43-year-old Tatyana Alexandrovna Lomakina, clutching two giant bags in her hands, was slowly and laboriously climbing the stairs to the fourth floor, step by step. Her legs trembled, her back ached, her breath was short, and, as if mocking her, the elevator was once again out of order. But, as the saying goes, your own burden doesn’t weigh you down — after all, these bags didn’t just hold things, but a whole ocean of love, care, and homely comfort, gathered thoughtfully for her beloved son. She surely wouldn’t leave them downstairs, under the stairwell, among dust and cold, would she?
Tatyana came to her son to make him happy, warm him, feed him, hug him. Because, like every student, he was always hungry, and most importantly — in need of a mother’s affection. Two years ago, she did what every caring mother dreams of — she bought her son a two-room apartment in Moscow. Yes, not in the city center, not with a luxury renovation, not with a view of the Ostankino Tower, but on the outskirts, modest but her own. And she was proud of it as if she had conquered Everest. After all, she grew up alone, without a husband, without support, but she managed. Not every mother raising a child alone can do that. But Tatyana did.
Her son — 22-year-old Fyodor, a Moscow State University student — was her pride and the light in her window. He graduated school with a gold medal, entered on a government scholarship, chose a profession that is worth its weight in gold today — he is a future IT specialist. Moreover, he already works at a large, respected company, and his career is rapidly gaining momentum. Tatyana was confident — her son would become someone greater than just a programmer. He would become a pillar, an example, the definition of “success.”
Anticipating the joy of the meeting, the woman quickened her pace, climbed the last steps, and stopped at the door. The morning sunlight broke through the dusty window of the stairwell. Fyodor was, as usual, attending lectures at university. So no need to ring the bell — she wouldn’t distract her son from studying. She had the key, so she would simply come in, unpack the gifts, sit a little, and wait for her son to return. How happy he would be! After all, he had always been attached to his mother, even as an adult.
They hadn’t seen each other for almost two months. In summer, Fyodor went to the village for a whole month’s vacation — but that was in July, and then he went back to Moscow. In September and early October, Tatyana hadn’t had a single free moment — harvesting the crops, preparing for winter, taking care of the house and farm. As soon as she had some free time, she packed her bags, took homemade preserves, pies, jams, and went to her son.
The door opened easily, and without putting the bags down, the woman dragged them along the floor with her back to the door. Closing it from inside, Tatyana Alexandrovna breathed out with relief, sat on the couch, and closed her eyes, enjoying the silence and comfort of her home apartment.
But suddenly she felt someone’s presence. It was an inexplicable sensation, as if the air in the room had thickened. Opening her eyes, she saw two pairs of eyes — one human, the other a dog’s. A man about fifty years old stood before her, and next to him sat a huge German shepherd. Both looked at her with the same astonishment as she looked at them.
“Who are you?!” Tatyana Alexandrovna exclaimed sharply. “What are you doing here?!” She looked from the man to the dog, not scared at all. Raising her chin, she got up from the couch and decisively stepped forward, grabbing an umbrella from the table as if it could protect her from the unexpected guests.
“Woman, put my umbrella back,” the man said sternly. The dog immediately barked and growled, as if confirming his owner’s seriousness.
“Tell him to stop, or I’ll scream so loud there won’t be room left!” Tatyana didn’t back down. “I’m asking again: what are you doing here?”
“What do you mean ‘what are we doing?’” the man asked in surprise. “Living here. What else?”
“This is my son’s apartment, Moscow State University student Fyodor Lomakin’s! You cannot live in someone else’s apartment! That’s impossible!” the woman protested.
“Why impossible?” shrugged the stranger. “The owner can rent out the apartment, sell it, or let acquaintances stay. What’s wrong with that?”
“So you’re an acquaintance of my son? He invited you to live here? And who are you? Why don’t I know you?” Tatyana smiled in confusion.
