Vera Vasilyevna Loshkareva, a waitress at the restaurant «Skatert-Samobranka,» was changing into her uniform before her shift and listening in on her colleagues’ conversations.
“She searched for him for thirty years, and met him on a cruise ship,” Zinaida was telling the plot of a movie.
“Just like that, recognized him after thirty years? Nonsense,” Marina Eduardovna snorted.
“But she did recognize him,” Zinaida took offense. “If you truly love someone, you’ll recognize them even after a hundred years.”
“Girls, don’t argue — it’s just a movie. That doesn’t happen in real life,” tried to stop them Irina Stukina.
“And what do you think, Vera?” Marina Eduardovna asked, and all eyes turned to Loshkareva.
“I don’t know, girls. Sometimes I don’t even recognize myself in the mirror, so how could I recognize someone else?” Vera smiled, and everyone laughed.
At that moment, the administrator Allochka entered the dressing room and called out to the women:
“Enough chatting like hens on a perch. Girls, I asked you to get ready quickly. You know what event is today.”
Everyone understood perfectly: today the mayor was giving away his only daughter in marriage. The scale of the celebration overshadowed even the most luxurious events in the small seaside town.
The preparations had lasted several months, and how everything went depended on the future of many involved. Everyone tried to make everything perfect. Especially since the groom of Alevtina Drobova was not local. He was the Moscow billionaire Mikhail Alekseevich Nikolsky.
The main ceremony took place in Moscow, but Mayor Pavel Romanovich Drobov decided to organize a banquet in his hometown to gather the best citizens and congratulate the young couple.
Today the celebration was at the restaurant, and tomorrow the guests were to take a yacht ride. Vera Loshkareva knew she would have to serve the banquet on the water too, so she took her fourteen-year-old son Dima to her mother’s dacha. On Monday, her mother would take Dmitry to school, where she herself taught.
The school year was nearing its end, and it was convenient for Vera that her mother—Tatyana Igorevna Loshkareva—worked at the same school Dima attended. Tatyana Igorevna taught Russian language and literature and was her grandson’s homeroom teacher.
This worked in Vera’s favor—someone was watching over her son, because he had completely let himself go. Even now, if her mother hadn’t taken him to the dacha, he would have spent the entire weekend with friends by the sea, but who would study then?
Vera did not want her son to repeat her path and end up without an education. She would give her child the best: a good profession, a decent education, everything he wished for. But for now, she had to control his desires, as he was interested only in sports, computers, and the sea.
Loshkareva went out into the hall and looked around. It was clear that professionals had prepared the decoration. The hall was stylishly decorated in a classic style: cream and white shades emphasized the elegance of the interior. However, some elements were obviously added by the mayor and his wife—Alla Alexandrovna. Golden balloons, tablecloths, and gilded flowers clearly spoiled the designers’ work. Vera smiled and shook her head.
She knew these people—Pavel Romanovich and Alla Alexandrovna Drobov—well. Even before Pavel became mayor, he was a businessman, the owner of a construction company. Now his brother managed the business, and Pavel himself handled city affairs, not forgetting to ensure the prosperity of the family business.
Before Drobov worked in the mayor’s office, Vera had served as their maid, so she knew what kind of people they were. After one scandal, when she stood up for another servant, she was fired. Since then, she worked as a waitress at the restaurant.
The 35-year-old Vera mentally noted she had been working at this establishment for four years. She was surprised by this fact but only for a moment. There was no time to think—time did not wait. The guests would soon arrive, and the preparations were not yet finished.
She needed to hurry. If she was fired again, especially again because of the Drobovs, it would be absurd. She barely had time to think this when she heard the administrator Alla shouting in a panic that the wedding cortege was approaching.
Finally, Vera could take a short rest. She sat in a corner of the kitchen, leaning against the wall and closing her eyes. She wanted to think about her own things, but the waitresses’ chatter interfered.
