It was an oppressively hot day, and the bus Olga rode was like a furnace on wheels. The open hatches and windows did little to alleviate the suffocating heat, much to the dismay of the weary passengers caught in a relentless traffic jam. Olga, returning from her job as a veterinarian, distracted herself with thoughts of what to make for dinner. While her mind whimsically toyed with the idea of gourmet dishes like marbled beef or truffle ravioli, reality brought her back to a more humble yet comforting choice: buckwheat with meat patties.
Seated by the window, Olga gazed out at the bustling evening city. It was still light outside; people were either scurrying about on errands or leisurely strolling in the cool shadows of tree-lined alleys. A man walking his Basset—a breed Olga could identify with ease after eight years in veterinary practice—passed by. Then, a young couple with a stroller came into view; their baby stood up, gripping the visor of the stroller, flashing a toothless grin. Olga sighed, a wave of sadness washing over her. Despite five years of trying and countless visits to medical centers, she and her husband had not been able to conceive, with doctors unable to determine the cause of their infertility.
Trying to shake off her gloomy thoughts, Olga’s attention was drawn to a couple nearby, lost in a passionate embrace. The sight was sweet, yet it stirred a pang of envy in her. In the eighth year of her marriage, she barely remembered the intoxicating thrill of passionate love that made one forget decorum and surrender to emotion.
The man eventually disentangled from the kiss. As the woman, a plump blonde with a snub nose, laughed heartily, holding him tight, he turned to cross the street—and Olga’s heart stopped for a moment. It was Anton, her husband. Her confusion turned to shock as she helplessly watched from the bus, unable to disembark due to the traffic. Anton, with his arm lovingly around the blonde, helped her into a taxi. Olga fumbled for her phone, torn between calling him or capturing this moment as proof of his betrayal. As the taxi pulled away, she was left in turmoil, her thoughts a whirlwind of betrayal and disbelief.
Olga had met Anton during her second year at university, introduced by her friend Svetka at a birthday party. Anton, known as Toha among friends, was four years her senior and worked at a construction company. He had been instantly smitten with her—Olga, with her elegant long legs and deep brown eyes, had captivated him completely from the start. Now, staring out the bus window, she felt the sting of that long-forgotten spark, now overshadowed by the harsh reality of his infidelity.
Anton had always seemed the epitome of reliability—a hard worker with his own apartment in the city center and a decent car. He was not the romantic type; instead of flowers, he believed in practical gifts like boots or a warm jacket, which Olga appreciated as marks of maturity.
After Olga graduated from university, they married, and life appeared to flourish. Anton launched his own business while Olga secured a job at a veterinary clinic. The only shadow over their happiness was their inability to have children, and Anton’s relentless pursuit of more wealth. He poured himself into his business, leaving Olga to manage the household finances on her salary alone. She yearned for vacations, maybe a seaside getaway once a year, but Anton always convinced her to delay these plans for his endless business trips, leaving her alone at home.
A few months back, her friend Svetka claimed to have seen Anton dining with a woman at a high-end restaurant. Olga, knowing her husband’s disdain for such extravagances, had dismissed the claim, attributing it to Svetka’s notorious nearsightedness.
As the bus finally cleared the traffic jam, Olga’s thoughts raced with drastic scenarios—from a dignified, silent divorce to darker, vengeful fantasies. Knowing she could neither remain silent nor entertain violent ends, she plotted a different kind of revenge, one that would haunt Anton in his nightmares.
Confused by a storm of jealousy and anger, Olga disembarked and, somewhat mechanically, bought a cake at the grocery store. Back home, she paused in the hallway, staring at her reflection, bewildered by Anton’s infidelity given the frequent admiring looks she received from other men.
Dialing Svetka’s number, she broke down. «I saw him with another woman,» Olga confessed through tears.
Svetka comforted her, «Ol, I told you. And you don’t need that miser. I’ve seen him with a skinny scarecrow before.»
«A skinny scarecrow? She must weigh at least 150 kilos!» Olga exclaimed, confirming Svetka’s poor vision.