“Wait, I never said I’m your son’s acquaintance. And I don’t know you either. Your son rented the apartment for six months. That’s why Mishka and I are living here now.”
“So we’re not alone here? There’s some Mikhail living here too? Oh God!” The woman grabbed her head in confusion. “My son rented our Moscow apartment to guest workers?”
The man understood that the woman was shocked and confused, so trying to stay calm and patient, he answered:
“Mishka is my dog. My name is Ivan Pavlovich Romanov. I’m 49 years old. I live alone, and Mishka lives with me.”
The dog immediately sat down next to his owner, looked attentively at the woman, then at Ivan Pavlovich, as if asking, “So what’s going on here?”
“So you’re not guest workers?” Tatyana asked hesitantly.
“Mishka is definitely not a guest worker. He’s from a Moscow kennel,” Ivan Pavlovich answered, suppressing a smile.
“And where are you from?”
“I’m from Krasnodar region.”
“Oh, you know, I’m from there too!” the woman rejoiced. “My name is Tatyana Alexandrovna Lomakina. But then… where does my son live? I don’t understand anything. And I can’t call him — he’s at lectures now.”
“Come to the kitchen, Tatyana Alexandrovna, we’ll wait together until he’s free,” Ivan Pavlovich suggested, clearly happy to have company.
“All right, thank you. I still need to deliver gifts to him. Though I don’t know where — but as soon as he answers, I’ll find out everything.”
Suddenly she looked at Ivan Pavlovich and said:
“Show me your passport.”
The man smiled, went deeper into the apartment, and returned a couple of minutes later with his passport and the rental agreement.
“Should I also show the dog’s passport?” he asked with a slight joke.
“We’ll have to — we’ll check the dog’s passport too,” Tatyana Alexandrovna retorted, offended.
“All right, all right, don’t be offended. Let’s go drink tea. Or do you want some borscht? I just made some.”
“I’ll have some!” the woman didn’t hesitate. “I’m curious how a man can make borscht. Do you boil the beets or stew them in a pan?”
And so, over tea and borscht, talking about culinary subtleties and life experience, their strange but sincere meeting began…
Now, to understand why Tatyana reacted so strongly to the unexpected tenants, we need to look into her past — the very past that shaped her character, tempered her soul, and taught her not to give up in the face of life’s trials.
She was born in 1981, in times now remembered with warmth and nostalgia — the USSR era. Tatyana’s parents — Alexander Fyodorovich and Polina Markovna Kuzmichyovy — were ordinary people but lived, as they said then, “no worse than others.” Her father was a site manager at a coal mine, and her mother was the head of a grocery warehouse. Their home had crystal, carpets, gold jewelry, and even a stereo system with cassette tapes.
But everything collapsed in an instant. One morning, when Tanya was getting ready for school, police cars arrived at the house. Her mother silently stood with her head down while uniformed officers entered the house, leaving marks on the carpets. The house was confiscated, and Polina Markovna was convicted of embezzlement. She received seven years. Little Tanya was left with her father.
Soon, her father had a new woman — Zina Shelukhina, a saleswoman from the local store. Her son Denis studied in the same class as Tanya and bullied her every day. And the father didn’t notice the bruises on his daughter’s face. But one person noticed — a high school senior, Zhenya Lomakin. He repeatedly defended Tanya until Denis stopped bothering her.
Tanya fell madly in love with Zhenya. He was her hero, knight, superhero. Once, when Lomakin asked why she tolerated the bullying, Tanya cried. Zhenya gave her a candy and said, “If anything — tell me.” She kept that candy for years until ants ate it…
Polina Markovna was released early in 1994 and unexpectedly returned home. At the house, she found Zina — the former saleswoman who acted as the mistress. At the moment of Polina’s arrival, Zina was serving soup with homemade noodles.
Denis was eagerly eating, while Tanya sat with an empty plate — Zina always served her food last. Seeing her mother, Tanya burst into tears and ran to her:
“Mommy, mom!” she shouted and hugged Polina. Polina sat down, cried for a long time, hugging her daughter, then ordered her to pack their things. Turning to Zina, she asked:
“How did you settle in my house?”
