WITHOUT A HEART… Claudia Vasilyevna Returned Home from the Hairdresser, Where She Regularly Treated Herself Despite Being 68; Upon Arrival, Her Husband Yuri Told Her a Well-Dressed Relative Had Visited—A Woman Resembling Claudia’s Late Mother—Who Soon Returned, Introduced Herself as Galina Vladimirovna, Revealing She Was Claudia’s Daughter, Adopted Out at Birth; Claudia Refused Any Reconciliation, Insisting She Felt No Motherly Love; Stunned, Yuri Witnessed the Heartless Exchange and Reflected on Their Childless, Comfortable Life Together, Regretting the Coldness; The Reunion Shook Their Family Life—Yuri Moved to the Countryside Caring for Stray Dogs and Visiting Galina, While Claudia Stayed Isolated, Indifferent to Her Daughter, Grandson, and Great-Granddaughter, Preferring Solo Holidays by the Seaside.

Author Mitsuko NagasakiReading 8 minViews 1

WITHOUT A HEART

Margaret Elizabeth returned home that afternoon. She had been to the hairdresser, and despite her respectable ageshe had just turned 68she regularly treated herself to the pampering of her trusted stylist. Margaret always made sure her hair and nails were neat and tidy. These little rituals lifted her spirits and gave her new energy.

Margaret, some relative of yours popped by earlier. I told her youd be home later. She said she might try again, said her husband, John.

What relative? I dont have any left! Probably some distant cousin twice removed probably after a favour. You shouldve told her Id moved to Timbuktu, Margaret replied, annoyed.

Oh, come on, why lie? I think shes from your family. Tall, dignified, has a look of your mother, bless her soul. Doesnt seem the type to ask for anything. Very refined, dressed smartly, John tried to reassure his wife.

About forty minutes later, the visitor rang the doorbell. Margaret let her in herself. She really did resemble Margarets late mother and was dressed impeccablyan elegant coat, boots, gloves, and tiny diamond earrings. Margaret could tell they were real.

She invited the woman to the table, which was already set.

Well, since were family, lets introduce ourselves. Im Margaret, no need for formalities. We seem close in age. This is my husband, John. And youhow are we related? Margaret asked.

The woman hesitated, her cheeks colouring slightly. Im Helen Helen Victoria. There isnt much between us, age-wise. I turned 50 on June 12th. Does that date mean anything to you? she ventured.

Margaret went pale.

I see you remember. Yes, Im your daughter. I dont want anything from you. I just wanted to see my mother. I spent my life wondering why I felt unloved. My mums been gone eight years now. Why did only Dad care for me? He passed away just two months ago. It was then that he told me about you and asked me to forgive him, Helen explained, her voice trembling.

What on earth? Youve got a daughter? John asked, shocked.

Seems I do. Ill explain everything later, Margaret replied.

So, youre my daughter. Well youve seen me now. If you expect me to feel sorry or apologise, I wont. I did nothing wrong, said Margaret. I hope your father told you everything? And if you think Ill suddenly be overcome with maternal feelings I wont. Not even a bit. Sorry.

Could I visit again? I live just outside town. Weve got a big house, two floorswhy not visit with John? Maybe youll get used to the idea. I brought photosyour grandson, great-granddaughter, perhaps youd like to see? Helen asked, almost shyly.

No. I dont want that. Dont come again. Forget about me. Goodbye, Margaret replied coldly.

John called Helen a cab and saw her off. When he returned, Margaret had already cleared the table and was calmly watching TV.

Youre made of sterner stuff than I thought! You could command armies. Dont you have any heart at all? I always suspected you could be unfeeling, but never to this extent, John said, troubled.

We met when I was 28, right? Well, dear husband, my heart was broken long before then.

I grew up a country girlthe only thing I wanted was to escape to the city. I studied hard, went off to universitythe only one from my class.

I met William when I was 17. I loved him desperately. He was 12 years older, but I didnt care. After growing up with nothing, living in the city felt downright magical. My student grant didnt stretch far. I was always hungry, so I was grateful when William invited me to dinner or for ice cream.

He never promised me anything, but I just knewsuch love meant hed soon ask me to marry him.

One evening, he asked me to his cottage. I didnt hesitate. I was sure Id won him over for good. Meetings at the cottage became routine, and soon, it was clear I was pregnant.

