That day, Oliver was happier than ever: Abigail had finally accepted his advances and agreed to a date. The slender beauty had been unattainable for a long time, and only his persistence had won her heart.
Oliver constantly surprised her with gifts, sent flowers, and showered her with attention. Abigail graciously accepted his gestures but always responded to his requests for a date with the same line:
— I can’t today, let’s try another time!
And Oliver waited. Patiently and stubbornly.
— Son, his mother would say, — isn’t it time you started thinking about a wife? You’re not a boy anymore; you just turned 28. You have your own business, a good income. And yet, you keep putting it off.
— Mom, I’m waiting. For the most beautiful, the smartest, the one I love.
— You’re a fool, son, — his mother would shake her head. — You should look for someone kind, hardworking, and loving. That’s the only way to find true happiness.
— Oh, come on, Mom! Don’t worry, I’ll bring home a daughter-in-law soon—you’ll be amazed.
— That’s exactly what I’m afraid of…
Oliver lived separately from his mother in a new, modern apartment in the city center. Perhaps that’s why, when he suggested she move in with him, she refused:
— Don’t even think about it! No, son, thank you for the offer, but I’ll live out my days here. This was your father’s apartment, where we lived with his parents as a big, happy family. They all passed away here, including your father. I want to die here too, remember that. No hospitals! It’s so nice here! You were born and raised in this place. No, Oliver. These walls hold my entire life.
Memories, nostalgia, warmth, and kindness. Here, I’m the mistress of my home. There, at your place, I’d be a burden, always in the way.
— What are you talking about, Mom? Would I ever let anyone mistreat you?
— Still, son, — Tamara smiled. — You think I didn’t let you redecorate this place for no reason? Every single thing here is dear to me. This is a true museum of my life. I like it here.
Oliver backed off but stayed in constant contact with his mother, visiting her several times a week, bringing groceries, household supplies, and accompanying her to the market or store when needed. This time, after visiting her, he hurried home to get ready for his date with Abigail.
Saying goodbye to his mother, Oliver didn’t wait for the elevator and ran down the stairs. On one of the landings, he accidentally knocked over a bucket of water, which clattered down the steps. Barely keeping his balance, he began apologizing to the woman wringing out a rag, dressed in an old, faded robe and a headscarf.
— I’m so sorry, ma’am, I didn’t mean to.
She straightened up wearily, wiped her forehead with her hand, and looked at Oliver. He felt embarrassed and blushed: standing before him was a young woman, no older than twenty. She could have been called beautiful if not for the jagged scar running across her cheek from temple to lip.
— It’s okay, sir, — she smirked. — No need to apologize. Just be careful going down; it’s slippery.
Oliver mumbled another apology and hurried away from the awkward encounter. All the way home, he thought about the young woman who had somehow caught his attention. But his date with Abigail overshadowed everything, and he forgot about the incident.
The gentle, affectionate Abigail drove Oliver wild. He felt good with her and was eager to rush into marriage. Now she often stayed over at his place, filling his nights with love and enchanting him more and more with her beauty. For that, he forgave her everything: her inability to cook, her reluctance to take care of the household.
— You need to decide, darling, do you want a maid and a cook, or do you want me?
— Of course, I want you. I just thought one doesn’t exclude the other. I really miss proper home-cooked food.
— Perfect, I know a little restaurant called “Home Style.” They even have delivery. What do you want to order?
— Borscht, darling. Just plain borscht. And pancakes with different fillings.
— Ugh, that’s not healthy food. But suit yourself…
Oliver sighed, increasingly aware that perfection didn’t exist in this world. One Sunday, his mother called and asked him to come over, which greatly annoyed Abigail.
— I thought we were going to spend the day together.
— Abby, I can’t say no to my mom. Especially since she rarely asks me for anything.
— How many times have I told you, don’t call me Abby! What am I, some country bumpkin? I’m Abigail. You could at least remember that, or do you enjoy upsetting me? — Her voice trembled with tears, and Oliver, flustered, kissed her on the nose.
— Come on, don’t be like that. You just woke up, and now you’ll spend three hours getting ready. That’s enough time for me to visit Mom, and then I’ll be back, and we’ll go somewhere together. Okay?
— Fine, — Abigail pouted cutely and leaned in for a kiss.
It took half an hour for Oliver to break free from her embrace and rush to his car, leaving a smiling Abigail stretching in bed.
As soon as he stepped into his mother’s apartment, Oliver was greeted by incredible aromas wafting from the kitchen. Oh, Mom! She always cooked divinely and was now waiting to treat him to something delicious.
