It was already dark outside, and she had just finished grading her fifth-graders’ essays. Twenty-three years of teaching English language and literature in school had taught her to save time, but today her thoughts were scattered, and the work dragged on. The quiet creak of the floorboards gave away her daughter’s presence even before she appeared in the kitchen doorway.

«Mom, you promised we’d watch Short Circuit today,» Sophie stood leaning against the doorframe, in an old T-shirt with a picture of Mickey Mouse, which Mary herself had once worn. Her mother had brought that T-shirt from a trip to Boston in the eighties. «Sorry, sweetie,» I got totally bogged down with these essays, Mary smiled guiltily.

«Come here.» Sophie approached her mother, and she hugged the girl, inhaling the familiar scent of baby shampoo. Ten years.

How quickly she grows. It seems like just yesterday Alex was holding a tiny bundle in his arms at the maternity hospital, and now she’s already an independent person, with her own character and views on life. Dad loved that movie, right? Asked Sophie, climbing onto her mother’s lap, though at 10 years old she was already quite big for such affections.

Yes, Mary involuntarily glanced at the framed photo standing on the sideboard, inherited from her grandmother. He always said you look like the girl from there, like Ally. And I remember how we watched it together when we went to the cabin, and he grilled barbecue, then sang songs with his guitar.

Sophie spoke calmly, without tears, but Mary felt her daughter’s shoulders tense. Three years had passed since Alex didn’t return from his business trip. A senseless accident on I-90 from Boston to Chicago cut his life short at 38, leaving Mary alone with a 7-year-old daughter, a mortgage, and an old Chevy that he never got to replace with something newer.

Let’s put on the kettle, and then watch at least one part, suggested Mary, trying to distract both her daughter and herself from sad thoughts. We still have some cookies that grandma baked, remember? The ones with raisins? Sophie perked up. Exactly, Mary nodded, turning on the electric kettle, bought with her first salary after maternity leave…

Get the cups, just not the fancy ones from the set, the regular ones. While the kettle boiled, Mary watched her daughter arranging cookies on plates. Carefully, trying to pick cookies of the same size.

Just as pedantic as her father. Alex always loved order in everything. You know, Mom, Emma from class says they have a new dad now, and they’re flying to Florida this summer, Sophie suddenly said, not lifting her eyes from the plate.

Mary froze for a moment, not knowing what to say. Conversations about new relationships had come up between them before, but each time she felt awkward, as if betraying her husband’s memory. «And how does Emma feel about the new dad?» Mary asked cautiously.

«Fine,» Sophie shrugged. She says he’s fun and buys her all sorts of stuff. And Tim from the parallel class says his stepdad always yells at him and makes him study math….

Mary sat next to her daughter and took her hand. «Sophie, you know we manage just fine, right? We’re good together.» «I know, Mom,» Sophie suddenly looked at her mother with a serious, unchildlike gaze. «But sometimes I see you crying in the evenings when you think I’m asleep.

And I want you to be happy, like Aunt Susan with new Uncle Nick.» A lump rose in her throat, and Mary tried to discreetly wipe away the tear that had welled up. When had her little girl become so wise?

«Let’s finish watching the movie about the robot first, and then we’ll tackle such serious questions,» Mary smiled, hugging her daughter. «Besides, we have to get up early tomorrow. You have a test in English, remember?» While they watched the old classic movie on the worn couch in the living room, drank tea with grandma’s cookies, Mary thought about her daughter’s words.

«Maybe it’s really time to move on. Sophie needs a male role model around, and for herself. She probably needs to learn to live again too.

Alex definitely wouldn’t want her to spend the rest of her life alone, remembering the past.» That night, after putting her daughter to bed and kissing her forehead, Mary for the first time in a long while pondered that perhaps their life could change. And these changes might be for the better.

«Mary Johnson, there’s a man here to see you,» said Mrs. Peterson, the school librarian, peeking into the teachers’ lounge. «Quite handsome, with flowers.» Mary raised her eyebrows in surprise and set aside the grade book where she was entering quarter grades…

«For me? Are you sure?» Absolutely, the librarian nodded with a slight smile. «He introduced himself as Victor, said you left your gloves on the bus yesterday, and he picked them up.» Mary thought about it.

Indeed, yesterday she rode the crowded bus after the parent-teacher meeting and, it seems, held the gloves in her hands, not in her bag. Did she drop them? In the hallway, a tall man in a strict dark-gray coat was waiting for her. He looked about forty, short-cropped blond hair with barely noticeable gray, regular features…

He held a bouquet of white chrysanthemums, and indeed, her leather gloves. «Mary?» he asked with a slight smile.

«Did I get it right? Yesterday you were on bus number 16, around five-thirty in the evening, and dropped these,» he handed her the gloves. «Yes, those are mine,» Mary confirmed embarrassedly, taking the gloves. «Thank you for returning them, but.