“Well, Pavel Romanovich really found himself a son-in-law,” Zinaida was surprised. “Girls, did you see what a freak he is? And that scar on his face. With that kind of money, he could afford plastic surgery.”
“Scars make a man more masculine,” objected Irina Stukina. “He’s not scary at all. I saw him up close. Very interesting man, you can feel the strength in him. When he looked at me, I almost fainted.”
“Oh, he looked at you? Good heavens,” laughed Marina Eduardovna. “He doesn’t even notice us, and if he does, he looks right through us.”
“And have you noticed, girls, I think he looks through the bride the same way,” Marina said thoughtfully. “He doesn’t love her, remember my words—he doesn’t love her.”
“Who is he?” Irina asked. “I heard he’s rich, but nobody knows what exactly he does. There’s hardly any information about him. Just some Count of Monte Cristo.”
“Exactly, a count,” Zina added. “They say Nikolsky will stay here with Alevtina. Apparently, he bought a house near the mayor. It seems like the count came back to dispense justice, and the wife needs a cover. Oh girls, what will happen?!” Zina covered her mouth with her hand and opened her eyes wide.
Vera found it unbearable to listen to these baseless rumors and couldn’t stand it anymore:
“Girls, enough! Honestly, I’m tired of it. Every day the same thing: you latch onto some clients and gossip. Get up—hot dishes will be served in a minute.”
Vera walked left down the corridor toward the kitchen, and the waitresses followed her. Loshkareva took a tray and headed to the hall, glancing in the mirror on the way. She hadn’t gone out to the guests all evening, helping in the kitchen instead.
It was time to serve the hot dishes. Vera walked first, the others followed. She needed to serve a dish to the main table—where the newlyweds, the best man, and the maid of honor were seated.
She walked across the entire hall, concentrating on the tray. She was afraid to stumble. Only when the dish was on the table did Vera smile and look at the bride, then at her husband… and froze.
Vera’s whole body trembled. She almost reached out to touch the shoulder of the mayor’s new husband but managed to lean on the wall in time. She was in shock. In the groom’s seat sat a man she had considered dead fifteen years ago—her late husband Alexander Talyanov.
He looked different—his beard and scar had changed his face greatly—but it was him. Neither time, nor people, nor plastic surgeons could have fully changed him. His eyes, the mole on his right ear, the scar on the back of his head, visible even with a short haircut.
His hands, the way he turned his head, the habit of smiling while raising his left eyebrow—it was definitely him. Alexander Talyanov, Vera Loshkareva’s beloved husband.
With shaky legs, Vera barely made it back to the kitchen and collapsed into a chair. The girls approached her, asking what had happened, but she couldn’t answer. She only whispered that she felt unwell and wanted to be alone for a while.
As soon as the waitresses left her alone, her thoughts drifted far away—to her school years.
Vera Loshkareva grew up with her mother—Tatyana Igorevna, a teacher of Russian language and literature. She never knew her father. When she was little, her mother made up stories about a polar pilot, a war hero, a deep-sea sailor.
When Vera turned sixteen, Tatyana admitted: her father was a random person. They dated for a while, then he went home, promised to return, but disappeared.
Tatyana wrote to him, but the letters came back marked “recipient not registered.” Over time, she understood everything, cried, and gave birth to her daughter.
Mother and daughter always lived alone. There were no relatives, and Vera didn’t ask about them, fearing to hear something bad. Once Tatyana said that her father—Vera’s grandfather—was a very harsh man who threw her out when he found out about the pregnancy and didn’t want to know her anymore.
Tanya got a room in a dormitory, then an apartment, and raised her daughter alone. After university, she got a job at a school where she still works—35 years in the same place. She never remarried and dedicated her life to her daughter and work.
Tatyana dreamed that Vera would get an education, become a professional, and her sacrifice would pay off. But it didn’t happen. Now Vera was 36, a waitress, and Tatyana still hoped that at least her grandson would become a real man.
