Emma was preparing for her wedding. Julian had proposed beautifully—a romantic date, a breathtaking bouquet of orchids, and a diamond ring presented on one knee. Nearby, violinists played something so soulful it brought tears to Emma's eyes and to the eyes of every woman in the restaurant. It was so sweet…
And Emma, weeping with joy, said "Yes!" while everyone around them clapped, congratulating the beautiful couple.
Even though she had already said "yes" to him the day before over the phone, she had almost ruined the moment for both of them. Emma had gone back to her hometown to visit the girls, and while she was there, she'd paid a visit to that fortune teller—the one who had once predicted her imminent death.
But he'd either lied, made a mistake, or got her mixed up with someone else…
This time, he predicted an early marriage, children, and a lifetime of happiness. It turned out that on that late evening when Emma saved a young mother and her infant from death, nearly dying herself in the process, she had changed her destiny, canceling the death foretold by the first reading. Whether to believe it or not, Emma still wasn't sure. But one way or another, she was alive, and a happy future lay ahead…
And the exciting wedding preparations! Everything began to spin: the errands, the planning, the shopping, and everything else.
Emma wanted to go back to her favorite city as soon as possible. Her friends were there—Chloe, who was like a sister to her, a kindred soul. And Mia and Lily, Chloe's childhood friends, whom Emma had grown very close to. She had never gotten used to this city; she still felt like an outsider here.
Julian planned to transfer along with Emma. He was renting a place here, and so was she. All that was left was for management to approve the transfer. As she made her to-do list, Emma drifted into thought—memories came flooding back. Memories of how she and Julian had met under quite shocking circumstances. Emma had nearly died, falling under the wheels of his car. That late evening, she had snatched a stroller with a baby from the path of the vehicle and pushed it off the road. The baby had ended up in the street because a mugger with a knife had attacked the mother, who, nearly fainting, had let go of the stroller handle. After the accident, Julian began visiting Emma in the hospital. He helped her get to physical therapy when Emma was in a wheelchair after surgery, struggling to figure out how to manage it.
***
He helped her learn to walk again on a leg broken in two places when she was in a cast and on crutches. At first, Emma was rude to him and tried to drive him away. She shouted at him to leave her alone.
A couple of times, she threw the bags of fruit he brought at him, and oranges bounced like cheerful orange balls all over the ward. He said then:
"Maybe tomorrow will be a better day... I'll come back tomorrow."
"Get lost, and don't come back tomorrow!" Emma had screamed after him.
The nurse, Sarah, gathered the oranges onto the nightstand, wiped up the puddle of spilled juice from a burst carton, looked reproachfully at Emma, and said:
"It's none of my business, of course... Maybe he hurt you badly, or he's at fault and you can't forgive him. Но maybe you should try? He's a very good man! He paid for your treatment, for a private room. He even arranged for a specialist to come here specifically to get you back on your feet faster!"
"He paid?" Emma asked, stunned. For some reason, she was sure it had been Chloe…
"Mhm. Like I said, a very good man! He sat in the ICU next to you for days, Emma. Such love… Did you guys have a falling out? Did he cheat?" Sarah's eyes lit up with curiosity.
Emma snorted. "What does love have to do with it? He's the one who hit me."
Sarah threw up her hands. "Oh, good heavens! And here the jerk is bringing oranges… I should have known! You should sue him!"
"I shouldn't. Actually, it was my fault; I ended up under the car myself. I jumped out in front of him in a place where I shouldn't have been crossing."
Sarah blinked, then waved it off. "I can't keep track of you two. Figure it out yourselves. I'm going—it's time for rounds."
At the doorway, Sarah couldn't help herself and looked back. "But maybe you'll think about… you know, making up? He's a good man. And a handsome one, too—everyone in the ward watches him when he walks by!"
"Well, I'm not so bad myself, for that matter!" Emma tried to toss her hair flirtatiously but hit the bandages instead.
A fine lady for such a handsome man that the whole ward watches… covered in bandages, bruises, and scrapes.
And then he didn't come, and she sobbed all through the night and into the next day. She thought she'd gotten her way and he wouldn't show up again…
Sarah comforted her, but her face said, "You got what you wanted. You pushed a guy like that away." Out loud, she asked:
"Why did you chase him away then, if you're crying about it now?"
