That day, Mark was happier than he'd ever been. Chloe had finally accepted his advances and agreed to a date. The slender beauty had been out of reach for a long time, and only his persistence had eventually won her over.
Mark was constantly surprising her—buying gifts, sending flowers, doing anything to get her attention. Chloe graciously accepted the gestures, but whenever he asked to meet up, her answer was always the same:
"I can't today, let's do it another time!"
And Mark waited. Patiently and stubbornly.
"Son," his mother told him one day, "isn't it about time you thought about a wife? You're not a boy anymore; you just turned twenty-eight. You have your own business, a good income... yet you're still dragging your feet."
"Mom, I'm waiting for the one. The most beautiful, the smartest, the one I'll truly love."
"You're a fool, honey," his mother said, shaking her head. "You should be looking for someone kind, hardworking, and loving. That's the only way to find real happiness."
"Oh, stop it, Mom! Don't worry, I'll bring a daughter-in-law home soon who'll make your head spin."
"That," she sighed, "is exactly what I'm afraid of."
Mark lived apart from his mother; his apartment downtown was new and modern. Perhaps that was why, when he suggested she move in with him, she refused.
"What a ridiculous idea! No, thank you, son. I appreciate the offer, but I'm going to live out my days right here. This was your father's house; we lived here with his parents as one big, happy family. They all passed away here, just like your dad. I want to die here too—remember that. No hospitals! It's so peaceful here. You were born and raised within these walls. No, Mark. My whole life is in this house.
Memories, nostalgia, warmth, and kindness. Here, I'm the lady of the house. Over at your place, I'd just be a dependent, always getting underfoot."
"How can you say that, Mom? Do you think I'd ever let anyone mistreat you?"
"It doesn't matter, son," Martha smiled. "Why do you think I didn't let you redecorate everything? Because every item here is precious to me. This place is a museum of my life. I like it here."
Mark backed off, but he called her constantly and visited several times a week. He brought groceries and household supplies, and whenever she needed to go to the market or the store, he escorted her. After one such visit, he was rushing home to get ready for his date with Chloe.
Mark said goodbye to his mother and, not wanting to wait for the elevator, ran down the stairs. On one of the landings, he lost his footing and knocked over a bucket of water, which went clattering down the steps. Mark barely managed to keep from falling and began apologizing to the woman in an old, faded robe and headscarf who was wringing out a rag.
"I'm so sorry, ma'am, I didn't mean to."
She straightened up tiredly, wiped her brow with the back of her hand, and looked at Mark. He flushed with embarrassment; standing before him was a young woman, no more than twenty years old. She could have been called beautiful if not for a jagged scar that ran across her cheek from her temple to the corner of her mouth.
"It's alright, sir," she said with a faint smirk. "No need to apologize. Just be careful going down; it's slippery."
Mark muttered another apology and hurried away from the awkward situation. All the way home, he thought about the girl; there was something about her that stuck with him. But the meeting with Chloe soon eclipsed everything, and he forgot the unpleasant encounter.
***
The sweet, gentle Chloe was driving Mark crazy. He felt wonderful with her and began pressuring her to get married. She started staying over at his place often, enchanting him more and more with her beauty. Because of this, he forgave her for everything—her inability to cook and her total lack of interest in keeping house.
"You need to decide, honey," she told him. "Do you want a maid and a cook, or do you want me?"
"I want you, of course. I just thought one didn't preclude the other. I'm really craving some normal, home-cooked food."
"Perfect. I know a little place called 'Home Style.' They even deliver. What should I order for you?"
"Stew, honey. Just a simple beef stew. And maybe some pancakes with different fillings."
"Ugh, that's so unhealthy. But fine, if that's what you want..."
Mark sighed, thinking more and more often that there was no perfection in this world. One Sunday, his mother called and asked him to come over, which deeply annoyed Chloe.
"I thought we were going to spend the day together."
"Chloe, I can't say no to Mom. Besides, she doesn't ask for much very often."
"How many times have I asked you not to call me that? Do I look like some farm girl to you? My name is Chloe. You could at least try to remember, or do you just enjoy upsetting me?" Her voice wavered as if she were about to cry, and Mark, feeling guilty, kissed her nose.
"Stop it. You just woke up, and it'll take you three hours to get ready anyway. That's enough time for me to go check on Mom and come back. Then we'll go out somewhere, okay?"
"Fine," Chloe said, pouting prettily as she reached up to kiss him.
