Valya accidentally discovered that her husband had another woman. She had gone to the dry cleaner’s to pick up his suit, but along with it, they handed her a large floral dress. The clerk, a young woman with strict glasses and perfectly manicured nails, insisted it was no mistake. She pointed firmly to the logbook, where it clearly stated: one blue wool suit, one silk floral dress.

In movies, mistresses are usually portrayed as young and slim. But Valya’s rival was the same age as her and wore clothes at least two sizes larger than Valya herself. Valya, now over fifty, had gained a little weight but nothing serious — the shop assistants had never suggested she shop in the plus-size section. But the other woman definitely needed that.

That evening, Valya calmly confronted her husband, Sasha, biting the inside of her cheek to keep herself from shouting.

“Sasha, what is this?” she asked.

She expected him to deny everything, invent a story about a distant cousin or some misunderstanding. Instead, he sank heavily into his armchair, covered his face with his hands, and muttered in a low voice: “I love her.”

It turned out that for the past year, Sasha had been living a double life, splitting his time between two homes. What shocked Valya even more was that she knew the other woman well — Lena, a hairdresser she had once visited when her own stylist was on vacation. Valya had hated the haircut — it was too short — and never went back. How Sasha and Lena ended up together was a mystery Valya didn’t dare ask, fearing she would lose control. But screaming was never her way; she prided herself on being composed.

They divorced quietly, without drama or quarrels. Sasha was content with the arrangement, leaving Valya the apartment but taking the dacha and the car — Lena was passionate about gardening and already planning what vegetables to grow. Valya had never cared for the dacha and didn’t drive, so she wasn’t too upset about losing those.

Still, life without Sasha was hard. She wasn’t sure if she had never truly loved him or if she had just grown used to him. Perhaps she was too old to be alone. Her daughter wanted to fly in from Vladivostok, but Valya persuaded her not to. They had never been close, and the daughter would only lecture her as usual.

“Mom, you have to work. How long can you just sit at home?”

“Mom, there’s a program for seniors. You could study something new and find a job!”

“Mom, what’s that coat you’re wearing? Did you steal it from a museum?”

No, Valya didn’t need that kind of pressure right now. But she had to admit her daughter was right — she needed to work. Sasha, however, hated the idea. He liked coming home to hot meals and a spotless apartment — his mother, a doctor, had raised him to value cleanliness.

Valya was busy helping her daughter with ballet, English, tutors — efforts that now seemed wasted since her daughter worked as a dancer, performing half-naked on stage. If Valya had known, she might never have spent so much time and money.

At her first job interview, Valya was confident she would get the position. By the fifteenth rejection, she was sure she wouldn’t. A kind woman in line suggested she contact the employment service. By then, Valya’s savings were nearly gone, and she was too embarrassed to ask her daughter for money.

At the employment office, a young, unfriendly woman greeted her — apparently someone who also had to shop in the plus-size section. The woman glanced at Valya’s documents and asked bluntly:

“So, you haven’t worked anywhere since you were twenty-three?”

“Is that illegal? The law against parasitism was abolished long ago!” Valya snapped.

The girl smirked.

“Your education is in architecture… you do realize the field has changed a lot in thirty years?”

“Out of touch? I mastered the smartphone faster than my daughter — she still struggles to edit photos properly.”

The girl looked more closely.

“Do you have a daughter?”

“Of course!”

“How old is she?”

“Almost thirty. But what does that have to do with anything? I need a job, not her. Though… if you knew what she does, you might be shocked. I spent my whole life on her, not working for thirty years, and she…”

The girl slammed the folder shut.

“Alright. I’m Marina. I’m hiring you. I need someone to help me communicate with my mother.”

Valya stared, surprised.

“What does that have to do with me?”

“You look exactly like my mother! My psychologist told me I can’t fix our relationship until I learn to communicate better. No matter what I say, she’s unhappy. Maybe you could answer for me — with the right words. Then she might stop scolding me, and I might stop eating so much. How about that?”

The offer was so absurd that Valya laughed. She stood, took her documents, and said:

“I think I’m starting to understand your mother. I’ve never heard such nonsense.”

But as she turned to leave, she saw the girl sniffle like a child — just like her own daughter used to. Valya stopped.

“Alright,” she said. “But you have to promise I’ll tell everyone I’m working as a psychologist. I’ll say I took retraining courses.”

At first, things went badly: Marina called, read her mother’s messages, and asked what to reply. Valya dictated answers, but Marina often argued. Eventually, Marina gave in, answering with something in between. The result came quickly: her mother scolded less, and Marina ate less.

On Saturdays, Marina had calls with her mother, and Valya came over to help. Marina put the call on speakerphone while Valya wrote replies on paper. Their efforts improved Marina’s relationship with her mother, though even Valya admitted Marina’s mother was harsh. The girl was overweight, but was that a reason to scold her? Marina rushed to the bathroom after meals — was that normal?

“Where’s your father?” Valya asked, wondering if he had also abandoned them.

“He died when I was little,” Marina replied. “I was so angry at him as a child! I thought he had abandoned us. I didn’t understand death. We lived poorly, had no money or food. Sometimes I think that’s why I eat so much — I grab food and can’t stop.”

The girl was pitiful. Though Valya had a decent job now as a cinema controller, she continued helping Marina. After their calls, they drank tea and talked. Marina shared stories of her love life, and Valya told about her husband’s betrayal and her daughter’s dancing career.

