The car of businessman Nikodimov slid almost silently along the highway toward the city. The billionaire’s driver — Ivan, who usually gladly chatted with his employer during trips — was unusually focused and silent today.
The weather did not encourage conversation: a snowstorm swirled like lace in the air, dense snowflakes fell onto the road, and gusty winds blew them straight onto the windshield. The wipers worked nonstop but barely kept up with clearing the wet, heavy flakes.
At a fork in the road, Ivan stopped, got out of the car, brushed snow off the hood, looked under the chassis, and checked the tires. Meanwhile, Sergey Fedorovich carefully observed the bus stop opposite where they had stopped.
By the pole, leaning on it, stood a motionless man with a large bag. His clothes and headwear were covered with a white layer. The stranger didn’t move or brush off the snow, as if frozen in anticipation.
Returning to the cabin, Ivan rubbed his cold hands and was about to start driving when Nikodimov stopped him:
“Vanya, wait. Do you see that man by the pole?”
“Well,” the driver replied shortly.
“He hasn’t moved a bit since we stopped. Maybe he’s unwell? Maybe his heart, or he’s just frozen?”
“Come on, Sergey Fedorovich. Most likely he’s drunk and just standing there. By the way, that stop hasn’t been active for a long time. It was moved two years ago closer to the cottage settlement — easier for the workers to get there.”
“Exactly,” the businessman countered. “So, he’s waiting for the wrong thing. Get out, I’ll go myself.”
Ivan tried to stop his boss:
“Maybe I should go check?”
But Nikodimov just waved his hand and stepped out of the car.
“Hey, young man, are you alive?” Sergey called out to the man by the pole.
Suddenly, the man stirred, lifted his hood, and nodded.
“Good that you’re okay. I already thought you’d frozen. What are you doing here?”
“Waiting for the bus,” replied a voice that made Nikodimov shiver — it was a woman.
“Excuse me, miss? Are you here alone? On a night like this?”
“I told you — I’m waiting for the bus,” she answered a bit irritably and stepped slightly aside, wary of the possibility that the man in front of her could be strange.
“My driver said no one has stopped here for over two years. The stop was moved long ago,” Sergey calmly explained, noticing her caution.
“Really? I didn’t know. I’m not local. I worked in one of the new houses — painting a children’s room. I’m an artist, you could say.”
“Understood. But why weren’t you taken home? Why are you alone?”
“No one escorted me, no one paid. The owners aren’t there, the house isn’t finished yet. They just cheated me.”
“Who cheated you?”
“The foreman. They promised a lot, then said it wasn’t what they expected. Although I did everything perfectly.”
Sergey noticed the girl shudder from a gust of wind and offered:
“Where do you live? I’ll take you home. It’s dangerous to stand here all night.”
“I’d like to, but… I don’t know you,” she said regretfully. “I’m scared.”
“I understand. But I’m not a liar. I swear.”
“And that one standing by the car? That’s your driver?”
“Yes, that’s Ivan Romanov. And my name is Sergey Fedorovich Nikodimov.”
“Oh, I remember you! Well, not personally, but I’ve seen you. You repaired the road in our settlement — in Dubki. And you renovated the square. Those were your projects?”
“Mine,” Nikodimov smiled. “My grandmother’s parents lived in your settlement. It’s her small homeland. So, shall we go?”
“I’ll go,” the girl agreed. “My name is Olga Chaykina. I live near the school. Do you know where it is?”
“Of course. Give me your bag. It’s heavy!”
“These are work materials,” Olga answered more cheerfully and followed him to the car.
Olga sat in the back seat next to Sergey. When she took off her hood, Nikodimov was surprised: before him sat a true beauty, but not a usual external beauty — more of a rare, unusual kind. A brunette with blue eyes — a rare and mesmerizing combination.
On the way, Olga told that she lives with her son Pavlik at her mother’s house. The six-year-old boy grows up surrounded by women: mother, grandmother, and two aunts — the mother’s sisters.
“And I live with my grandmother,” Sergey smiled.
“Seriously? I don’t believe it. People like you don’t live with grandmothers.”
“What kind of people do you think?”
“I don’t know… those…” Olga hesitated. “Oh, stop! We passed my house!”