“Why is it yours?” Zina worried. “The house came to Sasha from his father, and your house is in Vesyoloye. If it’s not fallen apart yet, of course.”
“So Alexander got a mistress while I was gone? And brought that cheeky kid here too,” Polina nodded at Denis, who kept chewing.
“Sasha needed a woman by his side, a housekeeper. What was he to do while his wife was in prison? Yes, we live together and will marry as soon as you get a divorce. You should thank me for feeding Tanya all this time,” Zina snorted.
“I see you fed her well,” Polina replied bitterly. “Like a sparrow — skin and bones. Tanya, get ready quickly, we’re leaving.”
“Where are you taking her?” Zina was scared. “Wait until Sasha comes from work, talk to him, let him give permission.” She stood across the hallway, but Polina pushed her so hard she flew into a corner. Denis was silent but didn’t defend his mother.
Polina took her daughter by the hand, and they went outside. Hastily gathering their things, they took a bus to Vesyoloye.
The house by the river really needed repair. After Polina’s father died ten years ago, it stood abandoned. The grass grew waist-high, the garden was overgrown, windows and doors were boarded up.
When Polina started prying boards off the door, a light turned on in the neighboring yard, a dog barked, and then a neighbor peeked out:
“Who’s making noise? I’ll call the police!”
“It’s me, Polina. I’ve come back home.”
“Oh, Polinka, hi! I’ll help, I’ll call your son!” The woman ran off and soon returned with an ax and crowbar, followed by a young man.
Tanya froze — before her stood Evgeny Lomakin, the school hero who once protected her. Now he was her neighbor.
On the way to Vesyoloye, Polina told her daughter that they would now live in Grandpa Mark’s house. Tanya barely remembered him — she was three when he died. But she immediately liked the house. From the yard, there was a view of the forest and river, beyond which stretched meadows with flowers. Tanya had never seen such a beautiful place and wanted to stay there forever.
And so it happened, although many difficulties lay ahead: parents’ divorce, mother’s illness, early orphanhood. Her mother died when Tanya turned eighteen. She didn’t have time to enter college and refused to live with her father at any cost.
Her father lived with Zinaida, where a baby cried, the mistress ruled, and Denis strutted importantly around the yard. Alexander Fyodorovich was completely under his wife’s thumb and lived only for work.
Polina decided to start a new life:
“I’ll survive the winter, plant the garden in spring, buy chickens,” she said aloud.
“Better marry me,” came a voice behind. It was Evgeny, the neighbor. He had returned from the army, took up farming, bought a beekeeping business, and studied apiculture. He shared honey with neighbors, and Tanya even helped extract honey. She wasn’t afraid of bees and loved the work.
She noticed Evgeny also cared for her. The guy was 24 but a man long ago. He grew up without a father, helped his mother, took responsibility early.
The wedding was modest — a table in the house, as it was early spring. The dress was sewn by the mother-in-law, and the groom’s suit had to be bought in the city.
With Zhenya, Tanya experienced her happiest years. But happiness lasted only ten years. At 34, Evgeny died. Their son Fyodor was seven then.
By that time, the Lomakin apiary was one of the largest in the region, and their honey was considered the best. One night unknown people set the hives on fire, and when Evgeny came out with pitchforks, they killed him. Only part of the hives was saved.
After her husband’s death, Tanya took care of the bees, her son, and her mother-in-law. Zhenya taught her much, and she treated the bees like living beings to be protected. If a bee got inside the house, Tanya carefully guided it to a flower.
Now, besides Fyodor and Zhenya’s mother, Irina Gennadievna, Tanya felt responsible for every surviving bee.
The mother-in-law and daughter-in-law became close like relatives. They raised Fyodor together, supported each other. Now Tatyana Alexandrovna Lomakina is a respected businesswoman. She owns a large apiary and practices apitherapy.