«Well, a small dark-haired woman?» Svetka ventured.
«No, a huge blonde,» Olga snapped back, «she kissed him so fiercely I thought she was going to devour him.»
«Oh, then that’s not her,» Svetka replied, oddly relieved.
«So, he has multiple women,» Olga realized, feeling as if doused in cold water.
«I’ll call you after work,» Svetka said hurriedly, ending the call abruptly.
Olga, now alone with her thoughts and the cake, began eating directly from the box, wallowing in her plight. But after minutes of indulging in the sweetness and self-pity, she grew nauseated. Steeling herself, she decided to craft a cunning plan for revenge, her mood lightening slightly with determination.
The doorbell rang. Anton entered without a key, greeting her with a customary peck on the cheek.
«Hello, bunny,» he said casually, a term Olga now suspected he used universally to avoid name mix-ups.
Noticing the demolished cake in the kitchen, Anton asked, «What’s for dinner tonight?»
«Cake,» Olga stated flatly, taking a seat at the table.
«Uh, isn’t there anything else?» Anton asked, half-amused.
«No, I thought it’s been a while since we had cake for dinner!»
«You on your period or something?» he muttered, reaching for eggs.
Dismissing a vivid image of Anton with a frying pan upside down on his head, Olga replied, «Fry it, and I’ll go lie down,» leaving the kitchen to plot her next move.
Anton muttered about it being «that time of the month» as he fumbled around the kitchen looking for the frying pans. His actions were noisy, a clattering symphony of dishes that echoed his clear annoyance.
After a solitary and silent dinner, Anton entered the bedroom, announcing he needed to leave for a business trip that could last from a few days to a week.
«Where are you going?» Olga inquired, her curiosity piqued.
«Just some industrial town. Looking at warehouse spaces, production facilities—nothing exciting. Just bricks, shingles, and all that,» Anton replied, his words laced with vagueness.
«When will we go somewhere to relax? It’s been three years since I’ve seen the sea,» Olga lamented with a dramatic pout.
«Bunny, we will, you know we need to invest now to enjoy later,» Anton replied, leaning in for a kiss.
«I have a headache,» Olga turned away sharply, her restraint thinning.
The next morning, Olga watched as Anton hummed while packing his suitcase. She declined to make breakfast, citing her headache, and coldly bid him farewell, claiming she needed to get to work.
Once outside, she bought a coffee and called her clinic to request a few days off, feigning illness. Settling into a gazebo near their home, she contemplated her next moves. Her phone rang—it was Svetka, revealing a crucial piece of information.
«Your beloved is actually flying to the sea. He leaves today at noon,» Svetka informed her from the airline program where she worked.
After confirming the details, Olga asked her friend to book her a ticket on a flight a few hours after Anton’s. The destination was familiar—she had visited the resort town with her parents during her childhood, loving its pristine beach and tranquil sea.
Suddenly, Anton burst from the building, jumped into his car, and drove off rapidly, leaving his belongings behind, signaling a return plan. Curious, Olga re-entered their apartment and inspected his suitcase. Inside, alongside swim trunks and t-shirts, was a beautifully wrapped gift box. A plan crystallized in her mind as she thanked Anton’s infamous frugality. She grabbed an identical suitcase—awful yellow, yet bought as a bargain—and filled it with toilet paper, cardboard, useless rags, and, unable to resist a touch of mischief, a bag of garbage Anton had neglected.
With a triumphant smile, Olga packed her essentials into a sports bag—dresses, swimsuits, flip-flops, cosmetics—and left. She also took the mysterious gift intended for Anton’s mistress.
Back in the gazebo, Olga unwrapped the box and discovered a stunning gold dragonfly pendant adorned with gemstones. Anger flared at the extravagance of the gift, but it also gave her an idea. She put on the pendant, planning to confront Anton on the beach, relishing the thought of his shocked expression.
Minutes later, she watched from a distance as Anton, suitcase in hand, hurried into a waiting taxi. The first phase of her plan was in motion; he suspected nothing.
«Lyuba, please, can we not do this here? Let’s get to the hotel and you’ll have your gift,» Anton said, his voice strained as he maneuvered through the bustling airport crowd.
