A chilly autumn wind drove yellow leaves down the village street as Alina stepped off the bus. Her legs ached after the long journey, and her heart felt heavy—saying goodbye to her grandfather had been hard.
She had barely taken a few steps from the stop when she heard a familiar, slightly hoarse voice: “Alinushka, dear, how was your trip?”
Nina Petrovna, the local paramedic, hurried toward her, waving her arms. A plump woman in a worn medical coat over a warm sweater, she was one of the few in the village who could understand and support Alina.
Although her husband, Pavel, didn’t like the medic and often made fun of her professionalism, calling her a “country healer,” Alina had a warm and trusting relationship with Nina Petrovna.
“More or less, Nina Petrovna,” sighed Alina, slowing her pace. She didn’t want to talk about the trip, but she knew the conversation was inevitable. “But I still couldn’t make peace with Grandpa before he passed. He carried his grudge with him…”
“Yeah, my girl,” Nina Petrovna shook her head, adjusting a gray strand of hair that had slipped out from under her cap. “Your grandfather was a stubborn, proud man. With such a character, even if you wanted to, it wouldn’t always work to make peace. May his soul rest in peace.” After a pause, she asked, “How’s your husband? Still sick?”
Alina sighed deeply again, fiddling with the handle of her worn bag. “He’s lying there, weak. No appetite, no energy. We’ve seen all the doctors—none can help. He’s already preparing for the worst… He says he feels like his time is up.”
“Don’t talk nonsense!” Nina Petrovna suddenly snorted, her eyes flashing with indignation. “Your Pavel is clearly putting on an act! He’s putting on a performance—Stanislavsky himself would envy it!”
“Why are you saying this?” Alina was hurt, though deep down, doubts were beginning to creep in. “Pasha really is suffering. How can he be at fault if the doctors can’t find a diagnosis?”
“Ah, young one…” The medic waved her hand. “The reason the doctors don’t see anything is that there’s nothing to find. But you’ll understand everything in time,” she said cryptically, giving Alina a knowing look before disappearing down the alley, leaving the girl swirling in anxious thoughts.
Alina didn’t want to go home. She headed towards the river and sat on a fallen tree that the locals used as an impromptu bench. A scene from their farewell before she left for the funeral flashed in her mind.
When Pavel heard of her intention to leave, he dramatically sighed, covering his eyes with a hand that was as thin as wax: “Of course, go ahead, dear. I understand… Just remember, inheritance doesn’t lie on the road. When I die, there won’t be any money for my funeral anyway.”
Now those words stung her heart. Alina remembered how it all began. After graduating from the music school, she categorically refused to pursue a career as a violinist, contrary to all of her grandfather’s hopes.
“I’ll never touch this instrument again!” she declared, placing her red diploma and the beloved violin her grandfather had given her when she was twelve before him.
“What do you mean, you won’t play?” Grandpa turned red with anger, his hands, rough from hard labor, clenched into fists. “I devoted my whole life so you could become a musician! Are you going to twist cow tails now?”
“Better twist cow tails than play the violin!” she blurted out, immediately regretting her words, but it was too late. Hurt and pride wouldn’t let her take them back.
That’s how she ended up in this village, becoming the head of the local club. Here she met Pavel—the only guy who didn’t swear and seemed like the perfect life partner. He admired her determination, spoke beautiful words about the future, and gradually, Alina forgot about city life and suitors who were willing to carry her violin.
The first year of their married life passed in a blur. She worked tirelessly: bought a cow, even though Pavel dreamt of a motorcycle. He was upset at the time, claiming she didn’t care about his interests and ignored his dreams.
Now Alina bitterly thought: she would have sold everything, bought a dozen motorcycles, just to get back the Pavel she had fallen in love with—the one who had been there, supporting her.
The family crisis began four months ago, when during a heavy rain, water started dripping onto the dining table. “Pasha, what’s this?” she asked, holding a bowl under the leaks.
“Water, what else?” he laughed, not taking his eyes off the TV. “What’s so funny? The roof is about to collapse!” Alina raised her voice for the first time in her life, feeling the years of frustration break free.
“What do you want me to do?” he snapped, finally turning to face her. “To fix the roof, we need money. Do you have any?”
“And you?” Alina exploded. “Other husbands work from dawn to late at night, providing for their families and worrying about the future! What are you doing?”
“There’s no work for me in the village!” Pavel jumped up from his seat. “I’m not going to dig through manure for some country farm. I wasn’t born for that!”
After this argument, he moved to his mother’s house, and when he returned a week later, he collapsed with some mysterious illness. Now, Alina was slowly walking up the familiar path to their house, reflecting on the strange hints of the medic. The gate was wide open, even though she distinctly remembered locking it before leaving. Voices were coming from inside the house.
Approaching the door, she overheard her husband talking to his mother.
“No, Mom, she’s as dumb as a post. The cabbage rolls today are amazing! Haven’t eaten anything this good in a while.”
Alina peered through the crack and froze—her “dying” husband was eating lunch with great appetite, gesturing energetically. His cheeks were flushed with health, and his voice sounded perfectly lively.
“Don’t forget,” his mother advised as she poured another helping, “when she comes back, you should be really ill. Talk about a sanatorium, expensive treatment. After all, she inherited from Grandpa, let her spend it on you.”
“Exactly,” Pavel laughed, wiping his mouth with a napkin. “The treatment will cost as much as her inheritance! Then I’ll gradually start getting better.”
Alina’s breath caught. She silently slipped out of the house and headed to the neighbors. An hour later, the cow and chickens were sold for a symbolic sum, and she was methodically packing her things into an old suitcase. When Pavel saw this, he immediately “fell ill.”
“Alinushka, bring me some water… I feel really bad.”
“No, dear,” she replied, looking at him with scornful pity. “You’re sick from your lies and your mother’s advice. Look at yourself—a healthy man who lies on the couch all day. What kind of man are you?”
That evening, she left for the city, where she still had an apartment after her grandfather’s death. A week later, the divorce papers arrived. Pavel, armed with his mother’s advice, rushed to the city, planning to win her back. He spent hours pacing in front of her apartment, imagining how soon he would be the owner of the city apartment and leave the hated village.
When a black luxury car pulled up by the entrance and an elegant, silver-haired man helped Alina out, Pavel stood frozen.
She appeared before him as someone entirely different—perfectly styled hair, fashionable clothes, confident gaze. There was no trace left of the simple village woman she had been just a week ago.
“What are you doing here?” she raised an eyebrow, surprised to see her ex-husband.
“I came to see my wife! And you’re here with some gentlemen…” he tried to act outraged.
“First of all, this is Andrei, my old friend. And second, what business is it of yours? Didn’t you get the divorce papers?”
“I got them, but I won’t agree! We love each other!” he blurted out the phrase he had rehearsed, feeling how false it sounded.
Alina laughed—lightly, as if freed from the burden of the past. “Go home, don’t make a fool of yourself. How dare you show up after your ‘deadly illness’ and your mother’s cooking?”
She took Andrei’s arm and confidently headed towards the building. Pavel took a step after them, but when he met Andrei’s steady gaze, he reconsidered—there was such strength and confidence in Andrei’s gray eyes that Pavel wanted to disappear immediately.
Six months later, Alina, dazzling in a snow-white dress, entered the registry office with the same Andrei—happy and free from the past life with the pretender.
Her new partner turned out to be not only a successful man but also a talented musician. And when, in the evenings, the sounds of the violin filled their city apartment, Alina thought about how strange fate can be, bringing us back to what we once rejected.