Vera fell in love in eighth grade—with Alexander Talyanov. Tatyana didn’t expect it. Yesterday it seemed her daughter was playing with dolls and thinking about lessons, and today she talked only about Sasha Talyanov.
Alexander was in tenth grade and actively involved in sports. He brought many medals from interschool competitions, so teachers overlooked his poor grades.
He didn’t care about falling behind in subjects—he planned to enter a physical education institute and become a professional athlete. He boxed, had awards, and was the national champion among boys under 18.
Besides, he played volleyball and went on hiking trips. To be closer to her beloved, Vera joined the school hiking club, participated in all trips, orientation competitions, pretending to love sports, climbing, and extreme activities.
In reality, Vera hated all that. She would rather stay home with a book. But how else to often see Talyanov? Besides, Sasha didn’t even notice the chubby eighth grader with freckles and dimples. He flirted with graduates and college girls, while Loshkareva spun nearby, completely invisible to her idol.
Because of this, Vera came home depressed and cried all night. She refused food, went on strict diets, dreaming to become as slim and sporty as the volleyball players Sasha liked. Alas, nothing worked.
Alexander graduated school, entered institute, left for competitions, and completely forgot the freckled Loshkareva with chubby cheeks. So he didn’t recognize her when they met at a reunion party. By then Sasha had graduated three years ago, and Vera only one year ago.
The young people danced all evening, then Sasha walked the girl home and asked for her phone number. The slim, beautiful girl didn’t remind Alexander that they had already met on a school hiking trip. She didn’t confess her feelings, which she had harbored for years. Let him think he won her over, Vera decided.
“Daughter, why are you so happy lately?” her mother asked one morning.
“I have a boyfriend. We started dating, Mom,” Vera smiled.
“Well, thank God,” Tatyana rolled her eyes. “Who is he? Your classmate? Does he study with you?”
“No,” the daughter smiled. “You know him, Mom.”
“Is it Anton, Aunt Valya’s son?” her mother guessed, having long wanted to match her daughter with her friend’s son.
“No. Think again,” Vera answered vaguely.
“Verunya, come on, I’m late for work,” her mother smiled, gathering her notebooks.
“It’s Sasha Talyanov,” the daughter said dreamily, rolling her eyes.
“What? Who?” her mother exclaimed, falling into a chair clutching her heart. “No way! Him again? I thought it was all over, like a bad dream. Why again?” Tatyana was beside herself. “Verочка, do you forget how much you cried for him? How much you suffered? How you did what you hated? Do you forget you ended up in the hospital after a strict diet?”
“Mom, I love him,” the daughter said joyfully.
“I forbid you to see him,” her mother insisted. “Do you hear me? He will only bring you suffering, make you suffer again.”
“I hear you, but you don’t listen, Mom. I tell you: I love him. And he, it seems, loves me too. He can’t live a day without me,” Vera laughed.
“He loves no one but himself,” the mother waved her hand. “Trust me, daughter, I learned to read people in life. Your Sasha is a narcissist and nothing more. Dump him while you can. You’ll cry with him.”
But the daughter didn’t listen and gave herself fully to the relationship. She devoted herself to her beloved: accompanied him to competitions, supported him during training, helped prepare for trips.
Vera became not just a fiancée, but an indispensable assistant to Talyanov. As a result, she was expelled from university. Her mother was horrified, but the daughter only shrugged:
“Mom, I don’t need it. Sasha will soon become a professional athlete, and I will work only with him,” she said dreamily.
“Work? What will you do? Wash his boxing shorts?” Tatyana laughed. “Fool, go back to university. I’ll help you restore your place. Transfer to a paid department, I’ll help with tuition. Education is important. Sasha is just a temporary passion. And tomorrow he’ll leave, and you’ll be alone. What then? Will you wash floors in a store?”
“He won’t go anywhere. He loves me,” Vera kissed her mother and hurried to her beloved.
