by. His parents had sent him to visit his aunt, who lived by the river. He noticed the commotion and saw Masha, almost submerged. Without thinking, he stripped off his outer clothing and dove into the pond. Fueled by adrenaline, he barely felt the cold.
He swam — he could swim a little — and quickly reached her, grabbing her under the arms. The filthy, freezing water didn’t stop him: he dragged her to the shore.
Someone from the gathering crowd thought to hand them a stick to grab onto.
They finally made it out: trembling, pale Masha, and soaked, shivering Yegor, coughing and gasping for breath.

As the others regained their senses, the girl sat huddled on the ground, tears in her eyes, not understanding what had happened, why there had been a snake in the pond, or who was to blame.
The boys who had started it all quickly slunk away, hanging their heads in shame.
The others stood around awkwardly, glancing from Masha to Yegor.
Someone suggested, «We should walk her home — she’s soaking wet.»
But Masha shook her head: «No, I’ll manage…»
She got up, grabbed her backpack, and looked at Yegor. He stood there in wet pants, barely able to stay upright from the cold.
She mustered her courage and whispered, «Thank you. Sorry…»
He just shrugged: «What are you apologizing for? Less talking, let’s go, or we’ll both catch cold.»

They started walking along the narrow path by the pond.
Masha shivered and sniffled; Yegor walked beside her, biting his lip — whether from the cold or from confusion.
He glanced back at their schoolmates, but they had scattered.
He was left to accompany her alone.

After a minute of awkward silence, he asked, «Where should I walk you to? I don’t want to leave you like this.»
Masha looked at him, thought for a moment, and nodded toward an old alley: «That way. I live nearby, not far…»
They turned down a side path.
Along the way, Yegor briefly explained how he was on his way to his aunt when he saw her drowning.
Masha shrank with shame and fear — what if those boys now sought revenge because she had been rescued?
But Yegor’s gaze was calm.

When they reached the battered wooden fence at the end of the street, Masha quietly said, «Thanks again. You should go home before you get sick.»
He nodded and was about to leave when he noticed the house she entered looked abandoned.
The windows seemed boarded up, old rags hung from the porch.

«Is this your house?» he blurted out.
Masha nodded, trying to slip inside.
But he stepped forward: «Maybe you need help? You’re soaking wet!»

She hesitated, then quietly opened the door and let him in.

Inside the tiny entryway, the air was dim and smelled of medicine and something old and dusty.
Yegor immediately noticed a little boy, about five years old, peeking out from a room with wide, silent eyes.
He seemed to want to ask something but stayed quiet.

Masha took off her wet sweater, tossed it onto a chair, and turned to Yegor:
«This is my brother, Grisha.»
The little boy shifted his gaze between his sister and the unfamiliar boy.

Masha added, «He doesn’t go to kindergarten because… well, there’s no one to take him. Our grandma lives with us, but she… she can’t get up.»
Yegor glanced into the room and saw an elderly woman lying on a worn-out sofa.
She seemed paralyzed, her gaze fixed on the ceiling, her head barely moving.

«Hello,» he said quietly, unsure if she could hear him.
The old woman weakly moved her lips.

Masha led him to a small kitchen.
There was no gas stove — only an old electric one, and the refrigerator looked ancient, probably long broken.
In the corner stood two or three plastic buckets, probably for water, since there was no plumbing left in the house.

«Sorry, it’s not great here… I don’t usually bring strangers home,» Masha said shyly.

Yegor said nothing, feeling a heavy weight in his chest.
It became clear: this girl lived on the brink of survival.
Her parents were gone or had long abandoned them, her grandmother was bedridden, and her little brother too young to fend for himself.

And she, wearing worn slippers, trudged to school every day, scared to utter a word.

He looked at her and simply asked:
«Do you have anything dry to change into?»

Masha lowered her eyes. «Yes, there’s something wrong with the room. I’ve gotten used to it… It’s nothing serious, just some things got wet.» But Yegor, though only thirteen years old, suddenly felt a strong urge to help. He knew there wasn’t much he could do, but leaving everything as it was felt like betraying the courage he’d shown by the pond. He asked, «Can I come by tomorrow? If you don’t mind. I could bring some food. My mom often makes extra soup — maybe it could help you and your brother?»

The girl turned pale and looked up. «But we’re not begging for charity, we can manage ourselves…»
«It’s not charity,» Yegor interrupted. «It’s just a friendly gesture. We’re friends now… right?»

She shrugged uncertainly but didn’t argue. Deep down, she probably understood that surviving was hard. Every week, she received a small disability allowance for her grandmother, but it barely covered the basics — there was no way to afford new shoes or warm clothes. So there she stood, in wet socks, trying to hide her joy that someone cared enough to offer help.
Yegor stayed a bit longer, chatting with Grisha. The little boy was shy but smiled when he heard about school recess and the cafeteria. Their grandmother lay coughing weakly in the other room. Masha went to her, adjusted her pillow, moistened her lips with a sponge, and then returned to the kitchen.

When Yegor finally left, Masha walked him to the door, her eyes full of gratitude. «Thank you again. For saving me… and everything else.»
Yegor nodded. «Alright, see you tomorrow.»

At home, Yegor was immediately scolded by his mother for his wet clothes.
«Did you fall into the pond? What were you thinking? You could have caught a cold!»
At first, he stayed silent, but then he spilled everything — about the new girl everyone bullied, how she nearly drowned, and about her life in a half-ruined house with her sick grandmother and little brother. As he talked, tears threatened to fall; the injustice of it all was overwhelming.

His mother, a kind-hearted woman, calmed down quickly and asked, «She’s just a child — why isn’t anyone helping? Where are her parents?»
«They’re gone,» he muttered.
«What happened? Did they abandon her?»
«I don’t know. She doesn’t talk about it. But tomorrow, I want to bring them lunch — is that okay?»
His mother stroked his hair and sighed. «You’re a good boy… Of course, it’s okay. We should think of more ways to help — maybe some clothes or shoes…»
Yegor nodded. «As long as she accepts it. She’s proud.»

The next day after school, Yegor arrived at Masha’s house carrying a pot of soup wrapped in a towel to keep it warm.
Masha looked like she couldn’t believe he had really come. But she let him in and led him to the kitchen, blushing slightly as she apologized for the lack of proper dishes — only some old bowls and spoons.
Yegor ladled out the hot soup, and Grisha eagerly dug in, probably unused to anything warm besides the thin porridge Masha cooked with water.
Yegor’s mother had also sent bread, and they shared it.
Masha ate a few spoonfuls and said she’d save some for her grandmother, heating it up and feeding her from a spoon.
It was amazing to see how, at such a young age, her face carried such a mature expression when she cared for her grandmother.

Soon, visiting them became a routine for Yegor.
He brought whatever his mom cooked — porridge, soup, meat patties.
Though they weren’t a wealthy family, they could share a little.
A bond began forming between Yegor, Masha, and Grisha.
Masha even started smiling when she saw him.
Grisha would shout, «Yegor’s here!» and the grandmother would sometimes cough softly as if acknowledging the visitors.
Though the house was still filled with sadness, it gradually became lighter.

Meanwhile, rumors started at school.
People noticed Yegor carrying bags for Masha after classes.
They teased him: «Fell for the poor girl, huh?»
He brushed them off: «You’re crazy. She’s just in trouble. And you’re mocking her?»

Two girls from another class overheard and were touched by the story.
«Maybe we can help too?»
It turned out that one act of kindness could spark many more.
The girls asked Yegor what Masha needed.
She was embarrassed to accept help, but Yegor gently explained — her shoes were worn out, and she didn’t have a proper jacket, and spring rains were coming.
One girl had an extra windbreaker and offered it.
Yegor carefully asked Masha if she would accept it «as support.»
She hesitated but eventually agreed, saying it was easier to accept used things.