Lyubasha, not satisfied with this response, puffed up her cheeks and stomped her feet, making a scene that drew curious glances from passersby. «I want it now! You always promise things and then delay! Why can’t I have it now?» she whined loudly, her voice echoing off the high ceilings.
Anton clenched his teeth, trying to keep his composure. He knew dealing with Lyubasha required patience he barely possessed. «Love, trust me, it’s worth the wait,» he tried to assure her, his tone softening a bit.
Lyuba crossed her arms, her expression sullen. «Fine, but it better be good,» she grumbled, turning away to lead the way to the exit.
As they walked, Anton thought about the intricate web of lies and manipulations he had woven. His life had become a balancing act between appeasing Lyubasha for her connections and wealth, and maintaining the facade of a loving husband to Olga, whom he had no intention of letting go completely. It was exhausting, but the potential rewards kept him tethered to this path.
He glanced at Lyubasha’s back, her figure outlined by the tight, flashy clothes she favored, and sighed inwardly. The promise of wealth and status had seemed enticing at first, but the reality of what it took to secure it was far more taxing than he had anticipated. Every step felt like a compromise to his own values, yet he couldn’t see a way out without losing everything he had worked so hard to gain.
As they approached the car rental, Anton braced himself for the rest of the trip with Lyubasha, knowing full well that the real challenge was only just beginning.
Let’s pick it up at the hotel!» he declared abruptly, and the young woman quieted momentarily.
Upon their arrival at the hotel, Lyuba wasted no time investigating Anton’s suitcase for her awaited surprise. To her astonishment, she delved into a chaotic mix of old clothes and cardboard, extracting a knotted bundle. Ripping it open, she scattered its bizarre contents across the bed—potato skins, onion peels, an empty mayonnaise packet, some leftover food, and, dramatically, the remains of a herring. A foul odor instantly pervaded the room.
Fresh from the shower, Anton was greeted by Lyuba’s puzzled gaze and sensed trouble.
«What on earth is this?» she cried out in dismay.
As he approached the chaotic scene on the bed, confusion etched across his face.
«Where did this come from?» he stammered, stunned.
«Is this some kind of joke? It’s your suitcase! Where’s my present? What’s this supposed to be, a herring or perhaps this filthy napkin?» Lyuba fumed, pointing at the malodorous heap.
Sitting heavily in a nearby chair, Anton massaged his temples, piecing together that his wife must have orchestrated this fiasco. As he pondered his next steps amidst Lyuba’s livid outbursts, he saw an unexpected opportunity. This could simplify severing ties with Olga, his wife, and smoothly pave the way for a divorce. Yet, he regretted the expense incurred on Lyuba’s actual gift, now likely demanded anew. Resigned to the costs of resolving the debacle, he reassured her:
«Sweetheart, there’s clearly been a mix-up. It seems our luggage was switched with someone else’s. I’ll contact the airline immediately to sort this out.»
Lyuba eyed him skeptically:
«And if someone pilfered your suitcase and took my surprise?»
«We’ll get another one,» he replied, secretly incredulous at her naivety—could she really believe someone would intentionally travel with trash?
«Honey, does anyone else even own such a hideous yellow suitcase?» Just as a spark of realization seemed to flicker in Lyuba, it faded swiftly, «Fine, let’s just go and find me some new surprises.»
Meanwhile, unbeknownst to them, the plane carrying the wronged wife, who had firmly resolved to flaunt her new dragonfly pendant at the beach to disrupt the duplicitous duo, was boarding. Arriving at the hotel, Olga slipped into her stunning turquoise swimsuit, accentuating her sun-kissed complexion. With a beach mat and tunic in tow and the gleaming pendant around her neck, she strolled towards the ocean. Heads turned in admiration, and envious glares followed from their spouses. With a knowing smile, Olga resolved never again to entertain the advances of suitors, all too familiar with their deceitful ways.
