Marina observed her son, Ilya, as he tried on his new suit. He was tall and dark-haired, and seeing him dressed so elegantly made it hit home: her boy was getting married tomorrow. Ilya examined his reflection, pleased with the impeccable fit of his attire.
“It’s quite the stylish suit,” Ilya commented, admiring the rich color. “It looks expensive.”
“It certainly is,” Marina thought to herself, but instead she replied, “It suits you wonderfully. I’ll probably tear up at the wedding when I see you all dressed up.”
Ilya paused, facing her, “Mom, you remember we agreed you wouldn’t attend, right?”
“Agreed? I thought that was just a joke,” Marina replied, confused.
“No joke, Mom. Remember how particular Vika’s parents are? The guests will be from high society. You’d feel out of place, and I’d be worried about you all day. Do you want to spoil this for me?”
Ilya sat beside her, taking her hand in his. “Just think how uncomfortable you’d feel among all those glamorous guests. I couldn’t stand seeing you like that. Let’s meet the day after for a celebration, just us.”
Marina felt a sharp pain in her chest, realizing her son was embarrassed by her. “Out of place? I have plans to get my hair and nails done, and I’ll wear a nice dress.”
“That old blue dress?” Ilya retorted, pacing again. “Look, if you won’t listen to reason, I’ll be blunt. I’m ashamed that my mother’s a cleaner. I don’t want you embarrassing me in front of Vika’s family.”
Stunned by his harsh words, Marina sat in silence. Ilya grabbed his things, showing off his suit once more, and left, pausing only to add, “Please don’t come to the wedding. You won’t be welcomed.”
Hours after Ilya’s departure, as evening settled, Marina remained on the couch, too shocked to cry. It wasn’t until she switched on the light and retrieved an old family album from the dresser that her tears finally began to flow. Flipping through it, she came upon a photo of herself at two years old, wearing a bright, second-hand dress, and beside her, a thin woman with a vacant yet joyous expression. Even from the faded photo, her mother’s happiness was palpable.
Marina was just two and a half when her mother vanished, stripped of parental rights and leaving her daughter’s life for good. As she grew, Marina never sought to find her absent mother, feeling no urge to delve into a possibly painful past.
In a photo, ten-year-old Marina stands with untamed golden curls, third from the left in the second row of an orphanage group picture—a stark testament to a tough childhood. The orphanage, plagued by neglect and misconduct, could have been ripped from a gritty documentary: food theft by staff, harsh discipline from educators, and a director indifferent to the bullying that ruled the halls.
One snapshot captures three young women in waitress uniforms, playfully posing on a building’s stoop under a crooked sign. After finishing school, Marina didn’t deliberate long over career choices. She became a waitress at a humble roadside diner named “By the Road.” The pay was modest, but the ample tips from patrons made up for it.
Despite grueling twelve-hour shifts, Marina thrived on her newfound independence. She rented a room in a sunny, spacious apartment shared with a kind elderly couple. Her earnings were modest, yet she discovered a knack for fashion, transforming thrift-store finds into chic ensembles.
One cherished photo shows Marina in a forest clearing, laughter filling the air as she sits adorned with a floral crown next to a dashing dark-haired young man with a similar garland. The memory of that day still quickens her pulse.
Marina had been working at the café for nearly a year when she met Maxim on a bustling summer morning. As she navigated through the crowd with a tray, she tripped, sending tomato juice splashing across a patron’s shirt by the window.
Stas, the café manager, hurried over, berating her and threatening her job. But the customer, Maxim, was unexpectedly calm, brushing off the incident and asking Marina to fetch a clean shirt from his car.
Stas eagerly took the car keys to retrieve the item himself, quipping about Marina’s clumsiness. Alone with Maxim, Marina apologized profusely, promising to make amends for the stained shirt.
“Relax,” Maxim reassured her with a smile. “It’s really no big deal. By the way, I’m Maxim. What’s your name?”