How did you know where I work?» «There was a transit pass in one of the gloves,» the man explained. «It had your last name and a note about benefits for education workers. I called the department of education, said I found documents, and they told me which school you teach at.

I hope you don’t consider this an excessive intrusion into your private life.» He smiled slightly, and fine wrinkles fanned out from the corners of his eyes. «Not at all, thank you for the trouble,» Mary replied, feeling her cheeks flush slightly.

«No one had shown her such attention in a long time. That’s very kind of you.» «And this is for you,» he handed her the bouquet of chrysanthemums.

«A small compensation for the inconvenience.» «You really didn’t have to.» «It was worth it,» he gently objected.

«You know, on the way here I thought it would be nice to invite you for a cup of coffee. As an apology for the intrusion.» At another time, Mary would probably have politely declined.

But today something prompted her to agree. Maybe yesterday’s conversation with Sophie, or just tiredness from loneliness. «Actually, I have an hour before I need to pick up my daughter from music school.»..

«Perfect,» Victor brightened. «I know a great place nearby, in the old mansion of merchant Vanderbilt. They make amazing coffee and cake, like in the old days, remember?» «I remember,» Mary smiled.

«Angel food cake?» «Exactly.» Victor beamed as if they had just discovered an important detail uniting them. The cafe turned out to be cozy, with heavy velvet curtains and copper lamps styled antique.

Mary involuntarily recalled how in childhood her mom took her to a similar place on special holidays, and they were given cloth napkins, and the waitresses wore lace aprons. «Tell me about yourself,» Victor asked when they were brought coffee and two angel food cakes on elegant porcelain plates with blue rims. «What’s there to tell,» Mary shrugged.

I’ve been working in school for over twenty years, English language and literature. Husband died three years ago in a car accident. Daughter Sophie, 10 years…

Ordinary life. «There are no ordinary lives in this world,» Victor objected seriously. «Each is unique in its own way.

I’m a widower too, my wife died five years ago from cancer. We had no children. I work in a construction company, manage projects.»

They talked for almost an hour, and Mary was surprised at how easy it was with this essentially stranger. Victor told interesting stories. About work, travels, books he’d read lately.

No falseness, no desire to impress. Just a conversation between two adults. When it was time to go, Victor asked for her phone number.

«If you’ll allow, I’d like to invite you to the theater next weekend. They’re doing The Legend of Sleepy Hollow, in the staging by a famous director, they’ve restored the 70s production.» Mary hesitated, but only for a moment.

With pleasure, she replied, and dictated the number. The whole way to the music school, Mary thought about the strange meeting. Victor seemed reliable, intelligent, one of those now called «old school.»

He listened attentively, didn’t interrupt, asked questions, genuinely interested in the answers. And he smelled of good cologne, and his suit fit perfectly, which is rare these days. Sophie noticed the change in her mother’s mood as soon as she entered the music school hallway.

«Mom, why do you have flowers?» she asked, putting her music notebook in her backpack. «A friend gave them,» Mary replied, feeling herself blush again like a schoolgirl. «A friend?» Sophie drawled suspiciously.

«What kind of friend?» «I’ll tell you everything, but not here,» Mary smiled, hugging her daughter by the shoulders. «Let’s go home, I’ll make your favorite pancakes, and then we’ll talk.» At home, mixing the batter for pancakes, Mary retold her daughter the story with the gloves, trying not to embellish but also not downplay her interest in the new acquaintance.

«So, you like him?» Sophie asked directly, sitting at the kitchen table and watching her mother. «He seemed.» «Interesting,» Mary replied cautiously.

«But it was just one meeting, and I don’t know him at all yet. And you’ll go to the theater with him?» «Yes, next Saturday. If you don’t mind, of course.»

Sophie thought, biting her lower lip. «Just like Alex when solving a tough problem.» «I don’t mind,» she finally said…

«But let him come to our house first, I want to see him.» Mary couldn’t help laughing at such seriousness. «Okay, dear.

I’ll invite him over for tea before the theater, and you can meet him.» Sophie nodded as if sealing an important deal, and Mary suddenly thought that perhaps something new, unusual, but maybe good, was entering their life. And this thought, instead of scaring her, warmed her from inside, like a sip of hot tea on a cold winter day.

«And where did you live before, Victor?» Sophie looked at the guest with a direct, scrutinizing gaze, holding a teacup like a shield. Mary inwardly winced at such interrogation, but Victor seemed not at all embarrassed. In Miami. Then moved to New York for work, and then here when I was invited to lead the construction of a new residential complex.

And why do you move all the time?» Sophie persisted. «Sophie.» Mary gave her daughter a warning look.

«It’s fine,» Victor raised his hand conciliatorily. «Good question. You see, Sophie, there’s a saying.

A bad workman always blames his tools. So I didn’t want to be a bad workman and kept looking for a place where I could fully realize myself. In Miami the market for specialists was too big, in New York.