Ivan carefully turned around and stopped at an old wooden house, looking like a fairy-tale hut. Olga quickly got out, thanked him, and disappeared behind the gate. A minute later, a light came on in the window.
Sergey thoughtfully watched the vanished girl. Finally, he closed the door and suddenly noticed a mitten lying in the snow.
“What an extraordinary girl. Simply a miracle,” he said, picking up the mitten. “Vanya, it seems we met the Snow Maiden today. As if we stepped into a fairy tale.”
“She has a strange look,” the driver snorted.
“She’s not strange,” Nikodimov replied gently. “She’s beautiful. Amazing. Let’s go home.”
“Should we hang the mitten on the fence? Someone will find it tomorrow.”
“No, I’ll take it myself tomorrow,” Sergey said thoughtfully, clearly planning something.
The car picked up speed again, rumbling as it disappeared into the snowy distance.
Meanwhile, Sergey did not lie: he really lived with his grandmother — Nadezhda Mikhailovna Nikodimova. Sergey’s parents moved abroad many years ago. His father was a famous opera singer, and his mother owned a chain of pharmacies and a clinic in Europe. Initially, the family lived on two continents, but when Sergey became independent, his parents moved to Europe permanently.
They met often: traveling by private planes and helicopters became normal for the family. Nadezhda Mikhailovna sometimes visited her grandson in Italy but usually preferred to stay home. She believed Sergey still needed care.
“Mom, stop treating him like a child,” Fedor Petrovich often said during video calls.
“How so?” Nadezhda Mikhailovna protested. “You left the child all alone and still ask why I don’t want to leave him?”
“His wife should be taking care of him long ago, not his grandmother,” Alla Nikolaevna supported her husband. “This ‘child’ is already thirty-five years old.”
“All men are children by nature,” the grandmother waved it off. “Especially my grandson. Do you know what he and Vitalik Kolyev do on weekends? They throw clay targets and shoot at them with air rifles. Now they ride snowmobiles, and in summer — quad bikes. Although Vitalik got married last summer… And what did it give him? Nothing. They shoot at targets as before. Children are children, period.”
“Even that rascal Vitalik found himself a bride, but ours will probably remain a bachelor,” sighed Alla Nikolaevna.
“He will marry, my dear, he will,” the grandmother confidently said. “I’m actively working on that. I even asked Vladimir Arkadyevich to hint to Sergey that I have serious health problems.”
“Mom, are you feeling unwell?” Fedor Petrovich became anxious.
“I told you in autumn: come, I need a check-up,” the daughter-in-law added irritably. “Health is no joke, especially at your age.”
“Calm down, don’t worry,” Nadezhda Mikhailovna waved her hand. “I’m fine. Vladimir Arkadyevich is the best family doctor in the world. How many years has he rushed to our home at the first call?”
“Then what’s the matter?” Fedor Petrovich didn’t understand.
The grandmother sighed theatrically and rolled her eyes:
“It’s part of my plan. Let Sergey think my days are numbered. Meanwhile, I’ll remind him I really want to see great-grandchildren.”
At that moment, Nadezhda Mikhailovna heard the front door slam on the first floor. She knew — her beloved grandson had returned.
“Grandma, I’m home!” Sergey’s voice rang out as he headed to the kitchen. As soon as he opened the refrigerator, the room light came on. Sergey turned and saw his grandmother’s silhouette. He immediately understood — she was not sleeping but waiting for him. As always.
“Sergey, wash your hands, I’ll set the table. Valentina Ivanovna has already gone to bed. Let’s not disturb her.”
“Grandma, why aren’t you sleeping? I told you a hundred times not to wait for me. You never know what might happen.”
“I can’t sleep while you’re not home. My heart isn’t at ease. What if something happens to you?”
“What could happen to me? I’m thirty-five, a grown man.”
“As if nothing happens to grown-ups,” the grandmother said sarcastically. “Alright, alright. When you have children, you’ll understand.”
“I will, of course, but not now. I have a grand project. Possibly large-scale construction. That’s huge money, grandma. You can’t even imagine.”
Nadezhda Mikhailovna saw how enthusiastic her grandson was. He was truly passionate about the idea. The grandmother sighed:
“At your age, such emotions should only be shared for one woman. And you… will you live only among your projects?”
