Lika was just finishing her coffee during a break between appointments — a warm, slightly bitter sip was supposed to help her perk up before the next couple of hours of intense work. She set the cup down on the table and reached for a napkin when, with a loud clatter, a chair dropped down beside her. Alla, a nurse’s aide from the neighboring department, plopped down without ceremony, crossed her arms over her chest, and stared at Lika with a smirk.
“Well, brag already,” she said, tilting her head slightly.
Lika flinched, nearly choking on the last sip. The coffee burned her throat, and she hurriedly covered her mouth with her hand, coughing. When she looked up at her colleague, she just stared back in silent question, trying to figure out what all this pressure was about.
“Oh, don’t play dumb!” Alla waved a hand as if brushing off Lika’s feigned confusion. “I saw your hubby yesterday. He went into a jewelry store. And of course I followed — I was curious! I didn’t get too close, obviously, but I clearly saw a little box. Show me!”
Lika felt everything inside her clench. She slowly lowered her gaze to her cup, where a little of the divine drink was still left, then looked back at Alla. There was more than curiosity in her voice — there was a distinct note of envy, as if she’d already tried on, in her imagination, the ring that she believed Marat had bought for his wife.
“Sorry, but you’re mistaken,” Lika forced a smile, trying to keep her voice even. “Marat was home last night. The whole time.”
“It was 6:20!” Alla lunged forward, her eyes flashing. “And don’t take me for an idiot! It was definitely your husband — I got a good look at him when he came to pick you up. I recognized him right away — he has that distinctive walk, and the same jacket. So don’t dodge it. Show me what’s in the box!”
Lika swallowed. Suddenly she felt hot, despite the cool air in the room. She automatically adjusted her crisp white coat, feeling her blouse cling unpleasantly to her back. Alla was staring at her with such anticipation, as if already picturing how she’d tell everyone about the expensive gift Marat had given his wife.
“And still, you’re wrong,” Lika repeated, making her voice sound firm. “Sorry — my break is over. My little patients and their worried parents are waiting.”
She got up rather quickly, not wanting to stay in Alla’s company a single extra minute. She had chosen that gap between appointments on purpose — hoping to steal at least ten minutes of blissful silence, sit in the half-empty room, listen to the soft music, and simply catch her breath before the next wave of patients. But no such luck.
As if on cue, the clinic’s biggest gossip had shown up — the kind who seemed to wait for any tiny detail so she could inflate it into a full-blown catastrophe.
“Ah. Now I get it,” Alla drawled with a nasty little laugh, leaning back in her chair and crossing her arms. “Your precious husband’s got himself another woman. Now that’s news! Our incomparable Anzhelika Arkadyevna is being dumped!”
Lika felt everything inside her tense, but outwardly she stayed calm. Slowly she turned and shot the gossip a sharp, irritated look.
“Don’t talk nonsense,” she snapped, forcing her voice to sound steady. “My husband loves me. We’re raising a wonderful son…”
“Who isn’t even yours,” the aide finished coldly for her, never taking her eyes off Lika. “Your Marat’s a sly one. Dumped the kid on you, and he drives around on business trips. Bet he’s got a fiancée in every city.”
Lika gripped the edge of the table, feeling her nails dig into the wood. A storm raged inside her, but she held her face. She wanted to shout at Alla to shut up, but instead she exhaled slowly and said in an even voice:
“You don’t know anything about my family. Or my husband. Please don’t spread stupidity.”
Alla only smirked, shook her head, and stood up from the table.
“Sure, sure. We’ll see what you say in a month. Or a week. Men are so… unreliable.”
She strolled toward the exit, deliberately clicking her heels loudly against the tiled floor. Lika stayed where she was, staring ahead. Her hands trembled slightly, and she hid them under the table, afraid someone might notice. Alla’s words kept spinning in her head, snagging on her thoughts, making it impossible to focus.
