Morning in the cozy two-room apartment on the fourth floor began with the familiar, almost ritual bustle—the clink of spoons against cups, the click of the toaster, water running from the tap, and muted laughter. The air was filled with a fragrant palette: coffee, fresh bread, and the faint floral perfume drifting from Alina, who flitted from room to room like a butterfly before its first flight, trying on jewelry.
Marina stood in front of an old dressing table in the hallway, adjusting the collar of her only business blouse—strict but neat, saved for special occasions. This wasn’t the first time she’d checked every crease, as if the fate of the evening depended on that collar alone. Nearby, peeking over her mother’s shoulder again and again, Alina spun about—twenty years old, bursting with life, energy, and dreams. Today was an important day: her official introduction to her fiancé’s parents.
“Mom, how do I look? Will these earrings work?” Alina asked, holding up two tiny pearls that shimmered in the morning sunlight.
“Absolutely gorgeous, sweetheart,” Marina replied, looking at her daughter with pride and a touch of sadness. “Today you’ll look like a real princess. Or even a queen.”
Alina laughed and twirled in her new sea-green dress—a deep blue-green shade that was impossible to look away from. The fabric hugged her figure softly, creating the illusion of motion, as if she truly were stepping over ocean waves.
“You know, Mom,” she said thoughtfully, “sometimes it feels like time flies so fast we don’t even notice it. Just yesterday I was a little girl, and today I’m getting ready to meet my fiancé’s parents. It’s unbelievable…”
Marina felt something tighten inside her. Her girl really had grown up. Not the little child who asked for bedtime stories or reached for her hand when she was scared of the dark. Now she was an independent, confident woman choosing her own path. And soon she would have a family of her own.
“Oh, this Pavel of yours…” Marina sighed, sinking onto the worn sofa that still held the warmth of countless evenings at home.
Alina’s eyes lit up.
“Mom, he’s amazing! Yesterday he brought me flowers just because—no reason at all. And he says after the wedding we’ll definitely live close to you. He believes family is the most important thing in life.”
“And his parents?” Marina asked cautiously, feeling a faint squeeze of unease in her stomach.
“Svetlana Ivanovna and Oleg Gennadyevich? Very successful people. They have their own business, a gorgeous house outside the city. Sometimes they look at me a little strangely, but Pavel says that’s just how they are—they want to make sure I’m a good match for their son.”
The words hung in the air, and Marina sensed a hidden meaning in them. But she didn’t want to upset her daughter on such an important day. She just smiled and said:
“Then everything will be fine.”
But suddenly, as if remembering something important, Alina grew serious and looked straight at her mother.
“Mom… why did you never marry? You’re beautiful, smart, kind… Why didn’t you find someone who loved you?”
The question landed unexpectedly. Marina stood up sharply, as if shocked by electricity, and turned to the window to hide her expression. She’d been waiting for that question all her life. And still, every time it made her heart constrict painfully.
“I just never met the right person, dear,” she finally answered. Her voice was calm, but inside she was trembling. “And I didn’t have time for myself—I was raising you. You were my whole purpose.”
“But I have a father… Who is he?”
Marina felt cold seep under her skin. She abruptly changed the subject:
“Let’s check if everything is ready for dinner. We can’t be late on a day like this.”
Left alone in the kitchen, Marina slowly leaned back against the refrigerator, closed her eyes, and took a deep breath. A name surfaced in her mind—one she had forbidden herself to speak aloud for years:
Viktor.
Fear of change tightened around her from the inside. Soon Alina would leave. Soon her home would be empty—just like her heart had been many years ago. And memories of her first love were becoming more vivid, as if the past had decided to return and remind her of itself.
Twenty years earlier, Marina had been completely different: a young, carefree student at a music college, eyes full of light, a soul full of dreams. She lived for music, hearing a story in every sound and emotion in every note. And then Viktor burst into her life like a hurricane.
Five years older, confident, dressed in expensive suits, driving a foreign car—he seemed to her like the embodiment of success and romance. They met at a student concert. Marina played the piano, and when she finished, she heard a quiet but steady voice:
“You play as if music flows straight from your soul.”
He handed her a bouquet of white roses. That was how a story began—one that was supposed to become a fairy tale.
For three months they were inseparable. He took her to restaurants, gave her gifts, talked about their plans together. And Marina composed a song for him—tender and moving, filled with everything she felt.
“This is our song,” she would whisper, playing on the old dormitory piano.
“Ours,” he would agree, kissing the top of her head.
But one day everything collapsed like a house of cards. Marina decided to surprise him—she came without warning. She had a key to his apartment. Climbing to the third floor, she heard laughter and women’s voices. She opened the door and froze.
In the living room, Viktor was hugging two girls. On the table—wine bottles, snacks, music. His gaze turned cold.
“What are you doing here? Who said you could come in without calling?”
“But you gave me the key…” she whispered, confused.