Soon the couple started living together. Alexander rented a small apartment by the sea, and their truly happy life began. Vera woke and fell asleep happy. In the mornings they ran along the embankment, exercised, ate breakfast together. In summer, they often drank coffee sitting on the kitchen windowsill of the fifth floor, legs dangling out the window.
Vera found it very romantic. At such moments, she always recalled the words of the song “The best love song,” where it said that lovers sit on a cloud, dangling their legs down. For her, it was a story of great love—where the best thing in the world is just to see the beloved and call him by name.
“Do you love me?” Vera liked to ask.
“I adore you, love you, worship you,” Sasha replied, kissing her on the crown of her head.
More than anything in the world, Vera wished this happiness to last forever. For sunrises by the sea, cliff jumps at dawn, and music of feelings—jazz.
Life with Alexander seemed freedom from all conventions and norms, living for the day. When money ran out, Sasha fought in bouts, and money appeared again.
At first, Vera resolutely opposed her beloved participating in no-rules fights organized in an old abandoned hangar by businessman Innokenty Petrovich Borzov. She understood he was a bandit from the 90s, hiding his affairs behind a respectable mask.
She begged Sasha not to get involved with Borzov, but what could they do—several months’ utility bills were unpaid, and there was only mayonnaise in the fridge? Sasha never became a professional athlete with a worldwide name and million-dollar fees.
Unfortunately, at one championship, Talyanov suffered a serious injury that ended his career. But life must go on. Sasha saw his life only in sports. They dreamed of opening their own sports school but needed startup capital. For now, Alexander made ends meet with fights that paid well.
They had to cooperate with Borzov—the only organizer of such events in the city. One fight allowed him to support himself and Vera for several months. They tried to save money but failed—the recovery after each fight took too long.
Vera forbade him to fight while wounds and bruises hadn’t healed. She raised such a storm that Sasha gave in. In autumn 2008, Talyanov suffered serious injuries and spent a long time in intensive care. Vera didn’t leave his side for a minute. As soon as he regained consciousness and could stand, she dragged him to a church to be married.
They registered their marriage later, after he was discharged from the hospital. Vera insisted her husband swear never to fight in the old hangar again. He promised. They began adapting to a new life: Vera got a job at a shop cashier and baked pies on weekends, selling them to beachgoers.
Sasha caught crabs and shrimp, selling them to local bars. At night, he worked as a security guard at a parking lot. Dreams of fame and wealth didn’t come true, but if there was love, there was happiness. They were still happy. But it doesn’t last forever. Everything changed.
One day, Innokenty Borzov came to their house. Vera was very scared, but Sasha promised to handle everything. The conversation dragged on. It turned out Borzov wanted to get his former fighter back. He offered fights, but Talyanov refused.
Then Borzov began to threaten. He hinted that he had given the money for the apartment Sasha bought. The guy tried to prove the debts were paid, but it was his word against the words of an experienced bandit.
“Listen, kid, Pasha and his brother saw me give you the money. They’ll confirm. But no one saw what you returned to me. How will you prove we’re even if I demand it? Debts must be paid,” Borzov sneered.
“But it’s not fair. I paid everything, you know it. I offered to write an IOU, but you yourself didn’t want it.”
“Want it, don’t want it—you need to think with your head. This is a lesson for you. So on Friday, a fight, and you must participate. Ten to fifteen fights—we’ll be even. Agree?”
“No, I won’t fight anymore. I promised my wife. Besides, fifteen fights is a lottery. I could become disabled. I just got married and want to live with my young wife.”
“Then you don’t want to pay your debt?” Borzov spat. “Then blame yourself.”
“I paid everything long ago and am not afraid of you,” Sasha said calmly.
“You shouldn’t be afraid of me. Let your wife be afraid. She walks home every day on foot? Through Sadovaya, through the park? At seven or eight in the evening. See, I have a great memory. I remember the schedule of a stranger’s wife, though why should I?”