“Marina,” she replied, returning his handshake and meeting his gaze for the first time. He was strikingly handsome, with gray eyes and an easy smile.
When Stas returned with Maxim’s backpack, he ushered him to a private area to change. Passing Marina, Stas couldn’t resist a sarcastic jab about her work pace.
Later, as Marina was settling a bill with another couple, she heard Maxim’s friendly voice behind her.
“Marina, could I have a moment?”
Turning around, she saw him sitting at the same table, now wearing a fresh blue shirt, waiting to chat further.
“Will you take my order?”
“Of course.”
While serving the handsome customer, Marina felt a blush spread across her cheeks. After seeing him out, Stas gave her a knowing wink:
“Don’t worry, I was harsh on purpose to prevent him from making you pay for the shirt. It’s worth more than your monthly earnings.”
“Who is he, anyway?”
“That’s Max Skvortsov, the mayor’s son. He’s well-known around here.”
By the time her shift ended, Marina was so drained that she had nearly forgotten the morning’s mishap. All she wanted was to go home and sleep.
It was already dark outside, and she was unsure how long she would have to wait for the bus. Then, a sleek foreign car pulled up. Marina instinctively stepped back, but then she recognized the vehicle. What was the mayor’s son doing here now?
Maxim emerged briskly, holding a bouquet of flowers, and walked straight up to her. He handed her the white roses:
“Finished with work? I wasn’t sure what flowers you liked, so I went with these. Next time, I’ll know to get your favorites.”
Marina was dumbfounded:
“Why?”
“Why not?” Max chuckled. “I’m actually trying to woo you. Plus, it’s a beautiful evening. Maybe we could go out?”
Suddenly, her exhaustion seemed to vanish, replaced by a surreal excitement. It felt like a dream, yet the reality of her casual attire snapped her back.
“Thank you, but I’m just too tired tonight,” she managed to say.
“How about tomorrow then?” Max pressed.
“Tomorrow,” she agreed, a smile tugging at her lips.
They met the next day and were inseparable after that. Max, an economics student, had just aced his summer exams, and they began spending every possible moment together. In July, he took her on a vacation to Sochi since she didn’t have an international passport. It was ten days of beachside bliss, barbecues, and laughter with his university friends—the happiest time of Marina’s life.
They even started planning their wedding, dreaming of a future together. But come autumn, their plans unraveled. Max was seen in public with a less affluent friend, and the gossip reached his father, turning Marina’s life upside down.
The Skvortsov family made no secret of their disapproval. Their only son involved with a girl from an orphanage didn’t sit well with them. Maxim’s mother bombarded Marina with calls, each filled with venom and demands that she end the relationship. Even Maxim’s cousin stirred up a scandal at the cafe where she worked.
Adding to the pressure, Marina learned from her neighbor, Yakov Ivanovich, that someone had been probing about her background, offering money for false accusations against her. “Recently, a woman offered a handsome sum to label you a drug addict and a prostitute. I sent her packing,” he told her.
Marina kept these burdens from Maxim, knowing that he was on the brink of securing an overseas study opportunity. The weight of the situation was visible in his troubled glances, though he seemed to find solace in her reassuring smiles.
Two weeks before Maxim was to leave, Marina received a chilling call from his father, the mayor. “I am Nikolai Borisovich. You will end it with my son, or you’ll regret it deeply,” he threatened, and then abruptly hung up. Despite the threat, Marina’s resolve to stand by Maxim remained unshaken.
However, as soon as Maxim departed for London, Marina’s nightmare intensified. Stas, having been bribed, falsely accused her of theft, leading to her arrest. The trial was a mockery, with a disinterested state-appointed lawyer and an aggressive prosecutor. The result was a three-year sentence.
In prison, Marina discovered she was pregnant. The reality of her situation and the thoughts of her unborn child made enduring her sentence all the more painful. She refrained from dwelling on her time behind bars; it was too harrowing to revisit.