Upon reaching the bustling beach, the woman felt disheartened by the sheer number of people, complicating her mission to locate Anton and his secret companion. As she navigated along the shoreline, discreetly scanning the crowd, she accidentally collided with a street vendor.
The vendor, a strikingly tall man with flecks of gray in his hair, stood out among the typical beach hawkers hustling for sales. He paused, rudely fixating on her necklace.
«This is unacceptable,» she thought, irked, attempting to sidestep the intrusive man. Abruptly, he seized her wrist.
«Where did you find that necklace?» he demanded intensely.
«Release me!» she protested.
«I need to know where it came from!» his tone grew more aggressive.
«What is this about? Why are you accosting me?» she retorted, visibly upset.
«We should involve the police, explain everything,» he persisted, not loosening his grip.
Several bystanders, likely his acquaintances, gathered around.
«Sergey, what’s going on?» one inquired, eyeing her curiously.
«This necklace—she’s wearing it. I crafted it specifically for Inga,» Sergey explained, his voice shaking.
«Can someone clarify what’s happening here?» she nearly sobbed.
«Where is she? What did you do to her?» Sergey’s grip tightened.
«Are you insane? Who is she? I’ve never even owned this necklace,» she exclaimed.
«Sergey, calm down, she doesn’t seem dangerous. Let’s figure this out,» his friend intervened.
«A murderer?» she echoed in disbelief.
«His wife had a similar necklace. He made it for her before she vanished,» another vendor chimed in.
«Vanished? When?» she gasped in horror.
«It’s been over a year. She went to the city on business and never returned,» Sergey sighed. «So, how did you come by this necklace?»
She quickly explained her situation involving her husband and his mistress, even suggesting they visit the police.
«I doubt Anton is involved in any wrongdoing, but he should at least clarify where he purchased the necklace. It’s a unique, handmade item,» she reasoned.
«I need to collect my son from preschool soon. Shall we head to the station afterward?» Sergey asked, still suspicious.
«Let’s pick up your son together. That way, you won’t worry I’ll escape, but I need to change first,» she proposed.
«You’re fine as you are; we’re at a resort. Just throw something on if you must,» Sergey urged, pressing the need to hasten.
She draped a light tunic over her swimsuit, and they made their way to the preschool. Along the path, Sergey shared memories of his wife, who had longed for city life—nightclubs, shopping malls, which were absent in their small town. She had always been the beauty of his life, enthralled by dragonflies as a child. When their son Sasha came into their lives, Sergey had the pendant made, a costly token of his love.
«Perhaps she’s still out there, maybe lost or with amnesia,» she offered hope.
«I want to believe that, but it’s hard. Sasha has only just stopped calling for her,» he continued, sharing that they had adopted Sasha after many years of heartache.
Reaching the preschool, children frolicked on the playground. A blond boy spotted his father and ran towards him, but was gently redirected by a teacher.
«Good evening, Sergey Alexandrovich,» the teacher greeted, eyeing Olga curiously. «Sasha hasn’t touched his food again.»
With a little scowl, Sasha protested, «Dad, you know I hate soup and cutlets.»
«We need to talk, son,» Sergey embraced him, bidding the teacher farewell.
«Mom?» the boy hesitated, his gaze darting between Olga and the necklace.
«No, son, this is Auntie Olga,» Sergey softly corrected, at a loss for further explanation.
«Where’s mom?» the boy inquired earnestly.
«I’m not sure, but I bet she’d be sad to hear you skipped your meal,» she diverted, trying to lighten his mood.
«I’d rather have pizza and compote. Those cutlets are awful,» he declared, then suddenly grasped Olga’s hand.
Her heart stirred at the warm, firm grip of his small hand, awakening a newfound maternal affection within her. Sasha chattered all the way about his day, his broken clay car, and his tussles with a pesky classmate named Ira.
Uncle, do you think Aunt Lena can make lasagna and lemonade?» he asked innocently.
«I’m sure she can. Want to learn how?» replied the girl.
«Absolutely!» the young boy shouted with delight.
They arrived at a certain courtyard where a man, kneeling beside Max, explained that he needed to stay at grandma’s for the time being, and later his father would come to fetch him.