Slowly, the attitude of the class changed.
People realized that Masha wasn’t «strange» — she simply lived in terrible conditions.
The handmade backpack she carried wasn’t a fashion statement; it was probably all they had left.
Teachers also noticed the change and asked if she needed supplies.
The principal filed a request to social services to investigate her family situation.
Though bureaucracy was slow, the efforts didn’t stop.

Masha started staying after school, chatting with classmates instead of fleeing immediately.
Sometimes they invited her to play ball.
Even the worst students asked her for help with homework — she was a strong student despite her hardships.

One day, some girls invited her to the stationery store.
Masha declined at first, not wanting to spend money, but they reassured her: «We’ll just window-shop.»
For the first time, Masha felt part of a group, not an outcast.

She remembered the old taunts and how ashamed she’d once felt, but realized people could change.
Someone even secretly stitched the straps of her worn-out backpack to keep it from breaking.
Others brought her new notebooks because her old ones were falling apart.

As spring blossomed, so did hope in Masha’s heart.
She began trusting others, even laughing freely without hiding behind her hand.

Yegor remained her closest friend.
When someone teased her about her shoes, offering sneakers, Masha would gently refuse.
She seemed to treasure those old slippers — they reminded her of the day she found a true friend.
«Maybe someday,» she would say with a smile.

About a month after the pond incident, although life at home was still hard — the grandmother bedridden, little Grisha still without daycare — Masha herself had changed.
She wasn’t broken anymore.
She believed that the world wasn’t so terrible and that friends could make even the darkest days better.

Yegor kept bringing food, and other classmates helped in small ways too.
Some offered fruit, others cookies.
When she asked, «Why so much help?» they answered, «Because you’re a good person, and it’s easier together.»

The literature teacher praised the class for their compassion — something she hadn’t seen in years.

Still, the question of Masha’s parents lingered.
Rumors said her father had died in an accident and her mother left for work abroad but disappeared.
Masha rarely spoke about it, only pointing bitterly at the blank line in her documents where a parent’s contact should be.

Sometimes sadness flickered in her eyes.
Maybe her mother couldn’t come back.
Everyone understood that their help didn’t fix everything — but it made daily life a little easier.

Yegor and his mom offered to help Masha get official support.
But she was scared: scared that they would take Grisha away or put her grandmother in a home.

 

While the school principal pushed for official action, the children did what they could: food, clothes, support.

Neighbors noticed the difference.
The once-silent house was now visited by cheerful schoolchildren.

Masha learned to say, «Hi, thanks, come on in,» without fear.

The old woman, bedridden, sometimes smiled when she heard the laughter.
Grisha would proudly tell everyone about Yegor’s cookies.

Even the ducks at the pond seemed happier when Masha returned there — not alone this time, but with her classmates.

She fed the ducks, smiled, and realized she wasn’t alone anymore.
Her classmates surrounded her, laughing and joking.
No one made cruel pranks anymore.
Her worn slippers — a symbol of her past struggles — she still kept carefully, though she now wore donated sneakers.

When school ended and summer arrived, Masha worried she’d be forgotten.
But her classmates kept visiting, helping fix up her house, bringing groceries, inviting her to hang out.

Masha understood something important:
Even if life remained hard, she wasn’t alone.
One small act of kindness — like Yegor reaching out — had changed everything.

And in her room, tucked under a chair, the old slippers remained — a reminder that light can always break through, if someone dares to reach out a hand.

I overheard my mother-in-law talking to my husband and couldn’t believe my ears.

Everything I had lived for during my marriage turned out to be a deception. I trusted him so much, and yet he and his mother chose to act so despicably.

It’s decided. They will regret their actions!

Something strange is happening Just a month ago, I couldn’t have imagined that my life would change so abruptly. I was sitting in my cozy apartment, which I bought after several years of hard work, flipping through a magazine. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee wafted from the kitchen. Maxim was on duty and was due back in a week.

I reached for my favorite cup in the cupboard, but it wasn’t there. Strange, I clearly remembered putting it here. Maybe I put it in the dishwasher? No, it wasn’t there either.

— What’s going on?

I began methodically searching the kitchen.

This wasn’t the first disappearance. First, my favorite sapphire earrings disappeared—a gift from my parents for my twenty-fifth birthday. Then, a silk scarf that I brought back from a trip to Italy disappeared. And now, the cup.

I took out my phone and called my husband.

— Honey, have you seen my white cup with the gold rim?

— Lerochka, did you lose something again? — he asked with a smile. — You probably moved it somewhere and forgot. You’re so scatterbrained.

— I’m not scatterbrained! — I protested. — And besides, a lot of things have been disappearing lately.

— By the way, I’ve been thinking about that business proposal. Remember, I told you? My friend is opening a chain of coffee shops and needs investors. If we mortgage the apartment…

— Max, we’ve already discussed this, — I interrupted him. — I don’t want to risk the apartment.

— Lera, it’s a great opportunity! How long can I disappear on duties? We invest, and we’ll receive passive income. We’ll live like kings!

Maxim had been talking about this for the third month. The idea was tempting—a loan secured by the apartment, investing in a promising business. But something held me back.

— Let’s not right now, okay? My vacation starts in three days, and I’m going to the sea. When I return — we’ll discuss it.

— Are you going alone?

— With whom else? You’re only coming back next week.

We talked a bit more and said goodbye.

To be sure I looked at the empty space in the cupboard where the cup should have been and resolutely headed to the bedroom.

I took a box out of my bag. These disappearances couldn’t be coincidental, so I bought a few small cameras before my vacation. Maybe I’m paranoid, but I want to know where my things are going.

I remembered how I met Maxim. It was like a fairy tale—a chance meeting in a café, his charming smile, the compliments.

He seemed perfect—attentive, caring, with a good job. Three months later, he proposed, and I, like a lovesick girl, agreed. Mom was surprised at the haste, but I was sure of my choice.

 

Having installed cameras in various corners of the apartment, I sat down to check the broadcast on my phone. Everything worked perfectly—good coverage, clear picture. Now I could go on vacation with peace of mind.

That evening, I couldn’t fall asleep for a long time. For some reason, our first conversation about finances came to mind when Maxim suggested selling my old car.

— Why do you need that clunker? — he said. — Let’s buy a new, modern one.

I agreed, although the car was in excellent condition. I just wanted to please my husband.

In the morning, I woke up with a bad feeling. I chalked it up to pre-vacation jitters and started packing my suitcase. Ahead of me were the sea, the sun, and two weeks of complete relaxation.

I had no idea that this vacation would change my entire life.

Before leaving, I checked the cameras and their connection to the server again. Everything worked perfectly. I could see what was happening in the apartment even from thousands of miles away.

On the beach I was lying on a sun lounger, enjoying the warm breeze and the sound of the surf. The atmosphere of carefree relaxation prevailed—children’s laughter, music from beach cafés, the cries of seagulls.

I took out my phone and opened the camera viewing app.

On the first recording, nothing interesting—a empty apartment. But then on Tuesday… I saw the front door open, and Valentina Petrovna entered the apartment.

Nothing surprising, my mother-in-law has a spare set of keys. But following her…

— Maxim? — I nearly dropped my phone.

He was supposed to be on duty. I turned on the sound.

— Well, son, when will you finally convince your wife about the loan? — Valentina Petrovna settled into the chair, crossing her legs.

— I’m working on it, Mom. She’s almost agreed.

— Almost? — my mother-in-law snorted. — You didn’t take this long with the last wife.

I gasped for air. The last wife?

— Mom, it’s different. Lera owns an apartment, a car. Everything needs to be done neatly.