In an ecologically clean place, among the river and forest, stands “Bee Paradise” — a recreation complex created by Tatyana. On the riverbank are wooden houses where a unique procedure is offered — sleeping on hives.
Ivan Pavlovich, who had been listening attentively to Tatyana’s story, could not hold back a smile. The woman immediately frowned:
“What’s so funny? You probably don’t know that the method of sleeping on hives is ancient, thousands of years old. Bees are not only workers but also healers. Their bioenergy affects the body in a special way… Well, I won’t explain — you still won’t understand,” Tatyana frowned disapprovingly.
“No, no!” the man hurried to explain. “I wasn’t laughing. I admire you. You went through so many hardships and remained a strong person.”
“Really?” the woman softened a bit and even smiled. “Then I’ll set the table now — treat you to my honey and pine cone jam. You won’t find anything like it anywhere else. Brew some tea, and I’ll run,” she said, leaving for the hallway.
Ivan, pouring water into the kettle, suddenly realized he hadn’t felt such a light, almost youthful admiration in a long time. His wife Svetlana was the only woman he had truly loved. After her departure, he spent the last two years fully raising their daughter, forgetting himself and personal life. And now he suddenly realized it was pleasant to be near this woman, to look at her, smile, and feel alive. In Tatyana, he saw so much strength, light, and life energy that he could not help but admire.
“Here I am,” Tatyana ran in cheerfully. “I brought some nuts with condensed milk — Fedya loves them. I couldn’t come empty-handed since you treated me to borscht. Let this be the exchange,” she laughed and sat down at the table. “Now tell me about yourself. I know almost nothing about you.”
“What’s there to tell?” Ivan shrugged. “I have an ordinary life: born, married, daughter born.”
“No, no, more details!” Tatyana objected. “You know everything about me, but I know almost nothing about you.”
“I’m not hiding from anyone. Just not used to talking much about myself. And especially not wanting to hide anything from you,” he quietly added, and Tatyana Alexandrovna felt her cheeks flush.
Ivan was born in winter 1975. He never learned the exact date — the documents only stated approximately. His birth was a city event. The baby was found in the stairwell of a house in a basket — a dog stumbled upon it during a walk.
Old woman Galina Maksimovna Romanova, seventy at the time, was walking with her German shepherd Albert when the dog started barking. The woman turned and saw the basket on the stairs. Inside lay a newborn boy wrapped in an old woolen blanket.
Galina Maksimovna, a retired pediatrician, quickly examined the child, warmed and fed him, and called an ambulance. The case even made the local newspaper. Since there was no note in the basket, she was allowed to choose the boy’s name and surname.
“Let him be Ivan Pavlovich. That was the name of my first love,” she smiled.
“And the last name?” asked the registrar.
“Romanov,” the woman answered.
“But that’s your last name!” she was surprised.
“And his now, too,” Galina Maksimovna said firmly.
She was told she couldn’t adopt the boy due to her age but continued to visit him in the orphanage, bringing treats and taking him for weekends when he was healthy. The boy had no idea she wasn’t his real grandmother. He called her grandmother and considered her family.
Ivan grew up a weak child — often sick. But that didn’t prevent him from being happy because he had the care and love of Galina Maksimovna. Only as an adult did he learn the truth about his origins and how he was found.
“So you’re a doctor?” Tatyana interrupted.
“A veterinarian,” Ivan smiled.
“That’s wonderful too,” the woman nodded. “Sorry for interrupting. Please continue.”
Galina Maksimovna was left alone. After her husband and daughter died, dogs were closest to her. She fed the homeless, helped puppies find homes, and always kept a dog. Albert was one of her favorite shepherds.
When she turned 84 and Albert died, she vowed never to get another dog. But one day, fourteen-year-old Ivan brought home a puppy with a broken leg.
