You’ve only managed to earn enough for this rundown shack!” Those words echoed sharply in Zhenya’s mind all the way home. “What did you expect, Zhenya? A happy life? Well, congratulations—you got exactly what you deserved!”
She dropped her heavy bags and sank onto an old tree stump. Everything had started so well… Or was she only fooling herself? Twenty years with Misha ended one morning when she came home from a night shift to find her husband wasn’t alone—and her belongings neatly packed by the door.
“Misha, what does all this mean?” she asked, stunned, unable to lash out at the young woman in a light robe who strolled through their apartment.
“It means, my dear, I no longer want to hide. I want to be with my true love, not you.”
“Misha, what are you saying? We’ve been together for twenty years!”
“Exactly—twenty years of misery. You know very well we never had real love. Besides, you made me marry you!”
“What? What nonsense are you talking about? I thought you were different… but you’re just ordinary!”
Zhenya wanted to say that everyone seems perfect at first, and then… but Misha cut her off.
“Enough. I don’t need your excuses. Pack up and leave. I’ve already filed for divorce.”
“But where am I supposed to go?” she asked, lost.
Her husband laughed, and his new lover leaned against his shoulder, joining in.
“Here, take the keys. This place is just for you. You don’t deserve anything more.”
“Misha, but—”
Before she could finish, he pushed her out like a stray cat and locked the door behind her. Zhenya heard the click of the neighbor’s door locking and rushed down the stairs. Shame overwhelmed her. The words of a neighbor echoed in her mind: “She’ll cry her eyes out with Mikhail.”
How fiercely she’d defended him once, telling everyone she had the perfect husband. She had built a cult around Misha in their home, believing that’s how it should be, like in those romance novels she adored.
Her mother often scolded her:
“Zhenya, you read nonsense and dream of the impossible! There are no princes on white horses—those are all taken before kindergarten. Better go feed the chickens and clean the pigs.”
Zhenya scrunched her nose, waiting for the day she could leave the village for the city where she was sure she’d find her destiny. No more washing clothes by hand or hauling water and firewood.
And that day came. Though it cost her some blood and nerves when Stepan learned of her plans. But Zhenya was firm:
“I don’t want to live like you. I just don’t!”
“So we live badly, huh? And Stepan’s not good enough for you?”
“I always dreamed of marrying a tractor driver!”
“You know, Zhenya, sometimes I think they swapped babies in the maternity ward. No way you’re our daughter!”
Zhenya snorted:
“I wouldn’t mind if you stopped calling me your daughter. Better to twist cows’ tails than be related to you!”
She left. She saw her mother’s tearful eyes but went anyway. At the bus stop, Stepan ran after her.
“Zhenya, you’re leaving?”
Stepan was kind and she liked him, but she couldn’t see a future with him. They would have stayed in the village.
“I hope never, Stepan! What are you saying? Okay, maybe me, but my parents! My parents don’t want a daughter like me!”
The bus arrived. Zhenya stepped inside, looked back, and shouted desperately,
“Take the girl for a ride—”
Then she sat down. Sadness faded quickly because she knew for certain she was heading toward her happiness.
She met Mikhail at the factory where she had just started working. He was the manager of her workshop. It took effort, but within four months they married. From that moment, Zhenya began building the life she had dreamed of.
She renovated, hunted for a stylish sink, and mostly worked nights. Misha hinted a few times that she should get an education to move beyond blue-collar work. But Zhenya wasn’t interested—soon Misha became her idol. He seemed to like the role: fancy clothes, suits, tasty breakfasts, spotless cleanliness. Zhenya sighed to her coworkers:
“Ugh!”
She stopped going home. At first she didn’t want to, then felt ashamed for staying away so long. Years passed… How could she face them now? And who even knew if everyone was alive and well?
Zhenya got up. According to the bus driver, it was still at least an hour’s walk. No matter, she’d walk and lie down. Maybe never get up again. Everything had fallen apart. Maybe nothing ever happened—just a figment of her imagination?
“Help!”
Zhenya froze. She was walking a dirt road. A minute before, no one was there. She turned and saw a disheveled girl rushing toward her, followed by a pack of boys. Behind them ran two women. Everyone was shouting.
The girl was a gypsy, and the boys and women intended to beat her. Zhenya stood firm and grabbed a stick.
“Stop right there! What do you think you’re doing?”
The boys scattered, but the women didn’t back down.
“Who are you? Step aside, or we’ll teach her a lesson! Let her know what happens to thieves!”
“And what did she steal from you?”
“Sour cream from me, and a piece of pork fat from me! Shameless!”
Zhenya looked at them with disdain.
“You didn’t even spare the kids their food!”
She took out her wallet, pulled all the remaining bills—even though it was all she had left—and threw the money on the ground.
“Pick it up. Enough fighting over such nonsense.”
“Watch yourself, gypsy! And you, girl, don’t show up in our village anymore!”
“There’s no need to attack decent people just because of a gypsy!”
The little ragged girl only let go of Zhenya when the women disappeared into the bushes.
“Thank you!” the girl smiled. “You don’t seem scared at all.”
“I’m just tired. I’ve been wandering a long time.”
“Why do you steal, gypsy?”
The girl shrugged.
“Well, to be honest, we always steal. It’s our job.”
