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Desperate to Tie the Knot: After Ten Lonely Years, Dr. Alice Finds Unexpected Romance with a Former Algerian Student—Only for Fate to Bring Her Back to Her Ex-Husband and Knitting Socks for Their Grandchild Alice
IMPATIENT FOR MARRIAGE
Ella is utterly determined to find the right husband. Shes already had one failed marriage.
She has a son, Arthur, who is twenty years old.
Years ago, her marriage ended in the most dramatic way. Ella returned a day early from a work trip only to find her husband, half-dressed, hurriedly making the bed in their room. To make matters worse, her best friend was in the kitchen making coffee in Ellas dressing gown!
It was textbook betrayal. The divorce happened straight away. The treacherous friend was deleted from every phone and social media account. Ella didnt bother with the ugly details. Actions have consequences. She threw her husband out with his belongings and forbade her son from contacting him. At the time, Ella wasnt quite thirty.
More than a decade has passed since then. Ella has earned both her Masters and her Doctorate in English Literature.
By forty, shes become a professor and Head of Department at a well-respected London university. Her expertise is truly valued. Despite ten years spent alone, Ella never stopped hoping to meet a worthy companion. She believed it wasnt time for her to take up knitting and embroidery just yet.
Suitors werent in short supply, but no one seemed capable of winning her heart. One was so hasty, he proposed marriage straight after their first dateborrowing money from Ella (were practically family now) before disappearing without a trace. Another, a widower, was looking for a stepmother for his children. He invited Ella to his house and asked her to cook a meal for his entire family. Ella hadnt expected such a warm reception, but she prepared dinner and fed his three rather young children.
She returned home in tears, feeling sorry for the father and the poor kids, but she knew she couldnt take on such a responsibility. Maybe Im just selfish, Ella tried to reassure herself.
As years passed, potential matches seemed even fewer. Just as Ella was about to give up on finding loveputting a firm full-stop at the end of all these fruitless attemptssomething unexpected happened.
He appeared on her horizon.
He was a former student of hers. David was twenty-eight. Hed once been in her class at university. After graduating, he stayed in Oxford and started a small business.
One day, Ella stopped at a petrol station to fill up her car, only to discover that David owned the place.
They started chatting, reminiscing about university days, laughing together. David handed Ella his business card. Just in case. Somehow, Ella found herself visiting that petrol station once a weeknot just for petrol, perhaps, but to catch up with David as well. David started showing clear interest in her: inviting her to dinner, to classical music concerts. Ella felt awkward and didnt quite believe in the sincerity of her former student. She turned down every invitation.
But David didnt give up. She remembered him wellhis passion for learning and genuine diligence stood out from the rest. David spoke fluent English, and he was handsome in a very striking, quintessential British way. Whenever he walked by, all the girls in the department would swoon. Once, during his student days, David had given Ella a carved wooden box. Inside, there was a note.
When Ella read the note, her cheeks turned scarlet, then went pale. Furious, she ripped the message into tiny pieces. David had written: Professor Ella! I love you!
Ella immediately thought it was some sort of joke. She shoved the box back at David and dashed away.
The next day, David knocked on her office door:
Professor Ella, Im so sorry. I didnt mean to make you uncomfortable. I really do like you.
Ella accepted his apology:
Alright, David. Now off to your lecture. Class is about to start.
For the rest of his university life, David kept his distance, only stealing glances at Ella from afar. And now, by a strange twist of fate, here they are again. Ella is torn. Should she accept his attentions or refuse? Im nobody to him now. Were just a man and a woman. Anything could happen, Ella tells herself.
Eventually, she leaves the decision to fate.
A whirlwind romance begins.
Their first date is unforgettable. David surprises Ella with his gentleness, humour, and romantic spirit. Shes never met an admirer quite like him before. The age difference doesnt matter at all. Ella feels young again, and David seems mature beyond his years.
For her own amusement, Ella starts calling David Dave. He doesnt mind. But David also gives Ella a nicknameEllie. Ella is blissfully happy. For the first time, she truly feels like a desirable woman. That kind of love, once lit, is impossible to extinguish.
David never proposes marriage. Hes planning to return to his home country. He doesnt dare defy his familytheyve already found a suitable bride for him, a seventeen-year-old called Harriet, from a very respectable home. Besides, Ella could never imagine leaving her home and family behind to follow David abroad. How could she possibly leave her son and mother? Its just impossible. Its doubtful that Davids family would accept an older foreign woman as a bride. It simply wouldnt do.