— Neatly he will do it! — a female voice sounded, and a young brunette appeared in the frame. — You’ve been fussing with her too long, Maxik. Haven’t fallen in love, have you?

I watched the stranger as if spellbound. Slender, bright, confident in herself.

— Alina, don’t start, — Maxim grimaced. — I’m doing everything as we agreed.

— Dad! — two children, about five or six years old, burst into the room.

Maxim scooped them up in his arms, kissing them. I couldn’t believe my eyes. My husband had been deceiving me all this time.

— Max, we need money, — Alina continued. — The kids will be going to school soon, and you keep dragging this out with this simpleton.

— Indeed, — my mother-in-law agreed, — finding such a fool took some effort. Clearly a provincial. No style, no taste.

— But with an apartment and a car, — Maxim chuckled.

Alina approached my wardrobe, began rummaging through my clothes.

— Oh, nice blouse. Can I take it? It won’t be of use to her anymore.

— Take whatever you want, — Maxim waved his hand. — Soon all this will be irrelevant.

I turned off the recording. Everything fell into place—the missing items, my husband’s sudden business trips, his persistent persuasions to take out a loan.

I remembered our honeymoon. Maxim then said: «I can’t believe I met such a wonderful girl. It’s fate!» And I, foolishly, melted at his words.

Now I understood—he was a professional conman. He finds lonely girls with property, charms them, marries them, and then… What happened to that first wife? Left with nothing?

I got up from the sun lounger and walked along the shore. I needed to clear my head, gather my thoughts, and make a decision. Inside, everything boiled with anger and hurt. Half a year of pretense, lies, manipulations.

In the evening, there was a party on the beach.

I sat at the bar when a handsome man sat down next to me.

— Can I buy you a cocktail?

— Why not, — I smiled. — Today is a special day.

— Really? What’s so special about it?

— Today I start a new life, — I saluted with my glass. — You know, sometimes you need to lose everything to realize how strong you are.

— You speak philosophically, — the stranger noted.

— Oh no, I’m very practically minded, — my laugh sounded unexpectedly harsh. — I just realized one simple truth: if you’re betrayed, revenge must be… elegant.

The man raised an eyebrow in confusion, but I was already getting ready to leave.

— Thanks for the cocktail. I’m going to prepare to return home.

Back in my room, I opened my laptop and started making a plan. No, I wasn’t going to throw a tantrum or cause a scandal. I had a better idea.

First, I called my lawyer friend.

— Hello, Pash. I need a consultation. Just let’s skip the unnecessary questions…

Then I sent a message to all my friends and acquaintances that I was urgently selling my apartment. Unexpectedly, my classmate responded. I hadn’t seen him since school.

The last days of the month flew by like one day. I acted precisely according to plan, like an actress in a well-directed play.

— Mommy, I’ve decided to move to another city, — I said during a phone call.

— Lerochka, but why? — I could hear worry in my mom’s voice. — What does Maxim say?

— You could say it’s his idea, — I smiled ruefully. — Don’t worry, everything will be fine.

— Honey, you’ve been acting strange lately. What happened?

— No, Mom. Just… sometimes life throws surprises. And you need to respond in kind.

Meeting Semyon went exactly as I expected.

He had changed little since school—still the same bully with a heavy gaze. I remember how in tenth grade he put two seniors in their place who were bothering the girls. After that, the whole school feared him.

 

— So, you’re selling the apartment? — he rumbled, surveying the rooms.

— Yes, I’m moving. Though, there’s one nuance—I need a month to move my stuff out.

— No problem, — Semyon shrugged. — Mainly, the price is right.

When all the documents were signed, I called Maxim.

— Honey, I need to go to a friend’s for a couple of days, — I purred into the phone. — But I left you a surprise.

— Really? — genuine curiosity sounded in his voice. — What kind?

— You’ll find out, — I answered mysteriously. — By the way, I’ve missed you so much. Can’t wait for you to come back.

— I’ve missed you too, babe. You know, I still can’t believe fate gave me such a wonderful wife.

I closed my eyes, clenched my fists so hard that my nails dug into my palms. It was disgusting to hear those false confessions.

— Yes, fate is quite the joker, — I gritted through my teeth, but then quickly recovered and added in a honeyed voice: — Love you, bye!

The last call was to my mother-in-law.

— Valentina Petrovna, I washed your clothes. You can pick them up.

— Oh, Lerochka, thank you! You’re such a caring daughter-in-law.

— Oh, it’s just little things, — I smiled, imagining her hypocritical smile. — The main thing is family.

D-Day I knew Maxim would return in the evening—he always came home at the same time. I left his favorite roast on the stove, a note on the table: «Dear, love you! There’s a new shampoo in the bathroom, you’ll like it. But that’s not all the surprise. Get ready!»

I myself sat on a train going to another city. The compartment was stuffy, but I felt wonderful. I could just imagine how events were unfolding in the apartment.

Maxim returned home at the usual time. Catching the aroma of the roast, he smiled contentedly and pulled out his phone.

— Alin, everything is going according to plan. The naive one is preparing surprises for me, can you believe it?

— And what kind of surprises? — Alina chuckled.

— Who cares! Soon everything will be resolved. I’ll divorce her, take the money for the apartment, and even claim the car during the property division.

— Are you sure about the car?

— Why not? Bought during marriage—means jointly acquired property.

— Just don’t mess up!

— Everything will be fine, — Maxim assured. — I’m going to take a shower, try the new shampoo she left. Then I’ll call you back.

He went to the bathroom, turned on the water, and started lathering his hair, humming some song. At that moment, the front door opened.

— What the—? — Semyon growled.

The door flung open. Maxim jolted, frantically trying to cover himself with the curtain.

— Who are you? — Semyon roared. — What are you doing in my apartment?

— This is my apartment!

— Get out of here! — Semyon grabbed him by the shoulder. — Fast!

— Wait, there’s some mistake…

— The only mistake is that you’re still here! — Semyon pushed Maxim into the hallway.

At that moment, Valentina Petrovna was coming up the stairs.

— Son, what’s happening? — she froze with her mouth open. — God, what’s with your hair?

Maxim began touching his hair, not understanding the problem.

— You’re redheaded… — Valentina Petrovna said in astonishment. — Why are my clothes lying in the trash? — she exclaimed indignantly. — I just came from there! Can you imagine, some bum was trying on my favorite dress!

— What clothes? What does this have to do with clothes? — Maxim grabbed his head, causing the towel to nearly fall. — She sold the apartment!

— What do you mean sold? — Valentina Petrovna’s eyes widened in horror.

— That means, — Semyon rumbled, coming out of the apartment. — I bought it. By all the rules, with documents. And you’re here illegally. So I advise you to clear out quickly before I call the police.

Lera smiled and ordered coffee in the dining car. She took a sip from her cup and, for the first time in a long time, laughed heartily.

She took out her phone, opened the chat with her mom.

— Mom, I’ll come to you as soon as I settle down. No, Maxim won’t come. I’ll explain everything later.

After Varvara found out the results of her latest exam, anxiety started to take over: her chances for a tuition-free spot were fading with each passing day. Despite her high scores, it was clear they weren’t enough for the coveted specialty.

Varvara had a clear agreement with her parents: if she got into a free program, the money saved for her education would go toward buying a one-bedroom apartment in the regional center. Her parents planned to purchase the apartment by the time she graduated. However, if they had to pay for her tuition, the dream of the apartment would be forgotten. In that case, Varvara would have to solve her housing problems on her own, since the three-bedroom family apartment was going to be left to her older brother.

Varvara saw the terms as fair and agreed. Her parents kept their promise, paying for her tuition. She left her hometown, moved into a dormitory, and successfully completed her first year. But when she returned home for the holidays after the exams, her parents immediately said they wanted to talk about something important.