“Just try to touch her, and you’re done,” Alexander replied seriously.
“Well, we’ll see if your threats come true or not,” Borzov laughed and left.
That evening, when Vera was returning from work and Sasha, as usual, met her, he told her about Borzov’s visit.
“Sash, maybe we should give him the apartment?” Vera was scared.
“What do you mean ‘give’? I earned that apartment and paid it off long ago. It’s our home, the home of our future children. Why should I give away what I honestly earned?” he was surprised.
“Then let’s leave town?” Vera tried to find a way out. She knew Borzov was dangerous and would not leave them alone.
“No, Verочка. We need to settle this once and for all. Where would we go? And mom, grandma? We can’t expose them to danger.”
“Maybe we should go to the police?” Vera made another attempt.
“How naive you are, wife,” Sasha smiled and hugged her.
Sasha skipped the fight Borzov talked about. He didn’t show up to Innokenty Petrovich and did nothing to show his consent. He thus made it clear he would not play by the “respected man in town’s” rules, i.e., the bandit.
Sasha thought Borzov just wanted to scare him and if he didn’t react, Borzov would calm down. After all, he had many others ready to do anything for money.
But he was wrong. Borzov was not going to retreat. The next day, he carried out his threat. Sasha’s grandmother, Maria Semyonovna Talyanova, was almost hit by a car. The woman fell and broke her leg.
Alexander immediately understood who was behind this and decided to talk to Borzov seriously. He went straight to his lair—a boxing club where Innokenty had an office and controlled many affairs.
The conversation did not happen. The furious Borzov declared he would make Sasha work for him until the very end. There were many threats, promises, and words. With him in the office were his “bodyguards”—two brothers, Pavel and Vadim, nicknamed Boba.
When Sasha went outside, he realized there was no turning back. The next fight he had to take part in was in two weeks.
But he said nothing to Vera. Instead, he and Sasha’s friends—former athletes—decided to go to the mountains. The group was great. They planned to camp, explore rocks, swim in the bay, jump from heights, catch fish, and roast it on the fire in the evening.
The route was familiar, safe. Even the water jumps were from tested places. But this time, something went wrong.
In the evening, Sasha and Vera wanted to be alone. They left the group and sat on the edge of a cliff where no one had jumped before—the bottom was unexplored. Sasha told a legend about a youth who was thrown from this cliff by guards of a cruel ruler. The girl he loved came here and cried, and her tears turned into pink pearls. Hence the belief: if you get a pink pearl from the bottom and give it to your beloved, the couple will never part.
“Sash, you’re grown up, do you really believe in these tales?” Vera laughed and kissed her husband.
“It’s not a tale. It’s true,” Sasha got offended. “I’ll get a pearl now and give it to you. You’ll see what happens.”
“Hey, don’t you dare,” Vera was scared. “Are you crazy? The bottom here is uncharted!”
Alexander had already taken off his shirt and was left in shorts. Vera tried to stop him:
“I forbid you! Stop scaring me!”
Suddenly voices of guys came from the darkness. They heard a girl’s scream and ran to them.
“Guys, what happened?” Ivan Gerasimov shouted.
Vera turned toward the voice, about to say everything was fine, when she suddenly heard footsteps, a jerk, and ten seconds later—a splash of water. She looked in horror at the spot where Sasha had just stood. There was no one. Vera remembered nothing more.
Sasha never came out of the water to the shore. His body was searched for several days, then some more time—without results. During this time, his wife Vera was in a state resembling stupor: sometimes consciously answering the investigator’s questions, then suddenly freezing, staring at one point, unable to utter a word.
Some time passed, her body couldn’t stand it, and she was hospitalized. After a full examination, the doctor said the threat of miscarriage had passed. Vera could not understand what the doctor was talking about for a long time. She asked when she would be discharged, but Vasily Vasilyevich refused to let the patient go home:
“You must think not only about yourself but above all about the child,” he said.
