The call caught Irina Nikitichna at the worst possible moment. The morning had been busy — the children were bustling by the doorway, putting on shoes and packing their school bags; the kettle was boiling in the kitchen, reminding with frequent whistles that it was about to boil over. She was just about to pour water into the thermos when the phone suddenly buzzed on the windowsill.
“Hello, is this Irina Nikitichna?” — a confident male voice sounded through the receiver. “This is Mikhail Artemyev, a representative of the retail chain. I have an interesting offer for you.”
Irina froze, holding the teapot in one hand and the phone in the other. What kind of offer could come at a time like this? Was it a relative? A charity organization? Or another scammer inventing new ways to confuse a single woman?
“The thing is: products nearing their expiration date cannot be officially sold, but employees fully understand that the goods are still good quality, they just don’t sell in time. We have organized a group of people willing to buy such products at greatly reduced prices. Would you like to join?”
Irina frowned. Distrust immediately awoke inside her. “Expired…” That word sounded frightening. She knew many families economized on food, but to buy products that were nearly discarded on purpose? That was too much.
“Why me specifically?” she asked cautiously, trying to hide her confusion.
“Your colleague Zhanna Albertovna mentioned that you are raising three children after losing your husband. I understand how difficult it is to provide full nutrition on a teacher’s salary…”
Her heart tightened. The words hurt sharply, as if someone had gently touched the deepest wound. She really counted every penny each month, choosing between new sets of textbooks for her sons or more expensive food, trying to make sure the children didn’t feel deprived. But realizing others saw her hardship caused much more pain than the hardship itself.
Irina went to the fridge, mechanically checking its contents: frozen semi-prepared meals, potatoes, a little cottage cheese, a can of condensed milk. The shelves were neat but rather empty. She sighed.
“All right,” she finally said quietly, almost whispering. “I’ll try.”
The first meeting with the mobile grocery truck was a real test for her. In the backyard of a large supermarket, near the garbage containers, a group of people had already gathered. Most were elderly, with slumped shoulders, dressed in worn-out clothes. Some held old reusable shopping bags, others plastic baskets. Everyone was waiting.
Irina felt like an outsider among them. She felt awkward. She looked around nervously, afraid to recognize someone. But when the minibus arrived and opened its doors full of fresh products, doubts began to fade. Chicken thighs, priced almost like minced meat, yogurts with a discount, butter that could be bought for nearly three times less than usual… This was a way out.
At home, she immediately got to work. The milk went into a pot on low heat, the butter melted to be poured later into a convenient jar. The apartment filled with a homey aroma that usually only appeared on holidays.
When her daughter Sonya returned from school, her face blossomed with a broad smile:
“Mom, it smells so good! What did you cook today?”
“I found a cheap little store,” Irina replied, trying to sound casual. “Now we’ll sometimes make almost homemade cutlets.”
Sonya eagerly dug into the soup, then into the soft, juicy cutlet, washing it down with hot cocoa. After eating, she happily said:
“That’s what I call lunch today! Thanks, Mom!”
The younger sons — Gleb and Matvey — also noticed the change in the menu. They ate heartily, but after finishing, they began to ask questions.
“Where did the money for normal food come from?” Gleb asked.
“Maybe Mom found some treasure?” Matvey guessed.
“Or she got a sponsor?” added Gleb, looking cautiously at his sister.
Sonya just shrugged:
“Mom said she found a cheap little store.”
But to the brothers, this explanation didn’t seem enough. If Mom got help from someone, then soon a stranger would come to boss them around, interfere in their lives. And if she borrowed money — then they would spend years paying it back. The boys made guesses one after another, but none pleased them.
In the evening, while the children were going to bed, they returned to the topic:
“Mom, really, where do you get those products?”
Irina smiled tiredly:
“Kids, it’s simpler than you think. There’s this mobile grocery truck. It comes on certain days and offers products much cheaper than stores. That’s all.”
Since then, she started building her day around those trips. Mikhail even created a special chat in a messenger app, regularly posting information about what products would be available next week. For Irina, it became a small salvation. She could plan menus, not worry about the budget, even afford to buy the children something special.
She began to smile more often, sleep better, and even colleagues noticed the change in her mood.
