The aroma of freshly brewed coffee and the sweet hint of baked goods hung in the air, creating a cozy atmosphere that contrasted sharply with Anna’s inner state. She had ducked into this café for a quick lunch — a rare luxury in her hectic schedule lately. Home-cooked meals had become an unattainable dream, giving way to quick bites on the run. She found a free table by the window, sank gratefully into the quiet, and savored the prospect of a few minutes’ peace. But fate, it seemed, had other plans, presenting her with an unexpected and unpleasant encounter.
“They say an old wife is better than two new ones,” came a voice from the next table — familiar, painfully familiar — and Anna felt a chill inside.
She shivered involuntarily, trying not to give herself away. Could it be him? Her heart began to pound, reminding her of old scars that had long since crusted over but were still tender to the touch. Slowly, almost reluctantly, she turned her head and cast a cautious glance over her shoulder. No, she wasn’t mistaken. At the next table, half-hidden in the soft shadow of a tall ficus, sat the man whose name had become synonymous with pain and betrayal. Beside him was his constant friend, and their quiet conversation seemed to swallow all other sounds.
“And they’re right when they say only by losing something do you truly start to value what you had,” the friend went on, his voice muffled, though Anna caught every word. “Do you think she’ll even want to hear you out? Give you a chance?”
“Where else is she going to go?” Mark retorted with smug confidence. “You remember perfectly well how she felt about me. Feelings that deep don’t just disappear without a trace — they just go dormant for a while. I’m absolutely sure that deep down she still keeps a warm place for our story. I haven’t changed at all — if anything, I’ve become even more attractive, not for nothing that I spend all those hours at the gym. I just need to put in a bit of effort, show some persistence, and everything will fall back into place. I’m sure we’ll be together again very soon.”
Anna’s fingers clenched around the metal fork so hard the pattern pressed clearly into her palm. A familiar, long-forgotten heaviness throbbed in her chest. There was no doubt — he was talking about her. Three long years had passed since their paths had finally diverged. Back then, young and bewildered, she’d spent sleepless nights with her face buried in a pillow, trying to stifle the unbridled grief. She had truly believed she couldn’t take a step without this man, that her life had lost all meaning. But time, that great healer, did its job. It didn’t just close the wounds — it helped her be reborn. She hadn’t merely learned to live anew; she had rebuilt herself from the ground up, become the person she had always dreamed of being: strong, independent, accomplished.
Anna hurried to finish her lunch, caught the waiter’s eye, gave a nod that she was ready to pay, and slipped out of the café, doing her best to remain unnoticed. She silently thanked the heavens that their eyes hadn’t met. Mark hadn’t lied — outwardly, he looked excellent. Men like him often become objects of general admiration; their photos grace glossy magazine pages. Perfect features, a toned, athletic body. But Anna had learned through bitter experience that a handsome exterior does not necessarily conceal an equally fine interior. In his case, his inner world was the complete opposite of his flawless appearance.
Once inside her car, she laid her hands on the cool surface of the steering wheel, closed her eyes, and let her memory carry her back to the distant past, to the day their fates first intertwined. He had appeared in her life like a hero from an old film — suddenly and spectacularly. A late evening, a deserted bus stop under a dim streetlamp, and a group of tipsy young men who decided she would be easy prey for their foolish jokes. She never did understand where he came from. Tall, self-assured, with just a couple of sharp phrases he made the hooligans retreat. Then he offered to walk her home, and under the starry sky they talked the entire way. He asked for her number, saying he had never met such a charming and intelligent girl. For young Anna — unspoiled by male attention, living in a world of books and study — he instantly became an ideal, the embodiment of a dream. She fell head over heels, blinded by his boldness and polished exterior. Their relationship developed swiftly. Mark was not a fan of long courtship. He declared that he had found the one with whom he wanted to walk life’s entire path, and he proposed with such romantic solemnity that Anna didn’t have a shadow of doubt. She floated on clouds of happiness, thanked fate for such a gift, and could never have imagined that just two years later her wings would be ruthlessly broken and she herself would sink into an abyss of despair and self-doubt.
His mother, Galina Petrovna, made her opinion of her son’s choice known from the very first meeting. She didn’t hide her disdain, openly stating that she didn’t like Anna and that the girl didn’t meet her lofty standards.
“And what did he see in her?” she complained to a neighbor, not mincing words and not realizing that Anna could hear every syllable. “There’s nothing to her face. If she were a great beauty, fine — but there’s nothing special there. My son deserves much better.”
Anna would stand for long stretches before the mirror, studying her reflection, trying to find the very flaws Galina Petrovna spoke of so confidently. In school she had often been called the prettiest girl in the class; many classmates tried to win her favor. But she had been too absorbed in her studies and in dreams of the future to pay much attention. At university she likewise kept to herself, avoiding stormy romances and fleeting affairs. And now, under constant pressure and criticism, she began to doubt herself. She hunted for nonexistent defects, tried to fit someone else’s expectations, and with each passing day it became harder to convince herself that these were just words and that she truly deserved love and respect.