Emma said hollowly, burying her face in the pillow, "I think I'm going to die soon. That's why! A fortune teller told me. A psychic, actually. He said I was stolen from fate, and it's time to pay the bills… something like that. I remembered him, by the way! I saw him on a show; he was a finalist on one of those psychic challenges!"
Now Sarah's face said, in capital letters, "What a dummy!" She shrugged and remarked:
"Survive something like that just to keep waiting for death because some psychic said something? Even if the whole cast of that show said it! Fate isn't so stupid that someone could just steal something from it! You and that finalist of yours made it all up… So get that nonsense out of your head! Turn around, face the window, and drop your pajama bottoms! It's time for your shot!"
***
Emma thought about what Sarah said all day, and she was surprised. The girl was right! It was so simple: fate isn't so stupid that something could just be stolen from it! She really did need to get that nonsense out of her head. Julian showed up the next evening. Emma tried awkwardly to thank him for everything and apologize for being rude. After that, they started dating—back when Emma was still hobbling down the hospital corridor on crutches. And now Emma was completely recovered; the fractures had healed, the bruises had faded, and the limp was gone. They were planning their wedding. Emma had been rushing around since early morning, trying to get a million things done. Chloe was supposed to come and help Emma pick out a dress, but Mia showed up instead.
"How's Chloe doing? Is she okay?" Emma asked, worried.
"What could happen to her? Relax, don't panic! She'll be at the wedding, and Lily too. They're both nesting. Any day now. I talked them out of traveling and doing chores while they're that far along. Let them focus on the babies, and we'll handle the dress ourselves! Ready?" Mia shook her curls and opened the door, hurrying the bride along.
After driving across half the city and visiting several bridal boutiques, Emma and Mia finally found what they wanted—a perfect princess gown. Just the right amount of sparkle, a flowing train, and an elegant open back. It was fit for a ballroom in a fairytale castle! Mia clapped her hands.
"Perfect!"
They brought the purchases home, and then Mia began to persuade Emma to try the dress on one more time.
"Put it on! Let me admire it! I'd ask to try it on myself, but first, I'm already married, and second, you're my best friend. I wouldn't do that—wear your dress before the wedding, even for a minute..."
As Emma twirled in front of the mirror and a beaming Mia, Julian walked into the apartment. Emma had already moved in with him; they had decided that living in two separate places was inconvenient in terms of both finances and time. Julian froze in admiration. Emma turned pale. Mia started pushing him out of the room, saying:
"Out you go, young man! You're not supposed to see the bride in her gown before the wedding!"
Julian went to the kitchen, and Mia returned to Emma to find her friend nearly in tears, distressfully stuffing the dress back into the box while it spilled out like white seafoam.
"Stop it! It's okay! Besides, it was just the dress—no veil, no shoes. Not the full outfit. So it doesn't count!"
"Mia, we're not getting married…" Emma whispered, on the verge of tears.
"Oh, come on! Why not? Who was always the toughest one of us all? You always denied fortune-telling and psychics, called it all nonsense… and now suddenly you believe in old wives' tales?" Mia shook her curls and dragged Emma into the kitchen to Julian.
They set the table together and had dinner, but the thought of the bad omen stuck in Emma's mind like a thorn…
***
When almost everything was ready—even the deposit for the restaurant was paid and only the invitations remained to be sent—Julian… suddenly canceled the wedding. It turned out his ex-girlfriend, whom he had broken up with almost a year ago, was pregnant.
"How is that possible? You didn't know? Or did the pregnancy just… stay in some incubation period for months?"
"Emma, don't mock me. I'm hurting too…"
"You're hurting, Julian? YOU?" Emma pressed her palms to her eyes and groaned. "Damn it, I can't even leave… Why did I give up the lease on my apartment!"
Julian confessed what had happened. Shortly before Emma was discharged from the hospital, his ex, Isabelle, had come over to pick up her remaining things. Specifically, a painting, a wall clock, and floor scales that she just had to have. She couldn't live without them…
As a goodbye, they had a heart-to-heart over a bottle of wine she had brought along. The conversation lasted well past midnight…
In the morning, he woke up with a splitting headache but didn't think much of it. He'd had too much to drink—it happens to everyone…
He'd always been a light drinker, and he'd just overdone it a bit…
In truth, the events of that night had been wiped from his memory entirely; he'd been that drunk…
And now, on the eve of Julian and Emma's wedding, Isabelle told him she was pregnant and had no intention of ending it.
