Warm rays of the morning sun streamed gently through the tall stained-glass windows of the spacious lobby of the Eden Hotel, scattering highlights across the floor polished to a mirror shine. The air was filled with the aroma of freshly brewed coffee and warm pastries, creating the illusion of a perfect, tranquil world. Amid the flow of bustling clerks, tourists with suitcases, and businesspeople absorbed in their phones, young Sofia seemed like a small, almost invisible island of calm. She stood behind the front desk, mechanically straightening a stack of forms while her thoughts drifted far away—to the lecture notes she needed to study that evening.
“Sofia, be a dear and take breakfast to room thirty-five,” came the soft but confident voice of the senior receptionist, Veronika.
The girl flinched, as if returning from another dimension. Lately she hadn’t been sleeping enough; juggling work and studies was no small feat, but so be it. Her eyes were still heavy with drowsiness, but she gave her head a brisk shake, chasing away the last traces of sleep.
“Of course, Veronika. On it.”
She headed to the small kitchen, which had its own special atmosphere—it smelled of spices, clarified butter, and something immeasurably cozy. The cooks, who had been working since dawn, greeted her with nods and friendly smiles.
“Good morning, sunshine,” whispered Aunt Galina, the head of the kitchen, while Sofia set a standard breakfast for the “Lux” rooms on a plastic tray. “Swing by later—I saved an omelet for you too. I know how you love it, with cheese and herbs, just the way you like.”
Sofia smiled and nodded, feeling warmth rise in her cheeks. She never turned down such treats. It might have been a simple dish, but the way they made it here was magically delicious—finger-licking good, a small everyday miracle that made getting up so early worth it.
In her head she repeated the standard phrase she had learned by heart and would have to say: “Good morning, room service. I’ve brought your breakfast.” Six months at the Eden had taught her the main rule: keep a friendly but detached smile, avoid meeting the guests’ eyes for too long, and forget their faces the moment the door closed. Only then could she preserve her peace of mind and avoid the needless trouble that particularly demanding or eccentric guests sometimes created. The stock phrases came easily now, but a flutter of nerves still preceded every new door—she dreaded tripping over her words or unintentionally provoking someone’s anger.
Sofia hadn’t told her parents about her part-time job. She knew exactly how they would react: they would gently but insistently urge her to focus solely on her studies. But she already longed to gain at least a grain of independence, so she wouldn’t feel indebted every time her father transferred her spending money—and so she wouldn’t have to listen to long lectures about the need to be more frugal. She didn’t waste money as it was, but she donated a little every month to several animal shelters, and she didn’t want to stop. If everyone just walked by, innocent creatures would continue to suffer alone.
Carefully arranging two plates of fluffy, appetizing omelets garnished with sprigs of parsley, two yogurts, a steaming pot of strong coffee, and a plate of still-warm croissants on the tray, she set it gently on a light trolley. She straightened her starched, snow-white apron and forced on that carefully practiced, stock smile, trying to wipe every stray emotion from her eyes. Taking the elevator to the third floor, she rolled the trolley smoothly up to the correct door and knocked, saying the memorized phrase in a quiet, melodic voice meant to sound welcoming but not intrusive.
She didn’t have to wait long: a click sounded at the lock… then another. The door swung open slowly, and in that very instant the vast, noisy world shrank to the small rectangle of the hotel room and the person standing on the threshold. A man stood there whom Sofia had never expected to see. In dark, expensive trousers and a plain white tank, his hair wet and dark from the shower, her father was staring at her.
“D-dad?” The word slipped from her lips as a weightless whisper, a mix of bewilderment, confusion, and dawning horror.
His eyes—so familiar, as brown as hers—widened, reflecting pure, unfiltered horror. He froze, gripping the doorknob with one hand while the other instinctively reached for the soft towel tossed around his neck. He said nothing, and the silence was deafening; he was likely grasping for words. Sofia stared at him, but her mind refused to add two and two. She couldn’t understand what her father was doing there. Why was he here? He was supposed to be far away in another city, on a business trip he’d described in detail over dinner just two days earlier.
From deeper in the room—from the bathroom—a very young girl emerged, wrapped in a white hotel towel. Tossing her wet hair over her shoulders, she called to her companion in a playful, slightly petulant voice.
“Artyom, why are you standing there like a statue? Did they bring breakfast? Come on, let’s eat already—I can’t wait any longer. After such a wild night, I feel absolutely drained and starving.”
Sofia felt as if she had been struck hard and mercilessly over the head. She stared straight ahead, but saw almost nothing; her gaze was clouded. She heard sounds, but it was as if she’d gone deaf—they came as though through deep water. She couldn’t move or force out a single word. Something heavy and hot was bursting from deep within her chest, but her tongue went numb, frozen; even moving her fingers felt impossibly hard, as if they were filled with lead.