Better the devil you know than the devil you dont.
So Ella decides to pour all her remaining love and tenderness into David while she cancome what may.
How much happiness does a woman my age have left? Not much. Ill love this man as hard as I can. Ill soak up every last drop! she confides in her mother.
Her mother is deeply opposed to her involvement with a foreigner.
Ellie, why on earth do you need this outsider? Are there not enough proper Englishmen around? Ill never give you my blessing! Your ex-husband keeps turning up, waiting on you. Havent you noticed? Why not forgive him and start over? Youve got a son together! her mother laments.
Mum, James cheated on me! Have you forgotten? Ella protests.
Oh, for goodness sake, hes apologised a hundred times! And you know, you did neglect him with all your academic work. Leave a man to his own devices and, well, nature will take its course, her mother continues.
Then why didnt you forgive my father? He begged forgiveness too, Ella retorts.
Well, thats different! Your father left before you were even born. He had three other children elsewhere, then decided to drop by and see you. Why should I take back a man with three children from other women? And could I take him away from those kids? No! But James has been on his own for ten years, waiting for you. Arthur loves him, her mother concludes.
Oh, Mum, Im not planning to marry David. Im too old for him. Ill wait for him to leave me first. I couldnt do it myself. Then, who knows Ella muses.
Ah, my girl, an old mare still craves the salt lick her mother sighs.
Three years later, David says goodbye to Ella. Ill keep in touch, darling, is all he says.
Ella is prepared for this outcome. Still, passing David over to young Harriet hurts more than shed admit. As a parting gift, David presents Ella with that same carved box that started it all. This time, inside is a unique ring made in the shape of two angels, holding a diamond heart between them.
My heart stays with you, Ellie, David says as he kisses her warmly.
He returns to his homeland.
A year later, David sends a photo from his wedding, captioned My wife, Harriet. The next year, theres another photo from a second wedding: My wife, Mary. David explains that in his country, the law allows him to have more than one wife.
Looking at these life updates, Ella feels no jealousy whatsoever. What could those young girls possibly know about love? At least Davids melancholic gaze cheers her a little. Maybe he still misses hermaybe, perhaps, he even loves her still. But old love rusts when new love blows in.
The story ends, the page turns. By now, Ellas son has married and brought his bride home. When the young couple have a daughter, Ella asks them to name her Ellie. She wants to preserve the memory of that burning love forever.
Ella forgivesperhaps simply pitiesher ex-husband James. His wrong is forgiven. James, encouraged by Ellas mother, manages to win her over:
Hes truly sorry. And honestly, who among us is without fault? Sin walks among people, not through empty paths. Not everyone can resist temptation.
So Ella and James live together as a family, making sure to never stray too far from one another. Ella even finishes her knitting classes and now knits little socks with Middle Eastern patterns for her granddaughter, EllieLife settles into an unexpected, gentle rhythm.
Ella, no longer impatient for marriage or desperate for certainty, learns to delight in uncertainty. She gently traces the angels on the ring David left her, sometimes slipping it onto her finger when alone and then tucking it away, smiling at a memory that no longer aches.
Granddaughter Ellie grows up surrounded by storiesnot just fairy tales, but the wild, complicated, hopeful tales of real hearts. Sometimes she sits on Ellas lap and listens, wide-eyed, as her grandmother tells just enough: about a brave but foolish first love, about a lost but loyal friend, about a carved wooden box and two angels, about forgiving without forgetting.
On quiet evenings, with James snoring quietly on the sofa and laughter rising from the kitchen where her son and his wife are dancing to old music, Ella sits by the window with her knitting, looking at the dusky London sky. Is it regret she feels? Not quite. Its something softera gratitude for every heartbreak that taught her tenderness, for every ending that led to a new beginning.
One night, as rain patters at the window, Ella rests her palm over her heart and whispers, Thank youto David, to James, to fate, to all the love she has lost and found and kept living anyway.
When the dawn comes, Ella is already up, setting a breakfast table for her family, the ring hidden but the angels close by.
She no longer waits for happiness to arrive. She welcomes it in, every messy, miraculous day. And in the laughter of her granddaughter, in the forgiving hush between herself and James, in the simple joy of sunlight warming her mug, Ella finally knows:
Love is never wasted, and the best stories never really end.