“Where did you get him?” Grandma was upset. “Are you out of your mind? If I heal him, I won’t be able to give him away. But I can’t abandon him either.”
“Grandma, don’t worry, I’ll take care of him,” promised Vanya.
“What’s his name?”
“Zhorik,” he showed the puppy.
“Zhorik? Okay, let him be Georgy. But know this: if he misbehaves, I’ll punish him with a newspaper on his behind,” she said sternly, and Zhorik wagged his tail as if understanding.
Seven years later, Galina Maksimovna passed away peacefully at 91. After the orphanage, Ivan lived with her and studied veterinary medicine. She left him her apartment, considering him her own grandson:
“My grandson indeed. Without me, you wouldn’t have survived back then.”
Ivan agreed. For him, Galina Maksimovna was the only family he had. Since then, he always had German shepherds — grandma loved the breed and taught him to care for dogs.
After her death, Ivan worked as a loader, orderly, nurse assistant to finish college. Becoming a veterinarian, he continues to work in the specialty to this day.
“But you said you’re a cook,” Tatyana was surprised.
“That’s my hobby,” he smiled. “I love cooking. Many men prefer hunting, fishing, billiards; I prefer the kitchen. I cook with soul — for family and friends.”
“Oh, Ivan, you’re a treasure! Where could I find someone like you? I love cooking too, but have no time,” sighed Tatyana.
“Maybe you don’t need to look? Maybe you’ve already found him?” he said softly, looking intently at her. The woman blushed and decided to change the subject:
“How did you meet your wife?”
Ivan met Svetlana when he was 25. Before that, he hadn’t thought about family — he considered it a big responsibility and feared he wouldn’t cope or be a good father. But doubts disappeared as soon as he saw her.
He was getting off a minibus when a girl was coming down the steps in front of him. She stepped wrong, twisted her ankle, and fell. She cried loudly like a child. People tried to calm her, and Ivan rushed to help:
“I’m a doctor. What happened?”
Passersby helped the girl up and sat her on a bench near the stop. Gradually the crowd dispersed, and Ivan sat next to her.
“Are you really a doctor?” she sobbed.
“Of course,” the young man answered confidently.
“Doesn’t look like it,” Svetlana said doubtfully.
“I’m a veterinarian,” Ivan introduced himself shyly. “My name is Ivan Pavlovich Romanov.”
“Then why are you helping me? I’m not a goat to come to you for treatment,” the girl said angrily.
“But I can provide first aid, even if you’re not a goat,” he replied gently.
They exchanged a glance and laughed together. That day Ivan indeed helped Svetlana a lot — even accompanied her home. It turned out they had a lot in common: both grew up without parents. Svetlana lived in an orphanage until seven, then went to a family with eleven foster and three biological children.
The family valued work from an early age. The girl worked at home and on the farm: milking cows, cleaning pigsties, cooking feed. She dreamed of freedom, playing with peers, fashionable clothes, and first dates, but all remained unreachable dreams.
School graduation and entering a sewing school became a real holiday for Sveta. The dormitory was better than home despite shabby walls and tight quarters. She had no friends, didn’t communicate with boys — didn’t know how. So Ivan became the first young man she truly spoke with.
When he suggested going to his home to treat her injured knees, Svetlana didn’t hesitate. Learning that he lived alone with a dog named Zhorik, she wasn’t afraid. And rightly so — Ivan turned out to be a kind, decent man.
They dated for almost a year, then Ivan proposed. Svetlana agreed without hesitation. The spouses lived amicably, never quarreled over the years. They worked, saved for vacation, car, and education for daughter Marina. But at nineteen, the girl never entered college.
Everything changed five years ago when Svetlana got sick. Ivan and Marina cared for her, but the illness was incurable. Svetlana passed away two years ago. Ivan couldn’t come to terms with the loss for a long time, and Marina fell into depression. Her mother was the closest person to her, and her departure left a huge void.