It took another half hour before he could escape her embrace. He hurried to his car, leaving a smiling Chloe stretching in bed.
As soon as he crossed the threshold of his mother's house, Mark smelled incredible aromas coming from the kitchen. Oh, Mom! She always cooked divinely, and now she was waiting for him with something delicious.
"Mom, I'm home!" he shouted out of habit, seeing her walk out of the kitchen toward him.
Mark stepped toward her with a smile but froze in confusion. His mother's right arm, from her fingers almost to her shoulder, was in a cast and held up by a sling.
"Mom! Oh my god, what happened? How did this happen? Mom! Why didn't you call me?"
"Hello, son. I did call. But a very nice girl answered and said you were busy and shouldn't be disturbed. I tried calling a few more times after that, but the line was always busy or the call was declined. Once, she picked up again and said you were sleeping. I didn't want to bother you two anymore; I just hoped you'd remember me on your own."
"Mom, honey, I'm so sorry. I'll look into this. When did this happen?"
"A month ago..."
"Mom, what are you talking about? I was just here recently, wasn't I?"
"No, son. It's been a long time..."
"How... how could I not have noticed? Mom, I'm so sorry. But how? How did you break your arm? And how have you been living all this time without help?"
"Well, I haven't been without help. I have a helper, Darcy. She's such a bright soul. That's actually why I asked you to come. She won't take a dime for her help. She just smiles and spends the evening with me sometimes. We watch TV together and talk.
Darcy says the company is better than any payment. But it's not right. Anyway, let's go to the kitchen; Darcy made so much food."
Mark sat at the table and felt as though the food would choke him. How could he have done this to his mother? And Chloe? What the hell was going on?
"Why aren't you eating? Try it; Darcy is such a wonderful cook. She hasn't left my side since the first day. She even drove me to the hospital."
"Where does she live? Which apartment?"
"Two floors down."
"I'll go see her." Mark fell silent and then, unable to hold back the sudden wave of shame and regret, he buried his face in his mother's lap. She stroked his shaking back, quietly soothing him just as she had when he was a child.
Two hours later, Mark said goodbye to his mother and went down to Darcy's apartment. When he rang the bell, the girl he recognized as the "cleaner" with the scar on her face opened the door.
"Are you Darcy?" Mark asked, feeling shy and flustered again.
"Yes, that's me. Come in; I recognize you."
Darcy lived very poorly. However, the apartment was spotlessly clean and smelled like something freshly baked.
"Darcy, I came to thank you for looking after my mother. She told me everything, and I don't understand why you won't take any money for your help. You clearly need it..." The girl smirked and unexpectedly switched to a more familiar tone.
"I see. So you're Martha's son. Mark, if I'm not mistaken... Well, look, Mark, not everything in this world is measured in money. Believe me, I know that firsthand. I help Martha just because I want to—from the heart, if you like. Or maybe it's my way of making amends to someone who's no longer here. Anyway, you don't need to know about that. And... sorry, I have things to do. You probably do, too. Let me show you out."
"Darcy..."
"Goodbye, Mark. And take care of your mother."
***
Utterly distraught, Mark returned home. Chloe met him with a look of displeasure; she was already dressed and didn't understand why Mark was late.
"Oh, honey," she drawled, "you promi-i-ised we'd go out somewhere..."
"Chloe, I'm not in the mood at all. And also, I want to talk to you. My mother tried to call me many times. Something terrible happened to her, and you didn't even bother to tell me she called."
"Oh!" Chloe covered her mouth with a beautiful, slender hand. "I completely forgot. I meant to, honestly, but it slipped my mind. Mark, sweetie, please don't be mad! I hope it's nothing serious?"
For a whole hour, Chloe hovered around Mark, and eventually, she managed to win his forgiveness. Afterward, they went for a walk in the city. Stopping at a movie theater, Chloe was choosing a film when she felt someone tugging at her coat sleeve. She turned around and grimaced with disgust; standing before her was a small beggar girl, about five years old.
"Ma'am, do you have any change? Just a little, for a bun..."
"Get away from me, you brat!" Chloe shrieked, yanking her sleeve away and noticing with horror a smudge of dirt on the white fabric. "You ruined my coat, you little wretch!"
The girl's eyes went wide. She stepped back and tried to turn and run, but she bumped into Mark, who immediately knelt down in front of her. She fearfully covered her face with her hands as if expecting a blow and burst into tears.
"Hey, hey, it's okay! No one's going to yell at you. What's your name?"
"Ju-ju-lie..." the girl sobbed, shaking.