After the wedding, Mark changed beyond recognition. The gallantry and care he had so lavishly displayed while courting disappeared. Now he was constantly dissatisfied with something. If Anna cooked dinner, he compared her dishes to his mother’s culinary masterpieces and demanded she “raise her level” at once. One day the shirt wasn’t ironed well enough; another day he would find dust in the most unexpected spot in the apartment. It seemed he deliberately searched for any pretext to reproach her, to make her feel guilty and inadequate. And he succeeded wonderfully. Day by day, Anna recognized less and less of the cheerful girl full of hopes and ambitions she had once been. In her place there gradually appeared a cowed, unhappy shadow, forever apologizing for existing. Her heart ached constantly, but she could find no strength to change anything, sincerely believing that all the problems lay within her.
The end of this exhausting story came when, by a bitter twist of fate, Anna returned home much earlier than usual and found Mark not alone. The pain that pierced her at that moment defied description. She was breathing, but no air entered her lungs. She stood on a solid floor, yet felt a dizzying plunge into the void. She was alive, but something inside her died forever then. There were no loud scenes, no shouting or shattering dishes — only a deafening silence and the sensation that her insides were being slowly corroded by acid. Automatically, without a word, she packed her things into a suitcase and left the rented apartment that had so recently seemed their shared nest. All the plans they had built together, all the hopes for a happy future, all the bright dreams — it all crumbled to dust in an instant, shattered against the harsh cliffs of reality.
Mark didn’t even try to apologize. Instead, he behaved as if the blame lay solely with her. He accused her of coldness and lack of attention, claiming that it was precisely this that had driven him to his fateful step.
“I didn’t have enough of your warmth, your care,” he said with icy calm. “So I had to look for it somewhere else. And don’t play the innocent lamb now. You know perfectly well you drove me to this. Let’s just forget this unpleasant incident and give each other another chance to start over with a clean slate.”
“No,” she replied, her voice quiet but unbelievably firm. “There will be no chances. I will never be able to forgive what happened.”
“In that case, we’ll have to file for divorce. My mother, by the way, will be thrilled. You were always an eyesore to her. And you know what I’m thinking now? Why did I put up with this for so long? I gave you the chance to change, and this is how you thanked me.”
Their paths finally diverged. The first months were a true test of endurance for Anna. She hovered on the brink of despair; her thoughts were tangled, and the world around her seemed gray and hostile. She became a shadow of herself, forcing herself to perform even the simplest tasks. But one day, at her darkest moment, something clicked in her mind. She was seized by a sudden, crystal-clear realization: the problem hadn’t been her. The problem lay with the people she had naively let into her life, trusting a fleeting flash of feeling. Her parents, seeing her suffering, did everything possible to support her, and she understood that she owed it to them to summon all her will. She had to return to normal life, to the goals and aspirations she’d had before meeting Mark.
Three years later, Anna looked at her failed marriage as a valuable, if painful, life experience. Did she regret the lost years, the dreams that didn’t come true? Perhaps only a little. She realized that if it hadn’t happened then, things might have ended far worse. The encounter with Mark had taught her to see through people, to cast aside blind trust, and to defend her boundaries and dignity.
Her rapid career rise was not luck but the result of titanic effort and dedication. Anna worked tirelessly, performing her duties with maximum commitment, and her diligence didn’t go unnoticed by management. Over those three years she achieved financial stability, bought herself a cozy apartment and a reliable car. Good bonuses, fair pay — all of it was the natural result of her efforts. Now she dreamed of a new step: to buy a small country house by the sea for her parents so they could rest there. As for her personal life… perhaps one day she would allow herself to open her heart to new feelings. But now she would look at any chosen partner with clear, attentive eyes, without the rose-colored glasses that had once kept her from seeing a person’s true nature.
She shook her head, as if dispelling a spell, and did her best to drive the overheard conversation from her mind. Even if Mark had been talking about her, he didn’t have the slightest chance. She had firmly grasped one simple truth: people don’t change in their essence. They can learn to pretend better, to mask their true intentions, but their inner self remains the same. For a person to truly want to change, something genuinely seismic has to happen in their life — a shock that forces them to reassess all values. Nothing of the sort had happened to Mark. As mutual acquaintances reported, he continued to live under his mother’s tight wing, had managed to marry twice in that time and just as quickly divorce. Anna didn’t care for the details of his life, considering that chapter closed forever. She thought he had long since crossed her out of his reality as well. Yet some vague premonition told her that the conversation at the café had been about her, and that very soon they would meet again, face to face.
