Marina watched as her son tried on a new suit in front of the mirror. Tall, slim, with dark hair — tomorrow this young man would become a husband, and the realization of this seemed surreal.
Ilya carefully examined his reflection, turning from side to side. Finally, he nodded in satisfaction: “The suit fits perfectly. Fashionable, stylish, looks expensive.”
“Expensive, that’s for sure,” thought Marina, but aloud she said: “I’m glad you like it. I’ll definitely cry at the wedding when I see you so dressed up.”
Ilya turned around sharply: “Mom, we agreed that you won’t be at the wedding.”
“Agreed?” she asked, trying to hide her surprise. “I thought you were just joking.”
“What jokes?” Her son began to pace nervously around the room. “Have you forgotten who Vika’s parents are? Just imagine: it’s all high society. And you… Mom, I’ll be worried about you. You’ll feel out of place. Please, don’t ruin such an important day for me.”
He sat next to his mother, took her hand: “Imagine how you’ll look among all these dressed-up ladies. I’d die of embarrassment. Better come after the ceremony. We’ll have tea or champagne together, you can congratulate us, and give your gift.”
Marina felt a sharp pain in her chest. Her own son was so embarrassed by her that he was ready to pretend to be an orphan at his own wedding.
“Why would I look bad?” she retorted. “I’ve booked a good hairdresser, I’ll do my nails, I’ll wear a decent dress.”
“Decent?” Ilya snorted. “That old blue dress of yours? That’s not funny!”
He stood in front of his mother, his voice becoming harsh: “If you don’t get the hints, I’ll say it outright: I don’t want to see you at the wedding. I’m ashamed that my mother is a cleaner. I won’t let you disgrace me in front of Vika’s family. Is that clear now?”
Marina was shocked. Her son’s words felt like a cold wind piercing her to the bone. Ilya silently grabbed his backpack, proudly turned in his new suit, and headed for the door. At the threshold, he turned around: “I’m serious, Mom. No one there will be happy to see you.”
Ilya left several hours ago. Outside, dusk had thickened, and Marina was still sitting on the sofa, stunned by shock. Tears came later, when she turned on the light and pulled out an old family album from the dresser.
Flipping through the pages, Marina delved into the past. The first photo — a two-year-old girl with blue eyes, intently staring at the camera. Her dress was clearly from someone else’s wardrobe, and next to her stood a strange woman with a vacant look and an unnatural smile. Even in this poor photo, it was clear that the woman was intoxicated.
Marina was two and a half years old when her mother lost parental rights and disappeared from her life forever. Growing up, she never even tried to find her biological mother. Why?
The next photo — a group picture. Ten-year-old Marina with unruly golden curls stood in the second row, third from the left. It was an orphanage — a place where life was harsh and uncompromising. Here cooks stole food, caretakers allowed themselves to be rude, and the director turned a blind eye to the bullying of younger children by older ones.
In the next picture, three young waitresses posed in front of a leaning sign of a roadside café. After school, Marina quickly found a job, not really thinking about a career. Although the salary was small, generous tips helped make ends meet. Twelve-hour shifts were exhausting, but she liked the freedom. In a small room in a communal apartment, she felt like the master of her life. The neighbors, an elderly couple, were friendly. Marina learned to create stylish looks from second-hand items, turning them into fashionable wardrobe pieces.
Another photo — a summer meadow in the forest. In it, a happy Marina in a floral wreath sat on the grass, embraced by a handsome guy in a similar wreath. Many years had passed, but every time she looked at this photo, her heart skipped a beat.
Marina had been working at the café for about a year when fate brought her together with Maxim. On that summer day, the place was unexpectedly flooded with visitors. She darted between tables, trying to serve everyone, and suddenly stumbled, spilling tomato juice right onto the light shirt of a young man by the window. The red stain spread rapidly across the expensive fabric.
She was seized by a panic—such a blunder could cost her job. But before she could say anything, the manager Stas had already flown to their table, threatening her with dismissal.
“Why worry?” the guy smiled calmly, handing over his car keys. “I’m heading to my parents’ cottage. There’s a spare shirt in the trunk. Could you get it from my backpack?”
“Allow me, I’ll do it!” Stas hurriedly intervened, snatching the keys. “This person might break something else in your car!”
Left alone with the client, a frightened Marina finally found the strength to apologize: “I’m sorry, this is the first time this has happened. I promise to compensate for the damage.”
“Don’t worry about it,” he dismissed. “What’s your name?”
“Marina.”
“And I’m Maxim.”
He extended his hand for a handshake, and only then did she dare to look him in the face. Before her stood a tall, athletic young man with gray eyes and a charming smile.
Stas brought the backpack and escorted Maxim to the back to change. Passing by Marina, he whispered mockingly: “What are you frozen for? Your shift is over!”
