Услышав разговор свекрови и мужа, жена сначала застыла, а затем быстро схватила вещи...

If Natasha were asked how to choose a husband, she would answer: "First, look at his parents, talk to them, and preferably more than once or twice. Ask questions, behave naturally." And don't try to portray the best version of yourself. Your mother-in-law will still figure you out. And when you are convinced that the groom's parents are real monsters, run away from them as quickly and as far as possible. Forget about loving the guy. Rip him out of your heart, and then, perhaps, everything will be alright.

Unfortunately, no one gave Natasha such advice in her time. And even if a well-wisher had been found, she would hardly have heeded his words. Natasha loved Kolya too much to listen to bad predictions, and in her youth, she believed that she could cope with any difficulties.

"Excuse me for being late. Have you been waiting long?" Natasha met Kolya with a smile.

"Five minutes. It wasn't worth hurrying so much. We still have time." Kolya looked dishevelled and sweaty. Apparently, he had run all the way to the bus stop. Natasha smoothed his hair, adjusted his collar, causing Savelyev's cheeks to turn even redder, and nodded: "That's better. Look, our bus, you're just in time."

Wanting to spare Kolya's feelings, Natasha remained silent about the fact that a bus with the same number had passed the stop 10 minutes ago, and she herself had been waiting for about half an hour. The guy already had enough problems at home and at the institute; there was no need to add to them with her nitpicking.

They sat by the window, and Kolya immediately buried himself in his textbook. However, Natasha saw that his thoughts were wandering somewhere far away. For a long time, he didn't turn a single page.

Deciding that it couldn't get any worse, the girl cautiously asked: "Is something wrong?"

"What?" Kolya flinched and almost dropped the book. "Oh, nothing. Well, something happened, but not to me, to my mother." The tests came back bad.

Natasha expected about this answer. This had happened before. "What do the doctors say?"

"Nothing," Kolya replied with unexpected anger. "They don't say anything because it's impossible to get an appointment with them. There are no appointments for a month in advance, half the doctors are on sick leave themselves."

Natasha gently touched his hand. "Everything will be alright. I'm sure of it."

Kolya instantly lost all his fighting spirit and sighed: "Me too. Sorry I snapped. It's just that so much has piled up lately."

He could have not said that. Natasha herself saw it. Kolya was a transfer student, he had come to them from another city. Like any outsider, it was already difficult for him, and with his abilities in technical sciences, in general, for a person who chose the profession of an engineer, the situation, no matter how you look at it, looked bad.

Natasha, a straight-A student and a favorite of all the teachers, seemed to have met her opposite. If there was an assignment for which she was praised, Kolya was guaranteed to be scolded for his completed work. From some point on, the girl stopped liking complex problems. Before, after completing them, she felt the pride of a triumphant. Now, a significant amount of guilt was added to this pride, as if she had somehow contributed to Kolya being scolded.

Natasha could not influence Kolya's mother's health. He had chosen the wrong university. But something could still be done with the exam results. At least, the girl hoped so very much.

"Don't you want to rehearse a little?" she asked.

"Rehearse what?" Kolya didn't understand.

"The exam. I'll ask you questions like a teacher, and you try to answer them."

Judging by Kolya's facial expression, he wasn't thrilled with this idea. However, he didn't protest. "Okay, let's try."

Natasha thought for a moment, trying to choose a simpler question, and snapped her fingers. "Well, for example, applied force comes in two types. Can you name them?"

Kolya turned from red to white, then red again. "Well, concentrate," Natasha whispered, hoping it didn't look like too obvious a hint.

Kolya looked at her attentively. It seems he understood the hint. "Concentrated," he asked.

"Exactly. And the second type?"

Kolya squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head. "Sorry, everything is mixed up in my head. I can't remember."

"Decentralized, distributed," Natasha corrected him.

He couldn't hide his disappointment. Kolya was completely discouraged. "Sorry, I just can't focus. I didn't sleep all night. Because of Mom. Not just that. First, I studied, read this textbook from cover to cover, then I thought about her tests. To be more precise, I thought about them when I was trying to read, too. In general, I thought more about Mom than about this theoretical mechanics."

"Well, maybe what I'm about to say will seem selfish to you," Natasha cautiously remarked. "But try to get Mom out of your head for a couple of hours at least. Nothing will change from your worries. You'll only make yourself worse, and Mom too. Do you think she'll be happy if you bring home a failing grade?"

Kolya opened his mouth to object, but said nothing. The fear of the exam temporarily ousted all his worries from his soul. Natasha didn't know whether to be happy for him or, on the contrary, in any case, Kolya didn't look 100% prepared. And the professor who taught theoretical mechanics didn't like him.

They didn't miss the exam, but they still arrived at the last minute. The professor was just calling the first group of students into the auditorium, smiled at the sight of Natasha, frowned at Kolya, and nodded to Natasha Savelyeva. "Shall we go?"

Natasha helplessly looked at Kolya. On the one hand, she didn't want to leave him alone, and on the other hand, arguing with the professor meant spoiling his mood ahead of time and piling extra problems onto Kolya.

"Yes, Stepan Anatolyevich Du..." Natasha looked at Kolya again, mouthed, "Sorry!" and stepped into the auditorium.

"Well, Savelyeva, draw a ticket," Stepan Anatolyevich said. "I'm sure any will be within your reach, but everyone must go through the formalities. Treat today's test as a game."

Natasha smiled a little more freely and took a ticket. She wished she could really treat all this as a joke. The girl only now thought that her impending victory might turn into a defeat for Kolya. Show me even one student who says that passing theoretical mechanics is easy and simple. And Stepan Anatolyevich will be unstoppable. He will point to her to everyone and say: "Look, learn how it's done, you good-for-nothings."

Natasha didn't want Kolya to be called a good-for-nothing, especially with reference to her. And yet, there was no choice. But she couldn't stupidly fail the exam and lose her scholarship. Besides, Stepan Anatolyevich wouldn't believe in her sudden memory loss anyway. It would look strange, at the very least, if Natasha, usually brilliant at the board, suddenly got flustered and mixed everything up or blurted out some nonsense like a decentralized load.

Natasha thought of Kolya again and sighed. Why is he torturing himself like this? Kolya would have made an excellent historian, lawyer, philosophy teacher—who else do humanities students go to study with? He juggled words as masterfully as Natasha did numbers. Was it all about his mother again? Kolya once told her that his father was a talented engineer, and his mother wanted her son to follow in his footsteps.

Natasha smiled grimly. The key word here was "talented." What worked well for one person was sheer torment for another. It would be better if Kolya became a famous writer than wasted his life on drawings he wasn't destined to understand.

Natasha tried to be more modest, to tell the teacher less than she knew, and yet her performance was brilliant. "Excellent, Savelyeva," the professor said approvingly, signing her record book, as always.

Natasha went out into the corridor, clutching her record book to her chest. Her classmates immediately surrounded her. "Well, how did it go?" Natasha asked.

Natasha nodded reservedly, although she actually wanted to cry with relief. The most difficult exam was behind her. "As if you wouldn't pass," someone said. "You've always been Anatolyevich's favorite."

Natasha was not bothered by the hint that the five wasn't quite honestly earned, but by Kolya's haunted look. He wasn't the professor's favorite and wasn't expecting enthusiastic ovations. It would be good to get out of the auditorium alive.

Stepan Anatolyevich called the next student. Kolya, among other students, headed for the door. At the very threshold, Natasha caught him by the hand. "You'll succeed, you hear?"

Kolya nodded absently. He didn't seem to fully understand what was being said. Natasha spent the next 40 minutes in agonizing anticipation, worrying almost more than when she took the exam herself. Mishka Sinyukov, who disliked her and didn't try to hide it, said unkindly: "Don't worry so much about your weakling. You know he won't pass, as always."

Natasha pretended not to hear. How could anyone say such a thing? Everyone around her considered Kolya almost mentally retarded. But it wasn't true. "I'd put all of you in the philology department," she thought angrily. "Kolya would show you."

When he came out of the office, Natasha understood everything from his face. Kolya's cheeks were no longer red or white as paper. Now his face was greenish and resembled moldy cheese.

"He failed," Sinyukov sang mockingly.

"Did Stepan Anatolyevich pick on you?" Natasha quietly asked, leading Kolya aside.

He shook his head. "No, nothing special. They just asked me questions. I failed myself. You can officially consider me an idiot."

"Don't talk like that," Natasha protested. "You're very smart, you just got unlucky, and the lack of sleep didn't help either."

Kolya only waved her off. "Don't comfort me. I know I don't belong here."

Perhaps Kolya was right. He really should be doing what he loved. But to persuade the guy and to blame his mother, whom Natasha didn't even know, she didn't dare. Therefore, she only said in a deliberately cheerful voice: "Well, in any case, everything can be fixed on the retake. I'll help you prepare, and now, maybe we'll forget about it. At least for a while. Don't you want to go to the buffet, have some tea? Zoya Mikhailovna should be on shift today, and she has excellent pastries."