“That doesn’t mean you can show up whenever you feel like it! I’m sick of your childish games and that stupid music of yours!”
He grabbed her arm roughly. Marina pulled away.
“I understand,” she said quietly and headed for the door.
“Leave the key!” he shouted after her.
She threw it on the floor and never looked back.
Under the rain drumming on the roof of the bus, Marina left for nowhere—to her grandmother’s village—carrying one bag and a shattered heart.
“What happened, my child?” her grandmother, Anna Pavlovna, asked when she saw her granddaughter’s tearful eyes.
Marina collapsed into her arms and sobbed for a long time, unable to stop.
A month later, the test showed she was pregnant.
“The Lord gives—don’t complain,” her grandmother said softly. “A child is always a blessing.”
Marina didn’t know what to do. No job, no degree, no man beside her. But her grandmother was there. And that support gave her strength.
Nine months in the village became a time of rethinking for Marina. She helped around the house, read, learned how to be a mother. When Alina was born—tiny, with dark little curls and big eyes—Marina understood: this was the most important moment of her life.
The first years were hard, but happy. Alina grew up healthy, cheerful, and bright. She took her first steps on the wooden floor and spoke her first words—words that warmed her mother’s heart.
When Alina turned five, they moved to the city. After her grandmother’s death, they sold the house, exchanged it for an apartment, and began a new life. Alina adapted quickly. She studied excellently, took dance classes, made friends. Teachers constantly praised her:
“Your daughter is very talented.”
And at eighteen, she fell in love. Pavel came from a well-off family—student at a prestigious university, handsome, well-groomed, polite. Flowers, theaters, romantic walks—everything like in a movie.
But Marina felt right away that something was off. She couldn’t say exactly what, but in his eyes and words there was something unkind—something that reminded her of someone from the past.
Six months later, Pavel proposed. Alina was over the moon.
“My parents want to meet you,” he said. “They’re inviting you to dinner at a restaurant. Just the parents—no young people.”
“Maybe at home would be better?” Marina asked, surprised.
“No, they insist on ‘The Golden Lion.’ It’s a family tradition.”
Marina felt something tighten inside her. For the first time in her life, she was stepping into an expensive restaurant—a place where wealth and power could be felt in the air. Her hands trembled slightly, and her heart beat faster than usual. Such places were foreign to her world—a world of modest apartments, old pianos, and cozy evenings with music. But today she had to face the family of her future son-in-law, show herself, be worthy.
“Don’t worry, Mom,” Alina soothed her, taking her hand gently. “Svetlana Ivanovna and Oleg Gennadyevich are very pleasant people. They’ll like you—I’m sure.”
But at that very moment, many kilometers away, in a spacious mansion surrounded by a high fence and shady trees, a very different discussion was happening.
“Are you sure this will work?” Svetlana Ivanovna asked, adjusting a diamond earring and staring intently at her husband.
“Of course,” Oleg Gennadyevich replied with cold confidence. “We’ll order the most expensive things, ask a few awkward questions, then quietly leave. Let that schoolteacher understand one thing: she can’t afford to mix with our family.”
The Golden Lion greeted Marina with splendor that felt almost theatrical. Crystal chandeliers glittered like stars, the white marble floor reflected every step, and waiters in impeccable tuxedos moved like ghosts—silent and soundless. Marina felt as if she’d stepped into someone else’s life. She clutched her purse as though it were support.
Svetlana Ivanovna and Oleg Gennadyevich were already seated, dressed in clothes that spoke of status and power. Their manners were polished to perfection, their looks sharp as knives.
“How wonderful to meet you!” the woman exclaimed with a perfect smile—but no warmth in her eyes.
“Please, sit,” the man invited politely. “We already ordered champagne. French, of course.”
The questions started immediately. It felt less like interest and more like interrogation. Job? Salary? Apartment?
“That’s a working-class neighborhood,” Svetlana Ivanovna noted with a faintly contemptuous tone. “Not a safe place to live.”
Marina blushed with embarrassment. She felt like she was taking an exam with no correct answers.
Plates arrived one after another—caviar, lobsters, exquisite wines whose smells she only knew from films. Marina barely ate, just mechanically turning her fork, waiting for this strange dinner to end.
“Excuse me, I need to step away,” Svetlana Ivanovna said, standing up.
A few minutes later, Oleg Gennadyevich left too.
“An urgent call,” he explained curtly.
Twenty minutes passed. Then forty. They didn’t come back.
Marina’s heart began pounding with alarm. She called a waiter over.
“Excuse me, do you know where my companions are?”
“They left. They said you were staying.”
Silence. Something snapped inside. A trap. A lie. Betrayal.
“How much is the bill?” she whispered, her vision dimming.
“Forty-eight thousand rubles.”
That was more than she earned in two months. Her heart stopped.
The manager approached—a tall man with cold eyes and a businesslike face.
“Ruslan Petrovich. Trouble with payment?”
“I can’t pay. I was deceived,” she forced out.