“Artyom, if you keep standing there one more minute, I’m going to get seriously jealous! What are you staring at in that waitress?” the stranger drawled in a sweet, injured tone, putting special emphasis on the word “waitress.”
“Shut up, I said,” Artyom snapped, his voice icy and sharp—tones Sofia had never heard from him. “And you… We need to talk. Now.”
He looked at his daughter nothing like before. Where had the boundless love and warmth gone, the light that had always shone in his eyes when he looked at her? Now his gaze was prickly, sharp, scraping painfully at her soul. Grabbing her rather roughly by the elbow, he dragged her into the room and, with an imperious gesture, told his companion to step out onto the balcony. Realizing something extraordinary had happened, the girl pouted but obeyed. Sofia kept staring at her father. Like a stone statue, she couldn’t find the strength simply to turn and leave. Listening to excuses now would be the height of stupidity. She knew exactly what he would try to say—but none of it mattered anymore. Sofia had always trusted her own eyes and ears. She understood now that he hadn’t gone on any business trip. He had booked a hotel room to spend time with another woman. And what about Mom? She loved him so much… trusted him so completely… waited for him after every trip. Sofia’s head was spinning. She didn’t even notice herself sinking onto the edge of the sofa.
“What you happened to see here—you must erase it from your memory immediately and never bring it up again. I’m willing to overlook your recklessness, the fact that you’re working here on the side, but you won’t work at this hotel anymore. Weren’t the funds I give you enough? Why did you take a job? Did you forget what I told you? You’re supposed to focus on your studies, not waste your time on nonsense! Right now, take off that circus you call a uniform and quit. This instant.”
Lifting her eyes to her father, Sofia realized in horror that she was trembling all over, as if with fever. She parted her lips, but had no strength to protest or shout. Instead of seeking any justification for his own behavior, her father was blaming everything on her, yelling at his own daughter as if he had caught her doing something indecent. She was simply working honestly; she had every moral right to do so. But he… he had crossed every imaginable line of morality and trust. And now he was posing as an offended, magnanimous man concerned about his daughter’s future. With a bitter smirk, Sofia slowly, with effort, shook her head.
“Don’t try to change the subject or pin the blame on me. You wanted to talk not about my job, but about your… companion you brought here. So talk. Only your words won’t mean anything anymore. I won’t believe she’s some old friend or colleague and you were ‘forced’ to stop by a hotel—and in the same room, no less.”
“Fine. You’re a big girl; you understand perfectly well what happened here. But don’t you dare open your mouth. Your mother loves me. It would be unbearably painful for her to learn the truth. If you truly care about her, about her peace of mind, you’ll keep quiet and tell her nothing. Everything has been fine for years, and nothing will change now if you show some good sense.”
“For years?” Sofia whispered. “Right… What else could I have expected? They say almost all men are like this… But why? What did Mom ever do to you? She adores you!”
Artyom let out a bitter laugh, as if trying to cover the panic that had seized him the moment he saw his daughter at the door.
“Whether she loves me or not—what difference does it make now? I told you I won’t divorce her, but I also can’t and won’t settle for what I have. Take a good look at me… Since you’re an adult, you should understand that your father is still young, handsome, full of energy. And what about her? Your mother has long since grown old! I found someone young and beautiful—for relaxation, for the soul. You think I don’t have the right? You’re sorely mistaken. If your mother had any sense, she’d take care of herself, get some work done—whatever women do to stay young and attractive. But she neglected all that, so what do you expect from me? I’m human too. I want to enjoy beauty and youth, not a flabby, aging body and a perpetually displeased, tired face that sometimes just makes me sick. Your mother and I have been together a long time. I’m not going to wreck the family or divorce her. I promised to be with her until old age, and so it will be. And you—if you dare tell her, you’ll regret it. I’ll cut you off—no allowance, no tuition. But if you act like a sensible daughter, I’ll even increase your personal funds so you won’t have to break your back here. So? Your choice.”
Looking at her father, Sofia felt savage, all-consuming disgust—the same revulsion she felt for those many hotel guests who came with their “girlfriends to relax,” whispering to them and smugly assuring them their wives would never find out. They didn’t even bother to take off their wedding rings, behaving as if it were all perfectly normal and acceptable. Sofia had only ever felt the deepest contempt for them—contempt she concealed behind her professional smile. Now she couldn’t hide her true feelings at all. This was her father. And he turned out to be the same kind of monster…
He was only right about one thing—her mother truly loved her husband. She almost worshiped him, cared for him as for no one else. Her heart would be shattered to bits, but Sofia couldn’t stay silent. How could she look her mother in the eyes while hiding such a monstrous betrayal? How could she smile at him at family dinners? She would never forget that silly, self-absorbed little girl who had come with him and was now freezing on the balcony after her morning shower.