“Can I tell my mother this?” Marina laughed. “She hates my job.”

Surprisingly, Valya even opened up about her sister.

“We were close, never fought. Then I fell in love with Yakov — tall, handsome, a mechanic. But I was proud and told him he wasn’t good enough. Nastya, my sister, knew I liked him and said I was foolish. She was right. I was educated, from a professor’s family. He was just a mechanic. I went to grandma’s for the summer. When I returned, they were dating. I told Nastya she’d ruin her life and left forever.”

“Forever?”

“We only saw each other three times after that — at our father’s funeral, mother’s funeral, and the notary. Yakov took her to Kaluga, and she married Sasha here.”

“And you never spoke again?”

Valya swallowed hard.

“She died two years ago.”

“You didn’t go to the funeral?”

“No.”

Marina shook her head.

“Maybe you need a psychologist more than I do. You should visit her grave and talk to her as if she were alive. I did that with my dad. It helped.”

At first, Valya dismissed the advice, but the thought stayed with her. She remembered how Yakov called, how her lips went numb and she couldn’t speak — whether from shock or because his voice still made her heart race. She hadn’t told Sasha or gone to the funeral. She couldn’t face her sister dead or admit her feelings to Yakov.

She knew the address — Nastya had sent letters and photos over the years. Valya had hidden the photos, cutting Yakov out. Luckily, no one found that folder.

After restless nights, Valya bought a ticket to Kaluga, determined to act before changing her mind. For the first time in years, she slept deeply and missed her alarm.

Marina approved and said she might visit her mother now, too.

On the train, Valya met a young couple on their honeymoon. They recommended a hotel and directions to the cemetery — the girl was from Kaluga.

The hotel was small and stuffy, overlooking a noisy road, but it was just for a short stay. After freshening up, Valya called the cemetery office. Saying her sister’s name was bitter in her mouth; her eyes stung. She rehearsed her words of forgiveness, regret, and letting go. The words stumbled out poorly, but she was determined.

Dressed in a strict dress that hung loosely on her, Valya left the hotel to buy flowers, confident they’d be sold nearby. In the hall, she bumped into a man in a plaid suit who held the door for her.

“Valya?”

His voice made her heart skip. If not for the photos, she wouldn’t have recognized him — Yakov had changed, and so had she. He recognized her instantly.

She froze, unsure how to respond. He stepped forward and hugged her tightly, smelling of lemon and sea air.

“How are you here? Why didn’t you call?”

She stood stiff, unable to hug back or smile. Emotions she thought long gone stirred within her, blossoming like strange flowers with a citrus scent.

“I came to visit Nastya’s grave,” she said quietly. “I didn’t want to bother anyone, so I stayed in a hotel.”

Yakov laughed.

“That’s my hotel! What a coincidence. I was just checking a burst pipe in the basement. Valya, I’m so glad to see you! You haven’t changed. Let me get you coffee with cream, like you used to like. Then I’ll take you to the cemetery and our place. No objections! The kids are coming tonight — you haven’t met them yet. I was going to call but feared you wouldn’t answer…”

He trailed off. Valya realized all her old fears and resentments were in her mind. She longed for the lost time and the sister she barely knew.

“Alright,” she said. “Let’s do it your way.”

At the cemetery, Yakov stepped aside. Valya couldn’t speak to her sister but looked at a photo of her grown woman with kind eyes like their mother’s. She promised to return.

Yakov’s house was cozy but cluttered, lacking a woman’s touch — it needed cleaning.

“Don’t your children want to live with you?” Valya asked.

“No,” he sighed. “My daughter-in-law dislikes private houses, and my daughters have long commutes. But they visit often. Thanks for caring. I know you hated me for years, thought I wasn’t good enough for Nastya. But I loved her and never hurt her. Honestly, when I was young, I dreamed of marrying you. You were beautiful then. And you still are.”

Valya was confused.

“Are you unwell?” Yakov asked, worried. “Sit down, I’ll get water.”

He fussed, bringing water. Valya closed her eyes. Things weren’t as bad as she feared. She had worried they pitied her, but maybe they just thought she hadn’t loved Yakov enough.

A scruffy dog curled near her feet, growling softly and resting its head on her shoe.

“Vega?” Yakov asked, surprised.

He stood at the door, mouth open.

“Is that your dog?”

Of course, Valya thought. After Nastya died, Vega let no one near — not even Valya or the kids. She had bitten him recently, or so he said.

She petted Vega carefully.

Suddenly, her phone rang. It was Marina — probably another fight with her mother.

“Hello?”

“Valentina Vasilievna? It’s Marina. Sorry to call, but I think there’s progress! After our talk, I finally visited my mother. I bought a cake and ate only one piece. She kept saying I was fat and no one would want me. I showed her a photo of Mark, and she said you could tell by his eyes he’s no good. But I stood my ground — didn’t argue or cry. That night, I broke down, ate cake and cried on the floor. My mother came in, sat next to me, took the spoon. We ate in silence, wiping tears. Then she said she was scared I’d be a boy because my father beat her. She wanted a better life for me. I told her I stood up to my ex who called me fat. We laughed. She said I’m beautiful. Then we cried, covered in cake but happy. I threw the cake away and never wanted to argue again. Sorry, I’m rambling — how are you?”

Valya looked at her sister’s photo, then at Vega at her feet, sensing Yakov’s presence behind her.

“I’m fine,” she said softly. “I think everything will be alright now.”