I told William, expecting joy. There was no holding back his delight. As my condition grew obvious, I asked when wed marry. Id turned 18, so we could get the paperwork started.

Did I ever promise you marriage? William replied with a question. I didnt, and I wont. Im already married he said, entirely unruffled.

But what about the baby? What about me?

What about you? Youre young and healthycould be a model for some statue. Take an academic break at uni, keep studying until its noticeable, then my wife and Ill take you in. Weve struggled to have a childmaybe shes just too old. When the babys born, well take it from there. Details arent your business. I may be young, but I matter at city council. My wife runs a hospital ward. So dont worry about the child. After you recover, go back to uni. Well even pay you.

No one spoke of surrogacy back then, but I suppose thats what I wasa surrogate mother. What was I meant to do? Go back to the village and disgrace my family?

I lived with William and his wife in their manor until the birth. His wife never spoke to me; perhaps she was jealous. I gave birth to my daughter at home, brought in a midwife, did it all properly. I wasnt allowed to nurse herthe baby was swept away instantly. I never saw her again. A week later, I was quietly sent off, with some money from William.

I went back to uni. After uni, I worked at the factory. Got a flat in staff accommodation. Started as a line worker and worked my way up to supervisor.

Plenty of friends, but no one ever asked me to marry, until you came along. By then I was 28. Didnt care much about marriage, but suppose it was time.

The rest you know. Weve had a good lifethree cars, a beautiful house, an immaculate country cottage. Took holidays every year. Our factory survived because our tractor parts were one-of-a-kind, and the other departments were a mystery to all. Still surrounded by barbed wire and guard towers.

We retired early, privileged. Weve got everything. No childrenand thats fine. I look at these children these days, Margaret finished her tale.

We havent lived well together. I loved you. All my life I tried to thaw your heart, and never managed it. Alright, no childrenfair enoughbut not once did you show kindness, not even to a stray cat or pup. My sister asked for help for her nieceyou wouldnt even let them stay a week.

And todayyour daughter turned up. Your own flesh and blood, and look how you treated her! Honest to God, if we were younger, Id have filed for divorce. Too late now, I suppose. Its cold being near you, so cold, John responded heatedly.

Margaret was shakenJohn had never spoken to her so sharply before.

Her quiet life had been upended by that daughter.

John moved out to the cottage. These last years, hes lived there, with three dogsrescued puppiesand countless cats. He rarely comes home. Margaret knows he visits her daughter Helen, knows the whole family, adores the great-granddaughter.

Soft as ever, soft and always will be. Let him be, thought Margaret.

She never felt the urge to get to know her daughter, grandson, or great-granddaughter.

Margaret travels alone by the sea, recharges, and feels perfectly fine.

And I suppose, as I pen these lines, the lesson Ive learned is that life can scar you so deeply that you close off all warmth. Its no way to live. I see now, too late, that those who cannot open their heart are far poorer than those who have nothing.

