It was nearly noon when Ilya finally managed to call his beloved wife:
— Yana, I’m alive and well. I’ll be there soon. There was an accident at the mine; we’re just returning to base.
— Thank God, Ilyusha! I already called the dispatcher, and he told me everything. I’m waiting for you.
Ilya was very upset. Today was March 8th, and for Yana it wasn’t just Women’s Day—it was also her birthday. Everything had been going perfectly: there were still a couple of hours left in his shift and all was calm. Then came the alarm, an urgent call-out—a fire had broken out in one of the mines in a section of the lava. They were fighting the blaze and rescuing people—fortunately, no one had perished.
Ilya worked in the mine rescue unit. He was tall, sturdy, strong, and yet a man with the kindest soul—that’s why Yana had fallen in love with him.
He stepped outside and was met by a lashing downpour. It wasn’t exactly the best weather to roam the entire city in search of flowers. Of course, his wife didn’t love him for the bouquets and gifts, but still… it was a double celebration.
In their small mining town there weren’t many flower stalls, so Ilya didn’t bank on the one near his home and set off for the center. But one stall was already closed, and the other only had roses of a very unappealing hue. He’d have to go to his usual little shop, although there was the unfriendly Galina, who was both the seller and the owner.
When the soaking-wet Ilya opened the shop door, the saleswoman was tallying up the day’s earnings.
— Hello! Happy holiday to you!
— Thank you, — the woman replied gruffly.
— I’d like some flowers, please.
— They’re all right here in front of you; make your choice.
Ilya carefully inspected the potted plants: the same roses, and some gerberas…
— Aren’t there any pretty tulips?
— Young man, anyone wanting to buy beautiful tulips came in the morning, not when it’s already evening.
— Well, that’s how it turned out for me. I was delayed at work.
— We all know how men end up staying late at work…
— Oh, come off it, that’s not true for me.
— All men are the same… There’s a bouquet here I made to order, but no one came for it.
It was nearly noon when Ilya finally managed to call his beloved wife:
— Yana, I’m alive and well.
A woman led Ilya into a nearby room where souvenirs were arranged on shelves. On a small table proudly stood a gorgeous bouquet of purple and white tulips with fringed edges.
— Beautiful! And how much does it cost?
— One and a half thousand rubles.
A Box of Happiness
Ilya was taken aback—he only had a thousand with him. Should he ask them not to sell it and go home for more money? It was really close by, but Yana wouldn’t let her husband go anywhere now. He knew that for sure, so he headed for the exit.
— What’s with men… They go out to look for flowers for their woman but end up with empty pockets.
— Men are perfectly fine nowadays. I’m not coming back from a joyride—I’ve been on duty for a whole day; there was an accident at the mine, people were being rescued. And I do have money, I’m just a little short, — Ilya said nervously.
He stepped out into the street where the rain was now pouring even harder. The saleswoman watched him leave through the window. Suddenly, she felt awkward. She knew from the customers about what had happened that morning at the largest mine in town. “So it turns out this young man saved lives, is now hurrying home to his wife, looking for flowers, and I treated him so rudely… He’s happy; someone is waiting for him. And now I’ll close up the shop and go to a friend’s place—someone as lonely as I am. We’ll spend the festive evening together, as always.”
At that moment, Galina noticed that an elderly woman had approached the young man on the street and literally tugged him by the sleeve, leading him into the courtyard of an old two-story building across the street.
— Dear granny, I just can’t, I’m in a hurry.
— Son, sweetheart, there’s no one else to help. It’ll only take ten minutes. Please.
While they were heading into the courtyard, the elderly woman explained that someone had dropped off two tiny kittens in their entrance hall. She had gone home to get some milk to feed the little ones, but when she returned—they were gone. They had dashed out and climbed up a tree and now couldn’t get down, crying out.
— I have no one to ask for help. My neighbors, you know, are unfriendly. They’re always sniping that I feed stray dogs and cats. It’ll be night soon, and I can’t leave them stranded in the tree.
They approached the scene. The kittens were indeed crying out loudly in the courtyard. Small, wet, dirty… yet it was clear that both were fiery-orange. Of course, it wasn’t difficult for Ilya to climb the tree and rescue the animals. Holding them in his hands, he felt their little hearts beating. They stopped crying and looked at their rescuer with eyes that shimmered in blue with a violet tint.
— Remarkable, they’re exactly alike.
— You can’t tell by the outside, but one is a boy and the other a girl. I could tell immediately when I found them.
— Could they be a brother and sister?
— Perhaps. Who would ever think to throw away such little ones—and orange ones at that. You can’t just throw away “orange ones”; they’re said to bring happiness into a home.
— “Orange ones”? Happiness?
— Yes, that’s an old saying.
— And where will they go now?
— I don’t know, I have four pets at home. I’ll take them for now, and tomorrow I’ll take them to the market; maybe someone will take them for good luck.