“I’ll go wash my hands,” Sergey decided to change the subject, “I’m hungry. I only drank coffee all day, wanted to stop by a restaurant, but wanted to get home faster.”
During dinner, the grandmother returned to her favorite topic:
“I’m already eighty, son. I want to see your children before I go. Until you marry, I won’t die. Remember: I won’t allow it.”
She decisively slammed her broad, almost manly palm on the table.
“Then it’s better for me never to marry,” Sergey joked. “Live forever, grandma. Without you, it will be impossible for me.”
“Exactly,” the grandmother moved closer. “That’s what I’m talking about. Let’s stop joking — we all understand people aren’t eternal. But I want to be sure: when I’m gone, there will be a faithful, loving woman by your side. Otherwise, you’ll just get lost.”
“Grandma, do you think I’m completely defenseless?”
“No, I don’t. But in the Nikodimov family, men only thrived when there was a woman beside them. Without love and support, they got lost. Your father was lucky — your mother is there. She’s not just a wife, she’s his soul and heart.”
“Yes, our mom is truly wonderful,” the grandson agreed.
“That’s why your father succeeds. But your grandfather — Petr Makarovich — fell. He died young. When he left me, he was a high-ranking official. Soldiers at the Kremlin stood at attention as he walked the halls. And what in the end?”
“What?” Sergey stopped chewing and looked at his grandmother carefully.
“That he left the family — and his career collapsed. It wasn’t my fault. He just ended up alone. Later, when Leonid Ilyich Brezhnev died, Petr Makarovich was simply written off. Many from the general secretary’s circle were left with nothing.”
“But what does divorce have to do with it? He would have failed anyway, even if you stayed together,” Sergey shrugged.
“No, dear, I would have helped him hold on. To stand firm. To stay human. Alone, he couldn’t manage. Same with his cousin — another story. But your great-grandfather on your father’s side lived all his life with great-grandmother Agrafena in love and harmony. They survived dekulakization, raised four children, and managed not only to survive but to live well.”
“Don’t argue with me — I’m telling you, that’s how it is. I say: marry. What’s written can’t be crossed out. Don’t marry — stay alone, lose everything. Marry — and you’ll multiply your wealth.”
After dinner, grandmother and grandson chatted a bit, discussed the day, and went to their rooms. Before sleeping, Sergey pondered: maybe grandma was right? After all, his grandfather was a great man, close to the party elite, but ended tragically — he started drinking and died.
And the grandmother, who years ago worked as director of the “Golden Ear” sanatorium, after divorce moved with her two sons into one of the sanatorium’s rooms — she left the grandfather with a suitcase. After the USSR collapsed, the institution went bankrupt, the sanatorium closed, but the grandmother held on. She raised her sons and educated them. Now both were wealthy, respected men. Both married. Sergey’s uncle owns a large logistics company.
Before sleep, Nikodimov remembered Olga and decided he must go to the Dubki settlement tomorrow. Nobody knew why it was called that. The settlement was near the sea but unlike resorts, it was quiet and calm. Tourists found it boring — no entertainment. Sometimes family couples or those seeking solitude visited. But there were few of them. On the shore, fishermen were more common than tourists.
In summer — understandable. But in winter — deserted. For locals, the sea was routine. The only reminders of its existence were calm spells or storms.
Twenty-seven-year-old Olga Chaykina woke up because her six-year-old son Pavlik turned on the TV.
“Pash, what time is it? Why did you wake up so early?” his mother asked sleepily.
“I’m hungry. Grandma and Ira went to work, Sveta is sleeping, and you’re still sleeping too. Completely abandoned poor me,” Pavlik sighed, not taking his eyes off the screen.
“I’ll feed you now, poor thing,” Olga laughed, stretching. She quickly got up, started dressing, and looked out the window.
Everything outside was white with snow and surprisingly beautiful. The morning sun had already risen, lighting the treetops covered with an icy crust. It looked like branches were dressed in crystal. Olga admired this winter fairy tale when suddenly she noticed a snowy-white, clearly very expensive car approaching their house…
Two men got out of the car. Squinting, Olga recognized her companion from yesterday and his driver — Ivan.
“Pavlik, wait another ten minutes, I’ll be right there,” whispered the mother to her son, threw on her jacket, put on felt boots, and ran out into the yard.
“Hello,” Sergey shouted from behind the fence, raising her mitten. “I brought your find.”