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Raw Nerves: In This Family, Everyone Lived Their Own Separate Lives. Dad, Alexander, Had Not Just a Wife but a String of Lovers. Mum, Jenny, Turned a Blind Eye, but She Had Her Own Secret Romance with a Married Colleague. Their Two Sons Were Left to Fend for Themselves. Nobody Really Raised Them, So They Wasted Days Wandering Aimlessly. Jenny Claimed the School Was Responsible for Their Upbringing. On Sundays, the Family Would Gather in Silence Round the Kitchen Table, Wolf Down Lunch, and Disperse to Their Separate Interests. They Might Have Continued in Their Broken, Flawed but Comfortably Familiar Existence—Until Irreversible Tragedy Struck. When the Younger Son, Daniel, Was Twelve, Alexander First Took Him to the Garage as His Little Helper. While Daniel Curiously Inspected the Tools, Alexander Stepped Next Door to Chat with Fellow Car Enthusiasts. Suddenly, Black Smoke and Flames Billowed from Alexander’s Garage. (Later, It Would Emerge that Daniel Had Accidentally Knocked a Lit Blowtorch onto a Can of Petrol.) Nobody Understood What Had Happened. People Were Frozen, Panicking, as Fire Raged. Water Was Thrown Over Alexander, and He Bolted into the Inferno. In Moments, He Emerged, Carrying His Motionless Son, Daniel’s Body a Mass of Burns—Only His Face, Shielded by His Hands, Remained Unscathed; His Clothes Were Completely Burned Away. Someone Had Already Called the Fire Brigade and Ambulance. Daniel Was Rushed to Hospital—He Was Alive! He Was Taken Straight to Surgery. After Agonising Hours, the Surgeon Came Out to Daniel’s Parents and Said, “We’re Doing All We Can. Your Son Is in a Coma. His Chances Are One in a Million. Science Is Powerless. Only Extraordinary Willpower—and a Miracle—Can Save Him Now.” Desperate, Alexander and Jenny Raced to the Nearest Church—in a Torrential Downpour. Drenched and Sobbing, They Entered the Sanctuary for the First Time in Their Lives, Begging the Priest, Father George, for Help. “…How grave are your sins?” Father George asked. Alexander, sheepish, replied, “Not murderers, if that’s what you mean…” “But where is your love? Dead underfoot,” the priest reproached. “There’s more space between you than a fallen oak log. Pray to Saint Nicholas for your son’s health—pray fiercely! But remember, it’s God’s will…” At the icon, Alexander and Jenny knelt, weeping and praying passionately—swearing to cut all affairs, vowing to change their lives. The next morning, the phone rang. The doctor reported Daniel was out of his coma. Alexander and Jenny never left his bedside. Daniel whispered to his parents, “Mum, Dad, promise me you’ll stay together,” and, “When I have children, they’ll have your names…” His parents thought he was delirious—after all, he couldn’t even move his finger. But Daniel began to recover. The family’s energy and savings—and even their summer cottage—went into his treatment. The garage and car had burned to ashes, but the main thing was: Daniel was alive. The grandparents pitched in to help, and the family came together through the crisis. A year on, Daniel was in a rehabilitation centre, able to walk and look after himself. He befriended Mary, a girl his own age who’d also been burned in a fire—her face badly scarred after multiple operations, too shy to look in a mirror. Daniel was drawn to her kindness, wisdom, and vulnerability. The two became inseparably close, bonding over pain, recovery, and endless conversation. Time passed… Daniel and Mary celebrated a modest wedding. They had two beautiful children: daughter Alexandra, then three years later, son John. At last, the family could breathe easy. But the ordeal had left Alexander and Jenny drained. They decided to part ways, both craving peace and relief from each other. Jenny moved to stay with her sister in the suburbs, visiting Father George before leaving—he, now a confidant, urged her not to go for long; “A husband and wife are one.” Alexander remained alone in the empty flat, sons with families of their own. Visiting grandchildren was done separately, timings carefully coordinated to avoid crossing paths. And so, after all they’d suffered, every member of the family finally found their own, peculiar peace…