Too tough competition, and here. Here I found the golden mean.» Besides, he glanced at Mary, sometimes fate brings unexpected gifts.

Sophie frowned but asked no more questions, silently finishing her tea. Victor shifted the conversation to the girl’s school matters, asked about the music she was studying, and to Mary’s surprise, the ice soon melted completely. When it was time to get ready for the theater, Sophie even looked slightly disappointed…

«You’ll manage alone?» Mary asked, checking her purse contents. «Tickets, keys, lipstick.» «Of course, Mom, I’m not five,» Sophie rolled her eyes…

«I’ll do homework, then watch the cartoon you allowed, and go to bed.» No later than ten, she quoted her mother’s instruction with slight irony. «And don’t open the door to anyone,» Mary added.

Even if Santa comes with a sack of gifts, Sophie nodded with a sigh. Victor watched this exchange with a slight smile. «You have a wonderful daughter,» he said when they stepped onto the landing.

«Thanks,» Mary smiled, feeling that special pride that arises when someone praises your child. «She’s very observant.» «And vigilant,» Victor added without a hint of offense.

«That’s good. It means someone cares for you besides me.» His words sounded so natural that Mary didn’t immediately grasp their meaning.

«Besides me.» As if he had already taken a place in her life, become part of her world. And strangely.

This thought didn’t provoke protest. The play was magnificent. Mary hadn’t been to the theater in probably four years, since Alex was gone.

He didn’t particularly like theater, preferring movies or concerts, but always agreed to accompany her. Victor, however, seemed to truly enjoy the production, whispering comments on particularly successful directorial choices, quoting whole passages from the play by heart. After the play, they stopped at a small restaurant near the theater.

Tables covered with red-and-white checkered tablecloths, dim light, soft music. Everything reminiscent of those times when going to a restaurant was an event prepared for in advance. «You know what struck me about you from the first meeting?» Victor asked when their order was brought.

«Steak for him, and fried chicken for her, just like in old American diners. Your smile. It’s so.

Genuine. Nowadays you rarely meet people who smile sincerely, without falseness. I think you’re exaggerating,» Mary blushed.

«I’m an ordinary woman, like millions.» «No,» he firmly objected. «You’re special.

And it’s not about appearance, though you’re very beautiful. It’s about your inner strength. You raise your daughter alone, work in school…

And that’s the hardest labor, keep the house in order. And you don’t complain, don’t whine like many. That’s worthy of respect.»

Mary felt warmth rush to her cheeks. From the wine, of course, not from Victor’s words. «Tell me about your late wife,» she asked, wanting to steer the conversation elsewhere.

Victor’s face darkened for a moment. «We were together fifteen years,» he began. «Met in college.»

Alice was an artist, very talented. Her works were even exhibited in small galleries. And then? Then the illness happened.

It all went so fast we didn’t even have time to realize. Six months of fighting, and that was it. He spoke calmly, but Mary saw his fingers tense, gripping the fork.

«Sorry for making you remember,» she said quietly. «It’s nothing,» he shook his head. «It’s part of my life I don’t renounce.»

«I loved Alice, and the time spent with her was happy. But life goes on, and we must move forward. You understand that too, right?» Mary nodded.

Yes, she understood. For three years she lived as if in a cocoon, focused only on work and her daughter. But people aren’t made for loneliness, no matter how clichéd that sounds.

Victor escorted her home by taxi, though Mary insisted she could take public transport. «No way,» he objected. «It’s late, and I wouldn’t forgive myself if something happened to you.»

At the entrance, he kissed her. Lightly, almost weightlessly, as if afraid to scare her off. «I’ll call tomorrow, okay.»

Climbing the stairs, the elevator in their old apartment building wasn’t working again, Mary caught herself feeling like a girl after her first date. Music from the play echoed in her head, and her lips still held the warmth of the kiss. Sophie was indeed already asleep, curled up under the blanket, with her palm under her cheek.

Just like Alex always slept. Mary quietly adjusted the blanket and left the room, trying not to creak the floorboards. The following weeks flew by like in a fog.

Victor called every day, invited her to movies, restaurants, or just walks. Brought flowers. Not standard roses, but special bouquets arranged with taste and imagination.

Once, learning that Mary had a particularly tough day at work, he brought bags of groceries to her home and cooked dinner himself. Real chili from his grandma’s recipe and apple pie. Sophie watched the relationship develop with wary interest…

She no longer asked direct questions, but Mary noticed how attentively her daughter followed every gesture, every word of Victor’s, as if trying to solve a puzzle. «Don’t you like him?» Mary asked once when she and her daughter were washing dishes after a dinner Victor attended. «I don’t know,» Sophie answered honestly.

«He’s kind of. Too perfect, like he’s playing a role. Not everyone has such a complex character as you or Dad,» Mary smiled…

«Some people are just. Calm by nature.» Sophie shrugged and said nothing more, but Mary noticed her daughter didn’t share her enthusiasm.