— All right, granny, no market. Don’t separate them if they’re brother and sister. I’ll take the happiness for myself.
Ilya imagined the poor old lady walking around the market with the kittens, offering them to people. And if she didn’t give them away, she’d bring them home, and her neighbors would grumble at her again.
— Son, may God grant you health. After all, the world isn’t without good people.
The kittens turned out to be far too energetic; they wouldn’t sit still, climbing onto Ilya’s neck, then onto his head. Their tiny claws were sharp—watch out, they might tear his jacket. He realized he wouldn’t be able to carry them home like this. Then he remembered that in the flower shop there was a souvenir section—the very same where the bouquet of tulips had been displayed. Perhaps the owner would have a cardboard box?
The door of the shop was open, but the light inside was already off.
— Excuse me, it’s me again. I need your help.
— One more minute and you would’ve missed it. I was about to close up. Are you here for a bouquet?
— No. Would you happen to have an extra cardboard box?
The shop owner raised her eyebrows in surprise and turned on the light. The young man was holding two small, wet clumps close to his chest.
— Please help me. I can’t carry them like this. Maybe you have a spare box from the souvenirs?
— Oh my goodness, where did you find them?
— I got them down from a tree. The granny asked for help. I just can’t make it home.
— So that’s it. And I see through the window where that old lady dragged you, huh?
— They’re orange ones; you can’t throw them away—they’re supposed to bring happiness into a home.
— Happiness?
— Yes, that’s the saying.
The shop owner looked at Ilya in bewilderment. “What a variety of people live on this earth. A simple young man, who can’t even get home to his beloved wife, yet ends up saving someone’s day.” Only then did she notice how kind his face was… and his strong hands, repeatedly cradling the frightened, restless kittens.
— Of course there’s a box.
Galina not only fetched a cardboard box from the storeroom but also helped him make holes in it with a utility knife and taped the top securely so that the kittens couldn’t climb out.
— Thank you so much. And again, happy holiday! I’m sorry.
Ilya headed for the exit and, having grasped the door handle, the shop owner called out:
— Wait, young man. What’s your name?
— Ilya.
— You forgot the flowers, Ilyusha.
— No, no…
— You misunderstood me. No money is needed. Take the bouquet.
Galina handed Ilya the purple-and-white tulips with fringed edges.
— I can’t do that. I only have a thousand rubles, and I’ll bring the rest tomorrow. Is that all right?
— I’m fine with it. And no “all right.” Don’t give anything now or bring it later. This is for your wife. Tell her she’s very lucky with a husband like you.
— Thank you!
At last, Ilya headed toward home. Meanwhile, Galina watched him for a long time as he walked away with a kind heart, a bouquet of tulips, and a box of happiness.
Ilya didn’t call; he quietly unlocked the door with his key. Yana heard and immediately rushed into the hallway.
— My love, happy birthday and Happy Women’s Day. I’m finally here.
— Thank you, Ilyusha, how beautiful! I’ve never seen tulips with such coloring before. Did you search the whole city for these flowers?
— I was searching for flowers and ended up finding a box of happiness.
He placed the cardboard box on the ottoman, tore off the tape, and opened it. From one corner of the box, four kittens with blue eyes tinted violet looked at Yana and Ilya.
— You’re all so wet! First, Ilya gets a bath, and then the little ones.
After a full day of duty, city wandering, and a hot bath, Ilya was completely exhausted.
— Yana, I’m going to lie down for about an hour.
— Of course, you need your rest. Once you wake up, we’ll celebrate the holiday.
— Will you handle the kittens yourself?
— Oh, of course. Look how obedient they are.
The kittens sat quietly in the hallway by the box where they had been placed. Yana didn’t rush the events, letting them gradually get used to their new home. But they took their time, as if not quite believing that this was now their home.
Ilya fell asleep, and while Yana bathed the kittens with shampoo and dried them with a towel, the phone rang. It was her older sister, Lera.
— So, how are you? Celebrating?
— Not yet. Ilyusha had a hard shift. Once he wakes up, we’ll celebrate.
— So, you’re lonely?
— No, I’m not lonely at all. My husband gave me a box of happiness.
— A box of what happiness?
— You’ll see when you come over tomorrow evening.
— Well, Ilyusha, you really are a trickster.
— He’s the best, that’s for sure.
It was already late, and Yana and Ilya were still sitting at the table, sipping champagne. It had become their family tradition—to celebrate March 8th together, and the next day invite relatives and friends over. They watched as the new members of the family gradually settled into the apartment. The well-fed, fragrant, and freshly bathed kittens wandered about the room with purpose.
At the other end of the city, too, two mature yet lonely women sat at their festive tables, sipping champagne. Both were successful businesswomen, toasting “to us beautiful ones and to success in business.” But one of them was thinking of something else—she longed for someone to roam the entire city in the pouring rain to find tulips for her and to present her with a box of happiness!