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Desperate to Tie the Knot: After Ten Lonely Years, Dr. Alice Finds Unexpected Romance with a Former Algerian Student—Only for Fate to Bring Her Back to Her Ex-Husband and Knitting Socks for Their Grandchild Alice
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IS IT REALLY THE ORCHID’S FAULT? “Polly, take this orchid or I’ll bin it,” Kate muttered, scooping the transparent pot off the windowsill and thrusting it into my hands. “Thanks, mate! But what did this orchid ever do to upset you?” I was puzzled. There were still three gorgeous, pampered orchids on her windowsill. “That flower was a wedding gift for my son. And, well, you know how that turned out…” Kate sighed heavily. “I know your Dennis and Tanya divorced before their first anniversary. I won’t ask why—it must have been serious. Dennis absolutely adored Tanya.” I didn’t want to reopen an old wound. “Someday I’ll tell you the whole story, Polly. For now, it’s too much to remember,” Kate mused, dabbing her eyes. I brought the “rejected” and “banished” orchid home. My husband looked at the pitiful specimen and said, “Why bother with that runt? Even I can see there’s no life left in it. Don’t waste your time.” “I’m going to revive her,” I insisted. “A bit of love and care, and you’ll see—she’ll be in bloom again.” He winked: “Who can refuse love?” A week later, Kate rang: “Polly, can I come round? I can’t keep this burden inside. I want to tell you everything about Dennis’ disastrous marriage.” “Come right over, Kate. I’m here.” I couldn’t turn her down. She’d been my rock through my first painful divorce—and when things were rocky with my second husband too. We’d been friends forever. Kate arrived an hour later. She settled in the kitchen, and over a glass of dry wine, a cup of strong coffee, and some dark chocolate, the story spilled out. “I never imagined my ex-daughter-in-law was capable of such a thing. Dennis and Tanya were together for seven years before marrying. Dennis left Annie for Tanya—and I loved Annie, so homely and warm, I called her daughter. Then this dazzling beauty Tanya swept in. Dennis was besotted—hovering around her like a bee around a blossom. Love at first sight, absolutely scorching. He pushed Annie aside in a heartbeat. “Yes, Tanya had model looks. Dennis loved when his mates gawped and passers-by turned heads. Yet, no child in seven years. I thought maybe Dennis wanted everything proper—wedded first, then kids. He’s private, never confided much, and we didn’t meddle. “One day he just told us: “‘Mum, Dad, I’m marrying Tanya. We’ve given notice at the registry office. No expense spared—a wedding to remember.’ “We were thrilled—Dennis was thirty, finally settling down. But the wedding date shifted—he was unwell, then I got held up at work. I got a bad feeling, but I saw his happiness and kept silent. “Dennis even wanted a church blessing, but the priest was away. Nothing was going right. Everything was a sign… “Still, we had a big, noisy wedding. Look—here’s the photo. See that orchid? Blooming, magnificent. Its leaves stood tall. Now, they’re just limp rags. “Dennis and Tanya planned a Paris honeymoon, but there was a hitch—Tanya wasn’t allowed to leave the country. Some massive unpaid fine. They were turned away at the airport. Dennis ignored the strings of bad luck, lost in dreams of family life. “But then he got seriously ill—hospitalised. The doctors had little hope. Tanya stuck around for a week, then said: “‘I’m sorry, but I can’t cope with a disabled husband. I’m filing for divorce.’ “Imagine, Polly, what Dennis felt lying there? Still, he replied: “‘I understand, Tanya. I won’t stand in your way.’ “So, they divorced. “But Dennis recovered. We found him a brilliant doctor, who pulled him through in half a year—said Dennis was young enough to bounce back. Our family grew close to the doctor, Peter, who had a lovely twenty-year-old daughter, Masha. Dennis barely paid attention to her: “‘She’s tiny. Not even pretty.’ “‘Give her a chance, son. Looks aren’t everything. You’ve tried the model wife—now, perhaps, try joy over glamour.’ “He couldn’t forget Tanya’s betrayal, yet Masha adored Dennis from the start—she followed him everywhere, phoned him constantly. “We tried matchmaking with a trip in the countryside. Dennis sulked the whole time, nothing cheered him up—campfire, barbeque, our laughter—nothing. Masha followed him with puppy eyes, but he barely glanced at her. “‘It’s hopeless,’ I sighed to my husband. ‘Dennis still loves Tanya. She’s a splinter in his heart.’ “A few months later, Dennis showed up at the door with the infamous orchid: “‘Here, Mum—the last relic of past happiness. Do what you want with it. I don’t want this exotic reminder.’ “I begrudgingly accepted the orchid and took a dislike to it—almost as if I blamed it for my son’s pain. I shoved it out of sight, neglected it. “Then I ran into a neighbour: “‘Kate, I saw your Dennis with a pixie-like girl. His first wife was far more striking, though…’ “I didn’t believe it—could Dennis really be dating Masha? “‘Meet my wife, Masha,’ Dennis introduced her, cradling her hand. “My husband and I exchanged glances. “‘But what about a wedding? Guests?’ “‘No need for a fuss—we’ve done all that. Registered at the town hall, quiet and simple. Father Peter gave us a church blessing. Masha and I are forever.’ “I pulled Dennis aside: “‘Do you actually love her? Please don’t hurt Masha—or marry just to spite Tanya.’ “‘No, Mum, I’m not taking revenge. I’m over that woman,’ he said—he’d stopped calling Tanya by name. ‘As for love… Masha and I just fit perfectly together.’ “That’s my story, Polly.” Kate finally unburdened her heart. …After this heartfelt chat, two years rushed by, life got busy. But the orchid revived and bloomed—they really do respond to love. When I met Kate again, it was at the maternity ward: “Hey, mate, what are you doing here?” “Masha’s had twins. They’re being discharged today,” Kate grinned. At the entrance stood Dennis and Kate’s husband, Dennis clutching a bouquet of red roses. Out came a tired but glowing Masha, followed by the nurse gently carrying two tiny, sleeping bundles. My own daughter was there, snuggling her newborn. Tanya is now begging Dennis for forgiveness and to try again… But you can glue a broken cup, though you’ll never drink from it the same way again…
IS THE ORCHID TO BLAME? Polly, take this orchid away or Ill chuck it out, Kate announced, carelessly lifting the...
Fate on a Hospital Bed – “Young Lady, You Look After Him! I’m Too Scared to Even Feed Him with a Spoon,” She Snapped, Tossing Grocery Bags onto the Bed Where Her Sick Husband Lay. “Please Don’t Worry! Your Husband Will Recover. He Needs Careful Nursing Now. I’ll Help Dmitry Get Back on His Feet,” I, as the nurse, had to reassure the tuberculosis patient’s wife yet again. Dmitry arrived in critical condition, but his will to live gave him good odds. Sadly, his wife Alla didn’t believe in medicine. It seemed she’d given up on him already… Years later, the same fate befell their son Yura. Alla gave up on him too – but Yura survived. Despite his diagnosis, Dmitry joked and laughed, eager to leave the TB ward. His village lacked any specialist hospital, so Alla rarely visited. I felt sorry for him – so unkempt, so abandoned… “Dima, do you mind if I bring you some things? I see you don’t even have slippers,” I teased. “Violetta, I’d swallow poison from you if you said it was medicine. But no, just let me get well first…” My heart fluttered. Was I falling for a married man? I tried not to. But you can’t command the heart… I visited Dima more often. Our talks grew deep; we switched to first names. He had a five-year-old son. “My Yura takes after his beautiful mum… I loved Alla – but she only loves herself. It eats you up… now it’s you caring for me, a stranger,” he sighed. I tried to make excuses for Alla. He shook his head. “A wife can find time for her lovers a hundred miles away—but not for me.” After a fight, Alla vanished. A month passed. Dima told me quietly, “We’re divorcing.” When he was discharged, he asked shyly to stay with me, and I agreed—if he’d accept my child too. He did—and so began our life together. Years passed. We had two children together. His son Yura visits often. My own daughter lives far away; I never regretted being a single mother. As for Alla: she remarried many times, had another son who suffered from mental illness. She remained cold and distant, and when she died, her son was sent to a care home. Now Dima and I are old, but love each other more than ever, grateful for every day together.
FATE ON A HOSPITAL BED Tuesday Ill never get used to certain moments in the ward. Today, Mrs. Parker burst...