Zhenya barely held back a smile.
“And you say it so calmly?”
The girl pulled out the pork fat, bread, then somehow produced a knife. Green onions appeared, and apparently the jar of sour cream.
“Hungry? Sit down. I don’t live far, but you still have a long way.”
Zhenya raised her eyebrows in surprise.
“How do you know?”
“I know everything. First, I’m a gypsy. Second, I come from a family of fortune-tellers.”
Zhenya laughed.
“Oh, come on! Fortune-tellers don’t exist. It’s all made up to scam people.”
The pieces of pork and green onions looked delicious. “Well, stolen or not,” she thought, “I haven’t eaten since morning.”
“Can you tell my fortune? But I have no money left.”
The girl looked seriously at her.
“I can. But you won’t believe it. And I’ll decide if I trust you. Give me your hand.”
The gypsy studied her palm carefully, then her voice changed completely.
“Don’t regret what happened. What was lost wasn’t yours. It was punishment for rejecting happiness sent from above. Now everything will return to where you went wrong.”
Zhenya blinked in confusion.
“I don’t understand.”
The girl looked at her and answered in a normal voice:
“No need. When the time comes, you’ll understand yourself. I have to go now. Must reach home before sunset.”
She gathered the remaining food, hid it in invisible pockets of her long skirt, and ran down the road. Zhenya murmured,
“They’re all so strange.”
The house she finally reached was truly falling apart. Two windows had only glass left, and the yard was overgrown with grass. Apparently, it used to belong to Misha’s relatives.
What would she do here? Had she acted impulsively, trying to prove something? Or maybe she’d find something… Okay, she’d live here a few days. Or at least one day to rest—and then back!
She cleared the trash from the room with intact windows, spread her own blanket on the bed, and lay down. But no sooner had she closed her eyes than tears began to fall. “So, I lived twenty years and…”
She didn’t immediately hear voices in the house.
“Is there anyone alive here?”
Startled, she jumped up.
“Who’s there?”
“That’s it,” she thought. Who would wander into such a place? Slowly, she opened the door.
“Who’s here?”
A broad-shouldered man stood with his back to her, startled.
“Oh, you scared me! Funny, you were just looking for the living.”
“I was looking but didn’t expect to find any. Sorry. I’m coming back from hunting, my car broke down right near your house. Thought the house was empty, maybe I could stay the night…”
Zhenya straightened.
“How did you get here, in the middle of nowhere? You know, I lived in the city, I have a husband… Stepan, I’m so glad to see you! What happened? Why are you crying?”
Zhenya wept out loud, unable to stop. Stepan sat her down and said,
“Since fate brought us back together, I’m not going anywhere. Tell me everything. Let’s talk.”
An hour later, they sat at the table. Stepan pulled out a flask and poured its contents into plastic cups.
“Come on, Zhenya, down it in one gulp! It’ll be easier to talk.”
Zhenya spoke without pause, Stepan listened carefully.
“So that’s how I threw away twenty years of my life over my own foolishness.”
“Don’t say it was all for nothing. The main thing is realizing you took the wrong turn.”
“Today the gypsy told me not to regret anything, that I returned to the place where I made the mistake. And those mistakes were so many, I can’t count them!”
Stepan laid his hand on hers.
“Start fixing it. What’s wrong? You’ve got a chance, and such happiness rarely comes.”
“I’m guilty before my parents.”
“Yes, that’s true. But I’m sure they’ll forgive you.”
Zhenya looked at him with fear.
“Are they alive and well?”
“Of course! They’re not as spry as before, but they’re hanging in there. Mom raises chickens and ducks.”
Zhenya started crying again.
“God, I’ve been such a fool! Alright, let’s get some sleep, and in the morning we’ll go. Back to where you once ran away from.”
They lay down together without undressing, simply because it felt warmer and safer. Stepan held her, and Zhenya quickly fell asleep.
Her mother didn’t even let her say a word. Before Zhenya could apologize, her mother hugged her and cried. Zhenya understood: she’d rather die than ever abandon her parents again.
The village seemed to forget that she had run away years ago and hadn’t returned. People greeted her warmly, saying she had blossomed and become beautiful.
Within two days, her heart began to thaw. Zhenya tried to help her mother with chores, but her mother waved her off:
“Rest after the city!”
And Zhenya was resting indeed. Her room was just as before: not a speck of dust, fresh linens. Her mother must have refreshed everything regularly. Waiting…
On the third day, before dawn, someone knocked on the window. Zhenya startled awake. A head appeared at the window. It was Stepan.
“Why are you so scared? Get ready, we’re going fishing. I brought a rod for you.”
Zhenya quietly laughed. It was exactly like twenty years ago when he woke her for fishing. Whether she wanted to or not, he didn’t care. She climbed out the window and pressed close to him.
“Stepan, you’re amazing.”
He looked at her seriously.
“You didn’t think that before.”
Zhenya smiled.
“I was a fool before. Now I’m wiser.”
“Maybe you’ll marry me?”
Zhenya became serious.
“If you ask, maybe I will.”
Then she laughed.
“If you catch me!”
She dashed toward the river. It didn’t matter that she’d turn 42 in three days. At that moment, she was again the young girl who’d made so many mistakes.
A year later, she was already babysitting little Egor…