The girl lost interest in life, couldn’t eat, didn’t sleep at night. She wandered around the room listening to music, only occasionally sleeping a few hours. Ivan tried to help — took her to doctors, tests, consultations, but nothing helped. Eventually, he was advised to show his daughter to specialists in Moscow.
“What a horror!” exclaimed Tatyana. “Where is Marina now? I want to meet her!”
“She’s coming tomorrow. I arrived early to rent an apartment near the clinic. I’ll meet her tomorrow,” Ivan replied.
“Then I’ll come tomorrow and talk to your daughter. I’ll suggest apitherapy. Of course, first consult with doctors, but if possible — come to us. Forest, river, our honey and bees — you’ll rest so well you’ll forget all the bad things,” smiled Tatyana.
“We will definitely come, thank you,” Ivan said.
“Well, I have to go,” said the woman. “Thank you for the hospitality and the borscht.” She shook the man’s hand, then bent down and kissed Mishka on the nose. The dog happily stood on his hind legs.
“What do you mean ‘going’?” Ivan was puzzled. “You’re home. This is your apartment.”
“No, no, my son rented it out. I can’t stay here.”
“Tatyana Alexandrovna, the apartment is empty; I only use the sofa. The bed is yours. Please stay.”
“It’s somehow uncomfortable,” the woman declined.
“Tanya, stay,” Ivan said seriously. They looked at each other, and at that moment the phone rang. The son’s number appeared on the screen.
“That’s Fedya,” Tatyana whispered for some reason. “I completely forgot about him.” She smiled and picked up:
“Hi, son. How are you?”
“All good, mom. Just got home from university.”
“Home?” the woman repeated mockingly. “Where is that?”
“To our apartment you bought,” Fyodor was confused.
“I’m in the kitchen talking to Ivan Pavlovich, and you’re not here. Maybe you’re hiding behind the door?” Tatyana laughed.
“Mom, are you in Moscow?” the son was surprised.
“Of course, I’ve been here since morning. Met the tenant, tasted borscht. Good thing you rented to a decent person, not some homeless.”
“Mom, homeless people don’t have that kind of money,” Fyodor sighed.
“Even better,” the woman rejoiced. “Now explain: why did you rent out the apartment?”
“Let’s meet and talk,” the son cautiously suggested.
“Give the phone to Ivan,” Tatyana whispered.
Ivan took the phone and said seriously:
“Fyodor, come home. Your mother’s staying. I can’t let her be alone in the evening.”
“Hello, Ivan Pavlovich, thanks for hosting mom,” the young man started shyly.
“Hello, Fedya. But how come? You rented the apartment and didn’t tell your mom. That’s not right.”
After talking a bit, the men said goodbye. Ivan hung up and said:
“Tatyana, I’ll take your things to the room, and Fyodor is already on his way — will be here soon.”
He quickly carried the bags, gathered his things, and went into the hallway. Suddenly Tatyana laughed.
“What’s so funny?” Ivan asked.
“I’m just thinking: the situation is really absurd. They rented the apartment, got money, and now they’ve come — first one, then the other. Just a comedy,” the woman laughed.
“And I say: stay, I have plenty of space,” Ivan smiled and repeated.
“I’ll move your things now, ha-ha,” Tatyana continued laughing.
“Make yourself comfortable; food will be ready soon,” joked Ivan.
At that moment, the doorbell rang. A breathless Fyodor stood in the doorway:
“So, you’re having fun here!”
“Exactly,” the mother answered, glancing at the satisfied Ivan. “Come in, son. Now explain: why did you rent the apartment and where do you live?”
Fyodor took a deep breath:
“Mom, I decided to get married.”
“What?!” Tatyana and Ivan exclaimed in unison.
“Yes, yes, marry,” Fyodor repeated. “That’s why I rented the apartment — not enough money for a ring. Wanted to propose.”
“Son, you work well. Couldn’t you save for the ring? Why not ask me? I would have helped,” the mother was confused.