“What child?” Vera was confused.
“Yours,” sighed the doctor. “You are twelve weeks pregnant, dear. Yesterday you almost lost the baby. You must take care of yourself: no nerves, no crying, no worries. Better to avoid any emotions except positive ones.”
“I’m going to have a baby…” Vera’s eyes widened. “Of course, Sasha and I will have a baby…” She covered her face with her palms and cried.
“What a misfortune!” the doctor exclaimed. “I told you not to worry!”
“These are tears of joy,” the woman could only say through sobs.
When Sasha’s next fight was supposed to happen, their apartment caught fire. Vera was in the hospital all this time and knew nothing. And her mother-in-law Tatyana Igorevna kept silent so as not to upset her daughter-in-law.
Only after discharge did her mother have to tell the truth:
“That’s how it happened, Verочка. No one still knows how the fire started. They say old wiring was to blame,” sighed Tatyana Igorevna.
“That can’t be, Mom. We replaced all wiring during the renovation. But you know, never mind—maybe we’ll be lucky with another apartment,” Vera replied indifferently, carefully holding her belly as she sat in a taxi.
“That’s right, that’s right,” her mother was glad, fearing another nervous breakdown from her daughter. “Forget the apartment. We’ll go to my place. I’ve already cleared your room and wanted to start repairs, but I didn’t dare without you. We’ll think up a nursery for my grandson together,” the woman smiled.
“Great,” Vera nodded. “We’ll do everything.” And immediately the image of her husband appeared before her eyes. Her heart tightened, and a dull pain appeared in her chest. Vera tried to push away the memories. Now the main thing was the baby.
Dima was born a healthy, strong boy. “A real hero,” they said in the maternity hospital. “And who did he get such a fighting spirit from?”
“From his father,” Vera quietly replied, barely holding back tears.
After the son’s birth, Vera lived with her mother. Sasha’s grandmother Maria Semyonovna also helped while she was alive. She loved Dima very much and even bequeathed him her house by the sea. She died peacefully—in her sleep.
Only Tatyana Igorevna remained—the maternal grandmother. She took more care of the grandson than Vera did: took him to kindergarten, then to the sports school, where Dima boxed by desire and played chess by grandmother’s demand. The condition was simple: either both activities or none.
At first, Dima went to chess reluctantly, but soon fell in love with the game. He performed equally well in the ring and at the board. But he didn’t want to study at school:
“How can you shame me, scoundrel!” the grandmother scolded. “I’m an honored teacher, and my grandson is a C student!”
“I’m not a D student, grandma. Why do I need school? I’ll be an athlete,” the boy said proudly.
“Just like his father! Your Sasha Talyanov told me the same at school,” the woman sighed, hugging her grandson.
Vera worked a lot and without days off. Since Dima started kindergarten, she worked in various places: cleaning, shops, as a waitress, a maid in wealthy families. She wanted her son and mother never to need anything. She often regretted not listening to her mother’s advice and finishing university, but now it was too late to change anything.
Vera was snapped out of her thoughts when she was called to the hall: dishes needed replacing, the buffet replenished, drinks distributed. Everything had to be done while the guests danced and had fun.
The woman rushed down the corridor, carrying trays, running back and forth. She got so involved that she didn’t notice she bumped into the groom walking down the corridor. He apologized and wanted to leave but suddenly heard:
“Sasha!”
The man turned, approached her, hugged her waist, and gently pressed her against the wall. His gaze pierced straight into her soul:
“You mean me? You’re mistaken. My name is Mikhail Nikolsky.”
He seemed reluctant to let her go but stepped back and walked on. Vera trembled inside:
“It’s him. I’m not mistaken. It’s Sasha Talyanov. I need to figure out what happened and where he was all these years. I just need to find a way to meet him again.”
The next day everything resolved itself. When Vera was serving guests on the yacht, Alla Alexandrovna Drobova—the wife of Pavel Romanovich—approached her.