Kolya shook his head sadly. "Sorry, I'm not in the mood. Another time. Okay, I'll go home now, see how Mom is."

Probably at that moment Natasha first felt dislike for Kolya's mother, the woman who completely subjugated him to her will and twisted her son as she pleased. However, then Natasha couldn't fully understand her feelings. It seemed to her that, looking at Kolya's lowered head and drooping shoulders, she felt only sadness and was angry only at fate, which had treated him so cruelly.

"I can't understand why you need this whining," Marina remarked, applying eye shadow in front of the mirror. Natasha looked intently at her friend. Kolya never complains.

"Maybe not aloud," Marina agreed. "But his facial expression is such that milk could curdle. He's almost never happy. Except when he's with you, and the rest of the time he's a real Pierrot, and stories about Pinocchio. A melancholic, in a word. What did you even find in him?"

Natasha took her phone out of her bag and began to scroll through messages. "What are you looking for?" Marina asked.

Natasha handed her the phone and said, "Read the poems."

Marina glanced at the message and returned the phone to her friend. "Why do I need them? Kolya sent them to me."

"Well, beautiful poems, I must say. Love, moon, and all that. Kolya is great, he probably spent a lot of time finding them on the Internet."

"He didn't look for them on the Internet, he wrote them himself."

"He's lying, probably." Marina grabbed the phone again and reread the quatrain. "Hmm," she admitted reluctantly. "Well, he has talent, and you like Kolya because he sends poems."

"He doesn't just send poems, he writes them for me," Natasha smiled. "There's a big difference."

"Well, I don't know, it's all very beautiful and romantic, of course, but it's even more important for a guy to earn enough money, and you won't get rich on poems these days."

"You talk like some old woman," Natasha sighed. "Is money the most important thing for you?"

"Not the most important, but it's also bad without money. Believe me, I know what I'm talking about. I saw enough in childhood of a father who drank for months and didn't work, and a mother who worked two shifts to provide for me and my brother."

Natasha felt that she had never heard anything more dreary and pessimistic in her life. She was happy with Kolya, felt like a muse to whom poems are dedicated, some talk about money, about alcoholism. What was the point of all this? Life flowed almost cloudlessly for Natasha, and the girl did not believe that it could ever change.

"Are you busy tonight?" Kolya asked during a long break on a completely ordinary day in their fourth year, when Natasha was sitting in the library, rummaging through books, trying to find material for her term paper.

"Probably not. If I finish the first section today, my mom would like to meet you. She's inviting you to dinner."

At these words, all thoughts about the term paper flew out of Natasha's head. A quiet panic settled in her soul. "Maybe I won't be able to today. Maybe..." Natasha couldn't immediately come up with a decent excuse to get out of the invitation and fell silent.

"You're worried about the term paper, but it's still a long way off. Actually, I'm not worried about the term paper," Natasha admitted. "I'm just afraid of your mother."

"Afraid of Mom?" Kolya was amazed. "But why? She's the kindest person. She won't say a bad word to you."

Natasha didn't know how to explain it all to him. Probably, the guy just wouldn't understand the girl's anxiety who was about to meet her boyfriend's parents. It was terrible, and it all sat in the subconscious, like a normal instinct. "Okay, I'll come," Natasha agreed, gritting her teeth. "Great! Mom will be very happy. I'll tell her you're coming."

To somehow gain confidence in herself, Natasha turned to her friend for advice. Marina had a lot of experience in this area. She had met future mothers-in-law twice. Although nothing ever came of it with either of the guys. Even then.

Marina didn't take her worries seriously. "I'll tell you how it will be," she said. "You'll come to their house, dressed in your best, like an excellent student or even more modestly, but it won't matter, because the guy's parents will still find something to criticize, especially the mother. All evening, no matter what the conversation is between you, she will watch and evaluate you. She'll give you a grade for your appearance, for the words you use in conversation, she'll latch onto a meaningless phrase, just to make you look like a fool in front of your son. She'll say you're a dunce who hasn't even learned to cook properly. Of course, not directly to your face, but with silly jokes, but it won't be any better."

"I can cook," Natasha objected.

"Believe me, it won't matter. If you turn out to be a chef from a renowned restaurant with a bunch of diplomas and certificates, they'll find fault with something else. A wrinkle on your clothes, for example, they'll say you're a slob who can't even iron a blouse properly."

"Thanks," Natasha sighed. "You cheered me up."

"You're welcome. I just told the truth. Although, remembering everything you've told me about Kolya's mother, I wouldn't advise you to go to this dinner. All hypochondriacs, real grumblers and bores, but you won't listen to me, right?"

"Yes," Natasha nodded. "I should at least meet Kolya's mom once and see what she's like. But you can't go along with fantasies and prejudge a person."

Marina shrugged. "Well, maybe you're right. You'll go once, you'll see, at least you'll know what this family is like, but the old woman won't kill you, will she?"

Kolya came for her a little late, when Natasha had already decided that the meeting was canceled and didn't know whether to be happy about it or, on the contrary, upset.

"Hi," Kolya said, slightly out of breath, climbing the stairs, and froze, staring at her. "Something wrong?" Natasha worried.

"No, everything's fine. You're just very beautiful today. More beautiful than ever, I wanted to say."

"Thank you," Natasha replied, blushing. "Well, shall we go? Your mom is probably waiting for us."

Kolya was also dressed up in a white shirt and trousers, as if he were going to an exam or to the registry office. Natasha heard the whispers with which the grandmothers in the yard accompanied them, and this embarrassed her even more. Maybe she shouldn't have worn a dressy outfit? Ordinary jeans would have looked less festive, and Natasha would have felt more confident in them.

"Remind me, what's your mom's name?" she asked when the bus dropped them off at Kolya's house.

"Lyudmila Alekseevna, but Mom doesn't like being called by her patronymic. She prefers to be called Aunt Lyuda. I'll be uncomfortable calling her that. We're not yet acquainted."

"Well, then you'll call her that by the end of the evening," Kolya smiled. "Mom is very kind, you'll see for yourself soon."

Natasha sincerely hoped that it would all be so, because with every step towards the entrance, she trembled more and more.

Kolya opened the door with his key. The hallway was dimly lit, it smelled of dog hair and some heavy perfume, the scent of which immediately gave Natasha a headache. "Mom, we're here," Kolya said loudly.

A small shaggy dog ran out into the hallway and barked. Kolya hissed at it: "Quiet, Berta, it's us."

Berta didn't take Kolya's words seriously and continued to look at the guest with great suspicion. Natasha forced herself to smile. "What a beautiful dog. It's Mom's. She's about 10 years old already. By dog standards, she's almost an old lady."

Natasha sincerely hoped that this wouldn't be a bad omen. And the second old lady living in this house wouldn't turn out to be as grumpy as the first. The sound of water and clinking dishes came from the kitchen. It seemed they hadn't heard Kolya. He nodded to Natasha: "Let's go, you'll meet Mom."

Natasha mentally crossed herself and followed Kolya. Berta brought up the rear, cutting off the girl's escape routes.

"Mom," Kolya called again. His mother, standing at the stove, finally noticed them and turned around.

Reality slightly surprised Natasha. She expected something completely different. From Kolya's numerous stories, she imagined Lyudmila Alekseevna as an eternally sick, frail old woman, pale and thin, one who would fly away if you blew on her. Everything turned out to be completely different. Lyudmila Alekseevna was indeed very thin, even gaunt, but you couldn't call her an old woman. Dressed in a smart dress with a neat, hair-by-hair hairstyle, she resembled a school teacher or a business woman in a home setting. She was quite pretty, but by no means kind. Natasha herself didn't know why she understood this from the very first second. Lyudmila Alekseevna's gaze was studying and piercing. Everything, just as Marina had warned, Natasha felt that Lyudmila Alekseevna was looking at her to give her a grade, but she couldn't understand yet whether Kolya's mother liked her or not.

"Meet Mom, this is Natasha."

"Lyudmila Alekseevna," she introduced herself. Her voice was as cold as her gaze.

"Natasha," the girl replied. "Nice to meet you." And here she strongly lied, but the rules of politeness demanded such an answer.

Lyudmila Alekseevna nodded. "I'm glad to meet you too. I've heard a lot about you from my son. I wanted to make sure it's all true."

Natasha wanted to ask what exactly she had heard, but she didn't. It was clear that Kolya wouldn't have said anything bad about her. He wasn't the kind of person to gossip about anyone, let alone her.

"I baked a pie and brewed chamomile tea," Lyudmila Alekseevna said, nodding towards the set table. "I hope you'll like it, Natasha."

"Thank you, Lyudmila Alekseevna. I'm sure I will, because it all looks very delicious. And you can call me by my first name, it will be better."

Lyudmila Alekseevna nodded again. The suggestion to call her Aunt Lyuda, the girl never received. Perhaps this was a privilege for the chosen few.

They hardly talked over tea, only occasionally exchanging remarks about the taste of the pie and the weather, when the silence became too oppressive. Towards the end of the tea party, Lyudmila Alekseevna asked: "Natasha, tell me something about yourself. I only know about you from Kolya's words, and that doesn't say much. You understand."