Suddenly Lika pivoted on her heel, her eyes blazing with anger. She caught up to Alla, closing the distance to almost nothing, and said clearly, slowly:
“One more word, and I’m going to the chief doctor. You’ll be out of a job before you can even squeak. And no one will defend you — you’ve already driven everyone crazy!”
Her voice was calm, but there was such steel in it that Alla involuntarily stepped back. She opened her mouth to answer, but Lika had already turned and headed out of the cafeteria, her steps sharp and measured.
“I’m only wishing you well!” Alla shouted after her, raising her voice so people around could hear. “Dump him while you still can! He didn’t just make it to the jewelry store — I saw him in a flower shop too! And he was cooing to someone on the phone! Lika, damn it! Seriously…!”
The last words came out quieter, almost under her breath, but still with obvious irritation. Lika didn’t even turn around — her back stayed straight, her walk confident, as if Alla’s words hadn’t touched her at all. But inside, everything was boiling.
Left alone, Alla stood there for a few seconds, nervously tugging at the edge of her smock. She clenched her fists, then unclenched them, trying to calm her annoyance. Thoughts spun in her head: What a temper that Lika has! You can’t say a word to her…
Muttering under her breath, she slowly headed back to her post. Her legs felt like lead, and dissatisfaction churned in her chest. Her tongue practically itched to share the hot news with her friends — they’d appreciate it, they’d listen with their mouths hanging open! But common sense held her back. Knowing Lika… she wouldn’t hesitate to go to management. One complaint — and that would be that. And then she’d have to look for a new job.
“And where would I find another place?” Alla thought, automatically straightening a stack of folders on the desk. “Not with a salary like this… It’s a private clinic, not a state one. There’s a line of people who’d love to work here…”
She sank into her chair, glanced at the clock, and let out a heavy sigh. There was still a long time left in the shift, and her mood was already completely ruined. Fine. Time to get back to work — otherwise she’d get fired even without any complaints…
Doubts tormented Lika. In front of other people she could confidently say everything in her family was fine — her voice sounded firm, her gaze stayed calm, and a light smile played on her lips. But now, alone with herself, she couldn’t chase away the anxious thoughts. Alla’s words sat in her head like splinters, and from time to time they stabbed her with sharp pain.
Marat really had come home yesterday closer to eight in the evening. She’d even been surprised — usually he returned around six, seven at the latest. “A ton of work piled up,” he mumbled without looking her in the eyes, and immediately disappeared into the bathroom, as if hurrying to wash the long day off himself. Lika had only nodded then, saying nothing, but something inside her had pinched unpleasantly. Maybe it was all far more banal? Maybe behind the lateness and evasive answers was exactly what Alla kept so insistently talking about?
Lika slowly opened the front door, stepped over the threshold, and called out as usual:
“I’m home!”
Silence answered her.
She froze for a second, listening. Usually it was completely different. Archie would be the first to run out, barking joyfully — a golden retriever who recognized only one true owner in this house: Lika. He tolerated the others indulgently, but adored her with unquestioning devotion. And right behind him, barely keeping up, would come Yura — her boy, her joy, her light. He always met her smiling, grabbed her hand, and dragged her off to show her something important: a new clay craft, a drawing, or a freshly assembled construction set.
But today — silence. Only the ticking of the clock in the hallway disturbed the stillness.
Lika took off her shoes, hung her coat on the hook, and went deeper into the apartment, peeking into the rooms.
“Where are you?” she called again, a little louder, trying to keep her voice calm.
Not a sound.
Her heart clenched. Maybe they’d gone out for a walk? But Archie never went far without her, and Yura knew his mom didn’t like him leaving the apartment without asking. Lika pulled out her phone and dialed her husband. The line rang, but no one answered. She tried again. And again.
Silence.
Anxiety spread through her chest. She went into the kitchen — maybe there would at least be some trace of them there? A cup with unfinished tea sat on the table, and beside it an open book of Yura’s. A toy dump truck lay on the floor. Everything looked as if they’d been here just moments ago — and then vanished.