“Vera, hello. We need to talk.”
“Good afternoon, Alla Alexandrovna. How can I help?”
“Don’t pretend you’re happy to see me,” the woman said dryly.
Vera just smiled. Professionalism didn’t allow her to show her feelings. She really didn’t want to see again the one who once fired her and kicked her out.
“I want to offer you to come back home to us. We’re renovating now, and our son-in-law and daughter will temporarily live with us. We need a helper. If they like you—you’ll stay with them.”
For Vera, it was like a gift from fate. Only this way could she be near Sasha. She agreed without hesitation:
“I agree! When can I start?”
Alla Alexandrovna was surprised:
“You didn’t even bargain? I thought you were offended. Although maybe that’s your professional advantage. That’s why I want to take you back.”
“Why exactly because of that?”
“Because you know a lot about us but have never revealed secrets to journalists. I value that. I’ll pay well. Only one condition…”
“I’m listening,” Vera smiled again.
“That whatever you hear between my daughter and son-in-law—you tell me.”
“Deal,” the woman nodded, although she didn’t intend to betray trust. But she wasn’t going to argue with the mistress—she needed to get into the house.
After the meeting, Vera mechanically did her work, planning how to approach Sasha, how to start a conversation.
On Sunday morning she went to her mother to ask her to watch Dima and to tell her everything that happened.
“Good thing you came. Help move things to the city. Tomorrow is school. Dima is completely uncontrollable. We need to teach him a good lesson.”
“That’s age, Mom. It’ll pass,” Vera smiled. “I need to talk seriously. I want to ask you to watch Dima for a while.”
“What again? Competition? Shift?” her mother was surprised.
“No, a new job. I might be gone a week, maybe a month.”
“Are you crazy? I can’t keep up with that teenager! Tests, exams… You’ve completely neglected your son. If only he had a father…”
“He has a father,” Vera interrupted. “Mom, I saw Sasha. The day before yesterday and yesterday.”
“What are you saying, daughter? You’re just tired. You don’t need a new job—you need rest,” Tatyana Igorevna said with a soft, slightly confused smile. But suddenly her face became serious: “Where did you see him?”
“At the wedding I served. He married the mayor’s daughter,” Vera sighed.
“No, better take a vacation,” her mother said sternly. “You made something up. I read the news, follow our city group.” She took out her phone and started scrolling. “Look: the wedding was in Moscow a few days ago. After the capital celebration, the newlyweds came here and organized a banquet. The son-in-law of Pavel Romanovich Drobov is Mikhail Alekseevich Nikolsky… Nikolsky, understand?”
“Mom, I’ll explain everything now,” Vera tried to speak, but her mother didn’t let her finish.
“Oh daughter, what passions…”
“What happened?” Vera reached for her mother’s phone, and she continued:
“I read: this morning there was a fire on Lenin Avenue, 8. The fire started in the utility rooms of Innokenty Petrovich Borzov’s boxing club. The fire completely destroyed the building. According to preliminary data, no one was injured.
Borozov was abroad at the time but returned as soon as he learned of the incident. Barely stepping over the threshold of the house, he was arrested. He is charged with negligence and large-scale financial fraud. The investigation is conducted on materials provided by an anonymous person.”
Tatyana Igorevna looked at her daughter, who stood unable to utter a word. Only after a few minutes Vera whispered:
“I told you, Mom… It’s Sasha.”
Vera had no doubt Alexander Talyanov was directly involved in exposing Borzov. But why did he marry the mayor’s daughter? And why did he even return to this house? These questions troubled her.
On Monday, exactly at seven in the morning, Vera Vasilyevna was already working at the Drobovs’ house. As soon as the newlyweds came down for breakfast, she began cleaning their bedroom. With a habitual glance, the woman noted: someone slept alone in the marital bed, the other took the sofa.
