The “Worthy” Suitor
Sasha stood by the window, gazing at the empty courtyard. The trampled snow glittered with confetti remnants, and tatters of tinsel clung to the bare branches of the bushes. The city seemed lifeless. Everyone was asleep after the long, exhausting New Year’s Eve. Inside, Sasha felt just as hollow.
How could she have been so deceived? Why hadn’t she sensed the lie? Now, so much was clear, but back then… Nikita had seemed intelligent, loving, just a little resentful of his father. Or so she’d thought. She had believed he truly cared for her.
The click of the front door lock made her flinch. She had rehearsed her speech, but now every prepared phrase fled her mind. Quiet footsteps paused behind her. Sasha held her breath, tension coiling in her chest. A shiver ran down her neck as Nikita’s warm breath brushed her skin.
“Sash,” he murmured, leaning his head against her shoulder.
She stepped away. “Still angry with me?” His voice was disarmingly sweet. “I don’t know what came over me. The way he looked at you—I just couldn’t stand it.” He waited, but Sasha stayed silent.
“You’re the one to blame. Smiling at him, leaning into him, couldn’t take your eyes off him. I couldn’t take it.”
“Don’t twist it. We were just dancing,” Sasha said flatly.
“Come on, forgive me. I was jealous. Doesn’t that prove I love you?” He tried to turn her toward him, but she shrugged his hands away.
“Sash, honestly, it’s ridiculous. I’ve already apologized,” Nikita coaxed.
“You should be apologizing to him, not me.” Sasha finally met his gaze before turning back to the window.
“I did. Went to the hospital, said sorry to your sailor.” A vicious gleam flashed in Nikita’s eyes, though Sasha missed it. “He didn’t press charges. Let’s just forget it. When he’s discharged, invite him over. We’ll have a drink, make peace.”
Sasha whipped around.
“Us? Forget it? Drink with him? There is no *us*. Leave the keys and go.”
“Oh? So you’ll bring *him* here instead?” The honeyed tone vanished, replaced by sharp malice.
“Go. I don’t want to see you. You lied to me.” Anger and hurt spilled out despite her efforts to hold back.
“Should’ve taught you a lesson too. Remember what you said to me?” Nikita grabbed her arm above the elbow, yanking her close, his face inches from hers. Sasha saw hatred in his eyes.
“Let go—you’re hurting me,” she pleaded.
“I’ve wasted too much time on you. No, darling, I’m not going anywhere. You *will* marry me!” He fished a ring from his pocket. “Meant to give you this sooner.” He lifted her hand, forcing the ring toward her finger.
Sasha struggled, but Nikita only tightened his grip.
“Let me go! I won’t marry you!” Tears welled in her eyes.
“You will, unless you want that sailor of yours to stay in one piece.”
“You wouldn’t dare.”
“Oh, I would.”
***
“I’m leaving tomorrow,” Denis said.
He liked Sasha. A lot. But he’d been afraid to tell her about his plans. They’d only just started seeing each other.
“Where?”
“Norwich. Got into the naval academy. Sorry I didn’t say sooner—wasn’t sure I’d get in.”
“Will you at least call?” Sasha asked, voice small.
“Don’t sulk. What else can I do? We don’t have the sea here. Sash, I don’t want you feeling obliged to wait. It’s years of study, then long voyages—half a year or more. You don’t know how hard it is to wait.”
“Don’t decide for me,” Sasha shot back.
“You’ll be at uni too. Plenty of lads there—”
“Fine, just go!” she shouted, turning away.
“Sash!” Denis almost chased after her—then stopped.
He stood there a moment before trudging home.
How thrilled Sasha had been when he returned for Christmas break. They went to the cinema, walked for hours. Denis told her about the city, his studies, the ocean, his friends. She listened, quietly wishing he’d kiss her.
But he only pecked her frost-chilled cheek before leaving. The next day, he was gone again.