«What about Aunt Lena? She promised lasagna,» the boy questioned, his voice tinged with disappointment.
«If she promised, then we’ll make it,» Lena responded, catching the stern look from Viktor.
The man led the child into the courtyard and returned shortly after.
«Should we head to the station?» he inquired.
«Yes, let’s go,» Lena agreed promptly.
At the police station, they encountered less than welcoming expressions. Lena learned that Viktor frequently visited the detective to check on the search for his missing sister, which irked the officers who had no updates to give. However, the mention of a mysterious bracelet sparked interest, prompting immediate checks at nearby motels for clues about Lena’s brother-in-law.
Soon, Paul and his friend were escorted into the detective’s room by the police. The brother-in-law appeared bewildered, and his confusion deepened upon seeing his wife.
«Explain how you came into possession of the bracelet linked to Elena Petrova’s disappearance,» demanded the detective.
Paul admitted he had bought the bracelet at a second-hand shop, producing a receipt from his wallet. The redhead, realizing the intended surprise, erupted:
«You thought to gift me second-hand jewelry? How do you see me?»
«Honey, relax, I’ll sort it out later,» Paul tried to soothe her.
At his familiar endearment, Lena felt her disgust surge. She looked at her husband, puzzled by her past affection for him. No longer seeking vengeance, she mentally struck him from her life.
Exiting the detective’s office, she felt liberated from her previous existence, her mind swirling with thoughts of relocating, finding a new apartment, and future endeavors. Yet, all she could focus on was, «Lasagna and lemonade today; everything else can wait until tomorrow.»
A hand on her shoulder made her start. It was Viktor.
«Thanks for coming with me today. Perhaps now we’ll find Elena. If the bracelet was pawned, it means someone might have harmed her. I need to find closure. I regret making such an eye-catching gift; it might have made her a target.»
Lena gazed into Viktor’s sorrow-filled eyes, realizing her issues paled in comparison to his sorrow. Though her husband had betrayed her, at least he was safe, and she bore him no ill will.
Paul and his companion exited the police station.
«Looks like you’re moving on fast,» he sneered. «Comforting a new friend?»
«Paul, seek happiness, initiate the divorce yourself. I hold no grudges. And about the suitcase prank, well, you should have left your wife before beginning anew.»
«What wife? You’re married?» the redhead gasped. «Were you the one who filled the suitcase with junk?»
«Exactly, I took out the garbage, in every sense,» Lena said with a smirk.
Paul and his flustered partner argued their way back to their lodging, while Viktor, entertained by the debacle, remarked:
«What about the garbage?»
Lena shared her scheme for retribution.
«You’re remarkably resilient. Infidelity is unforgivable,» he noted.
«It’s painful, yet I’ve come to realize it’s futile to hold grudges. You can’t cling to someone who no longer holds affection for you. I wish him well. We shared some beautiful moments, for which I’m thankful. Anton and I simply grew apart, our interests diverged, and I bear him no ill will,» Lena responded, her voice tinged with sadness.
«Lena, you deserve someone who truly values you. You’re stunning, and sometimes that intimidates men. But your warmth will surely bring you happiness,» Ivan remarked, gently taking her hand.
«Are you parting ways already? What about the lasagna? I promised Max,» Lena suddenly felt a pang of sadness.
«I thought you were just being polite. You’re welcome to join us at our humble abode,» Ivan said, clearly pleased.
They collected Max from his grandmother’s house, and the trio headed home. Max excitedly discussed his plans for preparing the lasagna, mentioning he’d even share a slice with his pesky neighbor Ira, who often snatched his toys.
«That’s the spirit, son,» Ivan said, giving Lena a knowing wink.
The evening was cozy, though Ivan occasionally looked troubled and checked his phone, hoping for an update from the police.
Post-dinner, Ivan and Max escorted Lena to her hotel. Max, hugging her, asked, «Aunt Lena, can we go out tomorrow?»
«Lena has to return home, son,» Ivan interjected, his voice betraying a hint of disappointment.