Olga went out the gate and shyly took the mitten from his hands:
“I didn’t even notice I lost it… Thank you very much.”
They both fell silent as if forgetting the world around them for a moment. But Nikodimov quickly regained composure:
“Olga, get dressed, we’ll wait. I didn’t come just for the mitten,” he smiled. “I have a matter to discuss.”
“What matter?” the woman looked at him puzzled. She didn’t understand.
“We’ll go where you worked and politely remind the foreman and the crew that work must be paid for. They didn’t pay you, right?”
“Oh, no, don’t,” Olga’s eyes widened. “There are about six people working there. I don’t want you to get into trouble. I’ll handle it myself somehow.”
“No, you won’t handle it,” Sergey said gently but firmly. “Every work must be paid. Those who cheated you must answer. It’s a matter of justice. Believe me, I know how important it is to respect people. I have many employees too, and I never gave them a reason to think I was unfair.”
“I believe you,” she nodded. “I just don’t understand why you need this? It’s my problem. To you, I’m a stranger. You helped me yesterday, now again?”
“Consider it my heightened sense of justice,” the man laughed. “And I just want to help. Come with me.”
Olga was silent, still doubting. But then a voice came from behind the gate:
“Mom, let’s go! I’ve never ridden in a car like this!”
She turned. Pavlik stood at the doorway in an oversized coat dragging in the snow.
“What are you doing here? How many times did I tell you — no eavesdropping!” Olga exclaimed.
“I wasn’t eavesdropping, I was protecting you!” the boy protested.
“Quickly inside!”
“Get dressed?” the son asked hopefully.
“Get dressed,” Olga smiled.
Half an hour later, they all drove onto the highway. They were joined by a large black jeep, and twenty minutes later they arrived at the site. Olga later learned that the guards in the jeep were called by Sergey while she and her son were dressing.
A large crew of finishers was really working on the construction. The workers could not understand for a long time what they wanted, but when they saw Olga, they were as surprised as everyone else.
“Where are you going?” a guard tried to stop them and immediately called the foreman.
In a couple of minutes, he ran out of the house waving his hands:
“The site is closed! Who do you think you are?! I’m calling the owner!”
“Call,” Sergey said calmly. “I intend to talk to the owner. Interesting to know if he managed to pay the artist for her work or still can’t decide on the price?” he smirked, opening the door and offering his hand to Olga.
The woman came out, and the foreman froze as if rooted to the spot.
“Olga, why did you bring important people here? Didn’t they pay you enough for your scribbles?” he nervously shouted.
“You didn’t pay me anything!” Olga was outraged. “How can you do that? You took advantage of the fact that I’m alone, without support!”
“Quiet, quiet,” Nikodimov stopped her. “Now you’re not alone. And I assure you, Nikolai Nikolaevich will fulfill his duty right now. Plus a bonus for excellent work, right, Nikolai Nikolaevich?”
“I’ll bring it right now, right now,” the foreman grumbled and hurried to the trailer.
Fifteen minutes later, the cars left the settlement. Olga was shocked — in just half an hour Sergey solved what she couldn’t.
Now she sat in a warm, comfortable cabin where light music played. Her paycheck was in her pocket — even with a bonus. Now she could pay for Pavlik’s swimming pool, buy groceries, save some money for a rainy day…
Suddenly Olga thought: how good it is to have a strong, reliable man nearby. She never had one like that. She had one, of course, but was that a man — he left immediately after learning about the pregnancy.
She glanced at Sergey — he was talking with Pavlik, laughing at his childish answers. The woman sighed: how sad that her son had no real father — someone like this man. Kind, caring, strong, masculine.
The boy grew among women — mother, grandmother, two aunts. He lacked male influence.
“Uncle Sergey, are you a policeman?” the boy suddenly asked.
“No, why?” Nikodimov smiled.
“Then why did that man get scared of you and immediately bring mom’s salary?” Pavlik proudly added, “And if anything, I would help you. We’d show him!”
“Pasha, sit down, don’t disturb Sergey Fedorovich,” Olga said strictly.
The boy fell silent and pressed to the window, and Sergey immediately supported him:
“If your mom allows, I can take you to the gym. You’ll watch how professionals box,” he looked hopefully at Olga, who nodded after a moment’s hesitation.
