“Olya! You look absolutely stunning today. I just can’t get enough of you!” purred Evgeniy in his most charming voice. “It feels so good being with you… so peaceful. You’re my joy! You’re my happiness. I’m so grateful we met…”
He was singing his usual old tune. Olya had been seeing him for two years now. But at thirty, sweet words like these just didn’t warm her heart the way they used to. She wanted more. She wanted stability, a family, children. And yet for some reason, her beloved still hadn’t proposed.
Olya just couldn’t figure out why Zhenya was dragging his feet. If everything was as wonderful between them as he always claimed, why not get married? Why not build a family like everyone else, have kids, and fully enjoy life together?
But whenever Olya brought up these questions, his answers were vague and noncommittal. He never said no, but he never asked her either. What a predicament!
Olya was angry—and how could she not be? Nature was taking its course, and age doesn’t stop. It keeps ticking away, no holidays or breaks. If this kept going, soon it would be too late to plan anything for her future.
And on top of that, her mom was nagging her almost every day, constantly reminding her about the terrifying prospect of growing old alone if she didn’t do something to change her life soon.
“Olya, tell me, when is your Zhenya finally going to propose? How long can you two keep just ‘getting used’ to each other? I feel embarrassed in front of people already! He comes here, drags things out, but won’t marry you. It’s just not right, daughter. Not right at all! At this rate, you’ll just wither away without purpose, and who will bring you a glass of water when you’re old?”
“So what! I don’t need any water! I like champagne. And besides, old age is ages away!” Olya tried to joke, but inside, she felt awful.
All her friends’ kids were already in school, while she just kept waiting. Waiting for a miracle, hoping for something to change. It wouldn’t be so bad if she was alone, but she had a man right next to her—a potential husband. So why wasn’t he proposing? That was the question.
“Zhenya, you know… I’ve been thinking…” she began, feeling nervous.
“And what have you been thinking about, my dear?” he asked, grinning.
“Well, if you’re not planning to marry me, then don’t come over anymore. Stop stringing me along. I’ll start looking for someone else.”
“Wait, what?” His smile vanished instantly.
Today Olya decided to take action. She figured she’d try to give Evgeniy an ultimatum, maybe a bit of a scare, hoping to push him to propose. After all, if he enjoyed being with her so much, he’d surely be afraid to lose her.
Just moments earlier, Evgeniy had been leisurely sipping champagne from a crystal glass—now he nearly choked on his sparkling drink.
“What?! What are you talking about? Why are you bringing this up? Did I ever promise you marriage? No, tell me, when did I ever say that? When? Why do you women always have to drag a man to the altar? Everything was going so well. But no, you had to ruin it. Just destroy everything.”
“Why don’t you just marry me? Everyone gets married eventually, so why not me? You practically melt when you’re around me! Didn’t you say that yourself?” Olga cried out, heartbroken by her beloved’s reaction.
She had lost control of herself—angry, nervous, and so hurt that she just wanted to hit her sluggish suitor on his foolish head with something.
“Because! Just because!” the man shouted back. “Because I’m already married! Do you get it? You forced me to say it! Why are you obsessed with marriage? Do you think it’s all sunshine and rainbows? Silly woman!”
“Wait… Married? You’re married?” Olga stammered, still not quite able to believe what she’d just heard.
Tears sprang from her eyes, her lips started trembling, and her face twisted with pain.
“But I—I looked at your passport myself! There was nothing there!”
“No, nothing. So what? I got married, got divorced. Lost my passport, got a new one—no stamp. That’s all.”
“Fine, so you got divorced. Then why can’t you get married again? To me? You said you loved me, didn’t you? Or were you lying?”
“Because I got back together with my wife. We have a child. We decided to live as a family again. What more do you need to know? Why do you need every little detail? Everything was so perfect before.”
“And what about me?” Olga sobbed uncontrollably.
This news hit her like a cruel blow, straight to the heart.
“You? You were my escape. My comfort from life’s problems and worries. I really did enjoy being with you, Olya. I didn’t lie to you. Every time I confessed my feelings, I meant it. And you, by the way, enjoyed being with me, too.”
He fell silent for a moment, looking at the weeping woman before continuing.
“And we would still be meeting just like before if you hadn’t started all this… But no, you want marriage. Anyone will do, just as long as you get married—even the first guy off the street! Don’t you think that’s foolish?” Yevgeny said reproachfully to Olga.
“The first guy off the street?” Olga’s eyes went cold and distant. Somehow his last words hit her like a red rag to a bull. “Yes, the first guy off the street! That’s exactly what I’ll do—I’ll marry the first man I meet!”
She wiped her tears away and looked at herself in the mirror.
“Get out. That’s it, enough, we’ve joked around long enough. I don’t have time for your little flings. I’ve got important things to do now, real things. And forget the way to my door. Look for comfort and pleasure somewhere else, both for your soul and your body.”
The disgruntled man left. Olga washed her face, got into her old Niva—her inheritance from her father—and drove off to the far field to check on the melons and clear her head.