«Dear Varvara, we need to discuss your studies,» her father began.

«What happened?» Varvara asked, surprised.

«Unfortunately, we can no longer finance your education at the university,» her father explained.

«How is that possible? Why?» Varvara asked.

«The thing is, the situation has changed. Your brother Anton decided to get married, and we need money for the wedding and for buying him a home,» her father explained.

Anton, Varvara’s older brother, was two years older than her. He barely finished the ninth grade, then attended college, and only received his diploma last year.

«Dad, Anton is only twenty! Why the rush?» Varvara was confused.

«His girlfriend Alla is pregnant. So, soon you’ll be an aunt,» her mother replied.

«Why should I suffer for his mistakes? Anton doesn’t even know where the nearest pharmacy is, and because of that, you’re taking away my education!» Varvara protested.

«You’re to blame,» her father said sharply. «If you had gotten into the budget program, we wouldn’t be facing these problems now.»

«But if I had gotten into the budget, I wouldn’t have gotten the promised apartment! Now it’s going to Anton. If I don’t pay for my second year by September 10th, they’ll just expel me. Do you understand that?» Varvara exploded.

«We understand the situation perfectly,» her mother said coldly. «And we have a solution. You can take your documents and apply to another department where your scores will be enough. You’ll start studying again in September, but for free. Yes, you’ll lose a year, but it’s not that big of a deal. You’ll still get a higher education.»

«Great! So you’ve made all the decisions for me as if I don’t have my own opinion!»

«Isn’t it surprising?» Varvara exclaimed bitterly. «Listen,» her father raised his voice, clearly irritated, «stop throwing tantrums. This money is ours, and we have the right to decide how to spend it. Right now, it’s more important to help Anton with the baby than to follow your plans. We’ve given you an alternative, and there will be no other choice. That’s it.»

After the conversation with her parents, Varvara couldn’t hold back her tears. She spent the whole evening trying to figure out what to do.

The next morning, she made a decision: she would work all summer to save money for her education.

It took a few days to find a job, but eventually, Varvara got a position at a fast food restaurant. To increase her income, she took as many shifts as possible, sometimes coming home only for a short nap before her next shift.

Varvara decided not to attend her brother’s wedding, despite her parents urging her to come and give an appropriate gift to the newlyweds.

«How could you not come? Your brother is getting married, and you don’t even want to congratulate him? What will I tell the relatives?» her mother asked.

«Tell them the truth. You spent the money meant for my education on Anton’s wedding. And I’m not at the celebration because I’m working to pay for my education.»

Despite all her efforts, by the middle of summer, Varvara realized that she wouldn’t be able to gather the required amount. She decided to move to the regional center and transfer to part-time studies.

On August 25th, she packed her things and set off. In the remaining days before the start of the school year, Varvara found a place to live.

She rented a small room in a communal apartment, which she shared with another girl, also struggling to deal with life’s difficulties on her own. She was lucky with the job: the schedule was flexible, and her salary depended on the number of shifts. Varvara worked hard and handled any challenges that came her way.

She decided not to tell her parents about her life. She didn’t call them first and didn’t show interest in their affairs. Her mother called about twice a month. When she asked how Varvara was doing, she would reply, «Everything’s fine,» but without giving any details.

Her mother often expressed dissatisfaction that her daughter didn’t visit home for holidays or breaks. Varvara didn’t outright refuse, but for three years, she never visited her family home.

In her fourth year, her mother called with a proposal: «Varvara, Olya Kochetkova told me you’re studying part-time. Your father and I thought: why pay for rent when you could live at home and come for classes twice a year?»

«That’s a strange suggestion. Why the sudden interest?» Varvara asked.

«The thing is, Alla is about to have their second child, and it’s already difficult for her to manage with just one. She needs help,» her mother explained.

«Why don’t you help her yourself? Aren’t you working now?» Varvara was surprised.

«I’m working. We’re paying the mortgage for Anton’s apartment. After the wedding, we only had enough money for half the apartment’s cost, the rest had to be taken on credit. So, I’ve been working for two years,» her mother replied.

«So, you want me to come back and help Alla? Who will pay for my education if I can’t work?» Varvara asked.

«Doesn’t part-time study also require payment?» her mother asked, surprised. Varvara was already balancing her studies with work in her field.

She had so many things to do that there was simply no time for a personal life.

In her group, there was a guy named Mikhail. He was a bit older: he finished college, then served in the army, and only afterward entered university. Mikhail grew up in an orphanage and never knew his parents.

After graduating from the orphanage, he was given a one-room apartment, where he lived alone.

Varvara had long caught his attention, but her seriousness and constant busyness kept him from approaching her.

However, they were paired up for a school project. Now, they spent a lot of time together, and soon Mikhail decided to invite her on a date.

They dated for about a year, and six months before graduation, they decided to get married. They didn’t plan a grand celebration: Mikhail had no relatives, and Varvara didn’t want to invite hers. They simply registered their marriage and marked the occasion at a café with a few friends.

As soon as Varvara graduated and received her diploma, her mother called again. «Well, you’ve finished university, it’s time to come home. We finally need your help. Anton and Alla still can’t manage with the kids, and I’m exhausted.

I work during the day, and in the evenings and weekends, I’m with the babies. Come home, at least for a while, to replace me. You’ll find a job easily, and we’ll figure out the housing situation.»

«Mom, it’s been five years since I was home. Do you really think nothing has changed in my life during this time?

Why do you think that after you stopped helping me, I’ll suddenly forget that and come back to take care of Anton’s kids?

In these years, I’ve earned my degree, gotten married, and in six months, my husband and I will have our own child.

You have to understand that I now have my own life, and I’m not going to fulfill your demands.»

Anna, what are you doing? We can’t just take someone else’s child!”

“Stepan, imagine if the same thing happened to ours—if he was found in an empty train car, starving and frozen to the bone?”

A cold October wind rustled the curtains in the windows of their village home. Anna Ivanovna stood before her husband, pressing a skinny five-year-old boy tightly to her, the boy clinging to her like a tiny bird in a storm. His dirty clothing exuded a smell of train tracks and desperation.

It all began three hours earlier, when she was returning from the city market. In the nearly empty commuter train car, she spotted him—huddled in a corner, his eyes filled with the kind of hopelessness one sees only in abandoned children or wounded animals. None of the passengers knew where he had come from. The conductor just shrugged: perhaps he got lost, or maybe…

“What’s your name, little one?” she had asked, crouching down next to him.

The boy was silent, but when she took an apple out of her bag and offered it to him, he grabbed it with both hands and bit into it as if he hadn’t eaten in days.

“Igor…” he whispered then, wiping his mouth.

Now they stood before Stepan Fedorovich, and Anna could feel the child trembling as he leaned against her shoulder. Her husband frowned; his broad shoulders were tense, as though he faced an important decision.

 

“Stepa, we’ve been waiting so many years…” she said quietly.

A week later, Igor was already helping Anna Ivanovna with the cooking. She set him on a tall stool by the table and tied an enormous apron around him, which hung from his skinny shoulders.

“That’s it, my dear, roll out the dough,” she instructed. “Slowly, carefully.”

The boy rolled the pin diligently, sticking his tongue out in concentration. There was a white smudge of flour on his cheek, and as Anna looked at him, she felt her heart fill with warmth.

“Will Uncle get mad?” he suddenly asked, pausing with the rolling pin raised.

“No, sweet boy. Papa’s strict, but fair. He wants you to grow up to be a real man.”

Stepan Fedorovich taught him in his own way. When the first snow fell, he called Igor outside to chop wood.

“Hold the axe firmly,” he instructed, standing behind the boy, “take a wide swing.”