"A young man in love always has rose-tinted glasses. He confuses reality with his fantasies."

"I'm not confusing anything, Mom!" Kolya protested.

"What are you saying? Be quiet, Kolya. Let Natasha and me talk about our own, women's things. And you go for a walk with Berta. Okay, it's time for her to go outside."

Berta didn't express a desire to go for a walk at all. She was peacefully dozing under the table, but Kolya didn't dare argue with his mother. He threw an apologetic look at the girl, took the leash from the nightstand, and went out into the hallway. Berta followed him. A couple of minutes later, the door closed, and Natasha realized that she was in the most important exam of her life. An exam that would be harder to pass than theoretical mechanics, strength of materials, and drawing combined, because she had the most biased examiner possible.

"Tell me," Lyudmila Alekseevna ordered, pouring herself more tea. "About what?"

"About everything, from the beginning. How did you meet Kolya? What do you have in common?"

"We met when Kolya transferred to our institute. On the very first day of his studies in a new place. He was late for the lecture and sat next to me."

"Why next to you?"

"Well, because I was sitting by the door, and Kolya didn't want to wander around the whole auditorium and attract unnecessary attention. I think it was an accident."

"Probably so," Lyudmila Alekseevna agreed thoughtfully. "Accidents are nothing more."

"He told me that you moved to our city because the medicine here is more developed, and the doctors are better," Natasha said, not dropping the smile from her face.

"I hope you've gotten better after moving. We have very clean air, many forests. I think that alone will help improve your health."

"If the illness is caused by frayed nerves, then you won't get rid of it with clean air alone," Lyudmila Alekseevna remarked dryly. "But I take care of my health. Thank you."

"What about you? What are your plans for life? Are you going to leave for the capital after graduation, as many do, or will you stay here?"

"I like my city. I'll stay. Maybe I'll get a job at the factory as an engineer or somewhere else. I like my specialty. I'm good at the subjects. I think it's my calling."

Lyudmila Alekseevna's gaze became even more displeased. Natasha realized she had made a mistake. Perhaps it wasn't worth boasting about her successes when Kolya barely passed the session with Cs, and Bs were something completely out of the realm of fantasy for him.

"Maybe we should talk about this?" Natasha decided and said, "Kolya also has talent, the talent of a writer. He writes poems very well."

"Poems," Lyudmila Alekseevna made a contemptuous grimace. "A serious occupation, I must say. And what do they live on, these writers? They collect beer cans in their free time or put up ads on poles."

"You're wrong, Lyudmila Alekseevna," Natasha said quietly. "I'm sure Kolya could achieve a lot."

"He will," Lyudmila Alekseevna stated confidently. "Kolya went to his father, and he always got what he wanted. It's just that people in this city are mean. The medicine may be good, but people have no souls. A person transferred to a new university, hasn't figured anything out yet, and the teachers pounced on him like vultures. But nothing, Kolya will show them yet."

Natasha didn't dare correct Lyudmila Alekseevna and say she was wrong. Kolya's father always got what he wanted. That was the problem. What is wanted is different for everyone. And if for Kolya's father it was drawings and calculations, then Kolya was closer to literature and poetry.

Natasha sighed, and also took the teapot. It seemed pointless to try to convince Lyudmila Alekseevna.

The fifth year of the institute somehow imperceptibly came to an end. Natasha completed her studies with honors. Kolya also did well. Not excellent, of course, but given his academic performance, one should be glad that he managed to pass the state exams at all. Natasha didn't know who she was happier for: herself or her boyfriend.

"Congratulations," Marina said, approaching her at the graduation party. "You're the only one among my acquaintances who managed to get two diplomas at once."

"What do you mean?" Natasha didn't understand.

"The fact that Kolya got his diploma is entirely your merit. Admit it."

"Without your support, he wouldn't have made it. You helped him on the state exams, right?"

Natasha reluctantly nodded. "I just slightly prompted the answer to one question when the head of the department was distracted by the secretary."

"And what does he intend to do next? Where will he go with his diploma?"

"Well, probably to the factory. There was a recent ad. They're hiring specialists without experience."

"Poor factory," Marina sighed. "And you too. Don't let this poet drag you into his swamp. Dump him before it's too late."

"We love each other," Natasha replied. As if that could explain anything to Marina. For her, so pragmatic and self-confident, love and poems meant nothing. They were just terms from the dictionary of tearful teenagers, to which Marina hadn't belonged since she was eighteen, if not older.

"That's not love, it's habit. And it can end badly, I know from my own experience."

"What experience, Marina? Are you hinting at your father? But Kolya is not like that at all. He won't drink. He even refused champagne at the party today. He's not used to alcohol."

Marina smiled sadly, as if talking to a naive child. "We were all different once. Better, more correct, and kinder. Do you think I didn't believe in those sugary fairy tales about love? Of course, I did. Until I was seven. Then life opened my eyes. And it's good that it happened early, not now. Fewer reasons for upset. But you, Natasha, it's high time you grew up and stopped believing in princes, or at least in the fact that your Kolya is one of them."

Natasha didn't have time to answer. Kolya, who had made his way through the dancing crowd, interrupted their conversation and barely found you in this crush. "He smiled that smile that made Natasha's heart melt habitually. "Can I talk to you?"

"Of course, you can. About what?"

"Alone," Kolya said, throwing a meaningful look at Marina.

"Okay, I won't bother you. I'll go have some fun, and you can read poems or whatever other entertainment options you have."

"She knows I write poems," Kolya asked when Marina had moved to a considerable distance from them. This thought seemed to displease him.

"No, she just blurted it out, just to say something," Natasha replied, cursing her friend's talkativeness. "So, what did you want to talk about? I'm listening."

Kolya said something, but too quietly. It was impossible to decipher his phrase over the roar of the music. "What?" Natasha asked again.

Kolya grabbed her hand and pulled her towards the exit of the cafe. Natasha didn't resist. She really felt uncomfortable in this crowd. It seemed that Marina, and everyone else too, were watching them from under the table, waiting for some kind of sensation.

The fresh air pleasantly cooled her cheeks, which, Natasha suspected, were burning with excitement. Kolya sighed, turned to her, and almost rattled off: "Marry me!"

Natasha was silent. Deep down, she expected something like this. And still, Kolya's proposal shocked her. Her heart threatened to jump out of her chest, and Kolya rummaged in his pocket, took out a box with a ring and handed it to her.

"Be my wife," Kolya said more firmly.

"What about your mother?" Natasha asked. She didn't know why this phrase slipped out. Lyudmila Alekseevna wasn't there, but the girl felt that the ghost of this person was invisibly present next to them and watching everything.

Kolya clearly didn't expect such a turn in the conversation, because he asked with surprise: "What, Mom? I don't think she likes me very much. But you're not marrying my mother, you're marrying me."

"Well, and still, I wouldn't want her to be angry because of our wedding."

Kolya opened the box and held it out to Natasha. She stared at the ring without looking away. The shine of the gold attracted her gaze. Natasha didn't have a particular love for jewelry, she hardly ever wore it. But for some reason, she wanted to get this ring. Or no, it's better to say it differently. She wanted Kolya to put this ring on her finger.

"Mom won't mind," Kolya assured the girl. "She likes you."

"What if I thought otherwise? Know that it just seemed so. Mom often makes that impression on strangers. I don't know why. And with her own, she's very sweet."

"With whom, her own?" Natasha wanted to ask. "With you?"

It was known that Kolya and Lyudmila Alekseevna had no close relatives with whom they maintained relationships. "Well, so you agree?" Kolya asked her, already quite uncertainly. It seems that the girl's long reflections had frightened him. Natasha nodded, extending her hand to him. At that moment, she really wanted to become his wife, and the rest was not so important. The girl believed that she would be able to cope with everything.

They celebrated the wedding in the same cafe where the graduation party was held. It was inexpensive there, and there weren't so many guests on both sides to rent a banquet hall. A huge hall. "You know what I would advise you?" said Marina, watching her friend twirl in front of the mirror. "To run away from your wedding, like the heroine of that movie with Julia Roberts. Well, you remember?" "Everything will be fine," Natasha replied, meticulously examining her eyelashes. She did her own makeup to save money, and now she wondered if she had made a mistake. Maybe she should have hired a professional? What if, against the backdrop of other brides at the registry office, she looked like a simpleton? "Of course, everything will be fine," Marina agreed. "Although it seems to me that you yourself are not too sure about that. I'm just very worried. Because of all this fuss around the wedding, because of Lyudmila Alekseevna. I'm afraid of my future mother-in-law." "Silly," "Not at all," Marina shook her head. "Almost everyone is afraid of their mothers-in-law, because rarely among them are sweethearts." "And what exactly are you afraid of?" "Well, that we won't get along in the same house—two housewives in one kitchen, after all." "Yes, you actually acted stupidly by agreeing to move into their apartment. Why did you do that?" "Well, because it seemed logical. Neither Kolya nor I have our own housing yet, and we don't have money for rent either. And Kolya and his mother have a three-room apartment." "But not to move into our one-room apartment." "And Lyudmila Alekseevna has health problems. She needs help." Marina let out a mournful groan. "But I understand everything. You want to simultaneously get a job as a housekeeper and nurse in one person?" "What kind of nurse?" Natasha was amazed. "Lyudmila Alekseevna is often sick, but you don't need to feed her with a spoon." "This is for now. Believe me, it all starts so harmlessly. Then the mother-in-law and a spineless husband like your Nikolai sit on their wife's neck, and—well, well, I'll be quiet," Marina sighed, noticing the indignation in her friend's eyes. "Anyway, you can't be persuaded."