Ended Up As the Maid When Alice announced her plans to remarry, her son Ryan and daughter-in-law Kate were stunned by the news and completely at a loss over how to respond. “Are you sure you’re ready for such a drastic change at your age?” Kate asked, glancing nervously at her husband. “Mum, why such extreme decisions?” Ryan fretted. “I get it—you’ve spent most of your life alone and devoted yourself to raising me, but getting married now is just reckless.” “You’re both young, that’s why you think this way,” Alice replied calmly. “I’m sixty-three, and no one knows how much time I have left. I have every right to spend the rest of my life with someone I love.” “Then at least don’t rush into a registry wedding,” Ryan tried to reason. “You’ve only known Frank for a couple of months and you’re already ready to upend your whole life.” “At our age, we can’t waste time, and there’s nothing left to learn—he’s two years older, lives with his daughter and her family in a three-bedroom flat, has a good pension, and owns a cottage,” Alice reasoned. “And where are you planning to live?” Ryan asked, utterly bewildered. “We all live together, but we simply don’t have space for another person.” “Don’t worry so much, Frank isn’t after our square footage. I’ll be moving in with him,” Alice explained. “His place is spacious, and I’ve already got on well with his daughter. We’re all adults, so there shouldn’t be any drama.” Ryan was anxious, but Kate tried to persuade him to understand and accept his mum’s decision. “Maybe we’re just being selfish?” Kate pondered. “Of course it’s convenient for us that your mum helps out, babysits Keira all the time. But she’s perfectly entitled to her own happiness. If she has the chance, we shouldn’t stand in her way.” “It’s fine if they just live together, but do they really have to get married?” Ryan didn’t get it. “I don’t think I can handle seeing Mum in a white dress and wedding games at her age.” “They’re old school, maybe it just makes them feel more secure,” Kate tried to explain. So Alice did marry Frank, whom she’d met unexpectedly in town, and soon moved into his flat. At first everything went smoothly; the household accepted her, her husband was kind, and Alice truly believed she’d found the happiness she deserved at last. She revelled in each new day. But as their blended family settled in, new dynamics began to emerge. “Would you mind whipping up a roast for supper?” asked Frank’s daughter, Emma. “I’d do it myself, but work’s been crazy and I just don’t have time—you’ve got plenty of free time anyway.” Alice understood the hint and took over cooking, grocery shopping, cleaning, laundry, and even tending to the cottage. “Now that we’re married, the cottage is both of ours,” Frank said. “Emma and her husband never have time, and their little girl’s still young. We’ll handle everything together.” Alice didn’t complain; she liked being part of a big family built on mutual support. Her first husband had been lazy and sly, then ran off when Ryan turned ten—no word for twenty years. Now everything felt right; she didn’t mind the chores and felt no bitterness from tiredness. “Mum, you’re no gardener! Every cottage visit sends your blood pressure through the roof. Why do you put yourself through it?” Ryan tried to reason. “I enjoy it, and besides, Frank and I will grow plenty of produce for everyone—we’ll share with all of you,” explained Alice. But Ryan remained doubtful; months passed and nobody had invited them over to even meet properly. He and Kate had invited Frank, who always had excuses. Eventually, they stopped trying, accepting that the new family wasn’t interested. Their only wish was for Alice to be happy. For a time, Alice was. She found joy in her busy days, but the tasks kept piling up and began to wear her down. Frank started complaining of back pain and heart trouble whenever they visited the cottage, leaving Alice to do all the heavy lifting. “Borscht again?” Frank’s son-in-law Adam grimaced. “We just had that yesterday—I expected something different tonight.” “I didn’t have time for the shops, and I was re-hanging all the curtains today, got dizzy and had to lie down,” Alice apologised. “I get that, but borscht isn’t my favourite,” Adam pushed his bowl away. “Tomorrow Alice will treat us all to a feast,” Frank quickly chimed in. And sure enough, the next day, Alice was on her feet for hours making dinner—only to see everything devoured in minutes. She’d tidy up again, and the cycle repeated. Meanwhile, Frank’s daughter Emma and son-in-law found fault with every little thing, and Frank always sided with them, leaving Alice blamed for anything wrong. “I’m not a young woman, I get tired, and I don’t understand why I’m the only one doing everything!” Alice finally protested. “You’re my wife, so it’s your job to keep the household running,” Frank insisted. “As your wife, I should have rights, not just obligations!” Alice cried. She’d calm down and carry on, trying to keep the peace for everyone, but one day, she finally snapped. Emma and Adam were going out and wanted Alice to look after their daughter. “Let the little one stay with her granddad or go with you, because I’m seeing my own granddaughter tonight,” Alice said. “Why should we all rearrange our lives for you?” Emma snapped. “You shouldn’t, but I don’t owe you, either—I’ve told you since Tuesday, it’s my granddaughter’s birthday. Not only did everyone ignore it, now you’re trying to tie me down at home,” Alice reminded them. “That’s not right,” Frank turned red with anger. “Emma’s plans shouldn’t fall apart because of your granddaughter’s birthday—she’s only little, she won’t mind if you celebrate tomorrow.” “If it’s fine for me to wait, it’s fine for us to go to my family now—or you stay with your granddaughter until I return!” Alice responded firmly. “I knew nothing good would come of you marrying in,” Emma said spitefully. “You’re a mediocre cook, the cleaning’s never up to scratch, and you only think about yourself.” “After all I’ve done these months, you think that too?” Alice asked Frank. “Tell me straight—did you want a wife or a housemaid to serve everyone’s whims?” “Now you’re making me out to be the villain,” Frank replied, blinking rapidly. “Don’t start a row over nothing.” “I asked a simple question—I deserve a real answer,” Alice pressed. “If you’re going to talk like that, do as you please. But I won’t tolerate that attitude toward household duties in my home,” Frank declared. “In that case, I quit,” Alice said, and packed her things. “Will you take back your wayward granny?” she asked, hauling her suitcase and birthday present. “I got married and came back again. I don’t want to talk about it—just tell me: will you have me?” “Of course!” Ryan and Kate embraced her. “Your room’s waiting, and we’re happy you’re home.” “You’re happy for no reason?” Alice sought reassurance. “Isn’t that why people are glad their family’s home?” Kate smiled. That’s when Alice knew she wasn’t a maid. Yes, she helped with the house and watched her granddaughter, but her son and daughter-in-law never took advantage or exploited her kindness. Here, she was just Mum, Grandma, Mother-in-law—a real part of the family, not the help. Alice filed for divorce and tried not to dwell on what she’d been through.