Igor huffed and puffed but tried his best. The log was small—chosen specifically for practice—but the axe still felt too heavy.

“I can’t,” he sniffled after several attempts.

“Yes, you can,” Stepan answered firmly. “You’re a man. And men never give up.”

When the log finally split apart, Igor beamed with joy, and Stepan Fedorovich allowed himself a faint smile hidden beneath his mustache.

By the spring of 1984, all the paperwork was in order. The chairman of the village council, an old friend of the family, helped resolve the complicated situation. Maria Petrovna, the paramedic who had known Anna since she was a young girl, also stepped in—she compiled all the necessary documents.

“You are now officially Igor Stepanovich Voronov,” Anna announced ceremoniously to her son over a festive supper.

Igor gently touched the brand-new document and asked cautiously, “Can I call you Mom and Dad?”

Anna pressed her palm to her lips, trying to hold back tears. Stepan Fedorovich rose from the table, walked over to the window, and looked off into the distance for a long while before replying in a low voice, “Of course you can, son.”

Igor’s first day of school began with him gripping his mother’s hand tightly. Anna Ivanovna could feel his fingers trembling as they walked along the dusty village road to the school. The white shirt she had ironed the evening before was already getting rumpled from his nerves.

“Mom, what if I can’t handle it?” he whispered, eyeing the two-story school building, which seemed huge to him.

“You’ll handle it, my treasure. You’re your father’s son.”

That evening, Stepan Fedorovich carefully examined his son’s new notebook.

“So, math is going to be your main subject. You can’t get by without it. Tomorrow we’ll start with the multiplication table.”

By the end of first grade, Igor already knew the multiplication table by heart. Every morning, Stepan tested him, despite Igor’s fatigue and occasional tears. But when his son brought home his first certificate of praise, Stepan Fedorovich publicly placed a hand on his shoulder for the first time.

“Well done,” he said simply, but Igor beamed as though a sun had burst open above him.

In third grade, Igor got into his first fight. He came home with a split lip and a torn shirt. Anna fussed over him, pressing plantain leaves to his cuts, while Stepan silently waited for an explanation.

“They were bullying Pet’ka Solov’yov,” Igor mumbled, wincing from the pain. “Three against one. That’s not fair.”

Stepan snorted into his mustache. “You fought for what’s right? Well then… Tomorrow, I’ll teach you how to stand properly in a fight, so that no one can break your lip again.”

At thirteen, Igor began showing his own will. He contradicted his father more often, slammed doors, and spent hours down by the river.

“Why does he always boss me around?” he complained to his mother while working with her in the garden. “All I ever hear is ‘Do this, do that.’ I just can’t take it!”

Anna wiped the sweat from her brow, leaving a smudge of dirt on her skin. “Son, everyone has their own way of seeing things. Your father’s been through a lot. He was orphaned as a child and had to make his own way in life. That’s why he wants you to be strong in spirit.”

“And you? You’re so kind, yet you live with him.”

Anna smiled. “I notice what others miss. When you had pneumonia last year, he spent three nights by your bed. You don’t remember—you were feverish.”

Igor’s idea to go to a technical college and study engineering came suddenly. He saw a photo of a new machine in the district newspaper and lit up—there it was, his calling!

“You want to go to the city?” Stepan scratched his head thoughtfully. “Well, it’s a good plan. But remember—you’ll be living in a dorm, and we won’t have extra money.”

“I’ll work in the summer!” Igor burst out. “Uncle Vitya said he’d take me on at the sawmill.”

All July he labored there, coming home covered in sawdust and with aching muscles. Stepan watched him surreptitiously, smiling in satisfaction beneath his mustache more and more often.

By the end of summer, Igor had earned enough to pay for his first semester and buy a new suit. He also came away with calluses he secretly took pride in—and the realization that perhaps his father wasn’t so wrong about work and character.

When it was time for him to leave, Anna cried as she packed his things. She put in a jar of raspberry jam, wool socks, and a whole stack of pies. Stepan silently observed, then disappeared into the yard and returned with a small bundle.

“Here,” he said, handing his son an old watch. “They belonged to your grandfather, then to me. Now they’re yours.”

Igor froze, looking at the worn leather strap. He knew this family relic—his father wore it only on special occasions.

“Thank you, Dad,” he said, his voice trembling. “I… I won’t let you down.”

“I know,” Stepan replied simply. “You’re my son.”

The spring of 2000 came early and loud. Beyond the edge of the village, machinery worked day and night—construction had begun on a new machine-building plant. Every evening, Igor came to watch the construction, just as he once ran to the river as a boy. His mechanical-engineering diploma felt alive in his hands.

“They’re going to take me on, Mom!” he burst into the house one day, waving papers in the air. “The shop manager said they need skilled specialists!”

Anna Ivanovna just shook her head—her son looked like a little boy again, his eyes shining as they had in childhood. Stepan Fedorovich merely grunted, “Well, we’ll see what you can do.”

 

His first year at the plant flew by. Igor started as a simple machine operator, but he was soon noticed—he could fix things others wrote off, find solutions where others gave up.

“Voronov!” the shop manager called out one day. “Come see me.”

The office smelled of coffee and metal. The manager leafed through some papers for a while.

“There’s talk of making you a shift foreman. Think you can handle it?”

Igor automatically touched the watch on his wrist. “I can handle it, Nikolai Petrovich. But there’s one condition—I’ll need some good guys on the team. And the equipment needs updating.”

“Bold,” the manager smirked. “You take after your father, don’t you?”

“My father,” Igor nodded, remembering how Stepan taught him to keep his word.

He came home less often now—work took up all his time. But each trip was like a little holiday. Anna Ivanovna baked his favorite apple pies, and though Stepan Fedorovich had aged, he still grilled Igor about the plant.

One evening, his father called him out to the yard. The summer twilight painted the sky in lilac hues; lights from the factory flickered in the distance.

“Listen, son,” Stepan said, more gently than usual. “I’ve been thinking… Maybe I was too strict with you?”

Igor froze with a lit match in his hand. “Dad, why would you say that?”

“Well, the years go by. Sometimes I wonder if I raised you right. Maybe I should have been gentler, like your mother.”

“I’m grateful to you,” Igor said softly. “Grateful for everything. For your strictness and for your lessons. If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t be who I am now.”

They fell silent, gazing at the darkening sky. Then Stepan slowly put his hand on his son’s shoulder. “I’m proud of you, Igor. I always have been, just never knew how to say it.”

A month later, his father passed away. He simply didn’t wake up one morning—his heart gave out. The whole village gathered for the funeral. Igor stood, clutching his mother’s hand, remembering their last conversation.

That evening, he sat on the porch of his parents’ home, watching the neighbor’s kids play near the gate. The youngest fell and started crying, and the older boy immediately ran over.

“Don’t cry! You’re a man!”

Igor smiled through his tears. How much that sounded like his father… He took out the watch from his pocket—the hands still ticking steadily, just as they had when his grandfather wore it, then his father, and now him.

In the house, dishes clinked—his mother was preparing dinner. It smelled of pies, just as it had in his childhood. Igor ran a hand over the rough wood of the porch and thought: maybe it was time for him to raise someone, too. To pass on everything he had been taught—to be strong yet fair, firm yet kind. To become a father not by blood, but by spirit.

He stood up and went into the house to help his mother with the pies—just like in the old days, like always. Ahead of him lay an entire life to continue his parents’ legacy. Not by right of birth, but by right of love.

Snowflakes spun slowly in the light of the streetlamps, resembling dancing performers in pristine white costumes. Maria Andreevna stood frozen by the window of her fourth-floor apartment, immersed in the February darkness. Every time the headlights of passing cars illuminated the courtyard, her heart began to beat faster. Andrey was soon to return from yet another business trip.