Marina was released after serving half her sentence, fortunate to still have custody of her son, whom she named Ilyushka. Reintegrating into society was tough. With a criminal record and a child to care for, job opportunities were scarce. Yet, she found ways to make ends meet through various jobs, supported by Yakov Ivanovich, who secured daycare for her son.
The past was a closed chapter for Marina, or so she thought, until she ran into a former acquaintance who updated her on everyone: the cafe’s bankruptcy, the Skvortsovs’ move to Moscow, and Maxim’s marriage to a woman from the capital. Devastated, Marina cried through the night but resolved to focus on her son, her sole joy and purpose.
One sleepless night, as dawn approached, she pondered her sacrifices for Ilyushka. She had always shielded him from hardship, never complaining or showing signs of fatigue, always ensuring he had the best. Yet, her indulgence had shaped him into someone who took her efforts for granted, evidenced by his recent demand that she not attend his wedding.
Understanding but wounded, Marina spoke to her son’s portrait, “I’ve always put you first, Ilyushka, but this time, I must stand up for myself.”
With determination, she prepared for the wedding, using her savings and salary for a makeover. At the registry office, her transformation was startling. Looking years younger and dressed elegantly, she drew many admiring looks.
As the ceremony concluded, and the guests celebrated, Ilya approached her, his tone mixed with frustration and disbelief, “So you ignored my request? You’re not planning to come to the reception, are you?”
Marina, poised and serene, finally ready to assert her own worth, met her son’s gaze with a quiet dignity.
“I won’t stay,” Marina affirmed gently. “I’ve witnessed what I needed to.”
Suddenly, an exuberant Vika approached, her face flushed with excitement. “Marina Anatolyevna, you look incredible! The parents are asking if you’d join us at the restaurant.”
“Thank you, but I should be heading out.”
“What do you mean, leaving now?” Vika protested, turning to Ilya. “Ilya, what’s going on here?”
“Mom, really, why the hurry? It’s your only son’s wedding,” Ilya coaxed with a strained smile.
As the reception progressed and it was time for the parents’ toast, Marina stepped up to the microphone, her voice soft yet resonant:
“May you both cherish each other, finding joy and love every day of your lives…”
Her heartfelt words moved the crowd to an emotional applause. As she stepped down, Marina almost collided with a familiar figure—a tall man in a distinguished suit.
“It can’t be,” Maxim said, stepping in front of her. “Marishka, is that really you? What brings you here?”
“Maxim?” Marina’s voice was tinged with disbelief.
“I’m here because the bride’s father is a business associate of mine. He invited me. And what a remarkable son you have,” Maxim said, his voice uneven as he took her hand. “Could we perhaps talk somewhere quiet? Are you here alone, without a partner? I’ve been divorced for a decade now, no children.”
They found a quiet corner and spoke for an hour. Maxim shared that his father had flown out to see him abroad, bearing false news of Marina’s new life in Moscow with another man. Distraught yet cautious, Max had hoped to verify the claim through a friend before confronting her, only to find the café staff corroborating his father’s tale.
“I was devastated, stayed abroad for months before moving back to Moscow. My father advanced in his career, and I married. Have I been happy? Not truly, not like when I was with you. But how have you been?”
“Let’s save the sad stories for another time,” Marina suggested with a soft smile. “We’re at a wedding, after all. How about a dance instead?”
As they danced, the guests’ eyes were fixed on them. Ilya, watching from a distance, saw his mother in a new light, realizing the sacrifices she had made. A deep sense of remorse washed over him.
After the dance, as Marina and Maxim began to leave, Ilya rushed to the porch.
“Mom, where are you going?”
“I’m leaving, just as you wished,” she reminded him.
“But, Mom, who is this man? Where are you going with him?”
Marina looked at Ilya, her eyes sparkling with renewed life. “I’m willing to follow him anywhere,” she confessed earnestly. “And by the way, meet your father, Maxim.”
Ilya’s expression turned to one of confusion and surprise. Marina added with a hopeful smile, “It seems we have much to catch up on, but not tonight. Tonight, we celebrate a wedding!”