However, that was natural. A child needs time to get used to a new person in their life. And Victor was definitely becoming a new person in their life.

Just two months after meeting, he proposed to Mary. Without theatrical gestures, simply over dinner in her apartment, after Sophie went to bed. «I know we’ve known each other a short time,» he said, looking straight into her eyes.

«But I’m sure of my feelings. You. Are the woman I want to spend the rest of my life with.

You, and Sophie. I don’t claim the father’s place in her life, but I want to become her friend, someone she can rely on.» Mary hesitated.

Everything was happening too fast, but on the other hand. They’re both not 20 anymore to drag out the candy-bouquet period for years. And Sophie needed a man in the house, not just as an example, but as support, protection.

«Mom, why so fast?» Sophie sat on the edge of the bed, fiddling with the blanket corner. Her face in the nightlight seemed especially… pale. «You’ve known each other so little.»

Mary sat next to her daughter, gently brushing a strand of hair from her forehead. «Sometimes people don’t need much time to understand they fit each other,» she explained softly. «Victor and I are adults, we’ve had family life experience.

We know what we want. What if he’s not who he pretends to be?» Sophie looked at her mother with a worried gaze. «Remember, we watched that show about scammers who worm their way into lonely women’s trust?» Mary involuntarily smiled.

Her little protector always thought and worried too much. «Sophie, dear, Victor’s not a scammer. He’s a successful engineer, has a good job, his own apartment…

Why would he deceive us?» «I don’t know,» Sophie stubbornly pursed her lips. «But something about him… is wrong. I feel it.»

«It’s just because you haven’t gotten used to him yet,» Mary said confidently, though deep down a doubt stirred. «Maybe she is rushing?» But she immediately pushed the thought away. «Give him a chance, okay? For me!» Sophie sighed but nodded, though without much enthusiasm.

«Okay, Mom. I’ll try.» They decided to make the wedding modest, inviting only closest friends and colleagues.

Victor insisted on a restaurant, the American Grill. It was expensive, but he convinced Mary that such an event happens once in a lifetime and needs to be celebrated properly. Besides, he added with a smile, «I have some savings, and I want to spend them to make you happy.»

On the wedding day, Mary felt a strange mix of excitement and anxiety. She chose not a white dress, which seemed inappropriate for a woman her age and position, but an elegant light-beige suit, to which she matched a small hat with a veil. Like the one her mother wore at her wedding in the 70s.

«You look stunning,» Susan, her longtime friend from college days, said sincerely, helping pin a flower in her hair. «Victor is lucky.» «I’m lucky too,» Mary smiled, though the smile came out a bit nervous.

«He’s a wonderful person.» «Reliable,» Susan agreed. «In our time, that’s the main thing.

Many guys are like kids, they need nannies themselves, not wives.» Mary nodded, remembering how Susan’s first husband drank away his whole salary and threw tantrums if dinner wasn’t ready on time. Victor was the complete opposite.

Calm, caring, always ready to help. The wedding passed like in a fog. Mary remembered only separate moments.

Victor waiting for her at the city hall entrance with a bouquet of white lilies. Sophie’s serious face, sitting in the front row, in a new dress. The clink of glasses in the restaurant, and numerous congratulations.

Dance with Victor to an old song, Can’t Take My Eyes Off You. And she also remembered a strange moment during the photo session, when it seemed something cold, calculating flashed in Victor’s eyes. But it lasted only a fraction of a second, and Mary decided it was her imagination.

Just a play of light and shadow. After the wedding, Victor moved into their apartment with Sophie. He suggested selling both apartments and buying something bigger, but Mary didn’t want to leave the neighborhood where Sophie grew up, where her school and friends were.

Besides, the three-room old apartment wasn’t that cramped for three. The first weeks of married life were filled with pleasant chores and discoveries. Mary learned that Victor cooks meat excellently, loves classic American movies, and can fix practically any household appliance.

On weekends they often went to the cabin. A small plot with a wooden house inherited from Mary’s parents. Victor enthusiastically took on repairing the leaning fence and leaky roof…

«We can make a wonderful resting place here,» he said, gesturing over the plot. «The main thing is to invest a little effort and soul.» Sophie gradually thawed.

Victor didn’t impose his company on her but was always ready to help with homework or drive to music school if Mary had extra classes. He gave the girl a tablet for her birthday. Not the most expensive, but exactly the one she dreamed of, and patiently explained how to use different programs.

«See, everything is turning out great,» Mary said once when she and her daughter were alone. «Victor tries to make us feel good.» «Yes, he tries,» Sophie said slowly.

«But you know, Mom. Sometimes when he thinks no one sees, he has such a look. Like he’s wearing a mask, and underneath is a completely different person.»

Sophie. Mary was indignant. «What fantasies?» Victor just thinks, he has a lot of work and cares…

«And why does he always check your phone when you leave the room?» Sophie asked. «And why does he lock his laptop with a password, and when you approach, immediately closes it?» Everyone has a right to personal space, Mary replied, though inside worry stirred again. She had indeed noticed Victor sometimes glancing at her phone screen when he thought she wasn’t looking.