Their meeting had taken place ten years ago in the university library: she—a student of the philological faculty, he—a promising economist. It was a beautiful romance that led to an early wedding and the birth of a son. Back then, it seemed that happiness would last forever. But in the past two years, everything had changed.

—Mommy, will Daddy really come home today? —the voice of six-year-old Kostya interrupted her thoughts.

—Yes, sunshine, —Maria replied, trying to smile despite the unsettling feeling in her chest.

—Let’s bake his favorite cabbage pie?

—Hooray! —the little boy exclaimed joyfully. —I’ll help!

The aroma of freshly baked goods filled the kitchen. Maria recalled how Andrey used to always hurry home, drawn by that very scent. «A home should smell of pies,» his mother, Nina Vasilievna, used to say as she taught the young daughter-in-law to cook.

Nina Vasilievna had been living with them for three years following her stroke. This kind-hearted yet stern woman remained the only one who could still influence her son. Although lately even her authority seemed to have lost its weight.

The click of a key turning in the lock made Maria jump. Her husband appeared at the doorway—emaciated, unshaven, with eyes red from fatigue. He carried a barely perceptible scent of someone else’s perfume.

—Dinner ready? —he snapped, ignoring the son who had rushed toward him.

—Daddy! —Kostya cried, trying to hug his father by the legs.

—Leave me alone, I’m tired, —Andrey brusquely pushed him away. —Why are you baking those pies again? Stop transferring money.

Maria said nothing. She had learned to remain silent when her husband was like this. Wordlessly, she set the table and placed the most appetizing piece of pie on her husband’s plate.

An oppressive silence settled over the table, broken only by the clink of cutlery and the soft voice of Nina Vasilievna, recounting tales from her youth to her grandson.

—How did the business trip go? —Maria cautiously inquired once Andrey had finished eating.

—Fine, —he replied curtly. —Enough with the questions.

—I just wanted to…

—Just what? —he snapped, pushing his plate away. —I’m sick of your endless questions! All you do is keep an eye on me!

Kostya clung to his grandmother in fear. Nina Vasilievna shook her head:

—Andryusha, calm down. Masha is just showing interest…

—and you too? —he growled. —All of you are against me!

 

At that moment, Andrey’s phone rang. He stepped into the corridor, but even through the closed door, a feminine murmur could be heard. «Alyona,» Maria thought. She had long known that name, though she had never met the woman to whom it belonged.

When Andrey returned, his face contorted into a grimace of anger.

—Enough! —he seized his bag. —Take your kid and get out!

—Andrey! —Nina Vasilievna cried out. —Pull yourself together!

—Shut up, mother! I’m fed up! You’re all fed up with me!

He grabbed Maria by the hand and dragged her toward the exit. Kostya, sobbing, ran after them.

—You’ll freeze in the communal apartment! —the husband roared as he shoved his wife and son right into the blizzard.

The last thing Maria saw was Andrey’s angry face and the tears on Nina Vasilievna’s cheeks, as he rudely shoved her away from the door.

Outside, the blizzard raged. Maria held tightly to the shivering Kostya, trying to shield him with her coat. There wasn’t any money for a taxi—Andrey held all the bank cards. Her phone had run out of battery earlier that day.

—Mommy, I’m cold, —Kostya whimpered plaintively.

—Hold on, sunshine, we’ll figure something out.

As if in answer to her quiet prayer, an old Moskvich pulled over nearby, its wing noticeably dented.

—Get in quickly, —a soft proposal came from inside the car, voiced by an elderly gentleman. —In this weather, you can’t stay outside with a child. I’m Mikhail Petrovich; I used to work as a mechanic, now I’m retired.

Maria hesitated for only a second. What could be scarier than freezing with her son?

Mikhail Petrovich indeed turned out to be a true angel. He took them to his modest apartment, where his wife, Anna Grigorievna, immediately began to help: offering steaming hot tea, wrapping them in warm blankets, and finding some old clothes for Kostya.

—Do you have anywhere to go? —Anna Grigorievna asked when Kostya finally fell asleep.

—There’s a room in the communal apartment, left from my mother, —Maria whispered. —But I haven’t been there in a long time…

—Misha will drive you in the morning, —the woman said confidently. —For now, just rest.

The communal apartment on the outskirts of Lipovsk greeted them with the wary glances of neighbors. Five families sharing one kitchen and a single toilet was always a challenge. But there was no other choice.

The room was small, yet neat. The yellowed wallpaper, the creaking sofa, the rickety wardrobe. Kostya immediately climbed onto the windowsill, gazing out at the snowy courtyard.

—Mom, are we going to live here?

—Temporarily, sunshine. Until we find a better option.

Mikhail Petrovich frequently dropped by to help with repairs. Thanks to his expertise, new shelves appeared in the room, and the dripping tap in the communal kitchen was fixed. Over time, the neighbors grew more amicable, especially after Maria began baking her signature pies for everyone.

Mikhail Petrovich had worked all his life at an automobile factory. Even in retirement, he couldn’t stand still—he had assembled his Moskvich from old parts, which the locals had nicknamed «Frankenstein.» Together with his wife Anna Grigorievna, they had spent forty years, raised three children who now lived in different cities. The elderly couple found joy in helping those in need.

—You know, Masha, —Anna Grigorievna would say while tucking Kostya in, —Misha and I have been through a lot too. In the nineties, the factory was idle, there was no work. We thought we wouldn’t survive. But people helped one another, sharing what little they had. Now it’s our turn to pay it forward.

Meanwhile, Andrey was enjoying his freedom with Alyona. He immediately brought her into the house, ignoring his mother’s protests. However, their happiness was short-lived. Alyona soon realized that living with a tyrant was unbearable, and she fled with a young fitness trainer.

In the communal apartment, Maria met Dmitry, a programmer renting the neighboring room. After being laid off from a major company, he was trying to launch his own startup. At the same time, he worked as a tutor. He helped Kostya with mathematics and often kept him company in the evenings, telling amazing stories about computers and robots.

Dmitry had ended up in the communal apartment after a bitter divorce. His project to create educational applications never gained popularity. His wife couldn’t withstand the constant financial difficulties and left him for a wealthier man. Yet Dmitry did not lose faith in humanity and retained his capacity for empathy.

The first time he met Maria—seeing her crying with little Kostya—moved him deeply. Perhaps he saw in them a reflection of himself—a confused and lonely person…

Gradually, life began to improve. Maria found work as a waitress at the café «Siren,» where her talent as a cook was soon recognized. Before long, she became the assistant to the head chef.

The owner of the establishment, Stepan Arkadyevich, began to show interest in her. Elegant courtships, gifts in the form of flowers, and plenty of compliments. He seemed to be the complete opposite of Andrey—charming, successful, caring.

Dmitry tried to warn her: —Masha, be careful. There’s something shady about his business. I’m wary of the people who go there in the evenings. —You’re just jealous, —she replied, though inside she felt uneasy.

 

Trouble crept in subtly. Stepan suggested taking out a loan to develop the business, promising enormous profits. And within a week, he disappeared, leaving Maria with a substantial debt and shattered hopes.

At that moment, Andrey’s neighbor called: Nina Vasilievna had fallen ill. She didn’t survive her second stroke. Just before her death, she changed her will, leaving the apartment and her savings to her grandson and ex-daughter-in-law.

Andrey rushed over as soon as he heard about the inheritance: —This is mine! You set it all up! —Get out, —Maria replied decisively. —I’m not afraid of you anymore.

Stepan was detained in Thailand. His scam with fraudulent loans was uncovered, and the money was recovered. At an auction, Maria acquired the café «Siren» and, with Dmitry’s help, transformed it into a cozy place with an original kitchen and a children’s room.