«I still have two more days here; there’s no rush. Tomorrow’s Saturday. Why don’t we hit the beach? While you’re busy, maybe you can teach me to swim,» Lena suggested to Max.
«You don’t know how to swim?» Max asked, surprised. «I can already swim. I’ll teach you.»
«Let’s meet at your place at nine tomorrow,» Ivan suggested with a smile.
Lena waved goodbye, feeling unexpectedly joyful. She was taken by the genuine nature of Ivan and thoroughly charmed by Max.
She spent half the night awake, her mind racing with thoughts of Ivan and Max, the uncertainty surrounding Inga’s fate, and the daunting prospect of starting anew back home. She contemplated how wonderful it would be to move to this town and leave all memories of Anton behind.
In the morning, in the hotel lobby, she was greeted by her friends brandishing a massive inflatable swan.
«What’s this?» Lena chuckled, pointing at the swan.
«Max insisted on a float for swimming lessons. We thought a swan would be more fun,» Ivan laughed.
They were about to head to the beach when Ivan’s phone rang. His face turned ashen after the call. «We need to visit the station,» he said gravely. Lena and Max waited outside. When Ivan returned, his expression was somber, and he silently took the swan and led the way to the beach, clearly burdened by bad news. Lena kept Max distracted, choosing not to press for details.
After swimming, they went to a beach cafe. Ivan joined later, managing a melancholic smile, «Without this swan, I’d never have spotted you.»
They decided to head back so Max could nap, accustomed to his daycare routine.
Ivan asked Lena to help Max settle for a nap, then left briefly. Max snuggled up on the couch, and they played little games until he drifted off to sleep. Lena lay there, memorizing every detail of this fleeting family moment.
When Ivan returned, he saw Max asleep and whispered to Lena to join him for a coffee. He seemed unusually calm, possibly masking his stress with humor.
Outside, he lit a cigarette and looked deeply into Lena’s eyes. Discarding the cigarette abruptly, he finally spoke, his voice a mix of relief and complexity:
«She’s alive.»
Sergey paused and then stepped inside the house, a bewildered Olga trailing behind him.
«It’s unbelievable. Where was she all this time? What happened?»
«She stayed in the metropolis with a wealthy count, then, left adrift, she sold her emerald brooch and moved to the capital in search of fortune. It seems she succeeded. Turns out, she’d been mingling with tourists here, and eventually, she left with one for a better life.»
Olga, struck by these truths, was at a loss for words. Sergey went on:
«The hardest part for me—I wept, imagining she’d been harmed or worse, that it was somehow my fault—I couldn’t shield her. And to think my mother-in-law knew yet said nothing while I tormented myself. I confronted her today, asked her how she could keep me in the dark. Silence, that’s all she could offer. I feel nauseous, Ol.»
Sergey then walked out and sat on a bench in the yard. Sensing his need for solitude, Olga entered the kitchen to prepare dinner. Finding no bread, she quickly went to the store. Upon returning, she met the landlord at the door.
«I was worried you might’ve left. Olga, could you stay with Sasha tonight? I have to drive a cab, and after today, I can’t take him to his grandmother’s.»
«Of course, I’ll just grab my things from the hotel,» she replied.
«Thanks. He’ll wake up soon; we can go get your things then,» Sergey expressed his gratitude.
«Look, Sergey, I need to return tomorrow. My flight’s at three. I took leave only until Monday,» Olga admitted sadly, dreading the departure.
«I understand. We’ll miss you,» Sergey said, returning to the kitchen.
That evening, as Olga and Sasha ate their toast, they browsed dog breeds online. She shared stories from her job, and Sasha, wide-eyed, proclaimed he’d become a vet too. They chatted into the night, Olga playfully mixing up fairy tale characters, making Sasha giggle. Sergey called a few times to check in.
He came home early the next day and, entering his son’s room, found Sasha asleep on Olga’s shoulder. He watched her, moved by her kindness despite knowing her only briefly, unwilling to let her go.
Olga awoke to a draft from the window and found Sasha still asleep, his fist tucked under his cheek. Stepping out, she noticed Sergey asleep on the sofa, marveling quietly at his strong features and the dimple in his chin—a sign, her grandmother said, that a daughter would be their first child.
