Varya smoothed the dress over her hips in front of the mirror, ran pink lipstick along her lips, then fluffed up a bouncy curl. She took a few steps back and gave herself a critical look. “Beautiful!” she said, smiling at her reflection with satisfaction.
Her husband appeared in the doorway of the hall, pressing his shoulder against the door frame.
“Wow! And where are you off to dressed like that?”
“To work. Are you jealous or something?” Varya’s already large, beautifully defined eyes widened even further.
“Of course I’m jealous. Maybe I should drive you? You’d be crammed into a packed minibus,” Sasha readily offered.
“Stay home. Where would you go with a cast?” Varya fastened the zipper on her light quilted coat, adjusted the scarf around her neck—lifting it up to her chin for warmth.
“I’m off.” But before leaving, she paused at the door.
“Oh, I almost forgot. I’ll be late. Nina is getting married. We’re going to have something like a bachelorette party. We’ll sit in a café for a bit. Don’t worry.”
“Wait, maybe I should still swing by to pick you up?” Sasha detached his shoulder from the door frame.
“No need.” Varya pursed her lips, smacked the air in front of her, and left the apartment.
Sasha went to the window and waited for Varya to appear below.
“I told you countless times to get your driver’s license. Right now you’d be driving to work instead of being stuck in a packed minibus,” he said out loud, watching Varya hurrying through the yard, as if she could hear him.
Inside the café, music played. At the moved tables sat six women, drinking cocktails and taking turns recounting funny mishaps from their weddings, laughing loudly and contagiously. Suddenly, a waiter approached with a tray and placed a bottle of expensive wine in front of Varya.
“This was sent to you by the man at the next table. Shall I open it?” the waiter asked, leaning forward politely.
Varya turned her head and looked at the generous man. He nodded at her and smiled. Her heart suddenly skipped a beat and began beating in time with the music. Her face flushed, and her smile melted away from her lips like snow from a mountain peak—swiftly and inexorably.
She recognized him. How could one forget? Pavel had been the most handsome guy at the institute, a senior year student. The girls practically vied for him. Before the summer exam session, she had failed a test. Sitting on a wide iron staircase between floors, she wept. The first exam was in two days, and without a passing mark in her record book—confirming that all tests had been passed—she wouldn’t be allowed to take the session.
“Why are you crying? Did you fail the exam?”
Varya lifted her head and saw Pavel beside her. He began talking to her! And there she was, sitting on the steps, red-eyed, with smeared mascara and a reddened nose.
“I failed the test,” Varya replied, beginning to wipe away the tears from under her eyes.
“That’s all. You only smudged your mascara.”
Varya gasped and reached into her purse for a compact mirror. Pavel handed her a handkerchief.
“You silly girl, you should have cried in front of the teacher. I thought all girls knew how to persuade and play on pity. Come on, run to him before he leaves. Tell him you studied all night, didn’t get any sleep, and that your head just isn’t working.”
“You really think that will work?” Varya hesitated, but then got up from the steps.
“If you don’t try, you’ll never know. Don’t waste time—go.” Pavel nudged Varya from behind, and she hurriedly ran upstairs.
The iron-carved staircase echoed under her footsteps.
When she cheerfully left the auditorium, Pavel was waiting for her.
“You’re smiling. That’s a whole different matter,” Pavel praised.
He walked her home and chatted all the way, but she barely heard him, lost in one thought: “He’s walking next to me! With me!” Varya caught the intrigued glances of passersby on her companion, and pride swelled within her.
After the exam session, they dated for a while. They went to the movies, to the beach… She knew that he changed girlfriends like gloves, but her heart ignored the arguments of reason. Suddenly, Pavel disappeared. Varya didn’t know his address, there was no one to ask, and everyone had left for the summer. Varya suffered, consoling herself that he was simply busy, that he would come tomorrow… until she realized she was pregnant.