Mikhail Petrovich took on the role of chief mechanic—the value of his versatile skills, from repairing the coffee machine to maintaining the ventilation, proved indispensable. Anna Grigorievna sometimes dropped by to help with the baking, and her signature gingerbread became the café’s calling card.

Dmitry was always by her side. He helped with the paperwork, spent time with Kostya, and provided support during the tough moments. One evening, while they were working on reports late into the night, he simply took her hand. And Maria realized—that this was true happiness.

A year later, their daughter Nadya was born. Kostya proudly bore the title of the older brother and actively helped his mother with the baby. And Dmitry became the father figure the boy had always dreamed of.

Sometimes Andrey passed by «Siren.» He would see through the window a joyful Maria, a grown-up Kostya helping Dmitry with new equipment. Once, he even came in for a coffee, but upon meeting his ex-wife’s gaze, he silently left.

In little Lipovsk, it is still said that there is no cozier place than the café «Siren.» If you listen closely to the conversations of its visitors, you might hear the amazing story of how a winter blizzard changed one family’s fate, gifting them with true happiness.

Every year, with the first snowflakes, Maria stands by the window of her café and recalls that terrible night. Now she knows—sometimes you have to lose everything to find true love and happiness. And the blizzard… it only clears the way for a new life.

Lena, I’m off, I’ll be late! Don’t wait up if you go to bed!» Ivan shouted from the hallway to his wife. «Stop right there!» Lena shouted back.

She came out of the bathroom with a towel on her head. «Why are you going to be late today? Did the office schedule change, or did you take a part-time job as a stoker at your organization? What’s going on?» she asked suspiciously. «Last week you came home after midnight four times! Before that, it was the same thing several times… Did you find someone else, Ivan?»

«What are you talking about?» Ivan’s face changed, and his eyes darted around. The man looked everywhere but at his wife.

«And what did I say that was so outrageous? You used to come home from work at seven! And now suddenly you’ve started staying late! What’s all this about?»

«Lena, keep your voice down! Why do you start yelling right away? The kids will hear!»

«What are you talking about?» Elena was surprised. «What kids, they went to school an hour ago! Daddy, huh! Doesn’t even know if his kids are home!»

«Ah,» Ivan managed. «Maybe that was when I was in the shower?! I didn’t notice!» he smiled.

«I see you’ve stopped noticing a lot of things, Ivan! So what’s going on at work that you’re planning to stay so late again today? Explain to me, please!»

«Nothing special! Just a lot of work piled up!» Ivan replied to Lena.

«Well, I see you couldn’t even bother to come up with a decent excuse! Thought I would continue to believe your nonsense, right?»

«What excuses? What are you really talking about, Lena? If you don’t believe me, call Igor, he’ll confirm everything! And he’ll say that we really are staying late!»

«Maybe I should call your boss instead, I have his number somewhere! I wonder if he will confirm your words? And maybe even explain what you can be doing in the office until midnight on a computer?!»

«Lena, there you go winding yourself up again! You fill your head with nonsense and then just get nervous and take it out on me!»

«I wouldn’t be winding myself up if you didn’t start acting weird! I wouldn’t have said a word against you if you weren’t blatantly lying to me and treating me like a fool! I can feel you’re just lying to me!»

«What makes you think I’m lying to you?» Ivan asked and again averted his eyes.

«Because you can’t even look me in the eyes! You’re looking everywhere but at me! And that’s the first sign you’re lying! You’re even starting to sweat now!» Elena pointed at her husband’s forehead.

«Oh, Lena, stop making things up! Maybe you just want me to quit my job and sit at home? To be only with you? Well, I can quit, and then you can support all four of us! It’s not hard for me!»

«Why do you always go to extremes? What does quitting have to do with anything? You’re just lying to me, that’s all! And you start making up all kinds of nonsense! That’s always what happens when someone has nothing else to say!»

«Anyway, Lena, I’m off to work! And I don’t intend to discuss this topic with you anymore, and I certainly don’t intend to justify myself to you! Call anyone you want! Just remember, if you shame me in front of the boss like this, I really will quit and sit at home on your neck! Got it?»

«Wait, how exactly can I shame you in front of your boss? I don’t understand this at all? You, I see, have lied to such an extent… Well, never mind, I won’t call anyone! I’ll just come to your office myself today, and let your boss confirm your words!»

«Just try!» Ivan suddenly roared.

And Lena, now, when she spoke about going to his work, was precisely expecting this reaction from him.

«Anyway, my dear!» the woman began in a stern voice. «Either you tell me who she is now, pack your things nicely and leave without any fuss, like a man! Or I will make you so infamous at work and among acquaintances and friends that, believe me, you will not like it! And your father, he will rip your head off for this!»

«What does my father have to do with this?» Ivan didn’t understand.

«Just think about it! Remember… If you don’t want to, I’ll remind you! He said in front of you that, God forbid, if you ever cheat on me, he will pull all your arms and legs off! And evict you from this apartment! Remember?»

«Are you going to complain to my father about me?» Ivan’s hands trembled.

«Oh, how nervous you suddenly got! So who is she, someone from work? Do I know her?»

«There’s no one but you!» Ivan began to panic. «Stop constantly suspecting me of all the deadly sins!»

«Why are you yelling? Don’t raise your voice, you hysterical!» Lena replied calmly. «Why are you so nervous? That means you have something to hide!»

«That’s it, I don’t want to talk to you about this topic anymore! If you don’t trust me, that’s your personal problem! And I,» the man quickly glanced at his watch, «am going to be late for work because of you! I’m off!»

 

«Nothing serious, you’ll make up for it at night!»

Ivan gave his wife a malicious look, then opened the front door and left the apartment.

Lena took the towel off her head, wiped her hair a little, and went to her bedroom for her phone. She had no desire to go to her husband’s work. So she quickly found the boss’s number in the phone book and called him directly.

The phone was picked up almost immediately.

«I’m listening!» a gruff male voice answered. «Who is this?»

«Hello, Vyacheslav Konstantinovich! My name is Elena, I’m the wife of one of your employees, Ivan…»

«Ah, yes-yes-yes! I understand, hello, Elena! How can I help?»

«My question might sound strange… But… I wanted to know, do you have some sort of backlog there? Do they, I mean your office staff, and especially my husband, really work until night, or what?»

«What makes you think that?» the man asked in a questioning tone. «No! They all work until six as they always did! And Ivan has even been leaving early lately! What happened?»

Lena was silent for a few seconds. Then she gathered herself and replied to her husband’s boss.

«It’s nothing special! Thank you, Vyacheslav Konstantinovich! I’ve learned everything I wanted to! Goodbye!» said Lena and hung up.

Her mood was almost non-existent already, and after the words of her husband’s boss, it completely vanished. She needed to get ready for work, but her head was filled with completely different things. And she couldn’t think about work at all.

She dried her hair, got ready, and still went to work. But there Elena could not concentrate on her task at all. Various strange thoughts constantly crept into her head, which couldn’t just be shrugged off. She understood that her husband, with whom they had been married for almost fifteen years, was simply cheating on her. And all that remained was for her to catch him in the act. To finally, irrevocably.

Her work ended exactly at five, an hour earlier than her husband’s. The kids had already texted her that they were home. So she got ready and drove her car to the office where Ivan worked.

When she arrived and parked near the office building, her husband’s car was still there. But it wasn’t five minutes before Ivan suddenly came out of the building. At that moment, he was talking on the phone.

His wife’s car went unnoticed by the man, so absorbed was he in the conversation. He got into his car and drove off. Lena, without much thought, followed him. She immediately wanted to call him under the pretense that she was going home, and find out where he was. But she didn’t do that. The woman decided to follow her husband to the end.