“Take away whatever you want, strip me of everything—but know this: from this day on, you’re no longer my father. I don’t want anything to do with you. You disgust me.”
With those words, Sofia sprang from the sofa and shot out of the room like a hurricane wind. She flew down the hall, seeing nothing around her, and reached the front desk, where—struggling to catch her breath—she asked for permission to go home, citing sudden, severe illness.
“Did someone do something to you? Did someone hurt you? Sofia, you’re pale—you’re shaking!” Veronika asked, her voice tight with concern.
“I’m fine. No one hurt me. I just… saw something I wasn’t supposed to see. Please let me go home today; I feel very unwell.”
They didn’t keep her. They told her to rest and not to worry. They didn’t pry either—it was clear she was in deep shock and wouldn’t be able to give coherent answers anyway.
What Sofia feared most in the world was going home. She didn’t know how to look her mother in the eye and deliver such bitter, devastating news. Which was better—harsh, cutting truth or sweet, poisonous lies? Should she open a loved one’s eyes to a brutal reality and deliberately break her heart? Sofia understood that her words would destroy the family, but what else could she do? Stay silent and pretend, as her father demanded? Live in a world drenched in falsehood?
As soon as she entered the apartment, she ran into her mother. The woman was in a wonderful, sunny mood, humming to herself, but at once she read in her daughter’s face that something irreparable had happened. She hurried to pour calming mint tea and gently, tenderly asked what was wrong.
“Mom, tell me honestly… do all men stray sooner or later? If that’s true, I’ll never, ever get married. Not in this life.”
“Oh, sweetheart, of course not all of them. But why are you suddenly asking this? Did you start seeing someone and he hurt you? You can tell me anything.”
“Mom, what if you found out Dad had another woman… What would you do? Could you forgive him and pretend you didn’t know? Would you stay just so the family wouldn’t fall apart? And if you had the chance to forget what you learned, would you take it—just to go on living in sweet deceit?”
“Sofia, what terrible things you’re saying! If I learned that, I could never forgive him. I do love your father, but how can you stay with a traitor who has humiliated and trampled you? First and foremost, you must respect yourself and your soul. Tell me everything that’s troubling you. I can feel this isn’t about some boy.”
Then Sofia broke. She burst into bitter, gulping sobs and pressed herself to her mother’s shoulder. All the way home she had been holding those tears back, and now they poured out in a flood. Through her sobs, she told her mother the whole harsh, unjust truth. Her mother, Irina, listened without interrupting, lips pressed into a thin, merciless line. Every word pierced her heart, leaving deep, unhealing scars. She had always believed her husband; she would never, even in a nightmare, have imagined him capable of such a low betrayal. But since it had happened, nothing could be undone.
“Mom, forgive me for telling you this, but I couldn’t lie to you. You have every right to know the truth, no matter how bitter.”
“You did absolutely the right thing, my darling. No matter how painful it is, it’s better to know the harsh truth than deceive yourself all your life and let someone exploit your trust. Don’t worry about anything. I’m strong. I will be all right. I promise.”
Despite Artyom’s desperate attempts—full of false promises—to talk his wife down and beg her not to file for divorce, she did it anyway. Irina loved her husband, but if she didn’t satisfy him as a woman, she was ready to let him go with dignity. In the end, he had made his choice, and she had no intention of sharing her man with anyone. Sofia was endlessly glad her mother didn’t give up, didn’t break, and kept living despite the monstrous betrayal. She hoped with all her heart that one day Irina would meet a truly worthy man who would love only her and never betray her, valuing her kind soul. As for her father, Sofia wanted nothing to do with him, just as she had told him that fateful day. His betrayal and those cold, blade-sharp words had destroyed forever all the warm feelings she had had for him. Artyom was left completely alone. Although he was always surrounded by young, beautiful women eager to win his attention and money, a deep, all-consuming emptiness settled in his soul. He tried desperately to fill that inner chasm by seeing one woman after another, but it was useless—happiness slipped through his fingers. He had lost his family’s warmth, their sincere care and heartfelt tenderness. And he could never reclaim that precious, fragile treasure.
Sometimes the strongest locks of silence yield to the key of wordless truth, letting in a fresh wind of change and allowing a new garden of hope to take root—where every petal of trust unfurls beneath the sun of sincerity