Zinaida was marrying off her daughter. There weren’t too many guests—about 35—mostly relatives and friends of the groom.
Her daughter, Lillian, looked every bit the radiant bride. For Zina, her early marriage at 19 came as a surprise. Like any mother of a well-behaved, bright girl, she’d hoped Lillian would finish university first, then settle down… But life had other plans. Her daughter was only in her second year, and her fiancé, Oliver, was in his final year at uni. They’d made up their minds—they were getting married, full stop. Oliver believed anything less than marriage was just playing at commitment. If she was the one, she deserved to be his wife properly, right from the start.
Zina’s ex-husband, Lillian’s father, hadn’t shown up to the wedding, even though he’d been invited. He did send a bit of money as a gift, though, so credit where it’s due. It had been five years since he’d left the family—he’d kept things strictly to child support, never pushing for much of a relationship with his daughter.
The reception was in full swing. Everything was lovely, the master of ceremonies knew his stuff. But one guest—a distant cousin of Oliver’s, maybe—was making Zina uneasy. No matter where she stood in the hall, she could feel his eyes on her. Not just a glance, but this intense, *piercing* stare. Honestly, it made her cross—who did this boy think he was, looking at her like that?
Then the first notes of a waltz drifted through the room—a rare choice for a modern wedding, since hardly anyone knew how to dance it properly anymore.
Zina adored the waltz, so despite her earlier irritation, she gladly let that same young man lead her onto the floor. And oh, he could *dance*. They moved like magic, the most striking pair in the room. Zina had always been lovely, but tonight—in her emerald-green dress that draped just so, her hair styled in that effortlessly chic way—she looked more like the bride’s sister than her mother.
*Where on earth did you learn to dance like that?* she asked when he escorted her back after the song.
*Years of ballroom lessons,* he answered with a grin. *And I’ve got a good eye—I could tell straight away no one here was half as graceful as you.*
His name was Anthony, and after that, he didn’t dance with anyone else. He stuck to Zina’s side, making sure he never missed a chance to ask her again. The champagne and the heady rush of feeling light, *young* again, left her giddy. *Who cares if he’s younger?* she thought. *Tonight, I’m dancing like there’s no tomorrow.*
After the wedding, Lillian moved in with her husband—they were renting a flat for the time being. Zina’s week off ended, and she went back to work at the social services office. She was stunned when, at the end of her shift, she spotted Anthony outside the building, holding a bouquet.
*What are you doing here? And with* flowers? *My colleagues will have a field day—they’ll be asking what sixth form my ‘young man’ goes to!*
*I’ve already graduated uni—I’ve got a job now. My shift ends an hour before yours, and I couldn’t stop thinking about seeing you. Got your details from your daughter, by the way. And for the record, I don’t look *that* young next to you. I’m 25.*
*Well, I’m 40. Feel the difference? I’m warning you now—don’t chase me. There are plenty of lovely girls your own age.* She marched off toward the bus stop.
*Forty? No way. But even if you are—so what? I’ll love you at any age, and no one’s going to stop me, not even you! I believe in love at first sight now—ever since I saw you at the wedding, I was done for.*
Anthony started turning up every day after that, riding the bus with her to her stop, then doubling back to his own place. He never pushed, just treated her with old-fashioned courtesy.
Zina would be lying if she said she didn’t enjoy the attention, but the age gap gnawed at her. She didn’t want to ruin his life—he should find someone younger.
No matter how hard she tried to push him away, though, something shifted between them. And in time, Anthony proved himself—thoughtful, decent, serious. When Zina came down with pneumonia, he nursed her back to health. That’s when she realised—he *meant* it. He truly loved her.
In the end, she couldn’t resist the sheer force of his feelings. What woman could?
Anthony proposed. Lillian and Oliver urged her to say yes. But Zina hesitated—she was sure he’d leave her eventually.
She might have kept doubting if not for the unexpected pregnancy—one she wanted to end. A baby? At her age? She was nearly a grandmother! Anthony would probably bolt, leaving her to raise the child alone.
But he shattered every one of her fears. He—and his parents—promised that even if things didn’t work out, they’d help raise the baby.
Anthony and Zina married quietly at home, just close family—by then, her figure made the reason obvious.
Now their son, Andrew, is 20.
Zina and Anthony are still together. They share so much—conversations, laughter, the kind of understanding where a single look says everything. By all accounts, they’re happy.
There’s just one thing. Zina’s 60 now; Anthony’s only 45. She still wrestles with guilt—that she stole his youth, his chance at a ‘normal’ life.
He? He thinks he’s the luckiest man alive.