Her premonition didn’t deceive her. Only three days passed, and when Anna left the office heading for her car, a familiar figure blocked her way. Mark stood there with a huge bouquet of white chrysanthemums. She didn’t even want to think about how he had learned where she worked. Had he been following her? Or had some old mutual friend decided to help him? Pretending not to notice him or not to recognize him would have been silly and absurd. Summoning all her will, Anna walked up to him slowly, keeping a mask of calm indifference on her face.
“Unexpected meeting,” she said, striving for an even, neutral tone. “Are you waiting for someone?”
“I’ve been waiting for you, Anya. I miss you. I miss you terribly — our home, everything we had,” he said in an affectedly gentle, wheedling voice. “You can’t imagine how empty and joyless everything became after we split. I’ve rethought everything. I understand how wrong I was, how foolishly I destroyed it all. Look, I brought you flowers. Your favorites.”
White chrysanthemums. Yes, once they had been her favorite flowers. Now they only sparked bitter associations. But the flowers themselves weren’t to blame for human treachery, and after a brief pause she accepted the bouquet.
“Anya, give me one single chance, I beg you!” He looked at her with a pleading gaze that once might have moved her to the core. “We went through so much together! You loved me once! And I love you — I only realized it now. We can still make it work, I swear! No more reproaches, no more grievances, no one on the side. I’ve understood everything, I’ve changed, I want to be only with you.”
Anna couldn’t help a faint smile. The irony of the situation was striking. Once, what felt like a lifetime ago, she had stood in his place, begging for a chance to set things right, to be better, more attentive, to please him — and he had only turned away coldly, finding new reasons to criticize. And now he was talking about a chance. It felt strange, and a little pitiful, to hear that from a man who had seemed to breathe a sigh of relief when their marriage fell apart.
“You’re so successful now, accomplished! Mother will be delighted to see you! Come back to me, please!”
These last words made Anna laugh openly, without a trace of embarrassment. There it was — the true reason for his sudden enlightenment! Her financial well-being, her status — that was what had attracted him and his mother. Now, no doubt, Galina Petrovna was biting her elbows, regretting that she had once so carelessly pushed away such a “promising” daughter-in-law.
“You’re wasting your time and energy, Mark,” she said, her voice firm and final. “You just said it yourself: I loved you. That was in the past. Now I have a completely different life, and there isn’t a single place for you in it.”
“Who are you trying to fool? I can see how you’re looking at me!” irritation crept into his voice. “I know you haven’t had anyone all this time. Not a single man! And you know why? Because deep down you still have feelings for me. Anya, stop pretending to be an impregnable fortress! Now nothing will prevent us from being together, even my mother is completely on our side. Come on, let’s go to your place… I’ve missed you so much.”
He took a step forward, reaching out to embrace her. Instinctively, Anna recoiled; her heel caught awkwardly in the seam between paving tiles, and she lost her balance. But she did not fall. Strong, reliable arms caught her at the last moment. She looked up and met the gaze of Mikhail — the head of the logistics department, her colleague, with whom in recent times she had shared not only work projects but also warm, friendly conversations.
“Being pestered by pesky admirers again, Anya?” he said with a light, encouraging smile, still holding her. “How many times do I have to say it — it’s long past time we legalized our relationship so the whole world knows your heart is taken.”
For a second Anna was taken aback, but then, feeling his steady support, she easily fell into the play.
“Yes, I think you’re right. It’s time. Are you done with work matters?”
They stood side by side as if they had forgotten Mark’s presence, forming a single whole, an invisible wall he could not cross. Looking at them — at that silent solidarity — Mark finally understood with perfect clarity the futility of his efforts. He had irretrievably missed his chance many years ago, and now any word or gesture would be a pathetic parody of a relationship. He turned and walked away without a word, head bowed, preparing to face another round of reproaches from his mother, who had been so sure of his success. But there’s no forcing back lost trust, and even less can you make someone love you again.
“Thank you, Mikhail,” Anna said softly when Mark had disappeared from view. “You really helped me.”
“A simple ‘thank you’ won’t do here,” he replied, still smiling, though there was something more serious in his eyes than just a joke. “If you haven’t forgotten, I just made you an official proposal, and you said yes. I could suggest we head straight to the registry office, but I won’t rush things that much. The truth is, I’ve liked you for a very long time — I just wasn’t sure how you felt. How about we spend this evening together? Grab dinner somewhere, take a walk?”
“R-right now?” she asked, surprised, feeling a light blush spread across her cheeks.
“Right now,” Mikhail nodded. “Why not? The workday’s over, and there’s a whole evening ahead — one we can spend usefully and enjoyably in good company.”
Anna didn’t look for reasons to refuse. She had long felt a fondness for Mikhail, and now she sensed she was ready to take a step toward new feelings — to put a big, final, emphatic period at the end of the story called “Mark.” She nodded, and her smile this time was not feigned but genuine — coming straight from the heart that had finally freed itself of the heavy burden of the past.