The wedding was celebrated modestly. Natasha grew up in a poor family without excesses, and therefore she didn't expect anything different. Everything was good, right, and only Lyudmila Alekseevna's gaze instilled fear in her. The mother-in-law smiled at the guests, but as if through force, and all evening she looked at her son, as if she couldn't look enough at him. Natasha involuntarily thought that it was Murad. For some reason, she was afraid of the moment when Lyudmila Alekseevna would turn her attention to her, as if then something terrible would really happen. However, at first, life in the new house was quite ordinary, more routine than terrible, if you can put it that way. The hardest thing was getting used to the new daily routine. Lyudmila Alekseevna was a woman of few words, completely unlike a shrew. And yet, she didn't want to break the rules she established in the house. On weekends, they got up no later than eight and immediately started doing things. On Saturday, they always went to the market for milk and cottage cheese. They didn't have their own car, and so Kolya and Natasha traveled half the city by bus. As it turned out, this was a normal thing for Kolya. He knew the sellers perfectly well, he understood who had good products and who didn't. "Mom prefers products from the market, she says there's less chemistry here than on store shelves," Kolya said when Natasha cautiously inquired how long such orders had been established in his family. "I've been going here since we moved to this city. Only before I went with my mother, and now with you." Natasha remembered that before, even before the wedding, she hadn't actually met Kolya in the mornings. The girl attributed this to the fact that he preferred to sleep in on weekends, but it turned out differently. Simpler and more complicated at the same time, depending on which side you look at it from. Then Natasha helped Lyudmila Alekseevna prepare lunch or, if she felt unwell, she prepared it herself. And the mother-in-law felt unwell quite often. "In the mornings, her blood pressure often jumps," she told Marina on the phone. "After standing at the stove for a long time, her back hurts, and sometimes her sugar rises." Her friend answered something, but it was impossible to make out her words. "Somewhere nearby?" Natasha asked. "It's very noisy." "In a nightclub!" Marina yelled. "Artem has a birthday today." "Artem? Who is that?" "My boyfriend." "But isn't your boyfriend's name Denis?" "It seems that a couple of weeks ago it was Denis." Marina said something else, but the sounds of music drowned out everything else, and then the connection was interrupted.

It's not that Natasha was very surprised by her friend's behavior. Even during her years at the institute, she was fickle, and after moving to the capital, she went completely wild. Deep down, Natasha condemned her, although she didn't say it out loud, and now she suddenly realized that another feeling was mixed with condemnation, as if envy. Natasha didn't even think about changing boyfriends and cheating on her husband, but about the freedom with which Marina lived. She didn't get up early in the morning and go to the market for cottage cheese, she didn't spend her life endlessly cooking borscht. A few months of living with Lyudmila Alekseevna were enough for Natasha to clearly understand that she wanted to move out of this apartment. But starting a conversation about this topic with her husband turned out to be not so easy. "Move? Why?" Kolya sincerely did not understand what she was talking about. "We have a huge apartment. What, is there not enough space here?" "No, but still, it's not our apartment. I don't feel like the mistress here and I have no right to change anything." "And what will change in a rented apartment? Landlords are unlikely to be happy if we want to, for example, re-paste the wallpaper, or the control there will be something else." "One guy works in our department, he says that the landlady of the apartment visits them every Sunday to see if anything is damaged from the furniture, but that's still a pleasure." Natasha wanted to answer that Lyudmila Alekseevna behaved no better, but she didn't do it. After all, her mother-in-law had never scolded her, only wrinkled her nose with disgust if she found a thing that, in her opinion, was not in its place. However, this had not happened for a long time. A couple of such incidents were enough for Natasha to teach herself to order. Sometimes she felt as if she were in a museum, afraid to touch something and spoil her mother-in-law's mood. Seeing that Natasha was upset, Kolya tried to cheer her up. "Someday we will definitely move, I promise you. But right now is not the time yet." "And when will that time come? What should change?" "Well, maybe Mom will get better. I'm afraid to leave her alone. You never know what might happen. And it would be nice to get a higher salary. Management doesn't spoil me much, you know." Natasha knew about this. As she suspected, after getting a job, little had changed in Kolya's life. Just as he was a mediocre student, at the factory Kolya didn't grab stars from the sky either. They worked in different departments, but from the gossip of those around them, Natasha learned about every project not submitted on time and almost every mistake in the drawing made by Kolya. Natasha herself was praised by the management. She had worked in the department for only 3 months, but the manager had already hinted at a promotion. The same story repeated itself as at the institute. Natasha was an excellent student, and Kolya was almost written off. And yet she didn't know that things were very serious until one evening, about a year after their marriage, Kolya didn't come home drunk as a lord. Kolya. Natasha barely caught him and helped him stay on his feet. She didn't immediately realize what was happening. Kolya, her teetotaler Kolya, who hadn't taken a drop of alcohol in his mouth, got drunk, so to speak, completely. It was easier to believe that he had suddenly fallen ill and was unsteady on his feet because of a fever. However, the smell said otherwise. Roughly the same aromas emanated from their neighbor Uncle Pasha when Natasha met him in the entrance. But with Uncle Pasha, everything was clear. He was a drunkard known throughout the yard. And what prompted Kolya to do this is unclear. Lyudmila Alekseevna shouted to Natasha. "Help, I can't hold him alone." With unexpected agility for her, her mother-in-law rushed into the corridor. For a second, she looked at her son with eyes widened in surprise, then began to lament: "Kolya, what is this? What happened to you? Why?" Together with Natasha, they led Kolya into the living room and sat him on the sofa. He looked at his mother and wife with a strange, clouded look and smiled crookedly: "I was fired. I'm unemployed now." Lyubov Alekseevna shrieked and clutched her heart. Natasha fearfully asked: "Are you feeling bad? Maybe I should bring you some pills?" Lyubov Alekseevna waved her away. If it weren't for this gesture, Natasha might have thought that she hadn't been heard. "How did this happen, Kolya?" his mother asked in a compassionate tone. "Why?" "Because I made a mistake in the last drawing, and the boss didn't notice it. He didn't notice it himself, but he blamed me. And where is justice, Mom? You should talk to the higher management," Lyudmila Alekseevna firmly stated. "Surely, they will figure everything out; what kind of tyranny is it to shift their mistakes onto others." "But it's Kolya's mistake," Natasha wanted to say, but she didn't, not wanting to hurt her husband even more. And he stubbornly looked away from her, looked anywhere but at his wife, as if ashamed of something. "You shouldn't have drunk," Natasha said quietly. "It won't change anything." "What are you nagging him for?" the mother-in-law flared up. "Don't you see what condition Kolya is in! Better help him take off his shoes and let's take him to bed. He needs to sleep, and then we'll decide what to do next." Natasha was surprised by the reproach from Lyudmila Alekseevna, but she didn't dare to object. Together, they somehow got Kolya to the bedroom and put him to bed. He almost immediately started snoring. Lyudmila Anatolyevna covered her son with a blanket and stood for a while, looking at him with pity. "My Kolenka is always unlucky. And why does he deserve this—such a kind, good boy?" Natasha was surprised to realize that she disagreed with her mother-in-law. When Kolya talked about his dismissal, he had such a strange look, as if something had broken in his soul. How hastily he shifted his blame onto the management. Her former kind Kolya would never have done this, which means something had changed. Natasha had a bad feeling. Remembering this day later, she realized that it was then that their seemingly happy family life went downhill. Only they didn't notice it right away.