But one day something terrible happened. Among one of the batches was a fruit yogurt. Irina, as always, trusted her experience — the expiration date hadn’t passed yet, the appearance looked normal. The children ate it gladly, but half an hour later all three developed severe stomach upset.
“Oh my God, what have I done!” Irina cried — she hadn’t eaten the yogurt herself and so remained healthy. She rushed to the pharmacy, bought the necessary medicine, gave it to the children, rubbed their tummies, sang lullabies, though she herself was in a panic.
The next day she kept them home, deciding they needed to rest. Then she made the decision: “After this, I will never buy products from that mobile truck again.”
For several weeks Irina returned to simple, monotonous but safe food. The children began to complain.
“Mom, we’re healthy now! Why don’t you want to go there anymore?” said Gleb.
“And besides, that yogurt was our own fault,” added Matvey. “We felt something was strange about it but were greedy.”
“True,” Sonya supported. “You just need to pick things you don’t eat raw. There’s all kinds of stuff in regular stores too.”
These words made Irina think. Maybe it was worth trying again? But now, be more careful choosing products.
By the next arrival of the mobile truck, she took her bag again and headed to the meeting place. On the way, she noticed an unusual wallet on the sidewalk between cars — large, made of genuine leather, with a faint scent of men’s cologne.
“Don’t you dare take it to the police!” a creaky female voice suddenly sounded behind her. “Open it and you’ll understand whom to give it to!”
Turning around, Irina saw a woman in a colorful skirt and bright headscarf quickly walking away from the parking lot. She stood alone with the wallet in her hands, looking after her in confusion.
“Interesting, was that a warning for me?” she thought, hiding the find in her bag.
At the spot, people had already surrounded the minibus. Irina picked up groceries and hurried home — it was a day off, the children were still asleep. But, as luck would have it, Gleb’s classmates were out early and seemed to have noticed her in that very queue.
“Oh, how did I get caught!” she thought sadly, imagining how the news about her would spread around the school.
At home, she began processing the purchases when an angry Gleb burst into the kitchen:
“Mom, is it true you buy expired products?”
Irina froze, blushed, and turned to the window.
“Mom, do you understand how that looks?” shouted her son. “Because of you, I’m ashamed to show up at school! I feel so… humiliated!”
He ran out of the kitchen, slamming the door. Matvey followed, refusing to eat the cutlets. Only Sonya, as usual, sat with a full plate but eventually put down her spoon and quietly said:
“I won’t do it anymore either, Mom.” Seeing her mother’s face turn into a crying mask, the girl ran to her: “Mom, don’t cry, I won’t tell anyone!”
“You will!” Gleb yelled. “Because of those cutlets, my whole future is ruined!”
Irina approached her son and looked him straight in the eyes:
“Gleb, I understand — you’re ashamed, disgusted, hurt. You have the right to feel that way. But did we live well before? Could I feed three kids properly on my salary? Of course it’s wrong, but you liked it while you didn’t know where I got those products!”
Silence hung in the room. Gleb didn’t answer. He only clenched his teeth tighter and went to his room. Irina stood in the middle of the kitchen, clutching her apron in her fists. Tears streamed down her cheeks, and she made no effort to hold them back.
Gleb stood by the window, holding a cup of cooled cocoa. His gaze was fixed far away, where the figure of Veronika — a girl who had once been his close friend but now distanced herself because of rumors that his mother bought “expired” food — disappeared around the corner.
“I don’t care what they say,” he muttered without turning. “But Nika… Veronika doesn’t want to come to our house anymore. She says she’s afraid we’ll feed her something gross.”
Hearing this, Irina gently approached her son and placed her hand on his shoulder. She knew it was painful for him. Gleb was always more sensitive than Matvey or Sonya, and took offense to heart.
“Don’t worry, son,” she said quietly. “I’ll talk to Veronika. Maybe she just doesn’t understand everything. And you know: I would never give my children anything dangerous or spoiled. What we eat are fresh products with discounts, nothing more. Believe me, I would never risk my children’s health.”
But Gleb sighed bitterly:
“You can tell her, but she still won’t come. She thinks we’re… not the same as before.”
Irina kissed her son on the crown and returned to the kitchen, where the kettle was already boiling. Amid all these worries and talks, she had completely forgotten about the wallet she found on the street. Only in the evening, when the children were asleep and the apartment was quiet, did she remember it.