"She's having twins, Emma… It's a dead end." Julian groaned, looking at Emma with the eyes of a beaten dog. "I can't abandon them. I can't do that to my own children…"
Emma's gaze fell on the box with the wedding dress. She shook her head.
"That's it then. I told you we wouldn't get married…"
Julian started saying something about how Emma could stay in the apartment as long as she needed until she moved out, and something else, but Emma cried out:
"My God, if you can leave, then just leave already!!!"
He apologized and quietly closed the door behind him, and Emma sat on the floor in the middle of the living room, legs stretched out. A silence crashed down on her so heavy it was as if she had gone deaf…
***
Then Emma figured out what she had to do. How much more could she take from fate? It felt as if all the misfortunes in life had been measured out for her alone, though there was enough to divide among ten people. Her father had died very young. He should have had so much life left…
But he never even got to take his daughter to the circus to see the clowns and acrobats, never carried her on his shoulders so high that her heart stopped from fear…
Next, her grandmother died; she fell ill and passed from cancer so quickly. And then her mother was gone. Her beautiful mother, whom people would turn to look at on the street, had turned into a terrifying yellow skeleton with gray lips and faded eyes before she died. She cried with nearly dry eyes, constantly asking her daughter's forgiveness for not being able to save her from growing up in foster care; she just hadn't had the strength to live a little longer…
There were no relatives left on her father's side either—his mother didn't survive the death of her son, and her husband couldn't survive the death of his wife…
The poor girl was left like a blade of grass in a field where someone heartless had mowed down all her kin with an unwavering hand.
The apartment after her mother's death belonged to Emma as the sole heir. When she turned eighteen and left the foster home, she decided to manage her property like an adult. A slick real estate agent turned up at just the right time, convincing the girl that she should sell the downtown place for a high price—why did she need such a large apartment all to herself?
"It'll be enough for a cozy smaller place and for your studies… and I'll help with the paperwork! Don't worry about a thing."
Naive Emma trusted him until it cost her—she was swindled. She received no money except for a ridiculous deposit. She couldn't get the apartment back—while the agent was stringing her along, the place had been resold several times. Then the agent disappeared without a trace.
Later, Emma learned that as an orphan she was entitled to benefits and didn't have to pay for university at all. Emma chose a university and enrolled. Then she met Chloe. Then she met her friends Mia and Lily, who became like family to her, and they'd been friends for years. But as soon as she tried to build her own family—another failure…
People live, love, make friends, handle problems, and enjoy life, but Emma…
Emma emptied Julian's first-aid kit onto the rug and methodically took every pill she could find, washing them down with cognac she got from the bar. Julian had a large supply, including several packs of sleeping pills—perfect for Emma's purposes. Then Emma felt her dark, viscous consciousness slipping away, and she was almost glad. Finally, there would be… a logical end to all this! Emma curled up in a ball on the rug and either fell asleep, lost consciousness, or died altogether. Mia found her, having felt a strong sense of unease since the previous evening. She hadn't been able to reach Emma by phone but felt awkward driving to her friend's and fiancé's house in the middle of the night. Never mind her unease; people sleep at night, especially those who have to work. She barely waited for morning and rushed over in a taxi from her hotel. She rang the bell, knocked—it was useless. Wondering where Emma had gone, Mia called Julian, but he said she might have left because they had broken up. Oh, really? Not a fight, but a full breakup!
On the eve of the wedding. Finally, in total confusion, Mia thought to try the handle of the unlocked front door before leaving…
***
Mia found her friend lying on the rug. She slapped Emma's cheeks in vain, rubbed her cold hands, and sobbed until the ambulance arrived. Emma ended up back in the same hospital where her fractures had been mended, but in a different ward. There was every chance she'd end up in the psychiatric wing, but Mia swore up and down that it was just an accident while taking sleeping pills. She had a terrible headache and got mixed up. The doctor looked at Mia closely and said seriously:
"I'll pretend to believe you, and you pretend that you're actually sure that the bucket of pills in her stomach, swimming in two glasses of cognac, was purely accidental. Because of a headache… Does she have any relatives?"