Lika took a deep breath, trying to contain the rising panic.
“Calm down,” she said to herself. “Nothing’s wrong. They just stepped out for a minute. They’ll be back any second.”
But an inner voice — quiet, insistent — whispered something else: What if they don’t? What if everything Alla said is true?
She went to the window and looked outside. The evening sun painted the courtyard in warm tones; children played on the playground, someone was walking a dog. But there was no sign of Marat, Yura, or Archie.
Lika lowered herself into a chair and gripped the edge of the tabletop. Questions spun in her mind with no answers. Where were they? Why weren’t they picking up? And most importantly — what if Alla hadn’t just been gossiping, but had seen what Lika stubbornly refused to notice?
And then she noticed a large envelope lying right in the middle of the coffee table. It looked unusual — not business mail and not the flyers they usually piled by the door. Something about it made her heart beat faster: thick cream-colored paper with large bright letters, as if meant to grab her attention immediately:
“Open me.”
Lika froze in the doorway to the living room, not daring to come closer. Over the last few days she had endured so much — Alla’s insinuations, her own anxious thoughts, the quiet evenings with Marat — that any unexpected object in the house felt like a harbinger of bad news. She walked up slowly, touched the envelope with her fingertips, as if checking whether it would disappear if she dared to be too bold.
Her hands were shaking. She inhaled deeply, trying to steady herself, and finally picked it up. It was light — but no less frightening for that. She carefully tore open the edge, pulled out a sheet folded in half, and held it for a second with her eyes closed. The worst possibilities flashed through her head: divorce, I’m leaving… words after which life would never be the same.
Swallowing with difficulty, she unfolded the paper.
And froze.
There was only one line. A painfully familiar address — the one she remembered by heart, even though years had passed. A small cozy café on the corner of an old street, with stained-glass windows and tables under striped umbrellas. The place where Marat had once seated her across from him, nervously crumpled a napkin, and then suddenly dropped to one knee and, looking into her eyes, asked: “Will you marry me?”
Lika smiled without meaning to, and the tension that had held her for so long began to loosen. Her fingers still trembled — but now not from fear, rather from a strange, thrilling anticipation. She reread the address again, as if trying to catch a hidden meaning encoded in those familiar letters.
“I wonder… is this a good sign?” she thought, pressing the note to her chest…
Lika stepped out of the taxi, took a deep breath of the crisp autumn air, and adjusted her coat. The street looked familiar, but today everything seemed somehow special — maybe because of the nervous flutter in her heart, or maybe because she still didn’t understand why Marat had asked her to come here.
She pushed open the café’s glass door, and the pleasant jingle of a bell above the entrance broke the cozy hush of the room. Inside it was warm; the air smelled of freshly brewed coffee and vanilla buns. Lika paused at the entrance, looking around, and immediately felt her insides flip.
At their favorite table by the window with stained glass sat everyone she loved most in the world. Marat — in a neatly pressed shirt and dark blazer; Yura — in a dressy blue sweater, his eyes shining with excitement; and beside them — Archie, who, seeing Lika, jumped up at once and wagged his tail joyfully.
They were all beautiful, dressed up, happy. On the wall behind them hung a huge banner with an ornate silver “5.” Lika frowned despite herself. Why is there a five? the thought flashed through her mind, but before she could linger on it for even a second, Yura was already racing toward her across the room.
“Mom! Congratulations!” he shouted, arms spread wide, and Lika barely managed to bend her knees in time to catch him in a hug.
She hugged her son tightly, burying her nose in his soft hair that smelled of children’s shampoo. For a moment all her worries and doubts receded — only that warm, familiar feeling remained, the one that always appeared when Yura was near.
“And… for what?” Lika asked a little plaintively, pulling back and looking at her son. “We’ve only been married four years… and it’s September now, not July…”
Yura laughed, grabbed her hand, and tugged her toward the table.
“It’s not that!” he exclaimed. “You’ll find out now!”