"And I'm Mark. Julie, are you hungry?"
"Y-y-yes."
"Come on, I'll get you something to eat."
"You won't hit me?"
"No, of course not!"
"Mark! What are you doing?" Chloe flew at him like a hawk, outraged by the whole scene. "Are you really going to feed this beggar? No way!" Mark straightened up.
"We are going to go together and feed this girl, and then we're going to buy her some groceries and take her home."
"What are you, a social worker? Don't even think about it, you hear me? I am not going anywhere with you two! If you want, give her five dollars and tell her to get lost!"
"Chloe, how can you say that?" Mark took the girl by the hand and headed toward a fast-food stand. "Come on, Julie, what do you want to eat?"
"A pie... with cabbage..."
Mark bought a dozen pies, some burgers, and some juice. He handed the bag to the girl and turned to the vendor to pay. When Mark stepped away from the stand, the girl was nowhere to be found, but Chloe was standing nearby, looking at him expectantly.
"Where's Julie?" he asked.
"She ran off. She didn't need you that badly. So? If the charity work is done for today, maybe you could pay some attention to me? I'm cold, I'm tired, and I'm hungry."
"Fine, let's go home."
"No! We're going to a restaurant, especially since I already called and booked a table."
Mark had no appetite at all, but Chloe enjoyed the delicacies she'd ordered and lectured Mark on life.
"You think you did a good deed? In reality, that arrogant brat just took advantage of your weakness. These poor people are always so corrupt; you can't trust or pity them, otherwise, they'll just walk all over you. In this life, everyone has to achieve success on their own. Otherwise, whole crowds of losers will wander the streets because they don't want to work. Even that little pest is probably sitting somewhere right now laughing at you, stuffing those pies into her mouth with her filthy fingers. Ugh! How disgusting and repulsive!"
"Indeed," Mark noted, "it is disgusting and repulsive—listening to this coming from you." He stood up and threw some cash on the table.
"Here, this is for dinner and for your Uber. Oh, and I almost forgot: go home... to your own place. I don't want to see you again."
"Ma-a-ark! How dare you!" Chloe screamed something after him, but he didn't listen, thinking about how a beautiful wrapper could hide rot and filth.
He drove around the neighborhood for a long time, hoping to find Julie, but the girl was nowhere to be found. Utterly drained by the miserable day, Mark went home and went straight to bed, hoping that tomorrow everything would change.
***
After breaking up with Chloe, Mark went back to his old self. It was as if he'd stepped out of a pink fog and was breathing fresh air again instead of the suffocating scent of expensive perfume. He began visiting his mother frequently and often had lunch or dinner with her and Darcy.
To Mark's surprise, Darcy turned out to be intelligent and well-read; she was interesting to talk to and pleasant to be around. The only thing was, she didn't seem to know how to smile, only smirking occasionally. And Mark never heard her laugh.
One day, as Mark was returning from the grocery store with her, he gathered his courage and asked:
"Darcy, where did you get that scar?"
"A souvenir from a fiancé that didn't work out."
"What do you mean?"
"Do you really need to know?"
"Yes, very much."
"Alright then, listen. I was born into a wealthy family. Technically, I'm the heiress to a multi-million dollar fortune even now."
"You? No way!" Mark couldn't help but exclaim. "Then why are you making a living cleaning hallways?"
"My father had his own business. I was his only daughter. When I was eight, my father was framed and sent to prison. My mother and his business partner did it. They'd been lovers for a long time and planned to get rid of Dad.
I don't know what really happened back then because I lived with my grandmother, my father's mother, for several years. We were very poor. Meanwhile, my mother was enjoying life with her new husband. But one day, she remembered me and came to take me away to her life of luxury.
My father had died in prison by then. Grandma didn't want me to live with my mother, but she managed to convince me—a fourteen-year-old—that she'd buy me everything and I'd never want for anything again. I left; I was seduced by the beautiful life. I'll never forgive myself for that.
At first, everything was fine; I thought my mother loved me. But it turned out my stepfather was the one who insisted I move in. He needed a servant. Meanwhile, my mother got sick. I tried to help her, to be there for her, but she suddenly started pushing me away.
You know, Mark, I didn't realize right away that she was jealous of me and my stepfather. Out of spite, she signed everything that belonged to me over to him. Six months later, she was gone. And then my stepfather sold the house, the property, and... me.