She took the leather wallet out of her bag and carefully unfastened the clasp. Inside lay several 5,000-ruble bills, bank cards, and business cards. On one of them was written in large letters: “Evgeny Tengizovich Glukhov, Head of the Regional Department of General Education.”
“Zhenya? Really?” she exclaimed. Memories from school years flooded her mind, those times when they studied together at the technical college in their hometown. Evgeny had been strange, a bit of a bully, but kind and cheerful. He was the son of a single mother, and everyone whispered that his father was a Georgian mountaineer who disappeared in the mountains before he was born.
“How long ago that was…” Irina whispered, sorting through the cards. “And now he’s a department head… Unexpected!”
Checking all the wallet’s pockets, she found no other contacts except the phone number on the business card. After a few seconds of hesitation, she dialed the number.
The phone was answered almost immediately:
“Yes?”
“Hello, I found your wallet…”
There was a pause on the other end.
“I see, an honest person. How much do you want for the find?”
“Nothing,” Irina answered firmly. “I’m not going to profit from this.”
“No, no, you don’t understand how important it is to get it back! It means a lot to me. Where do you live? I’ll come right now!”
Half an hour later there was a knock at the door. Opening it, Irina saw a middle-aged man with graying temples and lively eyes, in which familiar features of young Zhenya flickered. Seeing her, he joyfully exclaimed:
“Irka! So it was you who called me? Why didn’t you say so right away?!”
He handed her a bouquet of five delicate pink roses:
“Here’s my dear, beloved wallet!” he laughed, taking the item from her hands. “Look here,” he showed the engraving inside: “To my only son Evgeny from loving Mom.”
“Now you understand why it’s priceless to me?” he said warmly. “When I finished school and was about to enter university, Mom promised to buy me a real leather wallet if I passed my exams well. I don’t know how she managed to save money for such a thing — she was a simple teacher, and the price was outrageous. And then, when I got my diploma and entered graduate school, she gave me this wallet. Now she’s gone, and it’s my only memory of her.”
“How sad,” Irina said softly. “I didn’t even know that happened to you.”
“Yes, few people know,” Zhenya smiled. “We moved to the regional center when I was appointed department head. And how did you end up here?”
“Just working at a school,” Irina shrugged. “As usual.”
“I’m in exile!” he suddenly laughed. “Defending teachers’ interests, you see? They wanted to close a village school, but I objected. As a result, they removed me from central management and sent me as principal to school number nineteen.”
“What?” Irina exclaimed in surprise. “I work at number nineteen! I’m an elementary school teacher!”
“So I’m your boss now!” he smiled broadly. “Well, how’s the atmosphere? Good team?”
“All experienced, kind people. There are young teachers too. And the acting principal is Zhanna Albertovna.”
“Interesting,” Evgeny said thoughtfully. “Why are you starving me? Let’s at least have some tea!”
“Oh, sorry, Zhenya!” Irina laughed shyly. “I was so confused, forgot about etiquette!”
She quickly put on the kettle and set the table with a fancy tablecloth. Sonya, a curious and energetic girl, ran into the room.
“Sofya Andreevna,” she introduced herself, holding out a small hand.
“Evgeny Tengizovich, the new principal of your school!” the man declared and laughed.
“Will you live with us?” the girl asked.
“What do you want?” he replied.
Sonya blushed and ran off to her brothers. They were wearing headphones but, hearing the principal’s name, took off their music and started making their beds.
“A mother of many children!” Evgeny shouted joyfully seeing them. “We’ll create the best working conditions for you!”
Irina poured aromatic tea she could afford thanks to saving money. Zhenya remained as spontaneous and cheerful as in youth despite his solid age and high position.
“How do you manage without a husband?” he asked quietly, nodding toward the framed photo.
“As best I can. They’re good kids, help out, try not to fuss.”
The boys, sipping tea, nearly choked.
“You’ll help me remember names if I forget, right?” Evgeny asked them.
“Of course!” Gleb and Matvey answered in unison.
The next day a formal meeting was held at school. The first lessons were canceled to introduce students to the new principal. Girls in senior classes, hearing the principal was a man, put on makeup and dressed especially nicely.