Marat stood up, smiling broadly, and stepped toward her. In his hands was a huge bouquet — white roses, her favorite, neatly tied with a satin ribbon. Lika caught her breath, looking at her husband. He looked so happy, so… young, as if he’d turned back into the guy she’d met five years ago.
“Yes, it’s not our wedding anniversary,” Marat said, handing her the flowers. “But this date is very important too. Exactly five years ago you and I met for the first time. I’ll never forget that day, because fate itself brought us together!”
Lika gently ruffled her son’s hair, and her face lit up with a warm, slightly teasing smile.
“We were brought together by this little whirlwind,” she said, looking at Yura lovingly. “The one who refused to sit still for even five minutes. Right, Yura? Who managed to crash into a doorframe so hard at three years old that we had to go to the hospital?”
The boy lifted his chin, his eyes sparkling with pride. He straightened up like he was about to receive a medal and answered loudly, without a trace of embarrassment:
“Me!”
Then he burst into ringing, carefree laughter, and that bright sound filled the café with warmth and joy. Lika couldn’t help laughing with him, and Marat, watching them, felt tenderness spread through his chest.
“It was fate,” the man insisted, shaking his head stubbornly. “Remember — your shift had already ended by then, you’d even managed to go home. And only the phone you forgot in your office made you come back.”
“And then I got stuck there for two hours,” she said softly. “Someone latched onto me like a little tick and wouldn’t let go.”
She looked at Yura, who was still smiling, clearly pleased to be part of such an important story.
“See? I told you — fate knocked our heads together,” Marat repeated confidently, looking at his wife. His eyes were shining, and that very smile played on his lips — the one that always warmed Lika from the inside. “And I have a gift for you. I hope you like it.”
He took a small step forward and handed her a small box decorated with a bright red bow. Lika froze for a second, holding her breath. Her fingers trembled slightly as she lifted the lid.
Inside, on soft velvet, lay earrings — delicate, with a fine shimmer of stones that seemed to sparkle in the lamplight. Lika gasped despite herself. The earrings were beautiful, but what stunned her even more was how perfectly they matched the pendant she wore around her neck.
“I don’t even have words,” Lika whispered, tears shining in her eyes. She looked at Marat, then at Yura, who was waiting eagerly for her reaction. “Thank you… all of you!”
Her voice shook, but it wasn’t sadness — it was happiness overflowing her heart. Carefully she took out the earrings, held them up to the light to see them better, and looked at her husband again.
“They’re gorgeous,” she said softly, with such sincerity that Marat felt something squeeze inside him with tenderness. “How did you know?”
“I just wanted you to have something that would remind you of that day,” he answered, taking her hand. “Of how we met. Of how you became part of our life. Of how all of us — together.”
Seeing that Mom was touched, Yura ran up and wrapped his arms tightly around her knees.
“I love you too!” he declared with such seriousness that Lika laughed and bent down to kiss the top of his head.
Archie, sensing that all the attention was on the family, came closer and nudged Lika’s leg with his snout, demanding affection. She stroked him, and the dog wagged his tail happily.
The café was filled with warmth and happiness. People at neighboring tables smiled as they watched the family, and Lika, holding her gift and feeling her loved ones close, understood: this was it — the real thing…
The next day Alla stood by the window in the corridor, arms crossed, watching Lika through clenched teeth. Lika was walking past — collected, calm, with an unusually strict look. Instead of her usual loose waves, her hair was pulled into a tight bun at the back of her head, emphasizing the line of her neck and cheekbones. And in her ears — lacy earrings that flashed with every movement in the autumn sunlight streaming through the windows.
Alla involuntarily clenched her fists. Of course, it flashed through her mind. Shining like a brand-new coin. And yesterday she was walking around like her world was falling apart. Alla remembered how she’d tried to plant doubts in Lika the day before, how she’d hinted at her husband’s infidelity — and now she was looking at a woman who didn’t just seem calm.
She looked happy.
And that irritated Alla even more