No matter how Lyudmila Alekseevna pleaded with her son, he didn't talk to the management. Usually, the sweet and gentle Kolya had changed, and in response to all the persuasions, he only shook his head. "I won't grovel to anyone," he stubbornly said, "so that they won't say at work that they took me back out of pity." "But Kolya, how will we live?" Lyudmila Alekseevna cautiously asked. "We can't really splurge on my pension and Natasha's salary." "I'll find something, I'll prove to everyone what I'm worth." Natasha didn't know exactly who her husband was going to prove something to. Unless their former colleagues, Lyudmila Alekseevna and Kolya, were interested in Nikolai's fate. Kolya was unlucky in his job search, and by the end of the third week of searching, his fighting spirit began to wane. "Well, what did they say?" Natasha asked when her husband returned from another interview. "That they'll call back when they decide on a candidate, which means they'll never call back. We've been through this before." "Well, you need to be optimistic," Lyudmila Alekseevna remarked, going to the table. Lately, she had openly pretended to be ill, not being shy about her daughter-in-law. Natasha wondered why she needed to sigh and put her hand to her forehead in front of Kolya when all day Lyudmila Alekseevna behaved quite cheerfully. She thought that this way Kolya would find a job faster, his conscience would torment him, and he would grab the first job that came along, whatever it might be. That's about what happened. "Mom, are you feeling bad?" Kolya looked at her fearfully. Lyudmila Alekseevna shook her head with a martyred look: "No, Kolya, don't worry! My head just got dizzy, my blood pressure is jumping something lately. It's all because of my nerves, yes. Because I lost my job." "No, sonny, probably because of the weather. They promised magnetic storms on the radio last night. Because of me," Kolya repeated in a downcast voice. Then his gaze became resolute. "Well, we won't starve to death. There's one option." "Where?" Natasha asked fearfully. Judging by her husband's facial expression, it was about something dangerous or illegal, or both at the same time. "They need a loader at the grocery store around the corner. I talked to the local guys out of curiosity. They said they'll most likely take me as a loader." "You, Lyudmila Alekseevna, are so worried that you even forgot to put your hand to your forehead. Don't even think about it. With your build. You'll sprain your back in two counts." "You know, Mom, it's even offensive to hear, as if I'm some kind of weakling. I won't sprain anything. On the contrary, maybe I'll pump up a little. Besides, it's not forever. I'll work in the store and look for something else at the same time. Everything will be alright. Mom, believe me." Lyudmila Alekseevna tried to protest, but Kolya didn't listen to her. And then the mother-in-law shouted at Natasha: "At least say something to him, that it doesn't matter what happens to him." Natasha looked intently at Kolya and asked: "It's useless to persuade you, right? Even if you yourself understand that this idea is so-so." "This idea is not so-so," Kolya said angrily, "but very worthwhile. And stop persuading me. Let me do what I want for once in my life." Natasha had to admit that he was right. All his conscious life Kolya had lived at his mother's behest, he went to study as an engineer, as she wanted. He went with her to another city, leaving his childhood friends behind. He lived in the same apartment with his mother, daily observing her pretense and fulfilling her every whim. For the first time, Natasha felt that she hated Lyudmila Alekseevna. She spoiled the life not only of her, but of her own son too. And at the same time, she managed to remain a saint in the eyes of those around her. She said that Kolya's well-being was the main thing for her—what hypocrisy. In one thing, Natasha agreed with Lyudmila Alekseevna—the job Kolya chose didn't suit him at all. What kind of loader is he if this guy has never lifted anything heavier than vegetables from the market in his life. Every day Natasha was afraid that she would get a call from home and hear that Kolya had sprained his back, or dropped a heavy box on his leg, or, God forbid, there were many dangers for him. It would be better if Kolya continued to walk aimlessly through interviews than risk his health. Natasha had no doubt that sooner or later he would find his place as a manager in some office or something similar. As for Kolya remembering his calling and taking up literature again, Natasha no longer hoped for that. It seems these dreams remained in the past. Kolya had grown up, settled down, and considered all these plans foolish. He adopted his mother's words, without even noticing that he began to speak the same way she did.

That evening, Kolya stayed late at work. Natasha and Lyudmila Alekseevna sat in the kitchen, drank tea, and were silent. The tension between them was almost tangible. She didn't want to talk to her mother-in-law. It was scary to go to her room and be alone. "Suddenly something happened to him," Lyudmila Alekseevna said, breaking the silence between them. Natasha shook her head, although her mother-in-law had voiced her thoughts. "No. Kolya sent messages, he wrote that he would be late. He's fine." "And why will he be late, did you find out? Maybe he's been in the hospital for a long time. He needs our help, and we're drinking tea here." Natasha didn't tell her mother-in-law that she had asked Kolya this question, but he didn't answer the message. For the past hour, the phone had been out of range, and this only fueled Natasha's anxiety. She was about to jump up and rush to her husband's aid, even though he had warned about his late return. When Natasha had already decided to do this, even if Kolya got angry because he was being looked after like a baby, steps were heard in the hallway. Natasha and Lyudmila Alekseevna rushed there, and Natasha had a feeling of déjà vu. Kolya was trying to take off his boots, leaning on the wall with his hand. He was standing on his feet, but he was very tipsy. Lyudmila Alekseevna and Natasha watched this scene dumbfounded. Kolya finally took off his shoes and waved his hand at them. "Hi, Mom! Hi, Natasha. I'm home." "Finally," Natasha added, barely suppressing the urge to yell at him. "Where were you, Kolya?" Lyudmila Alekseevna asked in a trembling voice. "Why did you get drunk again?" "Say, what did you get drunk on? What, Mom, really? We only drank a little. Mikhaylovich has an anniversary today, 40 years old, we celebrated." "And you couldn't tell us about it? I wrote to Natasha that I'd be back late. Mom, what's the problem?" Without looking at them anymore, Kolya went to the bathroom. Lyudmila Alekseevna looked disapprovingly at her daughter-in-law and said: "It's all because of you. Before, when Kolya and I lived alone, he didn't allow himself anything like that." From the injustice of what she heard, Natasha was stunned, and Lyudmila Alekseevna, shaking her head indignantly, returned to the kitchen. It seemed pointless to say anything to her. No matter what Natasha said in her defense, it wouldn't change anything. Lyudmila Alekseevna had found someone to blame, and her daughter-in-law wouldn't be able to shake her beliefs even if she wanted to.

"How are you doing? Everything as usual?" Natasha chose a place in the very corner of the cafe, away from prying eyes, and dialed Marina's number. A conversation with a person who lives easily and carefree was like a breath of fresh air for her. There was nothing like that at work. At home, with her eternally gloomy mother-in-law and husband, returning late, only the phone remained, and Natasha regretted that she couldn't meet Marina and hug her properly. "As usual," Marina laughed. "Are you kidding? I have something new every day. I always dreamed of living like this. Don't you remember?" "I remember," Natasha agreed. "You're great." Obviously, her friend heard the sadness in her voice, so Marina's tone became serious. "What's wrong with you, Natasha? Some problems?" "Nothing serious. Just minor family cataclysms. Don't pay attention, it's better to tell me where you're going on vacation. Last time we talked, you were still thinking?" "No talk about my vacation until you tell me what's going on with you. Confess, your mother-in-law is acting up." "Worse," Natasha sighed. "Kolya, and what's wrong with him?" "Late adolescence. The rebellious spirit decided to manifest itself." Natasha sighed and told her friend everything that had been accumulating in her heart for so long. It seemed to her that she couldn't stand keeping it all to herself any longer. Natasha wanted to share her woes with someone, to get some support, even if it would consist of a meaningless phrase: "Everything will be fine." Marina, however, was too good a friend to stoop to such banality. Consoling a person with empty phrases was not her style. "What do you think I should do?" Natasha asked. "Maybe talk to Kolya, explain to him how it all hurts me." "You say he started drinking often?" Marina asked. "Several times a week he gathers with his new friends, whom he found at work, where several times there and constantly," Marina sighed. A chill ran down Natasha's spine at these words. "What do you mean?" "My father started the same way. First, a shot with friends to celebrate payday, then someone's birthday, Bastille Day, and finally, any small significant reason. Alcohol consumption became a habit for him, and, believe me, my mother also tried to talk to my father at first and explain how upset she was and all that. He didn't care about her or my upset. The main thing was vodka and these drunk buddies. I can't stand them. But Kolya is not an alcoholic, not yet. If he continues in the same spirit, he'll quickly become an alcoholic. I know I've told you this many times, but I'll repeat it again. Run away from this family. Your marriage will not lead to anything good. It was obvious from the very beginning." "Run away. But isn't it betrayal in relation to someone? To Kolya, who doesn't care about your feelings, or to his mother? Understand. By staying with them, you are betraying yourself." Natasha couldn't find anything to say. And how can you express feelings when you don't understand them yourself? "Where are you now?" Marina asked. "In a cafe. Remember the one we often went to when we were still students? Near the main building of our institute." "And how could I forget," nostalgic notes appeared in Marina's voice. "I love their chocolate cakes. Order two. One for yourself, and the other in my honor." "Definitely," Natasha laughed. "You, of course, are not worried that I will turn into a bun because of your whims. You won't be threatened by that. With your figure, by the way." "And what are you doing in this cafe? Is this the first step to running away from home?" "What are you making up? I just decided to distract myself a little. I'm tired of Lyudmila Alekseevna constantly glaring at me. And if she asks where you've been, I'll say that I stayed late at work. I urgently needed to submit the drawings." Marina was so surprised that she didn't immediately find the words to answer. "Well, my girl has finally grown up," she finally said. "You hate lying. As long as I remember you, you always told the truth, even if it harmed you. I still remember how you agreed to skip classes with me when we were in the first year, and then honestly told the teacher that you went to the cinema. In my opinion, no one but you was capable of this." "Oh, don't remind me," Natasha asked. "I acted childishly then, but now, I hope, no one will be harmed by my lie. I just want to rest from Lyudmila Alekseevna's company. What's wrong with that?" "Nothing wrong. Nothing," Marina agreed. "And it will be even better if you, without wasting time, hook up some guy in this cafe." "Marina, what are you like a little kid? Say that I should hook up two guys. One for myself, and the other in your honor." The friends chatted a little more, and then Marina was distracted by her next admirer. Natasha just shook her head. Her friend was so fickle, but she lived much happier than her. Probably, Natasha herself shouldn't have grown up so proper, focusing on her studies and observing all the norms of morality. No, of course, Natasha wasn't going to change boyfriends like gloves, cheat on her husband, or anything like that. But breaking the rules in small things, like now with the cakes, was very pleasant. Natasha poked at the cake with a spoon and thoughtfully looked out the window. It was getting dark outside. It was probably time to go home, but she didn't want to. Someone's gaze brought her out of her reverie. Natasha thought that this only happens in books and movies. She felt with all her skin that someone was looking at her, and this feeling was exciting. She turned around and met the gaze of a stranger in a dark sweater sitting on the opposite side of the hall. He was about her age, a brunette, quite handsome. And without a doubt, it was this man who had been drilling her with his gaze for the last couple of minutes. This was the last thing she needed. For a moment, the crazy thought came to Natasha's mind that it was all Marina's doing. What if her friend decided to take control of her fate? Called some acquaintance and asked him to come to the cafe to comfort Natasha. No, well, this is complete fantasy. Even Marina wouldn't have invented such a scheme so quickly, let alone find a free man so easily. Besides, there was an almost empty plate in front of the stranger, which meant that he had been in the cafe for a long time. Natasha raised her eyebrows, asking the man a silent question, something was wrong. The stranger got up and approached her table.