The journey took about forty minutes for Lena. She didn’t lag far behind her husband, but she also tried not to get too close to him.

In the end, this private detective game led the woman to a very familiar area. One where one of Lena’s friends lived. And this thought disturbed her.

«No, it can’t be!» she tried to convince herself. «Not just Vika lives here!»

But a little later, when Ivan turned into one of the courtyards, the very courtyard where this Vika lived, and parked his car next to her entrance, all doubts disappeared.

Ivan got out of the car and headed for the entrance. Lena stopped, waited about ten minutes, and then decided to take her phone and dial her friend’s number. But then she suddenly changed her mind, got out of the car, and headed for Vika’s entrance.

Victoria was one of her best friends. With whom she practically always shared everything that happened in Lena’s life. And not so long ago, just a month and a half ago, her husband left. And Vika told Lena that she had caught him with a lover.

Approaching the entrance, she thought about how to play her visit to Vika so that she would open the entrance door for her without questions through the intercom. But she didn’t have to do that because children ran out of the entrance right in front of her, and she quickly slipped through the open door.

Riding the elevator to the sixth floor, the woman was determined. She approached her friend’s apartment door and rang the bell. Lena knew that Vika should be home at the moment, as she was temporarily not working and was looking for a job.

But they were in no hurry to open the door for Lena. So she pressed the bell button again and held it until the door finally opened.

Vika, shocked, stood in front of Lena in a bathrobe and with tousled hair.

«Where is he?» Lena asked her friend sternly.

«Who?» Vika tried to pretend she didn’t understand.

«You know exactly who I’m talking about! Step aside!» said Elena and simply pushed the hostess aside.

«Have you lost your mind?» the friend began to protest. «Lena, where are you going with your shoes on?» Vika shouted after Lena.

But Lena wasn’t listening anymore. She charged forward like a tank. Opening the door to Vika’s bedroom, she found who she had actually come for. Ivan at that moment was frantically trying to pull on his pants.

«Lena, just don’t be mad! Please!» Ivan begged his wife. «I’ll explain everything to you now!»

«I don’t need you to explain anything, I’m not blind!» the wife calmly replied to her husband.

She entered the bedroom, approached her husband closely, and with all her might kneed him between the legs. So hard that Ivan even squealed like a piglet. From pain and shock, he fell to his knees in front of his wife and held onto his groin, while Lena, instead of simply turning around and leaving, managed to kick him several times, and again right there, where she had hit him with her knee.

 

Ivan turned pale and red at the same time. His eyes, the woman thought, might just pop out of their orbits.

Vika stood behind and was afraid to even peep. Lena calmly turned around, looked at her friend, and walked towards her.

«Lena, calm down, I’ll explain everything to you now!» Vika began to wail.

«Another one!» the woman smirked.

She sharply grabbed Vika by the hair and yanked her towards her. Vika, by inertia, began to fall on Lena, and she simply stepped aside. She didn’t start kicking her friend, although she very much wanted to.

The woman left her friend’s apartment, walked down the stairs, sat in her car, and thought she would just burst into tears. But no, there wasn’t a single tear in her eyes. Just offense and pain. She started the car and drove home, where her daughter and son were waiting for her.

Twenty minutes after she was home, Ivan walked into the apartment.

«And what are you doing here? You can turn right around and go back to where you’ve been working late!»

«Lena, let’s talk!» he walked forward from the door and tried to take his wife’s hand.

«Get away from me, and don’t you dare touch me with your filthy hands! You have someone else to touch, go wear yourself out there! But you’re not welcome here anymore! I’ve already filed for divorce!» the wife waved a phone in front of her husband.

«Lena, let’s not rush things! Why destroy everything just like that? Over some trifles! I’ve sent Vika away, I won’t set foot there anymore! I don’t want to lose you! Please forgive me!»

«I’m not interested in that right now! You can go back to her! By the way, I called your father while I was driving home! And I told him all about your escapades! He said he would come soon!»

Ivan turned pale when he heard about his father again. Although he was almost thirty-six years old, he was still afraid of his father like fire. Because now and then, if he didn’t like the son’s words during a conversation, especially if the son complained about his wife and children to his mother in his presence, he could heartily slap him in the face. And it didn’t matter to him whether it hurt Ivan or not, whether he would have a bruise or not. His father simply couldn’t stomach whiners and those who betray their loved ones.

And the most interesting thing is that all these years, Lena, Ivan, and their children, whom Ivan’s father adored, lived in the grandfather’s apartment, which he never transferred to his son.

After the father’s arrival, Ivan got it even more. True, unlike his wife, his father didn’t hit him. And he told Ivan that his son better not dare appear in this apartment anymore. Because after they divorced, he would write off the apartment to his daughter-in-law and grandchildren. And he would no longer consider such a despicable person as Ivan his son.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you alright?” he whispered.

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He pulled me close and kissed my temple.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I couldn’t bear it any longer.

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

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

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

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

“Is something wrong?” he asked gently.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I know,” he said quietly but firmly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He paused and added in a near whisper:

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

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

“Why did you never…”

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

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

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

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

“What did you say to her?” I managed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

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

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

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

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

“Should we tell Igor?” I finally asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

«Deal!» Denis extended his hand.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

«Of course, no problem.»

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

«Eleventh. Prom is in a month.»

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Nadezhda embraced her daughter.

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

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

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

«And without a driver?»

«Does your mom know how to drive?»

«No.»

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

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

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

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

Igor Vasilyevich listened to his son with an unreadable expression.

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

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

Igor Vasilyevich tapped his fingers on the table thoughtfully.

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

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

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

«I’m listening,» she replied cautiously.

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

Nadezhda was taken aback.

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

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

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

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

There was a knock at the door.

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

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

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

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

«What’s this?..»

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

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

«This is… for us?»

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

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

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

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

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

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

«Nadezhda Andreyevna, you look absolutely stunning today!»

«Thank you, Elena Petrovna.»

At the door, Kirill caught up with them.

«Sonya, can I have a word?» he asked.

She stopped.

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

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

Kirill blushed.

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

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

Kirill then turned to Nadezhda.

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

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

«What’s going on, Sonya?»

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sonya smiled.

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

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

«What’s wrong, Mom?»

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

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

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

«Are you two dating?» Sonya asked bluntly.

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

Sonya smiled slyly.

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

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

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

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

«Hi. Sure.»

They sat in silence for a moment.

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

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

«And how’s your mom?»

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

«Really? What a career!»

Sonya smiled.

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

«And you? How are you doing?»

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

Kirill whistled.

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

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

Kirill thoughtfully twirled his coffee cup in his hands.

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

«I’m sorry,» Sonya said sincerely.

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

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

«Thank you.»

«For what?»

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

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

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

 

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

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

«Sonya!»

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

Nadezhda approached her daughter and embraced her.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She smiled:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

«Yes, but Sergey’s people…»

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

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

 

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

«I made it clear—let no one in!»

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

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

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

«You…»

«Hello, dear. Didn’t expect me?»

He abruptly pressed a button on the phone:

«Security to me!»

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

His hand reached for the desk drawer.

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

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

«What do you want?» he hissed.

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

He leaned back in his chair and unexpectedly laughed:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

«At what cost?» her voice trembled.

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

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

«Ready?» Igor peeked into the room.

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

Events then developed out of plan.

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

«Where’s Nastya? Who saw the bride?»

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

«We’ll find an alternative approach.»

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

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

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

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

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

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

«What did you tell her?»

 

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

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

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

«Business, Mom. No personal emotions.»

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

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

«How exactly? Will you destroy me too?»

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

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

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

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

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

«A coincidence?» he smirked.

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

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

Even my own mother.

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