At that moment, she was taking payment from a young couple when she heard a familiar voice: “Marina, may I have a moment of your time?”
Turning around, she saw Maxim, now in a new blue shirt, sitting at his previous table.
“Will you take my order?”
“Of course.”
While she served him, Marina’s cheeks burned with embarrassment. Stas personally escorted the client to the exit, then winked at the girl: “Don’t be upset, I deliberately raised my voice so he wouldn’t demand compensation for the shirt. It’s more expensive than your monthly salary.”
“Where do you know this guy from?” she was surprised.
“That’s Max Skvortsov, the son of our mayor. Everyone in town knows him.”
By evening, Marina was so exhausted from hours of work that she forgot all about the morning’s events. All she wanted was to go to bed. It had already gotten dark, and she had to wait a long time for the bus. Suddenly, a light-colored car stopped next to the café. She involuntarily stepped back, but on closer inspection, recognized Maxim’s car. What was the mayor’s son doing here?
Maxim got out of the foreign car with a bouquet of white roses in his hand and headed straight to her: “Is your workday over? Sorry, I didn’t know what flowers you like, so I chose these. But I promise, the next bouquet will definitely be with your favorites.”
Marina was perplexed: “Why?”
“Why?,” he laughed. “It seems I’m courting you. By the way, such a wonderful night today, maybe we’ll go somewhere?”
Sleepiness instantly passed. Everything seemed like a dream, like pages from a fairy tale book. However, she remembered her appearance: old jeans and a simple T-shirt.
“Thank you, but I’m too tired,” she replied regretfully.
“Then tomorrow?” he persisted.
“Tomorrow,” Marina echoed.
The next day they met and never parted again. It was love at first sight. Maxim was studying at the economics faculty and had just successfully completed the summer session. They began to spend every free minute together. He took her on a ten-day trip to Sochi—the only time she didn’t need to get a passport.
Maxim introduced her to his university friends. Together they often went to nature—to swim and cook shashlik. These were the brightest, carefree, and happiest days of Marina’s life.
They were already making plans for the future, discussing their wedding, but autumn shattered all their hopes. Maxim’s cousin noticed them together and immediately reported to her father. For the Skvortsov family, their relationship became a real scandal. The only son and a girl from an orphanage—such a combination caused a storm of indignation.
Maxim’s mother began calling endlessly, showering Marina with threats and insults, demanding she stop seeing her son. The cousin even showed up at the café and made a grand scandal. After that, neighbors began approaching Marina, warning that some people were asking about her.
“Recently, one lady,” began Yakov Ivanovich, a neighbor in the apartment, “offered us and my wife decent money if we confirm that you are a drug addict and lead an immoral life. I, of course, showed her the door.” Marina was silent. She hadn’t told her fiancé about what was happening. She knew that his trip abroad for a student exchange program was being decided. Apparently, he was also under pressure—in his eyes, anxiety flashed more and more often. Sometimes he stared intently at her face, as if trying to decipher something, but, meeting her calm smile, he somewhat calmed down.
Two weeks before Maxim’s departure, the phone rang in Marina’s apartment. “This is Nikolai Borisovich,” a harsh, almost metallic voice sounded on the phone. “I’m Maxim’s father. You must break up with my son before he leaves. Tell him you’ve found someone else. If you ignore my words, you’ll regret it.” Without waiting for a reply, he hung up. Marina froze. She was ready to do anything for Max—how could she turn away from someone she loved so much?
When Maxim flew to London, Marina’s life turned into a nightmare. Stas, her boss, bribed by the city mayor, suddenly accused her of a major shortage. The girl was arrested. She was so shocked by the betrayal that she didn’t even think about defending herself. When the case went to court, she believed that the truth would soon come out, and the charges would be dropped.
The trial turned out to be a real farce. The state-provided lawyer could barely keep his eyes open. The prosecutor, however, worked with doubled energy. Marina waited every day for Maxim to appear and save her, but a friend told her that the guy, according to rumors, decided to stay in England to continue his studies.
Marina was sentenced to three years. Already in prison, she found out that she was pregnant.
She tried not to remember the years spent behind bars—it was too hard. Flipping through the pages of the family album, she stopped at a photo of her dark-haired, gray-eyed baby. Marina tenderly ran her finger over the picture. What a gentle and clever boy he was. Only she knew what it cost to raise him alone.
After a year and a half in prison, Marina was released. She was lucky—they didn’t take her child away. But freedom awaited her with new trials. No one wanted to hire a young woman with a child and a criminal record.
Thanks to Yakov Ivanovich, who through his acquaintance arranged for Ilyushka to be placed in a nursery, Marina was able to work. She cleaned in a restaurant, washed floors in offices, worked part-time at a car wash, and at night sewed pillowcases and duvet covers.