“Not my problem. Either you pay, or we call the police.”
“Maybe I can work it off somehow?”
“And what can you do?”
“I’m a professional musician. I play the piano.”
Ruslan gave a skeptical snort.
“What, school exercises? You think our guests will be thrilled?”
“Give me a chance. If you don’t like it, I’ll find another way.”
The manager glanced at his watch. In the next hall, a banquet was being prepared—a wedding. Noise, laughter, music. He hesitated.
“Fine. But if you play badly—police immediately.”
Marina walked up to the enormous black grand piano standing like a symbol of luxury. Her hands shook; her heart hammered. She sat down, closed her eyes, and her thoughts rushed into the past.
Youth. Her first university concert. His voice: “You play as if music flows straight from your soul…”
The flowers he gave her. Their melody. The one song she wrote for him. For Viktor.
Her fingers touched the keys. The music began—soft, sad, piercing. The hall fell silent. Guests stopped eating; the bride wiped away a tear; cooks peeked from behind the kitchen doors. Everyone listened. Everyone felt it.
When the last chords faded, there was a pause. Then applause—loud, sincere, warming.
And then he walked in.
A tall man in an elegant suit, gray at the temples, with the same gray eyes she hadn’t seen in twenty years.
Viktor Valeryevich.
He stopped dead, hearing the familiar melody. He remembered that song with every fiber of his being. His gaze landed on the woman at the piano—the one he had lost.
“Marina?” he whispered.
She lifted her eyes. Time stopped.
“Viktor…”
“Viktor Valeryevich now,” he said. “I’m the owner of this restaurant.”
“This woman can’t pay the bill,” Ruslan said.
“What bill?” Viktor asked sharply.
“Forty-eight thousand. Her companions left.”
“Come with me. I need to speak with the lady.”
In the office, silence reigned. Two people separated by years of pain and distance sat face to face. They didn’t know where to begin.
“You look wonderful,” Viktor said first.
“You’ve changed too,” Marina replied, trying to stay composed.
“I rethought a lot after you left. Marina… forgive me for that day. I was a fool. Drunk. Proud. Arrogant. But I never wanted to hurt you.”
“That was a long time ago.”
“Tell me about your life. Married? Children?”
Marina took a deep breath.
“No. Not married. But I have a daughter. She’s twenty.”
Viktor went pale.
“Twenty?.. Then that means…”
“Yes. Alina is your daughter. I found out I was pregnant a month after we broke up.”
“My God… I have a daughter and I didn’t even know. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“After you called my music stupid? After you threw me out of your life? I didn’t want my child to know a father like that.”
“I was drunk, angry, broken. I had no right to treat you that way. I understand now.”
The door flew open. Alina rushed in.
“Mom! Pavel told me everything about his parents!” Then she noticed the unfamiliar man. “Sorry… What’s going on?”
Viktor stood and slowly walked toward the girl. In her features he recognized himself. And Marina. His child. His family.
“Alina,” Marina said quietly, “meet Viktor Valeryevich. Your father.”
The girl froze. Her gaze darted between her mother and this man. Everything was happening too fast.
“My father…” she whispered.
“It’s a long story,” Viktor said softly. “I understand you have reasons to hate me. But if I’d known about you, I never would’ve let you be alone.”
Pavel rushed in.
“Alina, are you here?” He sensed the tension in the air. “What happened?”
“Meet my father.”
Pavel extended his hand, a little shaken.
“I need to apologize for my parents. I didn’t know about their plan. It’s disgusting.”
“It’s not your fault,” Alina replied gently.
“If there’s time,” Pavel added, “I want to organize our wedding. Far away from them.”
“And if you allow it,” Viktor said, “I’ll help. It’s my gift to my daughter. And a second chance to be the father you deserve.”
“We need time,” Marina said. “To process all this. To get used to it.”
“I’ll wait,” Viktor answered. “As long as it takes.”
Three months later, another wedding took place in the same Golden Lion. But now everything was different.
Alina wasn’t just beautiful—she glowed. Her dress shimmered like first snow, and love shone in her eyes. Pavel couldn’t take his eyes off her. At the table, among the guests, Marina and Viktor sat side by side—not as lovers, but as two people who had begun finding each other again.
“You know,” he said quietly, “all these years I remembered your music. It haunted me. Even in the most expensive houses, even in the middle of success.”
“And I thought I’d forgotten,” Marina replied. “But when I sat at the piano, it poured out of my heart on its own.”
“Maybe it’s a sign?” Viktor asked. “Maybe we should try to start over?”
Marina looked into his eyes for a long moment—the same eyes she had once loved and hated.
“Maybe… But very slowly. Very carefully.”
“We have time,” Viktor said. “Our whole life is ahead of us.”
On the dance floor the newlyweds spun, and the parents finally understood: sometimes fate offers a second chance. And maybe this was the moment to begin again—not with the mistakes of the past, but with hope for the future