“You see, mom, the girl I wanted to propose to wouldn’t accept a simple ring. She needed a real one with a diamond. The bigger — the better. Consider that I paid for love not only with feelings but also money.”
“Oh my,” Tatyana smirked. “Well, we’re not poor, and a good girl can be given a diamond. But only if she’s really good. So who is she?”
“No one,” Fyodor waved his hand and adjusted his glasses.
“What do you mean — no one?”
“Literally. She just laughed at me. I offered her restaurants, shopping, attention. When I ran out of money, I rented the apartment. Even lived two weeks in a dorm at friends’ place, hiding from the dean under the bed. Then it turned out she already had a boyfriend — a big guy. She said I was a loser, nerd, and mama’s boy, and left. No wedding.”
“Well, thank God, son,” Tatyana smiled. Ivan and Fyodor looked at her in surprise. “Good thing it ended before the wedding. Imagine if you married such a bitch, and then had a child? Then you’d have to deal with it. But it’s lucky it ended on time.”
“Too bad about the money,” sighed Fyodor.
“You have to pay for everything,” Ivan said. “You paid with experience. Next time you’ll be smarter.”
They stayed at the kitchen table until late at night. Tatyana and Ivan shared stories from their youth, talked about how things were before. They wanted to show Fyodor that times change, but the essence of human relationships remains the same. True love and friendship are never selfish. You need to look at deeds, not words — they say a lot about a person.
Tatyana sat, resting her cheek on her hand, thinking about something. She had lived alone for fifteen years, used to carrying everything herself. And now suddenly there was a man nearby who radiated confidence and reliability. She felt easy, calm, and even a little homely cozy. For the first time in a long time, she felt she could just be — not struggle, not prove, not survive.
At some point, she even thought they were a family: she, Fyodor, and Ivan, sitting at the table, talking, laughing. As if they had always been together and would be for a long time. Could it be possible? — she thought, looked at Ivan, and blushed. He was also looking at her, and it seemed he thought the same.
In the morning, Fyodor left for university, and Ivan and Tatyana went to the station to meet Marina. As soon as the woman saw the girl, her eyes filled with tears. Marina was extraordinarily fragile, thoughtful, and sad. Tanya had seen such beauty only in old paintings.
“What a beauty,” Tatyana couldn’t help exclaiming and immediately hugged the girl as if they were old friends.
Marina, looking around confused, asked:
“Where’s dad? Who are you?”
“I’m Tatyana Alexandrovna. A friend of your father. And a beekeeper, by the way.”
“A beekeeper?” the girl was surprised. “That’s a man’s profession.”
“Why not? Do you think a woman can’t handle it? Come visit me, see for yourself. My bees know me, don’t sting. They are so faithful, hardworking, disciplined. Unlike people.”
“Where is your apiary?”
“In a fairytale place: forest, river, meadows where the grass smells so strong your head spins…”
At that moment Ivan ran up with a bouquet of roses:
“Hi, dear! This is for you. How was your trip?”
“Terrible,” Marina answered shortly and looked at Tatyana. “Dad, they invite us to the apiary.”
“Let’s go,” Tatyana nodded. “First home, then need to buy some things in Moscow, and tomorrow we can go.”
“I’ll help with the shopping,” Ivan said cheerfully, rubbing his hands.
Marina watched them, not hiding her confusion. When her father went to get the bags, she quietly asked Tatyana:
“Excuse me, what’s going on? Who are you?”
“Our song is good, start again,” Tatyana smiled. “I’m a beekeeper, a friend of your father. And I think I fell in love with him. Maybe.”
“How long have you known each other?” Marina frowned. “I don’t recall my dad having women in Moscow.”
“No, we just met yesterday. He rents an apartment from my son Fedya. I came to Fyodor, but your dad opened the door… and Mishka, can you imagine?”
Tatyana smiled, and Marina looked at her without a trace of a smile:
“Met yesterday, and already wandering Moscow, making plans, shopping together? Inviting strangers to your place? Are you out of your mind?”