With the plane leaving in eight hours, Olga headed to the kitchen to prepare a farewell breakfast. Sasha, lured by the scent of pancakes, was the first to arrive, followed by Sergey. The boy munched on his pancakes and pleaded for pizza in the evening.
«Son, Aunt Olga needs to go,» Sergey said, his voice heavy, eyes lingering on her as if waiting for her to stay.
Feeling a pang, Olga wished Sergey would ask her to stay. The boy cried and clung to her leg.
«Aunt Olga, don’t go yet—you haven’t even seen my bike.»
«Let’s make plans to visit, Sasha. I’ll come back soon,» she replied, her voice trembling, aware of the untruth—her meager earnings wouldn’t cover frequent travels.
«Maybe you could take a few more days off?» Sergey suggested quietly, avoiding her gaze.
Elated by his simple request, she stepped outside to call her boss.
The call left Olga stunned—she’d been terminated the week before, retroactively, with no chance of last month’s pay. Her boss apologized, explaining the dismissal came from a high-ranking city official.
Upon realizing that Anton and his mistress were seeking vengeance against her, Olga felt devastated—left jobless and without a place to live. She stood motionless, phone in hand, staring blankly at the ground.
Sergey emerged and, seeing her expression, sensed the gravity of the situation.
«Olga, what’s wrong?»
«It’s nothing… I’ve just been terminated without compensation. I was about to secure an advance to rent a flat, but now, I’m at a loss,» Olga said with a heavy sigh, settling beside him.
«You’re welcome to stay with us. Sasha would love that,» Sergey suggested before going inside to lift his son’s spirits.
«Sasha would be happy… And you seem indifferent,» Olga mused internally, feeling a surge of jealousy. Moments later, Sasha ran out, leaping into her lap and embracing her tightly, leaving her breathless. She returned his hug and kissed his cheek.
She avoided looking at Sergey, knowing it was too soon to define what she meant to him. Yet, it stung that she felt love while he seemed to regard her only as a friend. Then, a life-altering comment broke the silence:
«Should I climb on your lap too to get a kiss from you?»
«I think I’d rather come to you,» Olga responded with a laugh.
In the days that followed, Olga often woke fearing it was all a dream, vanishing upon waking. But the warmth of her husband’s embrace each morning reassured her of their reality.
Anton reached out several times, pleading for her return. After discovering his daughter’s suitor was already married, Anton’s father-in-law banned their communication. Though Lottie was prepared to forsake her inheritance to be with Anton, his calculated nature held him back. With a final wish for his well-being, Olga requested he not contact her again.
Years later, as Olga and Sasha unpacked school supplies from a fair, the excitement of his upcoming first-grade year was palpable.
«Mom, look at this neat pencil case! Can I put my pencils and pens in it?» Sasha asked eagerly.
While inspecting the supplies, Olga suddenly turned pale and rushed to the bathroom, overcome by nausea. Sergey and Sasha looked on, puzzled.
«Dad, why doesn’t mom like school?» Sasha asked, confused.
«I’m not sure,» Sergey replied, his voice laced with worry.
Returning to the living room, Olga slumped into a chair.
«Are you ill? Should I call a doctor?» Sergey fretted.
«Is it the pencils?» Sasha wondered. «Should I use the markers instead?»
«No, honey, it’s not the pencils,» Olga managed to say. «Soon, there will be four of us.»
With a joyful shout, Sergey lifted Olga into his arms and twirled her around, her mild protests lost in their laughter.
That’s how Sasha learned he was going to be a big brother. He was still unsure about where babies came from or why his parents didn’t know if it would be a boy or a girl, but he was content to figure it out later.
In April, Olga gazed out the hospital window, cradling her newborn daughter. Below, her beloved boys walked up the path—Sasha proudly carrying a bouquet. He now understood that his sister had been in his mom’s belly, though he remained curious about the specifics. Watching his classmate Ira, he mused, «If Ira likes me, does that mean she’ll have a baby too?»