When they arrived home, the boy ran inside, and Olga lingered by the car:
“Sergey Fedorovich, thank you for everything. Just don’t come again, okay?”
“How so? I promised Pasha to go to the gym.”
“Tell him you can’t, too much work. Okay?”
She looked at him seriously and carefully.
“No, that’s not good at all,” Sergey was confused. “I can’t lie to a child. And you want me to break a promise? Why?”
“Tell me honestly — what do you want from me? I won’t believe you’re just a good person who helps everyone you meet.”
Sergey was silent. He didn’t know what to say himself. Why did he even get involved with them? Give them a ride home — that’s all. What does it mean? Nothing. Absolutely nothing.
“I… I really have a matter with you, Olga. Very important. I need your help,” he said and began to frantically think about what to say next…
“What matter?” Olga asked surprised. “Of course, I’ll help if I can… I just don’t understand how I can be useful to you.”
At that moment, Sergey’s phone vibrated with an incoming message. Nikodimov looked at the screen — it was from his grandmother. She again acted as an invisible helper, like a guardian angel of his plans.
“Klava Timofeevna’s grandson got married last week. And I, apparently, will never wait,” read the message.
Sergey smiled and immediately replied: “You’ll soon meet my fiancée.”
The idea came to him suddenly but seemed quite real.
He was about to speak to Olga when the phone vibrated again — grandmother again. Sergey switched the device to silent notification mode. Otherwise, there would be no peace from Nadezhda Mikhailovna today.
“Speak, I’m listening,” Olga looked at the man expectantly, waiting for an explanation.
“Olga, you already know I live with my grandmother. She’s the one writing now,” Sergey showed the phone. “She’s eighty years old. She looks strong, but her strength is rapidly fading. The doctor said her life resources are almost exhausted.”
“I’m so sorry. You care so much about your relative… But what does that have to do with me?”
“The thing is, Nadezhda Mikhailovna dreams of seeing great-grandchildren. She wants me to marry while she’s alive. But I don’t want to marry. I don’t even have a fiancée. So I propose you play this role.”
Sergey paused, then looked her straight in the eyes:
“Be my fake fiancée for six months. I’ll pay you a million rubles for it. Help me make grandma happy.”
“Are you kidding?” Olga sharply replied, shocked by the proposal.
“No, I’m serious,” he said confidently. “It’s just a business agreement. No obligations except talking with grandma. I need you, Olga.”
“I don’t know… I need to think. I have to go. Let’s talk in the evening,” she stammered confusedly.
“All right. What time should I come?”
“We’ll arrange it by phone,” the woman almost laughed.
Barely crossing the threshold, Olga was surrounded by her younger sisters — 21-year-old Irina and 20-year-old Svetlana.
“What a handsome man! Who is he?” Svetlana squealed, clapping her hands. “Hey, does he have a friend? A nice one?”
“Svetlana, leave me alone,” Olga smiled embarrassed.
Irina, more serious and cautious, frowned:
“Svetlana, go make breakfast. What nonsense — looking for a groom? Want to repeat Olga’s fate?”
Olga flushed, her heart pounding. She herself was surprised by her indignation:
“He’s my fiancé, Svet. We’re soon meeting his family.”
The sisters froze. Irina broke the silence first:
“You have nothing to do but pick rich fiancés? Isn’t Vitalik enough for you? He courted you like a nightingale, but when you got pregnant — he took off.”
“That’s none of your business, Ira,” Olga said quietly but clearly, enunciating each word.
Svetlana sensed the impending conflict and decided to defuse the situation:
“Come on, girls! Why argue? You met one scoundrel — and now you’re afraid of all men? Don’t pay attention, Olenka. And you, Ira, don’t be jealous.”
The younger sister stuck out her tongue at the middle one, and she immediately forgot about the “billionaire”:
“I don’t need your rich guys. My Sashka will return from the trip, and we’ll marry this summer.”
“You’re jealous! Jealous!” Svetlana laughed, then addressed the eldest: “Well, Olya, find a groom for your little sister. How’s that guy who was with your cavalier? What a handsome man! I was simply stunned,” Svetlana theatrically pressed her palms to her chest and rolled her eyes.
“You mean Ivan?” Olga was surprised. “That’s Sergey’s driver. And yes, a very nice young man.”