Wow, Dad, you really got a welcoming committee! And what did you need that health resort for if you’ve got ‘all-inclusive’ right here at home? When Dmitri handed Eva the keys to his flat, she realised: the fortress was conquered. No DiCaprio ever waited for his Oscar like Eva waited for her Dmitri—now with her own little nest. Disheartened at thirty-five, she was casting sympathetic glances at stray cats and craft shop windows more and more often. And there he was—a solitary soul who’d spent his youth on career, healthy eating, gym memberships, and other nonsense like ‘finding himself’, and still no kids. Eva had wished for this gift since she was twenty, and it seemed the heavens finally understood she wasn’t joking. ‘I have one last business trip this year, and I’m all yours,’ Dmitri said, handing over the precious keys. ‘Just don’t be alarmed by my cave. I usually come home only to sleep,’ he said—and then whisked off to another time zone for the whole weekend. Eva grabbed her toothbrush, face cream, and set off to inspect this cave. The problems started at the door. Dmitri had warned the lock could be temperamental, but Eva hadn’t expected it to be this bad. She attacked that door for forty minutes: shoving, pulling, sliding the key in all possible ways, politely cajoling it, but it refused to open to its new resident. Eva tried psychological pressure, like her classmates taught behind the garages back in school. The noise brought out a neighbour. ‘Why are you breaking into someone else’s flat?’ asked a worried woman’s voice. ‘I’m not breaking in, I’ve got keys!’ Eva snapped, wiping sweat from her brow. ‘And who are you, exactly? I’ve never seen you before,’ the neighbour continued nosily. ‘I’m his girlfriend!’ Eva said boldly, hands on hips. But she saw only a crack where the negotiation was happening. ‘You?’ the woman was genuinely surprised. ‘Yes, me. Problem?’ ‘No, none at all. It’s just, he’s never brought anyone here before,’ (at which Eva loved Dmitri even more), ‘and now suddenly, someone like…’ ‘Someone like who?’ Eva asked, baffled. ‘You know, it’s not my business. Sorry,’ the neighbour retreated, closing her door. Knowing it was now or never, Eva forced the key with all her resolve, nearly twisting the entire doorframe around. The door opened. Dmitri’s inner world appeared before her, and Eva felt her soul turn frosty. She understood that a solitary young man could be a bit ascetic, but this place was positively monastic. ‘Poor thing, your heart has long forgotten, or maybe never knew, what comfort means,’ Eva whispered, surveying the modest home she’d now be spending so much time in. Still, she was happy. The neighbour was right: a woman’s touch had clearly never graced these walls, floors, kitchen, or those grey windows. Eva was the first. Unable to resist, she hurried off to the nearest shop for cheerful curtains and a bath mat—and ended up with oven mitts and kitchen towels too. Once there, her excitement took over: scented candles, handmade soaps, handy organisers for cosmetics joined the pile. ‘Adding a few touches to someone else’s flat isn’t overstepping,’ Eva soothed herself, as she attached a second trolley to the first. The lock gave her no more trouble—in fact, it quit working altogether, now about as secure as a hockey goalie who forgot his mask. Realising what she’d done, Eva spent the night extracting the old lock with whatever kitchen knives she could find, and the next morning dashed off for a new one (and knives, and forks, spoons, a tablecloth, cutting boards, coasters, and, obviously, curtains). On Sunday Dmitri called, saying he’d be delayed a couple more days. ‘I’d be glad if you brought some warmth and comfort to my flat,’ he laughed, when Eva confessed she’d made a few changes. By now, Eva was importing coziness by the truckload, distributing it according to technical plans and paperwork—as though she’d been storing up for years as a lonely woman, and now, unleashed, couldn’t stop. By the time Dmitri returned, his old flat housed only a lone spider near the vent. Eva almost evicted it too, but seeing its eight astonished eyes, decided it was best left as a symbol of respecting someone else’s property. Dmitri’s home now looked like he’d been happily married for eight years, got divorced, and was now happy out of sheer defiance. Eva didn’t just take over the flat—she let the whole building know she was now the lady of the house, and any questions should be addressed to her. There might not be a ring yet, but that was just a technicality. The neighbours watched with suspicion at first, then shrugged and said, ‘As you wish, it’s your business.’ *** On Dmitri’s return day, Eva cooked a proper home dinner, poured herself into a glamorous—almost scandalous—outfit, scattered fragrances round the flat, dimmed the new lighting, and waited. Dmitri was late. When Eva began to notice her dress biting uncomfortably into the spot she’d been working on in the gym for months, she heard a key in the lock. ‘It’s a new lock, just push, it’s not locked!’ Eva called out, flustered but inviting. She wasn’t afraid of judgement—she’d done such a good job on the flat, she’d be forgiven anything. Just as the door opened, Eva received a sudden text from Dmitri: ‘Where are you? I’m home. The flat looks just the same. My mates warned me you’d drown it in cosmetics!’ Eva only saw the message later. Meanwhile, five complete strangers entered: two young men, two kids, and a very old gentleman, who instantly straightened up and patted his hair upon seeing Eva. ‘Wow, Dad, they’re rolling out the red carpet! And why’d you need the health spa, when there’s ‘all-inclusive’ at home?’ said one young man, only to get an elbow from his wife for staring. Eva stood frozen at the doorway, two brimming glasses in hand. She wanted to scream, but couldn’t overcome her shock. A triumphant spider tittered in the corner. ‘Excuse me, and who are you?’ Eva squeaked. ‘I’m the master of this den. And you, I suppose, are from the clinic, here to do the bandages? I said I’d manage myself,’ replied the granddad, eyeing Eva’s nurse outfit. ‘Uh, yes, Adam Mathews, your place is such a haven now!’ the young man’s wife peered hopefully behind Eva. ‘So much better; before it was like a crypt. And you, dear, what’s your name? Isn’t our Adam Mathews a little too old for you? Although, he does have his own place…’ ‘E-e-va…’ ‘Well, well! You’ve picked a winner, Adam Mathews, no doubt about that!’ Judging by his twinkling eyes, granddad felt the same. ‘Where’s Dmitri?’ Eva whispered, nervously downing both glasses. ‘That’s me!’ chirped the eight-year-old lad. ‘Not yet, son—it’s too soon for you to be a Dmitri,’ his mum said, shooing the kids and husband back toward the car. ‘I…I’m sorry, I must have the wrong flat,’ Eva stammered, remembering her misadventures with the lock. ‘This is Lilac Street, eighteen, flat twenty-six?’ ‘No, this is Beech Street, eighteen,’ the old man replied, ready to unwrap his surprise visitor. ‘Oh…’ Eva sighed dramatically. ‘I must’ve mixed it up. Well, make yourselves at home. I just need to make a call.’ She grabbed her phone and dashed to the bathroom, barricading herself and wrapping up in a towel to finally read Dmitri’s message. ‘Dmitri, I’ll be there soon, just got held up in the shop,’ she replied. ‘Great, I’m waiting. If you don’t mind, grab a bottle of red,’ Dmitri left in a voice message. Eva would certainly bring the red—now boiling inside her. Clutching her bath mat and removing the curtain, she waited till the strangers entered the kitchen, then made her escape. Quickly packing up, she ran from the flat. *** ‘I’ll explain later,’ Eva mumbled about her appearance as Dmitri opened the door. Moving like she was sleepwalking, she passed him without a glance, headed straight to the bathroom, rehung the curtain and laid out the mat—then collapsed on the sofa and slept till morning, letting all the stress and all the ‘red’ fade away. Upon waking, Eva saw an unfamiliar young man waiting for an explanation. ‘Can I just ask… what’s this address?’ ‘Boot Avenue, eighteen.’