I’ve Never Taken What Belongs to Someone Else Once, while still at school, Martha both despised and envied Nastya. She looked down on Nastya because her parents were hopelessly alcoholic, scraping by on odd jobs and living hand-to-mouth. Nastya always wore shabby clothes, seemed half-starved and downtrodden. Her father often hit her—sometimes for drinking too little, sometimes for drinking too much, sometimes for no clear reason at all. Nastya’s mother never stood up for her, too afraid of her husband’s heavy hand. Only her devoted grandmother brought any light to Nastya’s world. Once a month, from her modest pension, Grandma would give her beloved granddaughter a “salary” for good behaviour. Even if Nastya misbehaved, Grandma would always pretend not to notice and hand over her pay anyway—five roubles! For Nastya, that was the happiest day of the month. She’d rush to the shop and buy ice cream (one for herself, one for Grandma), halvah, and a few sweets. Every time, Nastya tried to make the treats last all month—but after two days, they’d always be gone. Then, as if on cue, Grandma would get her own ice cream from the fridge and say, “Here, sweetheart, eat this. My throat is sore today.” “How odd,” Nastya thought, “Grandma’s throat always seems to start hurting the day my sweets run out…” She secretly always hoped to get a share of Grandma’s portion. Martha’s family was the complete opposite. Their home was overflowing with comfort. Her parents earned good money and pampered their only daughter. Martha was always dressed in the latest fashions, and her classmates sometimes borrowed her things. She was never denied anything—well-fed, well-dressed, and shod in the best shoes. Yet Martha envied her classmate’s enchanting beauty, the warmth that radiated from Nastya, and her natural ability to get along with everyone. Martha, however, considered herself above even talking to Nastya. Whenever they crossed paths, Martha would glare at her so coldly, it felt to Nastya as if she’d been doused in ice water. Once, Martha insulted her in front of everyone: “You’re pathetic!” Nastya ran home in tears and told her grandmother. Grandma sat her down, stroked her hair and said, “Don’t cry, Nastya. Tomorrow, tell her, ‘You’re right—I belong to God!’” Nastya felt better right away. Martha was beautiful herself, but her beauty came with an air of coldness and distance. Then there was Max, the class heartthrob—carefree, always joking, not bothered by failing grades or scoldings from teachers. His outlook was sunny, and his optimism infectious; even the teachers liked him, despite his troublemaking ways. In their final years at school, Max began escorting Martha home after lessons and waiting for her at the school gate in the morning. Their classmates teased: “Here come the bride and groom!” Even the teachers noticed the blossoming romance between Max and Martha. Eventually, the final bell rang, prom night passed, and the classmates went their separate ways. Max and Martha married in a hurry—the “evidence of love” couldn’t be concealed, not even by Martha’s elaborate wedding dress. Within five months, she gave birth to a daughter, Sofia. After school, Nastya was forced to get a job. Her beloved grandmother had passed away, and now her parents depended on Nastya’s income. She had plenty of admirers, but none touched her soul, and she was ashamed of her alcoholic family. A decade slipped by… One day, in the waiting room at the addiction clinic, there were two pairs: Nastya with her mum, Max with Martha. Nastya immediately recognized Max—he was now an impressive man, but Martha was nearly unrecognizable: gaunt, hands shaking, dead-eyed, only 28 but looking much older. Max greeted Nastya, embarrassed. “Hello, classmate,” he said, not wanting Nastya to witness his family’s misery. “Hello, Max. Looks like trouble at home. Has it been going on for long?” Nastya asked quickly. “A while,” he confessed, awkwardly. “A woman who drinks—it’s a disaster. I know from my mum. My father literally drank himself to death,” Nastya sympathized. After the appointments, Max and Nastya exchanged numbers for support. Misery loves company, and Max started visiting Nastya for advice. She shared her hard-earned wisdom about living with alcoholics, what treatments worked, and what absolutely didn’t. She knew, as so many drowned in the bottle, it wasn’t always obvious from the surface… Max confided that he and his daughter Sofia had long lived alone—Martha had returned to her parents’ home. Max had shielded Sofia from her unpredictable mother. The breaking point was when Max came home to find Martha drunk on the floor and three-year-old Sofia teetering on the windowsill, poised to fall from the fifth floor. After that, Max took no more chances. Martha refused help, convinced she could stop anytime. She was drawn to the abyss—and wanted to fall as far as possible. Their marriage ended. Later, Max invited Nastya to a restaurant and confessed: he’d loved her since their schooldays, but was too afraid of rejection, then Martha had become pregnant… Life tumbled on. Meeting at the clinic had seemed like fate. Chatting with Nastya was like a soothing balm. Max proposed marriage, and after all these years, Nastya was finally ready to accept his love—especially now that Martha was out of the picture. Nastya and Max married quietly, and she moved in with him. At first, Sofia was wary of sharing her father’s love, but Nastya’s kindness soon melted her heart, and before long, Sofia started calling her “mum.” A few years later, Sofia gained a little sister, Molly. One day, their doorbell rang. Nastya opened it to find—Martha, utterly changed, reeked of alcohol, a living warning. “You snake! You stole my husband, my daughter! No wonder I’ve hated you all my life!” Martha hissed. Nastya stood calm, confident, beautiful. “I have never taken what was not mine. You gave up your family by choice, never understanding why. I have never uttered a bad word about you. I truly pity you, Martha…” With that, Nastya closed the door on her uninvited guest.
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