Irina laughed loudly, doubled over:
“There, Svetka, there’s your groom — not a billionaire, but he stands nearby: the billionaire’s driver!”
The girls chased each other when their mother, Antonina Mikhailovna, entered the house. The Chaykin family had a family business — the “Blue Seagull” hairdresser, popular among locals and neighboring settlements.
Antonina was the best master in the district. She used to work on cruise ships serving foreigners. Now she passed on her experience to her younger daughters: Irina worked with her in the settlement, Svetlana — in the city. The eldest daughter, Olga, chose to be an artist. Although she didn’t finish the academy — pregnancy changed everything.
After her beloved left, Olga fell into depression, but Pavlik’s birth became her new meaning of life. The boy became her sun, which dispersed the shadow of loneliness.
Now, faced with Sergey, Olga did not plan to build a relationship with him, but the proposal of a fake engagement seemed too profitable. A million rubles — an amount that could change their lives with her son. After much thought, she agreed.
The meeting with the grandmother was set for Saturday. Nadezhda Mikhailovna refused the restaurant — she wanted to see the “fiancée” in a cozy home setting. She loved noisy companies but decided to spend this evening in a close circle.
When the car arrived, Nadezhda Mikhailovna looked out the window and raised her eyebrows in surprise. Next to Sergey stood a tall, beautiful woman holding the hand of a boy about five or six years old. The grandmother sighed:
“Well, I planned one meeting, but it turned out two. A real surprise, grandson,” she said aloud and called out to the kitchen: “Valentina Ivanovna, set the table — we’ll have one more guest.”
As soon as the door opened, Sergey led the guests to the hall:
“Grandma, we’re home.”
“Good evening, glad to see you,” the grandmother said with a friendly smile, spreading her arms.
“Hello, my name is Olga,” the woman said shyly.
“Very nice. I’m Nadezhda Mikhailovna, grandmother of your… and our Sergey,” the woman laughed. “And who is this young comrade?”
“I’m Pavlik. But I’m not a gentleman, I’m a comrade. That’s how we say,” the boy said seriously.
Everyone laughed, and the grandmother warmly extended her hand to him.
Sergey whispered in Olga’s ear:
“He doesn’t even know it, but he already won the grandmother over. She’s a fan of Soviet times. So ‘comrade’ is a lucky start.”
“What are you whispering about? Come to the table,” called Nadezhda Mikhailovna.
“Don’t forget we’re on a first-name basis now,” Sergey quickly added and led his “fiancée” to the living room.
The first ten minutes at the table were tense, but after half an hour it seemed they had known each other for years. Olga was terribly nervous before the meeting, imagining the grandmother as a strict and haughty lady. But Nadezhda Mikhailovna turned out to be a simple, kind woman.
When she learned that Olga was from Dubki, and her whole family was from there, the grandmother even threw up her hands:
“What’s your name, Olenka?”
“Olga Chaykina.”
“Oh, Lord! Who are Afanasiy and Pankrat Chaykin to you?”
“Afanasiy is my great-grandfather on my father’s side, Pankrat — his brother.”
“I’m Nadya Rudova,” the woman said touched. “Then I married Petr Nikodimov, a party worker from the settlement. Afanasiy courted me in youth, and his brother too. Oh, how I remember…” the grandmother laughed. “I’ll bring the album now!”
Nadezhda Mikhailovna jumped up like a young girl and ran to the second floor without wasting a second.
“Well, it’s begun. Grandma is on a roll,” Sergey quietly laughed.
“And I like looking at old photos,” Pavlik declared.
“Well done, comrade Pavlik,” Nikodimov winked. “Grandma will bring a whole collection.”
“Do you have candies? And tea?” the boy asked seriously. “Photos should be viewed with snacks.”
Olga and Sergey laughed. When the laughter died down, Sergey said:
“My partner has arrived. I need to leave for about half an hour to sort out some matters.”
“Something serious?” Olga became worried. “And how will Pavlik and I get home?”
“No way — I’ll be back. I promise.”
The woman saw Sergey was tense but trying to keep a straight face. She trusted him. If he promised — he would return. Only now she worried about him, although she knew it wasn’t her concern. But her heart tightened with anxiety again.