Evgeny stepped out to the students, warmly greeted everyone, introduced himself, and began to talk about himself. He spoke simply but sincerely and passionately, and even the most restless students listened attentively.
“Now tell me what you think is important about your school,” he suggested.
There was confusion in the hall. Usually, teachers didn’t give the floor to students, much less allowed them to speak freely.
But one senior girl, clearly prepared, raised her hand:
“Something outrageous is happening at our school! Some teachers,” she pointed eloquently at Irina, “behave like beggars! We saw one teacher standing in line for expired products! Is that normal? Teachers should set an example of proper nutrition!”
Irina felt shame flood her face. But Evgeny calmly raised his hand:
“Stop, my dear. Before accusing someone, try putting yourself in that person’s place. Do you think someone buys expired products on a whim? No, out of necessity! And there is nothing shameful in that!”
“But they feed children with those products!” the girl exclaimed. “Who wants to come to their house?”
“Calm down,” the principal said gently. “If you mean Irina Nikitichna, I know for sure — she buys those products for her grandmother neighbor. You know how hard it is to live on a pension.”
The girl blushed and hid behind her friend’s back.
“My friends,” the principal continued, “let’s agree: if you want to express dissatisfaction with a teacher or a classmate, come to my office and we will resolve the issue confidentially.” Then he raised his voice: “I consider spreading rumors and bullying absolutely unacceptable! Remember this once and for all!”
The hall became so quiet it seemed one could hear their own heartbeat.
After the assembly, Veronika approached Irina:
“Irina Nikitichna, please forgive me! I didn’t know…”
“All right, Veronika. Let’s pretend this incident never happened.”
In the evening, Evgeny called:
“Listen, Ir, let’s have dinner together!”
“Zhenya, I’d love to, but you saw — I have to feed everyone, check lessons…”
“I’m not asking you to go out! I already ordered pizza and rolls for five people to your address. I’m on my way!”
“Zhenya, you haven’t changed at all!”
“You changed — you look better!”
“All right, enough lying!”
“I’m not lying! And anyway, how can you talk to your principal like that? See you soon!”
When the family gathered around the table, laden with boxes of pizza and rolls, Evgeny looked at Irina’s sons:
“Here’s the thing, guys, I know what you’re thinking — here comes some guy wanting to take Dad’s place. And you’re partly right. I want to be your mom’s best friend and the best husband for your mom, but I won’t restrict your freedom. Let’s make a deal — you allow me to court Mom?”
The boys exchanged glances and almost simultaneously said:
“Deal!”
“Why didn’t anyone ask me?” Sonya pouted. “You said you’d live with us if I wanted!”
“And I’m not going to live with you,” Evgeny smiled and tapped her nose. “I have my own house, much bigger. If you like it — we’ll live together. If not — I’ll be your visiting dad. Deal?”
“Not dad — Uncle Zhenya!” the kids said in unison.
“All right!” he agreed and looked at Irina. “See, the majority is for it. Obey, minority!”
Irina smiled. For the first time in a long while, she felt life becoming softer, brighter again.
“So, next weekend we’re going to visit me!”
“Hooray!” Sonya jumped up. “Do you have swings in your yard?”
“Swings?” Tengizovich scratched his head. “No. Who would swing? But there’s a rocking chair on the terrace — Mom loved to rest there.”
The unexpected friendship with the school principal flattered Irina’s sons, but they decided not to tell anyone. Evgeny turned out to be such a good person it was impossible not to love him. When he appeared, the children never left his side, afraid to miss a word. Something seemed to change in their minds and hearts — they played less, read more, thought more.
One day Gleb couldn’t hold back and told Veronika the whole truth:
“You didn’t know that last year we lost Dad? That our Mom supports three children alone and teaches thirty other kids to be wise, kind, eternal? And a teacher’s salary with all that workload is nothing!”
Veronika hugged Gleb’s shoulders and cried:
“How could I be so! Will your Mom forgive me?”
Evgeny Tengizovich put the question bluntly:
“Guys, let’s move in together! Gleb, it’s a stone’s throw from here to university, we’ll take the younger ones to school. And Mom,” he looked at Irina, “I suggest taking a health leave for at least a year. If you get bored, I’ll bring some familiar preschoolers — you can prepare for first grade.”
Irina didn’t object. For the first time in a long time, she felt life was getting better.