"Natasha," she was stunned. She expected anything but the fact that this stranger would call her by name, and so familiarly, as if they were close friends. "Do we know each other?" she cautiously asked. "Not sure yet," the man smiled. "But judging by the fact that I guessed the name, yes, we do. You studied at the third school." Natasha nodded. The man added: "From the first to the fourth grade, you sat at the first desk." Natasha nodded again, already beginning to understand what was what. "We studied together?" she asked. "You guessed it. Andrey Terikhov, maybe you remember?" Natasha shyly shook her head. "Well, unfortunately, no. We probably didn't communicate much." "Unfortunately, yes," Andrey replied in the same tone. "My place was at the very end of the class, in Kamchatka. That's probably why we rarely met. Can I sit at your table?" "Why?" Natasha asked a little fearfully. Andrey seemed strange to her, and she didn't quite understand what he wanted. "To talk, to remember past years, to chat." Andrey's smile was so kind and disarming that Natasha gave in. "Okay, but I was going to leave in half an hour, so I understand everything, I won't dare to delay you." Andrey comically bowed to her in the spirit of 10th-century cavaliers and went to his table for his things. Natasha sighed, did she do the right thing by inviting him to her table? Although it's just a conversation, what harm could it lead to? Andrey sat down opposite her and started a conversation without any embarrassment. "Well, how are things? How have you been living the last, say, 15 years?" "Well, in different ways, like everyone else," Natasha shrugged. "But are you really interested in this?" "If I weren't interested, I wouldn't ask," Andrey smiled. "I don't have a habit of making empty conversations." "Well, how did you live?" Natasha asked in turn. "What do you do?" It was a little strange to ask such questions to a person you don't remember, but this was required by the rules of politeness. Andrey turned out to be more talkative than her. "After the ninth grade, I went to technical school, then I went to Moscow. A friend called. I didn't like it there at all, I seemed to earn a decent amount, but it's not for me. Traffic jams, the race for money, houses under the very sky. I made friends there, but I realized that I couldn't live there. I returned to my small homeland, and now I have opened my own business. I earn less than in Moscow, but it's enough to live on." "And what kind of business?" "A car service. I've always loved tinkering with cars. Maybe you remember, the teacher scolded me for that. I had a habit of bringing a good half of my toy car fleet to school and playing during classes." Andrey looked at her face intently, as if with hope. It seemed that it was really important for him that Natasha remember. It is unknown whether it was self-hypnosis or not, but Natasha seemed to really have vague memories. Their strict class teacher Antonina Petrovna shakes a red car in her hand and yells at someone. Maybe it was Andrey? "It seems I remember," she slowly nodded. "You had your red car taken away. Exactly, Zhiguлёнок. It was one of my favorite cars. Grandpa's gift. Antonina gave it to my parents, and I couldn't get it back." "And I don't have any exciting school stories that I could remember at my leisure," Natasha sighed. "I regret that I was an excellent student. Life passed somehow boringly." "You say life," Andrey chuckled. "We're not old yet." Natasha remained silent about the fact that that's exactly how she feels lately. Outlived, broken, nothing awaits her in the future. "I see you don't believe my words," Andrey noticed. "Antonina had the same skeptical look when I said I did my homework." "How do you still remember such trifles?" Natasha laughed. "Okay, you're right. I don't so much not believe you, I just think that the time for fun is over. Ahead is only adult, serious life, boring, to the point of gnashing of teeth." "I bet it's not?" "And I won't bet. So, you give up in advance." Natasha understood that she was being challenged, but her usual seriousness failed. "Okay, how are you going to prove the opposite?" "Have you ever played bowling?" "What?" Natasha was surprised by this turn of the conversation. "No, never." "Never? It seems Andrey decided that he had misheard. "Are you kidding?" "And I'm not kidding. I was always an excellent student. You forgot." "I remember. Well, the game will be more interesting for you. Or for me," Natasha specified suspiciously. "Do you want to laugh at how awkwardly I will throw the balls?" "So, you agree." Natasha hastily nodded,

What kind of man had fate sent her? She couldn't figure out what words to choose in a conversation with him.

"She agreed," concluded Andrei. "So, I'll expect you tomorrow. Where do you live? I can pick you up in my car."

"I'll come myself," Natasha said hastily. "Give me the address."

Natasha was horrified, imagining her mother-in-law and husband watching her departure from the window. One could imagine what fantasies would appear in Lyudmila Alekseevna's head and how willingly the mother-in-law would share them with her son. "I'll come myself," Natasha repeated. She wasn't going to keep her promise.

"You won't go? Are you serious now?" Marina's voice rang with indignation.

"Of course, seriously. Would I joke about this? I mean, fate gave you a chance once in a lifetime. A decent man appeared on your path, and you're running away."

Natasha sighed heavily. "Marina, I don't even remember him properly. I barely found some little boy with bangs in a school photograph. You don't know him at all. Why did you assume he's decent?"

"Because an indecent one wouldn't invite you to bowling. He would have invited you, I don't know…" Marina hesitated, not knowing what to invent. "In short, you don't even give yourself a chance to get to know him. That's it."

"Marina, what's the point of all this? I'm married."

"Well, only Kolya forgot about it long ago. But I remember," Natasha didn't back down.

"Fine, it's your business. Go home, listen to your mother-in-law's grumbling, watch another TV series with her, and remember that you deceived a good person."

"Who?"

"Andrei. You told him you'd come, so he'll be waiting. You can't say anything. A good deed."

Natasha again suspected that her friend knew Andrei. The two of them were too similar, they twisted her as they pleased. "Aren't you ashamed?" Marina asked.

"Ugh, you. Fine, I'll go, the first and last time. Remember that."

"Of course, of course," Marina sang. And her friend heard that she didn't believe her. This time, lying was harder for Natasha. Perhaps because her own intentions didn't seem so harmless. It's one thing to sit alone in a cafe, and quite another to accept a stranger's offer and go bowling with him. It doesn't really seem like a date, but what else can it be called?

Natasha again told her mother-in-law that she had been asked to stay late at work. She didn't understand whether Lyudmila Alekseevna believed this excuse or not, but in any case, the mother-in-law didn't seem pleased.

"Decided to become a boss, huh?" Lyudmila Alekseevna asked grumpily. It seemed she still couldn't forgive her daughter-in-law for the fact that Natasha stayed to work at the factory, while Kolya had to quit. Fortunately, she didn't need explanations. Her mother-in-law hung up. Natasha called a taxi. She felt an inexplicable excitement, either because she was late, or because she was again about to meet a person from whom you don't know what to expect.

"You're late," Andrei remarked, waiting for her on the porch. Not angrily, but rather with a cheerful teasing, as if they were still classmates waiting for each other at the school gates.

"Sorry," said Natasha.

"What's to apologize for? Nothing will start without us. Let's go faster. The lane is already waiting." He took Natasha's hand and pulled her inside the building. The similarity to school years intensified. No one since childhood, except Kolya, had held her hand, but this was different. Kolya was always shy and fidgety, as if walking hand-in-hand with a girl was something shameful. Andrei, however, behaved naturally, like an old friend, as if they hadn't just met yesterday, and hadn't been reminiscing about each other for many years before that.