Soon the grandmother returned. She held an archive of memories — a stack of old photos. As soon as everyone got comfortable in the living room, the doorbell rang. Sergey quickly got up and went to open it.
A tall man — Vitaliy Kolyev, a close friend of Sergey — entered. They hurried to solve urgent office issues.
“Hello everyone,” Vitaliy greeted warmly. “Good evening, Nadezhda Mikhailovna.”
“Come in, dear, I’ll introduce you now to our guest and her charming son,” the hostess smiled.
Olga sat on pins and needles. Her gaze involuntarily flicked to the front door where the stranger stood. She noticeably tensed. After a few minutes, the men left. Sergey promised to introduce Vitaliy to his “fiancée” later, but now they were too busy.
Nadezhda Mikhailovna noticed a change in Olga’s behavior. She turned pale seeing Kolyev. “Maybe they know each other?” the grandmother thought but decided not to ask questions.
Sergey indeed returned as promised. Olga really liked this house. She felt like among relatives here. Pavlik was delighted. The evening could have been called perfect if not for Vitaliy’s sudden visit.
“Olenka, don’t wait for Sergey to invite you again. Come yourself whenever you want. Now I have your number.”
“Can I come?” Pavlik asked hopefully.
“Of course, comrade Pavlik! I’ll be waiting for you eagerly.”
On the way home, Sergey was silent. Olga asked if the problem was solved, but his answers were vague. She understood — the matter was more serious than he said.
When they arrived at her house, Nikodimov even forgot to say goodbye. Only an hour later did a message with apologies arrive.
“So what happened?” Chaykina wrote.
“Money disappeared from the account. Only a few people knew about it. I exclude Vitaliy and myself, but the rest seemed reliable,” Sergey replied.
“So the problem is not solved?”
“No. And to hell with the money. The main thing is now I can’t trust those I trusted unconditionally before. Let’s leave this topic for now. Grandma said she really liked you. She wants to arrange a dinner party, inviting all close friends and family. Even the parents will fly in.”
“We didn’t agree on this. I agreed to play the fiancée role only for your grandmother, not for the whole city.”
“I thought it was obvious. If you’re my fiancée, you should always be nearby. Maybe journalists will even photograph us.”
“That should have been discussed in advance. We only talked about grandma, home, family.”
“Olga, let’s not argue. Sorry if I was rude. We’ll talk tomorrow,” Nikodimov turned off the phone.
The next day the meeting did not happen. Nor in the next three days. Olga didn’t answer calls. And when Sergey came to her house, the mother or sisters came out and said she wasn’t there.
Nothing remained but to try to track her down. For several hours Sergey and Ivan sat in the car around the corner, waiting for the woman. At dusk, they saw Olga walking from the bus, dragging a heavy bag. Sergey instantly jumped out and ran up to her.
“Olga, wait! I need to talk to you!”
“I don’t want any more talks. I’m terminating our contract. I won’t pretend to be your fiancée anymore.”
“No need to pretend. Be my fiancée for real.”
Olga froze. She was completely confused:
“You mean… a real fiancée?”
“Simply. People meet, then marry, and build a family. So will we.”
“You want to say you fell in love with me in these ten days?” Olga laughed.
“Maybe. Not sure yet. But I know for sure — without you, I’m unwell. We haven’t seen each other for three days, but it feels like an eternity. I want to see you every day.”
“And did you ask what I want?” she asked coldly, squinting.
“And what do you want?”
“For you never to come here again,” Olga said firmly. The next moment, she took the bag from his hands, disappeared behind the gate, and firmly closed the door.
Never before had Nadezhda Mikhailovna seen her grandson so depressed. At breakfast, Sergey was distracted, barely ate, answered out of place. He didn’t show up for lunch or dinner. If he appeared at home, he immediately went to his room and didn’t come out.
The grandmother tried to ask — unsuccessfully. Sergey just shrugged it off. But the elder Nikodimova knew her business: Nikodimov men lose their bearings without women’s support.
She took the phone and notebook. Within a couple of hours, she already knew: a serious problem arose in Sergey’s company — someone stole a large sum. And they had a rift with Olga.
Yes, after that dinner, the girl didn’t appear again. But Nadezhda Mikhailovna didn’t rush things — she wanted the young ones to sort it out themselves. Although, to be honest, Olga really liked her. She wouldn’t have chosen a better daughter-in-law for Sergey.