But isn’t that natural? A bit of jealousy at the start of a relationship is normal. Sophie shook her head but didn’t argue. Mary saw her daughter wasn’t convinced but attributed it to a child’s natural jealousy of the new person taking a place in her mother’s heart.

The first alarm bells rang about three months after the wedding. Victor started getting irritated over trifles. Dinner not hot enough, Sophie playing piano too loud, neighbors upstairs stomping like elephants.

«You’re just tired,» she said, massaging his shoulders. «You have a tough project now.» «Yeah, probably,» he agreed, relaxing under her hands.

«Sorry for snapping. Sometimes it seems everyone around is deliberately doing everything to drive me crazy.» Then Mary noticed some of her things weren’t where she left them.

Her favorite scarf, usually hanging on the hook in the hallway, suddenly in the closet. The book she was reading before bed moved from the nightstand to the shelf. Trifles, but they caused a strange feeling of disorientation…

«Victor, did you move my things?» she asked one day. «What nonsense,» he frowned. «Why would I? You just forget.

Where you put things? It happens to everyone, especially with age.» I’m only 43, Mary objected, feeling a sting of offense. Not that old.

Of course, dear, he hugged her conciliatorily. You’re the youngest and most beautiful to me. I was just joking.»

But the joke didn’t seem funny to Mary. One evening, returning from school, she caught Victor looking through papers from her work folder. «What are you doing?» she asked, freezing in the doorway.

Oh, Mary, he seemed not embarrassed at all. Looking for the insurance policy, wanted to check when we need to renew. Didn’t find it, by the way.

It’s in the top drawer of the dresser, where it always is, Mary said slowly. «And these are my work documents, nothing about insurance there. Right?»

Right? He smiled carelessly.

«Sorry, mixed up.» Head not working after a whole day of meetings. He carelessly folded the papers back into the folder, and Mary noticed the documents weren’t in the order she usually kept them.

Why did Victor need her work notes? And why didn’t he ask where the insurance was, but searched himself? That evening she couldn’t sleep for a long time, listening to her husband’s even breathing beside her. Something was subtly changing in their relationship, and Mary couldn’t understand what was wrong. Maybe the honeymoon was just over, and now ordinary everyday life was beginning, with all its difficulties? Sophie has outstanding musical abilities, said Mrs. Johnson, the piano teacher.

«I’d recommend sending her to the state young pianists contest.» Mary beamed with pride. Sophie had been studying music since 7, and Alex always said she had perfect pitch, like his grandmother who once sang in a folk choir.

That’s wonderful. When’s the contest? In three weeks, at the state center. Of course, she’ll need to practice a lot, maybe take a few extra lessons.

And the trip will take two days. Contest, then winners’ concert. «I don’t think that’s a good idea,» Victor’s voice sounded, who until then stood silently aside, examining diplomas on the music school walls…

Mary turned to her husband in surprise. «Why? It’s such an opportunity for Sophie. First, extra expenses,» Victor said calmly.

Private lessons, hotel stay, transport. Second, Sophie’s school performance has been slipping lately. Remember the C in math this quarter? A C.

That’s not slipping, Mary objected. Sophie studies well, just the test was tough. So I’m against it, Victor said in a tone as if the matter was closed.

Mrs. Johnson looked from Victor to Mary in surprise, clearly not understanding why the parents weren’t thrilled at the chance to showcase their daughter’s talent. «We’ll think about it,» Mary said hastily, feeling her cheeks burn with awkwardness. «I’ll talk at home with Sophie, and… We have nothing to think about,» Victor cut off.

Sophie is too young for such serious events. Thank you for the offer, but we have to decline. In the car on the way home, Mary couldn’t hold back.

«Why did you do that without consulting me? Why consult if it’s obvious? He didn’t even turn his head, keeping his eyes on the road. Sophie isn’t ready for such stress. But it’s not for you to decide! Mary exclaimed.

You’re not even her real father. Not a muscle twitched on Victor’s face, only his fingers gripped the steering wheel tighter. So that’s how it is! Means when help with homework or driving to school is needed, I’m good enough for the father’s role, but when it comes to important decisions… Not anymore? That’s not what I meant, Mary tried to compose herself.

Just. We needed to discuss first, not decide like that in front of the teacher. I’m just caring for Sophie, his voice softened…

Believe me, at her age it’s more important to study well in regular school than chase laurels at music contests. Why stress the child? But if she has talent. All mothers think their kids are talented, something like condescension sounded in his voice.

Be objective, Mary. Sophie is a capable girl, but not reaching for the stars. These words cut painfully to the heart.

Mary turned to the window, feeling tears well up. At home, Victor seemed to forget the quarrel, was friendly and nice, helped set the table, told a funny work story. But Mary felt tension under this showy amiability.