"Me," Mia said firmly. "I mean… I'm like a sister to her. She has no one else. There was a fiancé, but they broke up…"
"She lost the baby. She's sleeping now. And she'll sleep until tomorrow, so you go home and get some rest too."
***
Emma was floating under the ceiling and tumbling through the air, enjoying the feeling of flight and an unprecedented sense of lightness. She was learning to control her movements. All she had to do was think of Mia, and there Emma was, right above her. Mia was so funny with those curls of hers…
Except her eyes were sad. Red from crying. Why? Emma felt so good! Emma, remembering something, thought of herself. And… that thin, pale… thing with tubes in its vein—was that her? But Emma didn't feel sorry for that motionless thing—it wasn't her! Suddenly Emma saw a corridor, and beyond it, a large, bright hall…
And there were her mom, dad, grandma, grandpa…
Emma rushed toward them, but someone pushed her back, not letting her through… and Emma woke up. It would have been better if she hadn't come to! Because what she learned…
Emma screamed for a long time like a wounded animal, and they had to give her sedatives. Mia took another two weeks off work, saying she had a relative who was dying. They let her go without objection. Her friend tried not to leave Emma's side, supporting her as best she could. And she lied to Chloe and Lily, saying everything was fine, they'd bought the dress, they were busy with preparations…
And that Emma was very busy but would definitely call, just a little later…
And she swallowed her tears, looking at Emma sleeping under the influence of medication.
"Mia, why should I live? I feel like I've already died several times, and my corpse keeps being resuscitated and forced to move and creak again… I don't understand what for…" Emma said hoarsely when she regained consciousness.
Mia stroked her hand and tried to comfort her, but then they sent a therapist to see Emma. Well, that was good—a specialist would be better at finding the right words…
And wouldn't burst into tears at the wrong moment. Mia left the ward and leaned against the cold wall. Poor Emma. So much had fallen on her—enough for ten people…
She lost the baby due to severe intoxication. She didn't even know she was pregnant when she swallowed all those chemicals from the medicine cabinet…
Julian had crashed. He was in the car with his ex… what was her name… Isabelle, I think…
Now the man she loved was gone, and his child was gone…
And as Emma kept saying—there was no point in all this struggling…
And Mia couldn't think of any way to help her. When Emma started getting up, she went to the other wing to visit Sarah from the trauma unit. She pestered her with a request to find out from the medical examiner if the recent accident victim, who had come in at the same time as Julian, had been pregnant. Sarah had mentioned once that she knew that employee well.
"Why do you want to know?" Sarah asked, surprised.
"You know, I'm seeing and hearing things. So it's very important for me to know for sure… otherwise, I feel like I'm losing my mind…"
By whatever means Sarah found out, she told Emma the secret: the woman hadn't been pregnant. She'd played Julian. He had died without knowing…
But Emma felt at peace—she wasn't losing her mind. Julian's voice had been whispering insistently in her ears—"I was deceived, Isabelle wasn't pregnant"…
It wasn't a schizophrenic hallucination. It was Emma's new state after clinical death. Later, Emma was discharged and resigned from her job, to the confusion of her bosses. She went to her hometown, as she had planned before. She was going to visit one person…
***
For the third time in her life, Emma stepped out at the right apartment building. She paid the taxi driver and went up to the floor. She put her finger on the doorbell but couldn't press it, as if she had suddenly forgotten how.
She began to doubt as she stood before the door—was it even worth coming here? The door opened on its own. Standing on the threshold was the familiar dark-haired man in black silk pants, a black silk robe, and pointed slippers. His eyes looked as if they were lined with kohl, like a woman's—but it wasn't makeup. He just naturally had such thick black lashes. He hadn't changed, and nothing in his apartment had changed. The same chairs in the entryway, the same deep burgundy curtain over the door to the small room where it was dim, candles flickered, and incense hung in the air. Where a bowl of wax was always warming on the sand, and a secretary desk held an ancient deck of cards wrapped in a green cloth…
But his visitor had changed so much that at first, the man even startled. It was as if ten years had passed since their last meeting, not one. At least for her. The woman looked thin and as if covered in dust. Her hair was dull, her eyes faded. He had predicted love, a wedding, and a family… but people who have all that don't look so broken…
"My name is Victor. We never did introduce ourselves…"
"Emma."