Yes, there were plenty of boys at university. They noticed her, flirted. But she didn’t want any of them. Denis called sporadically, asking about her studies like an old friend. But if she admitted missing him, he’d quickly change the subject.
In spring, her father’s aunt passed. Her husband had gone five years earlier. A career politician, always in high-ranking positions. They’d had no children and kept distant from family—likely fearing requests for money or favors.
So her father was stunned to learn the aunt had left Sasha her spacious flat in the city centre. He’d barely seen her in years. At first disbelieving, he soon rejoiced.
“It’s huge, right in the centre. Doesn’t even need refurbishing. You’ll live there with your husband one day,” her mother mused.
Sasha decided not to mention the flat at uni. No need to invite jealousy. But she slipped up. Some envied, some called her prideful. The class rep even asked if they could host parties there.
Early in her second year, Sasha met Nikita Savitsky, an upperclassman. He joined her in the canteen one day, and they hit it off. Soon, they were dating. Denis was far away, hadn’t asked her to wait or promised forever. Surely he wasn’t alone in Norwich either?
“Savitsky… any relation to the deputy mayor?” her father once asked.
“Dunno,” Sasha shrugged.
“Ask him. Seems a decent lad. Good match.”
She took it as a joke but asked Nikita anyway.
“Yeah. Never mentioned it. How’d you guess?”
“Wasn’t me—Dad. He likes you.”
“He’s normal, your dad. Mine’s insufferable. Can’t wait to graduate and get out. Want to rent my own place, move out.”
That evening, Sasha suggested letting Nikita stay in the flat.
Her father agreed instantly.
“Let him live there. Not too steep for a future son-in-law, but he can afford it,” he chuckled.
Nikita was overjoyed. He swept Sasha off her feet, spun her around, kissed her.
“You’re a lifesaver, Sash. Just gotta talk to the parents. Won’t be a problem—Mum’s been begging me to settle down.” He hugged her tight.
Their relationship escalated fast. When Sasha stayed over, her parents scolded her half-heartedly. They already pictured her married to the deputy mayor’s son—perhaps his successor.
She liked Nikita, but his reluctance to introduce her to his family unsettled her. He’d deflect whenever she asked. It felt… off.
After graduation, Nikita took a job at a modest firm, saying it was to spite his father. Soon after, he proposed. Sasha refused.
“Why rush? Let me finish uni first.”
Time flew. New Year’s loomed. A friend invited them to her countryside cottage.
“Bring your posh fiancé. Loads of people—be a laugh.”
“How’d you know about Nikita?” Sasha frowned.
“Ran into your mum at the shops. She told me. Keeping secrets, eh? Hope you won’t forget your mates.”
“Not getting married,” Sasha muttered.
They arrived early. Guests trickled in, cars lining the fence.
“How’s everyone fitting? Place is packed,” Sasha said.
“You here to sleep? We’re partying all night!” her friend laughed.
The table was set, the tree aglow, snow falling outside. The lads grilled outdoors, Nikita among them, drinks in hand to ward off the cold.
Finally, they ate. No one waited for midnight—glasses clinked, toasts made. Then dancing. Her friend pulled Sasha aside to help wash up.
“Hold on,” Nikita caught her arm. “New year, fresh start. You’re nearly done with uni. I’m not pushing, but you know how I feel. Here—” He reached into his pocket.
“Everyone, meet Denis Marlow—my old classmate, future ship captain!” her friend announced.
All heads turned. Sasha froze. *Denis*. He spotted her, smiled. They stole glances, curious.
“Ran into him yesterday—invited him straight away! Ladies, show our lone sailor some love. Lads, don’t get jealous. He’s leaving soon.”
Nikita finally freed the ring box snagged in his pocket. But Sasha was already walking toward Denis. They exchanged quiet wordsThey married the following summer, and though life at sea kept them apart for months at a time, the letters and rare, treasured reunions made every waiting moment worth it.
