The air hung heavy with silence, thick with the scent of incense and wilting lilies. Marina perched on the edge of the sofa, hunched as if crushed by unseen weight. Her black dress clung, pricklinga stark reminder of the days grim purpose: burying her grandmother, Eiroida Anatolyevna, her last living kin.
Across the room, her husband Andrei sprawled in an armchair, his presence a mockery. Tomorrow, theyd file for divorce. He offered no comfort, only silent irritation, as if enduring a tedious performance.
Marina stared at the faded carpet pattern, feeling the last embers of reconciliation die, leaving icy emptiness.
“Condolences on your loss,” Andrei finally sneered. “Now youre an heiress! Gran leave you a fortune? Oh, rightjust that stinking Zil fridge. What a prize.”
His words cut deeper than any blade. Memories of their fights, her grandmothers warnings”That mans a leech, Marina”flooded back. Andrei had called her a “hag.” Now, she saw the truth too late.
“About your *brilliant* future,” he continued, savoring his cruelty. “Dont bother coming to work tomorrow. Youre fired. Enjoy dumpster-diving.”
The final blow. No divorcethis was the end of everything. Hope for his humanity withered, replaced by pure, icy hatred.
Blank-eyed, she left without a word, gripping the key to her childhood apartment.
Outside, the wind bit. Under a dim streetlight, she paused before the gray nine-story building she hadnt entered in yearsher parents old home, where Eiroida had raised her after their car crash. Now, it was her only refuge. Guilt seared her: shed neglected her grandmother, too busy salvaging a failing marriage.
“Need help?” A thin voice startled her. A boy, maybe ten, in oversized clothes, eyed her bags. “You crying cause youre happy?” he asked bluntly. “Happy people dont cry with suitcases.”
Something in his steady gaze disarmed her. “Marina,” she sighed.
“Sergey.” He hoisted a bag. Together, they entered the dusty, mothball-scented apartment.
Over days of cleaning, laughter eased the ache. Sergey, a runaway from an orphanage, dreamed of trains and faraway cities. But he fixated on the fridge, insisting its side panel felt “wrong.”
Thenthe discovery. Behind the loose panel: stacks of dollars, euros, velvet boxes of jewels. Eiroidas life savings, hidden from banksand Andrei.
Marina wept in relief. “Well be okay,” she told Sergey. “Ill adopt you. Youll have everything.”
Years later, Sergeynow tall, sharp-suitedadjusted his tie before graduation.
“Perfect,” Marina smiled.
In the packed hall, her breath caught: Andrei sat among employers, smug as ever.
Sergey took the podium. “I was a homeless boy,” he began, then locked eyes on Andrei. “A man told my mother shed beg. He was rightshe found me in lifes dumpster. Thank you for throwing her out.”
The room erupted. Andreis reputation crumbled.
Afterward, Sergey handed Marina her coat. “Call Lev Igorevich. Say yes to dinner.”
For the first time in years, she felt truly, wholly happy.