“Yesterday you were flying on wings, and now you’re sitting at home, all droopy. Are you sick?” her mother asked.
“Yeah, I overdid it, I guess,” Varya replied, coughing in a way that sounded plausible.
“Go to the hospital; don’t joke about this,” her mother sighed.
“Yeah, Mom, tomorrow.”
The next day Varya went to a private clinic. She was afraid of bumping into acquaintances at the gynecological office. The pregnancy was confirmed.
“Mom will kill me… I still have to study… And he’s gone…” Varya burst into tears right there in the office.
The doctor pitied her, saying that the term was short, and that an abortion could be avoided, but the procedure would cost money. At home, Varya told her mother that the doctor had prescribed expensive medications and that her test results looked bad… Unaware of the truth, her mother gave her some money; it wasn’t much, but it was enough for Varya.
For two days, her stomach twisted and stabbed as if by iron wire. She endured as best she could so that her mother wouldn’t suspect anything.
In September, she went to classes with one desire—to see Pavel as soon as possible. But he walked past with a pretty freshman and pretended not to notice her. And the girls added fuel to the fire, saying that Pavel was getting married and that finally everyone would be at peace. Varya could barely hold back her tears.
During a lecture, Sasha sat next to her. He was an ordinary, unremarkable guy. Varya knew that he liked her. Not a handsome guy—the girls didn’t flock to him except maybe to borrow lecture notes.
“Why so glum? Don’t feel like studying? What are you doing tonight? Maybe we can go to the movies?” he asked.
Varya shrugged. It was better to go to the movies than to cry over Pavel at home all evening. After the movie, they walked through the city. Sasha recounted a book he had recently read. Listening to him was so interesting that Varya even forgot about Pavel.
It was easy with Sasha. There was no need to put on airs as a cool girl; she could be herself without fear of making a mistake. When they reached her home, Varya suddenly blurted out:
“Sasha, do you like me? Marry me.”
He stared at her in surprise.
“Are you serious? I like you—a lot. But I’m just not ready for that kind of commitment,” he replied abruptly before turning and walking away.
“Well, even that clumsy guy left,” Varya thought, feeling as if tears were about to fall. Her self-esteem sank to rock bottom.
The next day, when the lecturer entered the auditorium, Sasha approached him and they whispered for several minutes. The professor nodded and stepped aside. Sasha stood facing the audience and announced that he wanted to propose to the girl with the beautiful name Varvara—that he promised in front of everyone to love her forever and make her the happiest.
“Come on, Varvara! Show yourself. We’re curious to see the girl for whom a lovestruck madman is interrupting my lecture,” said the professor, and a wave of laughter swept through the auditorium.
Heads turned toward Varya. The students began chanting in unison: “Varya! Varya!” She had to come out to Sasha. And there he was, already waiting with a ring in an open box. The front rows moved forward to get a closer look. Out of nowhere, Sasha produced some flowers.
Everyone cheered “Hurrah!” and even shouted “Bitter!” (a traditional exclamation prompting the newlyweds to kiss).
“Do you accept?” she heard amid the cheers.
“Yes,” Varya replied quietly, thoroughly blushing.
Later, Sasha explained that he wanted to do everything in an unusual and original way so that both of them would remember his proposal—and not her desperate plea.
This story was discussed at the institute for several years and retold to the freshmen with increasing embellishments.
The passion between Sasha and Varya did not burn wildly. Their relationship was steady, more like a friendship. Varya did not become pregnant, but Sasha never questioned it or brought up the subject.
Then, five years later, Varya met Pavel in a café. He had matured and become even more handsome. Varya couldn’t help but compare him to Sasha. In her mind, she saw the image of a husband in a tank top and sweatpants with stretched knees, one hand in a cast wrapped in bandages, and a slightly protruding belly. “He could do with some time at the gym,” she thought irritably. The girls stared wide-eyed at the handsome guy who had sent them the bottle of wine.