Something had cracked between them. When Sophie went to do homework in her room, Victor moved closer to Mary on the couch and took her hand. «Sorry if I was harsh,» he said softly.

«I’m really worried about Sophie, about you, about our family. I want everything to be good.» I know, Mary forced a smile.

«Just next time let’s discuss such things privately, okay?» Of course, he kissed her cheek. «Peace?» «Peace,» she nodded, though the inner discomfort didn’t go away. Later that evening, putting Sophie to bed, Mary decided to tell her daughter about the teacher’s offer.

«Mrs. Johnson thinks you could participate in the state young pianists contest,» she began cautiously, sitting on the bed edge. Really? Sophie’s eyes lit up. «Mom, that’s great! A real contest! I so want to go!» Dear, Mary gently stroked her daughter’s head, I’m afraid not this time.

«Victor thinks you need to focus on school lessons, and he’s right in a way.» Sophie’s face changed instantly, joy replaced by disappointment, then anger. Of course he’s against.

She whispered angrily. «He’s always against everything I like.» «Sophie, that’s not true.»

«It is!» The girl sat up in bed, clenching her fists. Since he appeared, we stopped going to movies on Saturdays. Stopped going to Aunt Susan’s cabin.

I can’t invite Lisa over anymore because he says she’s too noisy. He even forbade me to play piano after seven because his head hurts. Mary listened to this stream of complaints in surprise.

Had everything changed so much, and she hadn’t noticed? «Sophie, Victor is strict, but he cares about us.» «No, Mom,» Sophie suddenly became very serious, adult. «He doesn’t care.

He controls. Those are different things. Dad cared about us, and Victor…» «Controls.»

Mary had no answer. There was a grain of truth in her daughter’s words that she herself feared to admit. In recent months, their life had indeed changed.

Victor was gradually taking over all spheres of their existence. From finances to social circle. «Give him a chance, okay?» Mary finally said…

«He’s just… not used to family life with a child yet. All men are a bit. But you understand, they need time.»

Sophie looked at her mother skeptically but stayed silent, just pulled the blanket to her chin and turned to the wall. Mary sighed, kissed her daughter on the head and left the room. Victor was waiting in the bedroom, flipping through a magazine.

«What were you talking about so long?» he asked casually. «Just school stuff,» Mary lied, feeling awkward from this little lie. And I read to her a bit at bedtime.

«You spoil her too much,» Victor noted, setting the magazine aside. «At her age, it’s time to read books herself, not listen to bedtime stories.» Mary didn’t argue, though inside she was boiling.

How can he judge her relationship with her daughter? What does he know about raising kids? That night she couldn’t sleep again. She lay staring at the ceiling, listening to her husband’s breathing. Victor seemed to sleep soundly and peacefully, as if no doubts or pangs of conscience troubled him.

«Maybe Sophie is right?» Mary thought. «Maybe he really is trying to control us? Or am I just looking for problems where there are none?» With these thoughts, she finally sank into an anxious sleep, in which she ran down an endless corridor, trying to reach a door but couldn’t. The next few weeks became a real test for Mary.

She began noticing what she previously ignored or attributed to Victor’s fatigue, his adaptation to new family life. Victor checked her phone more often under various pretexts. Either he needed to call urgently and his phone was dead, or he was looking for the plumber’s number Mary supposedly saved.

He questioned her about every call, every message. «Who called you when you were in the bathroom?» he asked one evening. «Susan,» Mary replied.

«She wanted to know if we’ll come to their place Saturday for Nick’s birthday. Why is she calling so late?» Victor frowned. «It’s almost 10.

Goodness, Victor, it’s just a call from a friend.» Mary couldn’t hold back. «What’s wrong with that?» «Nothing,» he shrugged, but his gaze remained cold.

«Just interested in my wife’s life. That’s normal, isn’t it?» Mary felt anxiety growing every day. She started noticing Victor sometimes followed her.

Leaves home supposedly for work, then she sees his car parked near the school. Or he suddenly enters the store where she’s shopping, claiming it’s a coincidence. Sophie became withdrawn and tense too.

She tried to spend less time at home, lingered at school, music lessons, friends’. And when home, mostly stayed locked in her room. One day Mary found her daughter’s diary in the backpack…

An ordinary graph notebook, with «Do Not Open» on the cover. Personal. She wasn’t going to read it, just stumbled upon it accidentally while taking out textbooks to help with homework.

The notebook fell out, opening on one page, and Mary involuntarily caught a few lines. He looked at Mom again with that scary look when he thought no one saw. Like she’s a thing he bought.

I’m scared, but Mom doesn’t believe me. What if he does something bad to her? Mary’s heart clenched. Does Sophie fear Victor that much? What if her daughter sees what she herself misses? That same evening she decided to talk to her husband.

«Victor,» she began when they were alone in the bedroom, «I think we need to talk about Sophie.» What’s with her? He looked up from the laptop. She.