"Emily?"
Emma shook her head. "No. Just Emma. That's what it says on my ID…"
"Come in, Emma. We have things to talk about. Including diagnostics. By the way, cards and wax aren't the only tools. Runes, Tarot, coffee grounds, a crystal ball, and even seal bones from a shaman… And also—I have coffee." He gave a conspiratorial smile.
She nodded. "You know, Victor, coffee sounds good. But not for the sake of reading the grounds. I'll probably surprise you, but I can see everything without tools. Beans or bones. It turns out it's easy! It's harder to stay silent when you want to speak and the person doesn't want to hear…"
"If you don't need my advice on predictions—then what are you doing here?"
"I need the answer to one question—how do you live with this?"
"Do you really need to know? You're already living with it. And you've even adapted…" Victor smiled understandingly.
***
Then Victor ground the beans and brewed a magnificent coffee for his guest. They drank it from small cups and talked and talked...
He had to cancel two upcoming appointments and offer refunds. He even paid for their taxis. Emma told him everything about herself, from childhood. About her losses, which were more numerous than her victories. She had lost her family. Her love. Her child. She hadn't broken even after all she'd been through, though she had tried once...
And when she saw that she could now read every person like an open book, she realized she wanted to talk to the only person who could understand her. Because he was the same. Victor smiled, not noticing that he'd switched to a more familiar tone:
"My gift opened up for me, just like yours—after I survived clinical death. Actually, it was probably always there. It's just that then… I made contact… with myself."
Then he asked:
"What about your friends? Have you given up on them? They're very good people!"
"No, not at all. It's just that there's been so much loss in my life that I'd rather keep my distance. So as not to be… well, a virus that might carry a destructive program, God forbid. We'll meet, but not that often… They really are very good. Wonderful!"
Then Emma stood up.
"Forgive me. I have to go."
"In a hurry?"
"No. I'm completely free until Friday," Emma joked, using a famous line. "It's just getting so late… I've started losing track of time lately… It either drags or flashes by…"
"Do you have somewhere to go?" Emma smirked again.
And Victor said:
"Stay?"
And Emma stayed. A short time later, they moved to the countryside. They chose a small house on the edge of a village, and Victor bought it. It was as if the house had been waiting for them. They heated with wood that Victor split, and Emma helped him stack it. They grew a large garden of rare trees and flowers that Emma ordered from everywhere! They swam in the river year-round. When the river froze, Victor would cut a large hole so they could dip in and swim back and forth in the crystal-clear water. The villagers often saw barefoot tracks in the snow by the river and tapped their temples: quite a strange couple had settled in their village…
But everyone is crazy in their own way, as long as it doesn't hurt anyone else…
And the couple was actually helpful to others: useful advice…
They also loved to build a fire under the star-filled sky and, huddled together, watch the sparks fly up into the blackness. Victor didn't do readings anymore. Но from time to time he would catch Emma giving hints here and there to the local women, and they would nod and thank her, hands over their hearts. And then, from time to time, a basket of eggs would appear on their porch. A jar of fresh milk. A bundle of homemade sausage… A wheel of farmhouse cheese...
"Are you giving people readings without cards? Do you think I don't notice?" he asked Emma once, as another bowl of ripe black grapes—a thank-you for Emma's advice—materialized on the outdoor table.
"I'm not giving readings, I'm giving hints…" Emma chuckled.
"People really need to know the truth when they need it. And cards, by the way, don't always tell the truth… I know from experience."
In truth, he knew that too. For example, he had watched Emma's destiny—it had changed radically three times… Try to figure out if it was planned that way from the start, or if everything was rebuilt later, in the process…
Maybe she changed her destiny herself, and the cards later read what she had rewritten… Victor walked over and carefully wrapped a shawl around her shoulders.
"It's chilly this morning."
She smiled and stroked his hand... Emma was right—cards don't always tell the truth. In fact, cards don't say anything at all. It's just that a person knows how to read the world around them, often without any help from cards. And what do you think?
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