The spouses obviously had problems. Unexpectedly even to herself, Vera felt relief. By lunchtime she noticed the bride had gone somewhere with her parents, but her husband stayed home—he sat on the terrace in a chair, slowly sipping whiskey from a glass. An hour later, he asked for another bottle.
Vera beat Marina, the maid:
“Let me carry the tray. I want to get a better look at the new son-in-law.”
“He’s so gloomy, like the devil!” Marina whispered. “Don’t look him in the eyes. He looked at me like that yesterday—I almost sank through the floor.”
“Then we need to get used to it. We have to work with him,” Vera answered confidently and headed toward the terrace.
The mayor’s son-in-law lazily lifted his hat:
“You’re new here?”
“Old,” she answered sharply and immediately whispered: “Sasha, maybe enough playing? Others don’t recognize you, but I do. I would recognize you among a thousand. By your eyes, voice, even your hands.”
“Are you sure you’re all right? Sit down, tell me about your Sasha,” he sneered.
“I’m at work. I can’t sit at the same table with the owners,” Vera said loudly, then whispered again: “How could you do this to me? You should have warned me that you’d jump off the cliff and survive. Why didn’t you let me know?”
Alexander suddenly became serious:
“Why do you think he jumped? Maybe he just slipped?”
“No. He staged an accident to protect me, mom, and grandma. He left to return and take revenge.”
“So your hero isn’t so bad. Interesting story. Now go work—I need to be alone.”
But Vera did not back down:
“I know you destroyed Borzov and burned his club. I want to know—will you disappear again? Who else do you want to take revenge on? Who’s next?”
The man looked at her in surprise:
“Why did you marry the mayor’s daughter? You don’t love her. I understood immediately. You don’t even sleep together. Why? You still love me, Sasha. I feel it.”
His face twitched, but he shouted:
“How dare you! Do you want to lose your job? Get out of here!”
The maids peeked from the windows. Marina covered her mouth with her palm, and Natalia Ivanovna gestured Vera to leave.
The woman cried but was in no hurry to leave:
“I’ll quit myself. I won’t stay in this house a minute longer. If you want to talk—you know where to find me. We live with Dima at my mom’s. That’s your son.”
She saw him flinch at the word “son.” But the moment passed—he became cold again.
The next two weeks Vera lived by a schedule: work—home, home—work. She returned to the restaurant and left the Drobov house. She was sure Sasha would come. But days passed, and he didn’t appear.
Then messages began about the arrest of the mayor and his brother. Both were detained for corruption and embezzlement. It turned out Pavel Romanovich and his brother Vadim (nicknamed Boba) had long cooperated with Borzov. Now Vera understood why Alexander sneaked into the mayor’s house.
How did he become rich? Why marry Drobov’s daughter? And how did he survive the fall from the cliff?
It turned out Alexander really staged the tragedy to protect his family. He wanted revenge, but it was harder than he thought. Borzov and the Drobovs had influential patrons. To oppose such people, Alexander himself had to become stronger. And he succeeded.
He met Alevtina, the mayor’s daughter, in Moscow. The girl had long loved another guy, but her father forbade the relationship. Alexander promised to help if she became his wife. So he got access to documents. Later they divorced, and Alevtina could marry her beloved.
Vera opened the door—no one was there. Only on the floor by the threshold lay a bouquet of flowers and a leather box. The woman entered, took the gifts, and brought them into the apartment.
She put the flowers in a vase, poured compote, turned on the air conditioner, and carefully opened the box. On black velvet lay an exquisite necklace: small white pearls, and among them—fifteen large, perfect pink pearls.
The note contained only one sentence:
“And every year that we did not see each other, I dived to the bottom and rose up. I only ask one thing— forgive me, my love, come back.”
Tears poured from her eyes. Counting the pink pearls, she realized: fifteen years had passed since Sasha disappeared.
Vera ran outside, looking around. And then she heard:
“Vera!”
It was him. Her Sasha. Husband, father of her son, her love.
She was happy.
Life became beautiful again.