She’s not very happy lately. Become withdrawn, anxious. Usual teen problems, Victor brushed off.

Puberty soon, hormones, all that. She’s only ten, Mary objected. It’s not puberty.

I think she. She faltered, not daring to say directly that Sophie fears him. What? Victor slammed the laptop and looked at her with sudden irritation.

Go on, finish. What about her? It’s hard for her to accept you, Mary finally said. Maybe we should? I don’t know, try to find common ground, spend more time together.

Victor stared at her so long and strangely that Mary shivered. So the problem is me? He said slowly. I’m a bad stepdad, huh? No, of course not, Mary hurried to assure him.

Just kids need time to get used to new people in their lives. Or, he interrupted, and metallic notes appeared in his voice. Or the problem is you let her manipulate you.

She’s jealous, that’s natural. But indulging her whims. Means undermining my authority…

These aren’t whims, Mary felt irritation growing inside. Sophie is smart, sensitive girl. If she feels uncomfortable, there are reasons.

Oh really? Victor stood up from the bed in one sharp motion. And what reasons do you think? Maybe you think I offend your precious daughter somehow? Insult her? Beat her? No, of course not. Mary stepped back, surprised by his sudden outburst.

I just want understanding in our family. For us all to be happy. Victor looked at her for a few seconds, then his face suddenly softened.

He sat back on the bed and rubbed his eyes. Sorry, he said wearily. Work is chaos now, nerves on edge.

I didn’t mean to snap. You’re right, need to pay more attention to Sophie. Maybe take her to that amusement park she mentioned this weekend? Mary felt relief, though deep down the worry didn’t vanish.

These mood swings of Victor’s. From anger to remorse. Were becoming more frequent and sharp.

Alive? Susan’s voice sounded anxious even through the phone speaker. Hasn’t shown up again? No. Mary shook her head, though her friend couldn’t see.

Two weeks passed, no signs. I think he realized he lost and decided to seek easier prey. Still be careful, Susan sighed.

Such types can be vengeful. And your police report? They took it, but without much enthusiasm, Mary winced, recalling the indifferent face of the duty officer. Said it’s hard to prove without clear evidence.

The glass with the drink, I stupidly poured it out right after Victor left. But the local officer promised to keep an eye on our apartment. Changed the locks? That same day.

And added an extra one with a chain. Good. And how’s Sophie? At the mention of her daughter, Mary involuntarily smiled.

Better than could be expected. You know, she’s so. Strong.

Adult beyond her years. Sometimes I think she handles this situation better than I do. That was true. After Victor’s departure, Sophie bloomed as if.

Her smile returned, her energy, her curiosity about life. She played piano for hours again, as if making up for lost time when she feared disturbing the new dad. And two weeks ago she even went to the state young pianists contest, where Mrs. Johnson still managed to register her and took third place. Kids are amazingly resilient, Susan agreed. And she has you.

That’s the main thing. After the conversation, Mary went out to the balcony to smoke. A bad habit that returned after all that happened…

The fourth-floor apartment in the old building overlooked a quiet courtyard surrounded by similar five-story buildings. Down there, under the old poplars, was her childhood. With hopscotch drawn in chalk on the asphalt, swings made from old tires, playing tag until late evening, until moms started yelling from balconies, calling kids home.

Now the courtyard looked different. With a new playground, neat benches, bright flowers in beds. But the essence remained the same.

This was her world, her refuge. And she almost lost it due to her trustfulness, fear of loneliness, desire to give her daughter a normal family. «Mom, can I go out to play with Lisa?» Sophie appeared in the balcony doorway, holding her worn backpack with Mickey Mouse.

«We want to go to the library, then for ice cream. I’ll be back by six, promise.» Mary hesitated for a moment.

Part of her. That part still waking at night from nightmares with Victor starring. Wanted to say «no»…

Wanted to keep her daughter close, protected, always in sight. But the other part. The one remembering her own childhood freedom.

Knew you can’t live in fear forever. Of course, dear, she smiled. Just keep your phone on and call if you’re late.

«Thanks, Mom.» Sophie kissed her on the cheek and was about to dash off but suddenly stopped. «You know, you’re the best mom in the world.

Really.» And with those words, she ran out of the apartment, and Mary remained on the balcony, feeling her eyes fill with tears. But this time not from grief or fear, but from overflowing love and gratitude.

In the evening, after putting Sophie to bed, Mary looked through old photo albums. Here she was herself, very young, just graduated from college, with a mop of curly hair and a mischievous smile. Here Alex.

Tall, awkward, but so dear, with guitar in hands, singing by the campfire at the student retreat where they met. Here their wedding. Modest, at regular city hall, but happy, with friends showering them with rice at the exit.

Here tiny Sophie at the maternity hospital, so small she fit in her father’s palm. Here their family trips, holidays, ordinary days filled with simple, quiet happiness. Then photos just of her and Sophie.