Natasha put on funny soft slippers and hesitantly approached the lane. Andrei handed her a ball. "Hold it. How does the weight feel?"

"Like I lifted a weight," Natasha admitted. "I don't think I'll be able to do it."

"What exactly?"

"There's no such thing," Andrei declared seriously. "Have you taken the ball?"

"Yes."

"Now get rid of this nasty thing. Imagine that at the very end of the lane stands your enemy, a vicious cleaning lady who scolds you every morning for dirty shoes. And throw it. Go on."

Natasha was momentarily stunned by this comparison, but immediately pulled herself together and threw the ball. Throwing it, she imagined her mother-in-law. However, this didn't help Natasha much. The ball went to the side and knocked down only one pin. Andrei nodded thoughtfully.

"It's clear. The cleaning lady doesn't scold you enough. Not enough."

"She doesn't scold, she just grumbles under her breath and glares angrily," said Natasha.

"Let's try again. Show me how to throw the ball properly."

She unexpectedly caught fire with excitement, which she herself did not expect. Or maybe Natasha's usual perfectionism woke up? To go bowling once in her life and not learn to throw the ball perfectly, that wouldn't be like her. They bowled for an hour, and by the end of the game, Natasha managed to knock down all the pins at once. In a surge of emotion, she threw herself on Andrei's neck.

"Did it work?"

"I never doubted it." Andrei gently patted her on the back. Natasha, recovering herself, pulled away. She felt awkward about what had happened. Andrei, however, continued in a carefree tone. "Champagne for the victory is better than tea."

There was a small cafe at the bowling alley. That's where they settled down. Natasha glanced at her watch and sighed. It was soon time to go home, to escape like Cinderella from the ball. Time flew by so quickly during the game. She didn't want to return to her mother-in-law's gloomy apartment at all. Andrei brought a plate of pastries and put a small prize in front of Natasha in honor of her victory. Chocolate.

"How did you know that's my favorite?"

"I didn't know. I remembered. You always brought cakes to school for your birthdays. All 4 years I studied with you."

"You remember such details?" Natasha was amazed. "Do you have a computer in your head?"

"Eat faster," Andrei chuckled, "or the tea will get cold."

Natasha followed his advice, continuing to be surprised. She could hardly remember Andrei. Only a vague image came to mind. He, however, remembered such trifles about her. It was amazing and a little embarrassing.

"Tell me about yourself," she asked. "Where do you live now? With your parents?"

It sounded a little ambiguous, as if Natasha wanted to find out if he was married. However, the girl still decided to ask this question, and yes, she was really curious. It was strange to imagine that a family man would spend time with his classmate, whom he hadn't seen for many years, when his wife and children were waiting at home.

"Alone. My parents live nearby. I bought an apartment when I came back here. Why bother them?"

"I don't think you would bother them," Natasha said. "You would rather brighten up their lives. You're so cheerful."

Andrei's smile became a little sad, and he shrugged. "Cheerful, you say. I don't know, maybe I'm a sad clown who laughs even when he wants to cry."

"Do you want to cry?" Natasha asked, putting down her spoon.

"Not now, but eat, eat, don't stop. Or did my confession spoil your appetite? You don't need to comfort me, everything is fine. I just wanted to say that there are no people who always have a sunny disposition. Well then, order something for yourself," Natasha asked. "I feel awkward sitting with a pastry and watching you drink empty tea."

They lingered a little longer than Natasha had planned, and this caused her anxiety, lest Lyudmila Alekseevna start sniffing out where she had been.

"Well, I have to go," Natasha said, throwing her handbag strap over her shoulder. "Thank you for a wonderful evening, for the treat, for the game. I haven't had so much fun in a long time."

"Me neither," Andrei agreed. "Then we'll repeat it sometime. Or are there any other suggestions?"

"We can…" Andrei began.

Natasha took courage and interrupted him. "I'm married."

Andrei's smile wavered slightly, but didn't disappear from his face. "We can meet as friends," he suggested.

Two months had passed since Natasha first met Andrei. They parted at the entrance to the cinema. Natasha got into a taxi, and the smile disappeared from her face. Perhaps she shouldn't have continued these meetings with Andrei. Each time, returning home became increasingly difficult. The contrast between their communication and what awaited her at home was too great.

"Hard of hearing driver," she read on the seat in front of her. The driver purposefully drove the car forward, and Natasha felt as if she were alone in the car. No one would hear her conversation. Maybe this is a sign that she needs to talk to Marina.

She picked up the phone almost immediately. Strangely, lately Natasha's life had become almost more dynamic than the life of her reckless friend.

"Hi, how was your evening?" Marina asked. "Where did you go today?"

"How do you know I went somewhere? Well, sitting at the table with your mother-in-law, you probably wouldn't call me, I think. We went to the movies," Natasha admitted. "They released a comedy I've been wanting to see for a long time, and it's boring to go alone."

"It sounds like you're making excuses, girlfriend, I'm all for it. Have fun to the fullest."

"But it's wrong. I'm still married."

"And where is your husband? Eating borscht with his mommy or drinking with the loaders among the shelves?"

"Kolya doesn't drink that often, yes, three times a week is a little."

"It's not about Kolya now, it's about me."

"Marina, this can't go on. I'm married, but I go to the movies, bowling, and cafes with another man."

"You forgot the oceanarium," Marina reminded her. "And you didn't even kiss?"

"No, I wouldn't allow it."

"And this friend of yours didn't even try once?" Marina asked slyly.

"He tried once."

"On the cheek," Natasha admitted.

"Ugh, how boring. Well, that's something."

"Isn't it?"

Natasha was silent. Marina cautiously asked her, "What do you think you should do about this?"

"We need to end our meetings."

"Are you crazy? To throw away the little that brightens up your life? It's Kolya you should be throwing away, not Andrei."

"Marina, I'm pregnant, and I'm anticipating your question – it's not from Andrei. We only kissed once on the cheek, and that's all. And nothing else happened."

"Wow," Marina could only breathe out. "And how long have you known? A week ago. The term is very small. Just don't yell at me right away. But Natasha, do you really want this child?"

"Of course, I do. I need this child, whoever's it is. But for now, let's end this conversation, Marina. I need to think."

Actually, she couldn't think. In the last few days, Natasha's head was a complete mess. Even watching the comedy didn't help her relax. Natasha no longer rejoiced at the miracle of motherhood. She was afraid. What if Andrei stopped communicating with her when he finds out about it? On the one hand, it would be right, but on the other hand, giving up these friendly meetings was very difficult. Andrei knew how to listen to her like no one else, he lifted her spirits with a single word, what's more, with his mere presence. Natasha didn't tell him how hard it was for her to live with her husband and mother-in-law, but it seemed Andrei understood everything. He understood, but didn't interfere in their relationship. He probably wanted her to make the decision herself.

Natasha got out of the car and noticed out of the corner of her eye how the curtain in the window swayed. Did her mother-in-law see her? Natasha scolded herself for her absent-mindedness. Usually, when she took a taxi, she asked the driver to drop her off in the next yard so that Lyudmila Alekseevna wouldn't notice anything, but now she was in such distraught feelings that she mixed up the address. Surely, now the interrogation will begin. About why she's squandering money. They didn't use taxi services in their family as a matter of principle. They saved money for more important things. But contrary to Natasha's fears, there was no interrogation. Lyudmila Alekseevna gloomily glared at her from the kitchen and commanded, "Go faster, help set the table. Kolya just came home. We'll have dinner."

The clock showed 5 minutes to 8. Kolya, who never worked overtime, should have been home long ago, but he, apparently, was again delayed at some drinking party. Natasha looked at her husband with pain in her heart – thin, unshaven, all somehow jerky, nervous. He didn't look like the Kolya she knew at the institute. Did vodka or motherly love do this, because of which this man went down the wrong path? Kolya didn't even look in her direction, mumbled some kind of greeting under his breath and continued scrolling through the news on his phone. Dinner passed in tense silence. Only at the end, Lyudmila Alekseevna Elena asked, "What, Natasha, are you tired today? You work and work, you don't spare yourself at all."

"I need to fulfill the plan, Lyudmila Alekseevna," Natasha smiled slyly. "Many orders are coming in."

"I see, I see. Well, go and rest. I'll clear the table myself. Kolya hasn't finished eating anyway."

Natasha looked at her mother-in-law in surprise. Caring for her health was not at all in Lyudmila Alekseevna's rules. And yet she thought it best to obey. It was impossible to withstand this tension any longer. Natasha went into her room and closed the door. It immediately became easier on her soul. She had a respite until morning. Having gathered her courage, Natasha somehow asked her husband to sleep in another room if he drank too much. To Kolya's credit, he agreed, maybe he didn't tolerate his wife either, although Natasha didn't understand why. She herself simply couldn't stand the smell of alcohol. Now, during pregnancy, these aromas simply made her nauseous.

What if Lyudmila Alekseevna tells Kolya about her suspicions? She probably already has them, I know. Anyone would suspect a daughter-in-law who hangs around who-knows-where almost every evening, anyone, but Lyudmila Alekseevna in the first place.