She didn’t look back at the past—why stir up old wounds? While she was in prison, all connections were severed. One day she accidentally met a former friend who told her that Stas had gone bankrupt, Mayor Skvortsov had moved to Moscow after getting a promotion, and his son had married a beauty from the capital.
Marina cried all night, but in the morning wiped away the tears and went to work. Now her only concern and joy was her son.
It was beginning to dawn outside. Had she really spent the whole night with the album? Marina lay down in bed, but thoughts of her son kept her awake. She always tried to give him the best—expensive toys, tasty food, fashionable clothes. She was ready for any sacrifices just so he could be happy. If Ilya needed a new gadget, he just mentioned it, knowing that his mother would find a way to get the money, even if it meant taking an extra job.
Now she realized that his selfishness was also her fault. She never complained of fatigue, never took sick days, always gave him the tastiest pieces. No wonder the son never thought about the price of these things. And now he was ashamed of her and didn’t want her, a cleaner, to be present at his wedding.
“I understand,” Marina said quietly, looking at Ilya’s portrait on the wall. “Son, I’ve lived for you for twenty-five years, but this time I’ll do it my way. I’m sorry.” She got out of bed, took a box of savings from the nightstand. On the card lay her monthly salary—enough for a new outfit, hairstyle, and visit to the cosmetologist.
Marina’s appearance at the registry office caused a real sensation.
She always looked younger than her years, but after a visit to the beauty salon, she seemed like a woman who had shed a good decade. Guests, especially men, cast admiring glances at the fair-haired woman in an elegant blue dress. During the ceremony, the mother, wiping away tears, proudly watched her serious, slightly bewildered son and his charming bride. How good it was that she had decided to come.
After the ceremony ended, all the guests began to congratulate the newlyweds. Ilya, squeezing through the crowd, approached his mother and whispered quietly:
“So, my request means nothing to you? I hope you won’t go to the restaurant?”
“I won’t,” Marina calmly replied. “I’ve already seen everything I wanted.”
“Hello!” Vika, blushing with excitement, ran up to them. “Marina Anatolievna, you look simply stunning! My parents invite you to join them at the restaurant.”
“Thank you, but it’s time for me to go.”
“What do you mean, time?” Vika was surprised. “Ilya, what’s going on?”
“Mom, where are you rushing to? It’s your only son’s wedding,” Ilya tried to persuade her to stay with a forced smile.
When it was time for the parents to make speeches, Marina took the microphone:
“Children, be happy, love each other all your life…”
Her short, but heartfelt speech touched all the guests deeply, and the hall burst into applause. Descending from the small stage, Marina almost collided with a tall man in an expensive suit. His face seemed familiar.
“It can’t be,” he said, blocking her way. “Marishka, is that really you? What are you doing here?”
“Maxim?” Marina couldn’t believe her eyes.
“The bride’s father—my business partner—invited me to the wedding. You have a wonderful son,” Maxim, slightly nervous, took Marina by the hand. “Maybe we can go to the window and talk? Are you alone, without a husband? I’ve been divorced for ten years now, and I don’t have any children.”
They talked for an hour. Maxim told her how his father, flying to him abroad, informed him that Marina had met someone else and left with him to Moscow. Shocked, Max didn’t want to believe it but, afraid to humiliate his beloved with suspicions, decided to first find out the truth from his best friend. He went to the roadside café, but didn’t find Marina there. The owner and waitresses unanimously confirmed his father’s words.
“I almost went mad with grief then, stayed in England for another six months, and then returned to Moscow. My father was promoted, and I got married. Was I happy all these years? Not a minute. Only with you, in my youth. Well, how have you lived all this time?”
“Let’s not talk about the sad things,” Marina gently interrupted him. “After all, it’s a wedding. I’ll tell you everything later, but now invite me to dance.”
Guests couldn’t take their eyes off this beautiful couple. Ilya looked at his mother and didn’t recognize her. He suddenly realized that his mother was an incredibly attractive woman who had given up her personal life for him in her youth. For the first time in his life, Ilya felt a deep sense of shame.
Then he noticed that his mother was leaving arm in arm with a wealthy man. The guy rushed after her and caught up with her on the porch.
“Mom, where are you going?”
“I’m leaving. That’s what you wanted so much,” she reminded him.
“Mom, I’m sorry, but where are you going with this man?”
“I’m ready to go to the ends of the earth with him,” Marina sincerely confessed. “By the way, meet your father, Maxim.”
Ilya froze, staring at his mother in shock. She paused, then added with a light smile:
“Yes, it seems we have a very long conversation ahead. But not today. Today is a wedding!”