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She sped along at full speed. The dirt road wound and dusted, calling her onward. Olga knew every bump, every hole—and headed boldly for the place where she always felt soothed and at peace.
Suddenly, a hunting dog darted out from the nearby woods, right into her path. She barely managed to brake—her forehead even banged into the windshield!
“Oh, come on! What is this?!”
She jumped out of the car to make sure the animal was okay. The dog was perfectly fine, just a little scared. Just then, a man appeared from behind the trees. He was probably the dog’s owner.
Looking closer, Olga recognized him. The man was Grigory, a widower who lived in their village.
She greeted him and explained that the dog had startled her by darting right out of the forest in front of her car.
“Why don’t you keep her on a leash? She could have been hurt,” she said with a bit of reproach, rubbing her bruised forehead.
Olga studied Grigory and thought to herself that he seemed a bit too old to be the first man she’d agree to marry. Besides, he was a widower, and it felt strange to even consider building a new life with a man who had lost his first wife.
Grigory was also quietly eyeing Olga, a faint smile on his lips.
“Does it hurt?” he asked, pointing at Olga’s forehead. “You’re going to have a bump there.”
“I’ll survive.”
“Well, I guess it’s fate that we met. Nothing you can do about it,” the woman thought to herself.
“Grigory, would you like a ride? I’m just heading to check on the melons. Do you like watermelons? Or maybe cantaloupes?” she continued the conversation.
Honestly, the conversation wasn’t flowing easily. They just didn’t have much to talk about—two people of different ages who barely knew each other. But they tried to keep chatting, because fate had somehow brought them together today.
“Olya, is it okay if I ask you a personal question? Forgive me if I offend you,” Grigory began as they drove back with the watermelons. “Why aren’t you married? You’re an amazingly beautiful woman. Have there really been no takers? Where is the younger generation looking, I just don’t get it?”
“No, there haven’t been. I must have missed my chance at happiness somewhere along the way. I don’t really hope for it anymore. Although there was someone once… But all he wanted from me was comfort from his daily troubles.”
Grigory didn’t say anything. But he shook his head slightly, clearly judging that unknown man.
“Then let me ask you the same thing,” Olga went on, bolder now. “Why haven’t you remarried? You’ve been a widower for a while. Don’t you feel lonely? You’re not that old, and honestly, you’re a pleasant man. No, really! You even remind me of some actor. Did you not find the right woman, or do you just not want a family anymore?”
Olga didn’t want to admit to herself how nervous she was now. Grigory’s answer would now decide her future. Why did she say she’d marry the first man she met? Now she had to follow through.
The man was silent for a moment. Then he smiled and said quietly,
“If I met a woman like you, Olyushka, I’d do it. Really, I would!”
“Well, here I am. Go for it. Today or never! I’m not joking,” she replied boldly, almost as if she were taking a leap of faith.
Olga stopped smiling, slowed down, and turned off the engine. She stared directly and challengingly at a flustered Grigory.
She realized she was doing something reckless and not even understandable to herself, driven by her resentment toward the deceitful Zhenka and the world at large.
“I’ll marry the first man I meet! A promise is a promise! Let it be, how much longer should I wait for my destiny? I will do it!” she kept telling herself confidently, as if trying to convince herself.
Grigory sighed, gave a surprised chuckle, and then spoke simple but wonderfully comforting words that instantly lifted her spirits.
“Thank you, Olya. It seems fate has taken pity on me and sent you my way. You must be my person, yes… since you say such things to me. I never would have dared on my own. So, it’s destiny… and I’m used to trusting it. Let it be so. I ask you before the sky above, will you be my wife?”
They got married two months later. The whole village was buzzing, discussing the news. Olya’s mother tried to talk her out of it, but it was useless. With every day, Olga grew more confident she had made the right choice.
Her husband turned out to be seventeen years older than his wife. At first, the couple was very cautious with each other, adjusting, getting used to living together, learning how to be a family. It wasn’t always easy, of course—each had their own character and habits.
Then one day, Olya became seriously ill. Grigory stayed by her side through sleepless nights, caring for her gently and lovingly, deeply worried and concerned. And in the woman’s heart, a warm feeling began to bloom in return.
“My husband is so attentive,” she whispered to Grigory with pale lips. “So caring! Thank you for everything.”
“It’s alright, it’ll all be fine, Olenka. You’ll get better soon. Close your eyes and get some sleep,” he said, gently stroking her fevered forehead.
There was plenty of talk around the village. Some judged Olga, saying she married an older man, that she just wanted his wealth, meaning Grigory’s big house and beehives. Others sincerely wished happiness for the couple and were happy for them.
Then the news spread that Olya would soon have a baby boy with her husband. Grigory’s two grown daughters, who lived in the city with their families, were also eagerly waiting for their little brother’s arrival. They were truly happy for their father—such good daughters.
Fate never brings people together without a reason. And it always knows better than we do why.