After the day Alex didn’t return from his trip. At first in these photos both looked lost, with forced smiles and sad eyes. But gradually, over time, smiles became sincere, and light appeared in eyes.

There wasn’t a single photo with Victor in these albums. For some reason he never liked being photographed, always found an excuse to avoid it. Now Mary understood why.

Fewer traces, fewer proofs of his existence in their life. Mary closed the album and went to the window. The night city twinkled with lights, somewhere far a car honked, in the neighboring apartment soft music played.

An old American folk song her mom loved so much. Life continued around, despite everything. After the story with Victor, Mary learned an important lesson.

She understood happiness isn’t in fitting someone’s ideas of a normal family. Happiness is being true to yourself, trusting your intuition, and most importantly, listening to your child. Children often see what adults miss.

Too immersed in their problems and desires. Their pure, unclouded perception can catch falseness where an adult sees only charm. Their hearts are more sensitive to danger because not burdened by compromises and self-deception.

Almost three months passed since that Sunday morning when her life could have ended if not for her daughter’s vigilance. Victor vanished from their life as if he never existed. Sometimes at night, Mary still woke in cold sweat, hearing his steps in the corridor, but those were just echoes of fear, gradually dissolving in the dark.

Sophie got an invitation to a specialized music school, and now they discussed the possibility of transfer. Mary herself returned to a long-abandoned hobby. Drawing, enrolled in watercolor courses and even considered organizing an exhibition of her students’ works at school…

Life was getting better, slowly but surely. And in this new life, she and Sophie were even closer, even more strongly bound by invisible threads of love and trust. One evening, putting her daughter to bed, Mary sat on the bed edge and gently brushed a strand of hair from her forehead.

«Sophie, I never told you, but… You saved my life that time at breakfast.» The girl nodded seriously. «I… know, Mom.

How did you guess? How did you understand he was dangerous?» Sophie thought for a moment. «I don’t know. Just felt it.»

He smiled, but his eyes stayed cold. «And also? He never looked at you like Dad did. Dad looked with love, and Victor… like you’re a thing he wants to get.»

Mary was amazed at the depth of this observation. «And I didn’t notice,» she admitted. «I was so caught up in the idea of a new family that I didn’t see the obvious.»

«That’s because you’re very kind, Mom,» Sophie said seriously. «You always see the good in people.» «Is that bad?» «No,» the girl smiled.

«It’s wonderful. Just sometimes you need to be a bit more careful. You know,» Mary took her daughter’s hand, «I think we’re a great team…

You see what I don’t, and I can protect you from anything in the world.» «The best team,» Sophie agreed, yawning widely. «Mom, tell again how you and Dad met.»

And Mary began telling the story Sophie had heard dozens of times but always asked to repeat. The story of the teachers’ college retreat, guitar by the campfire, the clumsy tall guy who couldn’t take his eyes off her, the first kiss under the starry sky. And then Dad said.

«I’ll love you all my life,» Sophie whispered, closing her eyes. Yes, Mary smiled, remembering. And he didn’t lie.

He loved us all his life. And still does, Sophie murmured sleepily. I know.

He watches us from above and smiles. Of course he does, Mary kissed her daughter on the forehead. Sleep, my good girl.

Tomorrow is a new day. When Sophie’s breathing became even and deep, Mary quietly left the room, leaving the door ajar. As she always did since her daughter was a baby.

Went to the kitchen, brewed tea, and settled with a cup by the window. Outside, soft spring snow was falling. The last this season, tomorrow it would melt under April sun rays…

But today it covered the city with a white blanket, as if giving a chance to start anew, from a clean slate. Mary thought about how amazingly life is arranged. With its turns and crossroads, lessons and trials.

About how close she came to the abyss edge, and how miraculously she was saved. Not by some external hero, but by her own child, their daughter with Alex, flesh of their flesh. Maternal love.

The strongest feeling in the world, Mary thought. But children’s love, children’s devotion. No less powerful.

This invisible bridge between two hearts that neither time, nor distance, nor even death can destroy. She didn’t know if she’d ever meet a man to share her life with. Maybe yes.

Maybe no. But now she knew for sure. She and Sophie would manage, whatever happens…

Because together they are. A real family, strong and unbreakable. And the rest will come.

Mary finished her tea, washed the cup, and went to her bedroom. Before sleep, she, as always, checked on her daughter. Sophie slept, arms spread wide, with a light smile on her lips.

Above her bed hung a drawing she recently made in art class, three figures holding hands. A woman, a girl, and a man with a halo over his head, floating above the ground. That’s us with you, Mom, Sophie explained then.

And that’s Dad, who’s always with us, even if we can’t see him. Mary adjusted the blanket, leaned down, and quietly kissed her daughter on the head. Thank you for saving me, she whispered.

I’ll always be with you too, no matter what. I promise. And with this thought, she returned to her room, lay in bed, and for the first time in a long while fell asleep without fear, with a sense of peace and confidence in tomorrow.