And then the grandmother began to act.
“Good afternoon, Ivan. Where’s Sergey?” she called the driver.
“Hello, Nadezhda Mikhailovna. I don’t know myself. He suspended me from work two weeks ago.”
“Why’s that?”
“Something personal didn’t work out.”
“Do you know where Olga lives?”
“Of course, I know.”
“Then send the car.”
“Consider it done, Nadezhda Mikhailovna.”
An hour and a half later, grandmother and Ivan stopped at the Chaykin house. As soon as Olga saw Nadezhda Mikhailovna at the gate, she hurried out:
“Hello, Olga. I’ll say right away — I won’t leave until I find out everything.”
“Good afternoon, Nadezhda Mikhailovna. Come in, let’s have tea, warm up, talk,” Olga replied confused.
“It’s warm in the car. We’ll wait. Get dressed, take Pavlik — let’s go to our place. Valentina Ivanovna baked a pie today. We’ll have a gathering and a heart-to-heart talk.”
Arguing with Sergey’s grandmother was pointless. Olga just shrugged and ran inside to change.
Ivan, meanwhile, warmed up in the kitchen and slowly finished his tea. And in the living room at the table sat Nadezhda Mikhailovna and Olga.
“Eat, don’t sit like on pins,” the elder Nikodimova said strictly but kindly. “The pie will get cold, and you’ll be crying here. You’ll flood the whole floor.”
“I can’t, Nadezhda Mikhailovna… I just can’t swallow a bite. I love him… I only realized it recently. But we can’t be together,” Olga cried again.
“Why? He loves you too. He confessed it to me himself,” the grandmother said gently.
“I have a son,” Olga began to explain but the woman interrupted her:
“Of course, I know. Pavlik is a wonderful boy. And you’ll have more children. A girl for you, then…”
“Wait, hear me out. I gave birth to Pavlik from Vitaliy Kolyev — Sergey’s best friend. We met in the city when I was studying at the art academy. He courted me beautifully, talked a lot about the future, family. I knew he was from a rich family, friends and relatives warned me. But I believed him… As it turned out, in vain.”
The grandmother looked intently at Olga, then gently hugged her:
“Dear, life isn’t worth breaking over one scoundrel. If you love my Sergey — be together. He’s not like that. He won’t hurt you.”
“I know Sergey won’t hurt me. The problem is different… His best friend is the father of my son.”
Nadezhda Mikhailovna’s eyes widened. Her face became serious, her gaze piercing. She took several deep breaths:
“It can’t be that Vitaliy abandoned a pregnant woman. He always said he wanted children, was ready for anything for them. That he would never leave the mother of his children.”
“Vitaliy is a two-faced person. I’ve realized this more than once. But I knew you wouldn’t believe me. Sergey especially. So I decided just to disappear. I have a lot on him… But if I start telling — you’ll think I lie or want revenge.”
“Nothing like that,” the grandmother said firmly, moving closer. “Tell everything you know.”
Olga lowered her eyes and almost whispered:
“Vitaliy hated Sergey since childhood. He says he hates him because he’s smarter, more successful, luckier. Because everything comes easily to Sergey, and he has to depend on him. He said more than once: ‘I’ll do everything to ruin him.’”
Nadezhda Mikhailovna sharply inhaled, pressing her palm to her chest:
“What for? Sergey helped him all his life: wrote tests, did diplomas, then brought him into business, gave him a high position. Always supported.”
“That’s why he hates him,” Olga replied. “For his dependence. Because next to Sergey, he feels second, unwanted.”
The grandmother thought. Then decisively stood up, took the phone, and called her grandson:
“Sergey, come urgently. Looks like I found the one who stole money from your company.”
Half an hour later, Sergey was home. The conversation lasted a long time. Olga told in detail everything she knew about Vitaliy. Nikodimov listened attentively without interrupting. And he believed immediately — the woman spoke things only someone who knew Kolyev very closely could know.
Part of the money was returned, but a large sum remained missing. Vitaliy was fired, and their friendship officially ended. Since then, cold silence reigned between the former friends.
Several months later, Sergey and Olga married. He adopted Pavlik, becoming a real father to the boy. Together they started a new life — not without the pain of the past, but with hope for a bright future.