“In my mind,” Tatyana answered seriously. “More than that, maybe only I and your dad are sane in this world. We just live, Marina. Not exist, not hide, but live. Try it too. Believe me, you’ll like it.” The woman gently stroked the girl’s back.
Marina was silent all the way home. Raising her eyebrows and burying her face in her thoughts, she asked no questions and made no comments. Meanwhile, Tatyana didn’t stop talking for a second — telling about her borschts, which honey is good for colds, and which for sore throats. Then she got a call, and her voice suddenly became firm, commanding, giving orders quickly and clearly, without extra words.
Marina suddenly realized she wasn’t just talking to a woman but to a true leader. And maybe a really good beekeeper.
At home, the girl settled on the balcony: swung her legs on a stool, put her face to the October sun, put on headphones, and closed her eyes. When she decided to brew tea, she opened her eyes, started to get up — and froze.
“Who are you?” she shouted in fear, turning off the music. Her heart raced. “How did you get here?”
On the balcony stood a tall thin guy with glasses, smiling:
“And who are you?” he calmly asked. “I actually live here. And you, girl, how did you get here?”
“This is my father’s apartment; he rents it. He’s not here now, but will be back soon and explain everything. Get out of here.”
“No, wait. I didn’t rent my apartment. I was on a business trip, left the keys to a friend to water flowers. Maybe he decided to rent it? To make some money off my place?”
“I don’t know,” Marina got nervous. “I just arrived. My dad will come soon…”
“Maybe you’re just lying?” the guy chuckled. “What if you’re a robber? Broke into a stranger’s house… By the way, I’ll see if grandma’s valuables are still here.”
“Listen,” the girl was trembling with nerves, “but then the guy suddenly burst out laughing:
“Okay, just joking. You must be Marina, Ivan Pavlovich’s daughter? And I’m Fyodor, Tatyana Alexandrovna’s son.”
Marina’s heart calmed down a bit, but soon flared up again in anger:
“So you’re Fyodor? The apartment owner who rented it out to buy a diamond for some trick? The son of beekeeper Tatyana who met my dad yesterday, fell in love, and now drags us all to the apiary to sleep on hives?”
“Not on hives, but near them,” Fyodor corrected but, noticing the girl’s anger, began to back off cautiously. “I mean, on hives, but not inside them, nearby…”
“What’s the difference!” Marina shouted, hands on hips. “You’re both crazy. And my dad will go crazy with you. Open the door right now, four-eyes!”
At that moment Ivan and Tatyana entered with purchases.
“Marina’s yelling,” Ivan was surprised. “And scolding Fyodor.”
“So what?” Tatyana shrugged. “He really is a jerk. No wonder they yell at him. I understand her.”
“No, Tanya, you don’t understand. Marina hasn’t yelled at anyone for two years. She lost all emotions. And now — she yells!”
“That means she’s coming back to life,” Tatyana smiled and looked into the room. “Fyodor, open the balcony. Let Marina out. We’re having lunch now.”
Lunch went well. In the evening, Fyodor suddenly suggested Marina take a walk around Moscow.
“We’ll walk all night,” he said. “Since you don’t sleep.”
“Is it safe?”
“Moscow is the safest city in the world. Let’s go.”
They returned at dawn. After lunch, they planned to go to the station, but Tatyana persuaded them to visit her for a few days — to the bees, her favorite place.
Marina didn’t come out for breakfast. By eleven, Ivan couldn’t stand it and peeked into her room — then immediately left:
“Tanya, she’s sleeping. It’s almost noon, and she’s still sleeping.”
“Let her sleep,” the woman smiled. “Don’t wake her. Why cure her? She’s healthy. Just coming back to life. And that’s fast. We’ll handle it.”
Ivan silently nodded and wiped away a tear. At that moment he realized: his life didn’t end with Svetlana’s departure. It goes on.