After struggling with herself for some time, Natasha couldn't stand it and slightly opened the door. Her fears were confirmed. Her mother-in-law was trying to whisper, but she wasn't very good at it, and Natasha understood the whole phrase verbatim: "She's cheating on you."

"What?"

"Natasha."

Kolya disbelievingly smirked. "Come on, Mom. She's so proper, it sometimes gets scary."

"And I'm telling you, she's cheating." Lyudmila Alekseevna slapped the table with her palm, reinforcing her words with this gesture. "Sofia Timofeevna saw her the other day. Your Natasha was leaving a cafe with some man."

"What man? When? She's at work all day. She comes back later than me."

"You're a fool, Kolya. You can say anything, but whether she's really at work or somewhere else hasn't been proven. And Sofia Timofeevna saw this man before. They drove to a car service near the house with her son somehow. So this man works there. Sofia Timofeevna remembered him because he was very polite. He even wanted to treat her to tea while her son was dealing with the workers. A real gentleman,"

"A gentleman," Kolya repeated her words angrily. Something crunched in the kitchen. It seemed that Kolya broke something in a fit of emotion. Natasha mechanically stepped back from the door, and Lyudmila Alekseevna continued to whisper, so that every word struck Natasha's heart.

"You should put her in her place. Her and that… that guy. They've lost all shame. You work, and they…"

"How can I put her in her place? Should I get into a fight with him?"

Natasha understood his fears. Kolya, of course, was broad-shouldered after working in a warehouse, but he didn't have a fighting character, and he had no skill. How to hit, where? This whole science was like a dark forest to him. Lyudmila Alekseevna, apparently, also understood this, because she suggested, "Call your friends, how many of you gather in the evenings?"

"Four people. Five?"

"Instead of wiping your pants at the warehouse, you'd better count this guy's bones, so he'll know how to mess with other people's wives."

"Mom, wait, maybe it's some kind of mistake. We need to talk to Natasha, find out…"

"What's there to find out? Sofia Timofeevna is a witness, what else do you need? But we need to talk to Natasha. You're right there. Put her in her place, and I'll give you some advice."

What advice Lyudmila Timofeevna would give her son, Natasha didn't listen. She needed to run, to run away from here immediately. Natasha felt that she wouldn't stand it if Kolya started interrogating her like a criminal, although she hadn't done anything bad. And what about Andrei? If she doesn't warn him, Kolya really might do something stupid. He had always followed his mother's lead all his life. Will he do it now?

It was raining outside. But Natasha didn't dare to go to the hallway for a coat, or leave the apartment in a normal way through the door. She was afraid to imagine what would happen if her mother-in-law and husband caught her. Nothing good, that's for sure. Grabbing a jacket and bag from a chair, Natasha rushed to the window, opened it as quietly as possible and climbed out into the street. Fortunately, they lived on the first floor, and the windows in this house were not very high from the ground. And then only one thought remained in her head: to run as fast as possible. Natasha seemed that her mother-in-law and husband would soon discover her disappearance and rush in pursuit. Fear gave her strength. She ran a whole block before she remembered to call a taxi and give the address of the only person who could help her, Andrei.

When Natasha arrived at the right address, her appearance was quite something: disheveled hair, eyes burning with anxiety. Calling Andrei, she asked in a breaking voice, "What's your apartment number?"

"Fifty."

"What, Natasha, where are you now?"

"Near your house. I'll call the intercom now, wait a little."

Only after rising in the elevator and finding herself in his apartment, did Natasha feel safe. The closed door cut off the possible pursuit. Natasha fell into Andrei's embrace and burst into tears.

"What happened?" he asked anxiously. "Natasha, you're all wet. Something happened at home?"

"Yes. They want to kill you," Natasha could only answer.

"Who? Explain everything properly, or not. Let's go to the room first, I'll make you some tea."

For some time they sat on the sofa, and Andrei rocked her like a child. Finally, Natasha gathered her strength and managed to tell him everything.

"We probably need to stop meeting," she concluded. "I don't want you to suffer because of me, and I don't want some gang of alcoholics to dictate their terms to me."

"I'm sorry to say this, but from your stories I've already formed a certain opinion about your husband, and it's not the best, I'm sorry."

Natasha sadly nodded. "Yes, you're probably right. Once Kolya was a decent, good guy, but now fate has turned so that he ended up at the very bottom, and I, unfortunately, couldn't help him."

"But you helped me. You warned me."

"Yes, after you got into trouble because of me."

"How can you not understand? I wanted this myself," Andrei smiled.

"What did you want?"

"To meet you, to spend time together. If it comes to that, I dreamed about it back in elementary school, when I sat at the back of the class, looking at your pigtails. Only you didn't notice?"

"I didn't notice," Natasha sadly admitted.

"Wait, you mean you were in love with me at school?"

"Not only at school. I love you now," Andrei corrected her.

And Natasha cried again. She wanted to believe that it was her hormones talking, it's not easy to admit to being a crybaby. Although, on the other hand, Natasha hadn't cried for so long that it was a sin to hold back now. It now seemed to her that everything would be fine.

"And what? You've been living together for several days, and you're only telling me about this now? What a friend you are." Marina's voice sounded with resentment and joy at the same time.

Natasha smilingly corrected her. "We're living together. But not in the way you might think. Andrei gave me his room, and I have to decide what to do next."

"And what's there to decide? Stay with him, that's it."

"And the child? I haven't told Andrei yet. I can't imagine how he'll take it."

"Well, I think he won't scold you, but he won't be happy either," Natasha remarked.

"Okay, Marina, bye. Andrei will be home from work soon, I'm cooking dinner."

Natasha herself took several days off to get her thoughts in order. True, she couldn't do it. Natasha got rid of the work routine, but worried about Andrei. What if Kolya and his friends really did ambush him? Her husband called her several times, but Natasha didn't answer, then Kolya fell silent. However, this didn't mean that he would stop bothering them. Lyudmila Alekseevna would go all the way, make him take revenge on the traitors, which meant that it was worth being ready for anything.

The hand on the clock was approaching eight. Andrei should have already returned. Natasha felt her hands trembling and turned off the stove. To hell with the cutlets. She simply couldn't think about cooking.

"Just answer, answer," she whispered, dialing Andrei's number. A mechanical voice informed her that he was out of range. Natasha's heart pounded faster. Unable to stand still any longer, she rushed to the door. Andrei's car service was nearby, so Natasha decided to walk there. She walked quickly, almost breaking into a run, and then she saw a familiar silhouette ahead and sobbed, "Andrei!"

He saw her and also ran towards her, although it was clear that every step was given to him with difficulty. He limped on his right leg from the pain.

"What did they do to you?" Natasha asked, running up to Andrei and gently touching the bruise on his cheek with her finger. "Did Kolya attack you?"

"Well, attacked is a strong word. Although, yes, a small crowd came, wanted to chat."

Natasha was surprised to realize that he was smiling.

"What's so funny?"

"The fact that they were all barely standing on their feet, although there was one heavyweight among them, he hooked me a little."

"So how did it all end? Tell me more."

"Well, if I tell you from the beginning, your husband and his friends came to my car service, started shouting nasty things at me. Well, my guys and I went out to talk, and you see the result." Andrei pointed to his face, although that company, when they left, didn't look any better. "But your husband is alive, you can rest easy."

"And if they come again?"

"They won't. We talked to them, and in general, he understood everything. It's over between you."

Natasha was surprised to realize that she didn't feel any special emotions about it. When she got married, she rejoiced, and when she decided to get a divorce, she only felt immense fatigue. There were no other feelings, as if she didn't care.

"Everything is fine. Don't worry," Andrei comforted her. "I'm here, see, alive and well, everything is fine. This story is over."

"Not quite," Natasha shook her head. "Andrei, forgive me. I have to confess something to you. I should have said this a long time ago, but I didn't dare. The fact is that I'm pregnant."

It seemed that Andrei lost his speech from this statement. Natasha lowered her head and timidly said, "Forgive me, I seem to have deceived you, and I'll pack my things and leave your apartment now."

"Don't go," Andrei asked. "You know, I never dared to approach you at school, and now I regret it. I don't want to lose you a second time."

"But what about my child?"

"Not mine or yours, ours. Agreed?"

Natasha looked at him for a long second, and then tears streamed down her cheeks. She probably really was a crybaby. Natasha didn't care, because now she was crying with happiness, and there's no need to be ashamed of that.

"So? You've been living together for several days, and you're only telling me about it now? What a friend you are." Resentment and joy were heard simultaneously in Marina's voice. Natasha smilingly corrected her. "We're living together. But not in the way you might think. Andrei gave me his room, and I have to decide what to do next."

"And what's there to decide? Stay with him, that's all."

"And the child? I haven't told Andrei yet. I can't imagine how he'll take it."

"Well, I think he won't scold you, but he won't be happy either," Natasha remarked.

"Okay, Marina, bye. Andrei will be home from work soon, I'm cooking dinner."