Pavel approached and invited Varya to dance, even though there was little space in the café—no one had ever danced here. Varya behaved awkwardly under the scrutinizing gaze of many eyes. Fortunately, the slow music soon faded. Pavel then offered to drive Varya home.
It was already dark outside. Fine snow fell from the sky, glinting in Varya’s hair in the light of the streetlamps like a fragment of a diamond. Pavel dropped her off at the farthest entrance. All the way to Varya’s home, he talked about himself—how he had gotten divorced, had two children, owned his own business… yet he never failed to give compliments.
Varya asked him to stop the car at the farthest building entrance. She knew that Sasha would be watching the window, looking for her. And she was rather fed up with Pavel’s chatter. “What do women see in that conceited turkey?” she thought. “I’m beautiful too. At the sight of him, my heart pounded like a college girl’s.”
She thanked Pavel and opened the car door.
“And your phone number?” he asked, pulling out his mobile phone, ready to enter her number into his contacts.
Varya thought of Sasha and recalled her unsuccessful experience with Pavel. Silently, she stepped out of the car and slammed the door shut. She walked toward the entrance, listening to the steady, soft hum of the engine behind her. She knew Pavel was watching her leave.
Suddenly, out of the darkness, two guys wearing hooded sweatshirts came rushing toward her. She barely had time to be frightened when one of them grabbed her purse and jerked it roughly. Varya clutched it tightly, pulling it back toward herself.
“What do you want? Help! Pasha!” she screamed, hoping that Pavel would come to her aid at that very moment.
But behind her, the screeching of tires erupted as a car started skidding.
Suddenly, the guy who had been snatching the purse groaned and let go, and Varya nearly fell. The other one flew off to the side with a shout. Then, in front of Varya stood her husband in flip-flops, a tank top, and holding some kind of stick.
“Are you okay?” he asked, breathing heavily.
“Sasha!” Varya buried her face in his chest and felt his trembling from the cold.
“Oh, come on, let’s get home quickly. You’ll catch pneumonia if you’re not careful. Just what we needed was to add pneumonia to the list,” Sasha said. Varya looked around. The thugs and any trace of the car had vanished, just like Pavel’s vehicle.
“Were you watching through the window, waiting for me?” she asked her husband once they were home.
“I was having tea in the kitchen when I heard you calling. So I dashed out in whatever I was wearing.”
Varya blushed. After all, she hadn’t called Sasha, but Pasha. And he chickened out, left, and abandoned her in a dark yard with two thugs. He probably got scared for his designer suit. Varya looked at her husband as if seeing him for the first time.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” Sasha asked.
“You’re my hero. I love you.”
“And… I’m never going to let you go anywhere alone again. And by the way, how many times have I told you to get your driver’s license?”
“As you wish, my love,” Varya replied with a happy smile.
That night, she pressed close to Sasha. He embraced her with his strong arm, and Varya melted in his embrace like a snowflake. They hadn’t had such a passionate night in a long time. And three weeks later, she realized she was pregnant. She bought a test and took it.
On Sunday, Sasha was the first to get up and head to the bathroom, but he soon returned.
“Did I get it right?” he asked, holding the pregnancy test with two lines that Varya had forgotten on the edge of the sink.
“Well, I wanted to surprise you,” she playfully pouted.
“The surprise worked! I had almost lost hope,” Sasha said as he sat on the bed and tenderly kissed Varya.
At that moment, Varya thought: “When did I come to love him? He is the best—my man. If it hadn’t been for Pavel, I would never have known that I have a wonderful, brave, and reliable husband. My character endured so much and all his nagging because he loved me. He rushed to protect me, even forgetting about his broken arm. And with handsome guys like Pavel, it was nothing but trouble.”
“Who loves many knows women; who loves one understands love.”
— Sigmund Freud
“Never ignore the person who cares most about you. Because one fine day, you might wake up and realize that you lost the Moon while counting the stars.”