I had just turned seventeen, and that man was fifty-five. I hated and feared him. He was very cruel. It took a month before I managed to escape. I went to my grandmother's." Darcy sighed and asked Mark, "Let's sit down. This is hard to remember."
"Darcy..." Mark said, stunned by her confession.
"It's okay, I'll finish. Anyway, I arrived at Grandma's on the day of her funeral. Just like that. The neighbors were burying her with money they'd collected from the whole building. A millionaire's mother died a beggar. And I was the same. I sobbed and threw myself on her grave. But you can't turn back time.
One neighbor brought me some documents—Grandma had left the apartment to me. So... I couldn't live there, of course. I sold the apartment, paid off Grandma's debts, and with the remaining money, I bought the small place in your mother's building. She reminds me so much of my grandmother, actually." Darcy sighed and fell silent.
"And your stepfather? And that... that man?"
"Oh, my stepfather has been living abroad for a long time; I don't even know where. I think he changed his name. And the other one... I only saw him once after that. I got pregnant by him, but I didn't tell him. I have no idea how he found out—maybe he saw me on the street. But when I gave birth and my daughter was six months old, he showed up again. He asked about the baby, and I told him she wasn't his."
"Don't lie to me! You're lying! You haven't had any other men but me!" In a rage, he grabbed a vase and threw it at a mirror, which shattered into pieces.
"I did! I cheated on you with everyone, you hear me!" I was lying, of course. But he believed it. He grabbed me by the hair and threw me against the wall. I was holding my baby and tried to twist away so I wouldn't hurt her. As I fell, I sliced my cheek open on a shard, and my daughter still got a cut on her arm near the elbow. He laughed when he saw my wound:
"No one will ever look at you again! You monster!"
The baby started crying, and then he grabbed her and walked out. I never saw them again. I searched, I went to his place, I waited outside his house, but I never got anywhere.
"Darcy, what a horrific story! You're just starting your life... you're so young..."
"No, Mark... I'm old... I feel like I'm a hundred years old," Darcy said seriously. She swallowed hard and stood up. "Come on, Martha is waiting for us." When he stood up too, she stepped toward him and looked him straight in the eyes. "I don't know why I told you all that. Maybe because I'm tired of carrying this pain inside me?"
Mark didn't answer. He just pulled her into a hug, holding her tight. For just a second, Darcy lingered in his embrace, then she pulled away and said softly, with a hint of bitterness, "Don't ever do that again..."
***
A month passed. One day, Mark got a call from an old friend who was in town for a short visit. Mark enjoyed catching up with him, but as he was walking back to his car, he saw a group of kids shouting. He moved closer and noticed the hoodlums were beating a child lying on the ground. He rushed to help, the bullies scattered, and a little girl was left lying in the dust. Mark carefully lifted her up and gasped: it was Julie.
"Julie! Julie, are you okay? Are you alive? Where does it hurt?" She looked up and whispered:
"Mr. Mark..." then she lost consciousness.
Five minutes later, Mark had her at the hospital. He didn't leave until he was sure her life wasn't in danger.
"She's malnourished, that's why she's so weak. but don't worry, we'll get her fixed up. By the way, who is she to you?"
"Nobody. I found her on the street being attacked by some kids."
"Those little monsters. I don't know how they're being raised. Well, in that case, we'll have to report this to the police."
For two weeks, Mark visited Julie in the hospital, then dealt with the police, who were unable to find any of the girl's relatives. When Mark asked if he could adopt her, they told him: only if he was married.
Mark put his head in his hands. He even thought about Chloe for a split second, but then he remembered Darcy and drove straight to her place.
"Darcy, would you agree to a marriage of convenience with me? There's a little girl I want to adopt, and it's impossible for a single man."
Darcy looked at him intently and, without asking a single question, she nodded.
Mark got permission to take the girl home after she was discharged and introduced her to Darcy. Julie was wary of her and even got scared when Darcy took her for a bath that evening. Suddenly, Darcy started screaming, kissing the girl's wet cheeks.
Mark rushed in, not knowing what was wrong, and let out a gasp when he saw the long white scar near Julie's elbow.
***
Several years passed. Mark and Darcy's "marriage of convenience" didn't even last three days—it became the real thing almost immediately. A DNA test confirmed that Darcy was Julie's mother, though they never found out exactly how the girl had ended up on the street. Not that any of them wanted to think about it; they were far too happy.
Darcy's scar became practically invisible; Mark had found a plastic surgeon for her himself. And in return, Darcy gave Mark a baby boy, who took great pleasure in causing everyone a lot of joyful trouble.
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