— Mom, I’m home! — he called out of habit and saw her emerging from the kitchen.
Smiling, Oliver stepped toward her but froze in confusion: his mother’s right arm, from fingers to nearly her shoulder, was in a cast, supported by a sling around her neck.
— Mom, Mommy! What happened? How did this happen? Why didn’t you call me?
— Hello, son! I did call. But some sweet girl answered and said you were busy and shouldn’t be disturbed. I tried calling a few more times, but it was always busy or the call dropped. Once, she picked up again and said you were sleeping. I didn’t want to bother you after that, hoping you’d remember me on your own.
— Mom, darling, I’m so sorry, I’ll figure this out. When was this?
— A month ago…
— Mom, what are you saying? I was here recently, wasn’t I?
— No, son, it’s been a while…
— How could this happen… Did I really not notice? Mommy, I’m sorry… But how? How did you break your arm? And how have you been managing all this time? Without help?
— Why without help? I have a helper, Daisy. Such a kind soul. That’s actually why I asked you to come. She doesn’t take anything for her help. Just smiles and sometimes spends the evening with me. We watch TV and talk.
Daisy says this kind of companionship is better than any reward. But that’s not right. By the way, come to the kitchen; Daisy’s cooked so much.
Oliver sat at the table, feeling like he couldn’t swallow a single bite. How could he have neglected his mother like this? And Abigail? What was going on?
— Why aren’t you eating? Try it; Daisy cooks so well. She’s been with me since the first day. Even took me to the hospital.
— Where does she live? Which apartment?
— Two floors down.
— I’ll stop by to see her. — Oliver fell silent, then, overwhelmed by shame and regret, he knelt and buried his face in her lap. She stroked his trembling back, soothing him quietly as she did when he was a child.
Two hours later, Oliver said goodbye to his mother and went down to Daisy’s apartment. When she answered the door, he immediately recognized the young woman with the scar on her face.
— Are you Daisy? — Oliver asked, feeling shy and uncertain again.
— Yes, that’s me. Come in, I recognize you.
Daisy lived modestly, but her apartment was spotlessly clean and smelled of freshly baked goods.
— Daisy, I came to thank you for helping my mom. She told me everything, and I don’t understand why you won’t accept payment for your help. You clearly need it… The young woman smirked and suddenly switched to a more familiar tone:
— I see. So you’re Aunt Tammy’s son. Oliver, if I’m not mistaken… Well, Oliver, not everything in this world is about money. Believe me, I know that better than most. I help Aunt Tammy from the heart, if you will. Maybe it’s my way of making up for someone who’s no longer here. But you don’t need to know about that. And… sorry, I have things to do… You probably do too… Let me walk you out…
— Daisy…
— Goodbye, Oliver. And take care of your mom…
Utterly shaken, Oliver returned home. Abigail greeted him with a displeased look; she was already dressed up and couldn’t understand why he was late.
— Honey, — she drawled, — you promised we’d go somewhere…
— Abigail, I’m not in the mood, and we need to talk. My mom tried calling me multiple times because something bad happened, and you didn’t even bother to tell me.
— Oh! — Abigail covered her mouth with her delicate hand. — I forgot. Honestly, I meant to, but I forgot. Ollie, darling, don’t be mad, please forgive me! I hope it’s nothing serious?
For a whole hour, Abigail fussed around Oliver, and in the end, she managed to get his forgiveness. Then they went for a walk around the city. Stopping at a movie poster, Abigail was choosing a film when she suddenly felt someone tug at her coat sleeve. She turned and grimaced in disgust: a small beggar girl, about five years old, stood before her.
— Lady, do you have some money? Just a little, for a bun…
— Get out of here, you filthy thing, — Abigail shouted, yanking her sleeve away and noticing, to her horror, the smudges from the child’s fingers on the white fabric. — You ruined my coat, you little brat!
The girl’s eyes widened, and she stepped back, about to run, but bumped into Oliver, who immediately crouched down in front of her. She covered her face with her hands, as if expecting a blow, and started crying.
— Hey, hey, calm down! No one’s going to scold you! What’s your name?
— J-J-Julie… — the girl sobbed, trembling.
— I’m Oliver. Are you hungry, Julie?
— Y-y-yes…
— Come on, I’ll get you something to eat.
— You won’t hit me?
— No, of course not!
— Oliver! What are you doing? — Abigail, outraged by the scene, pounced on him. — Are you seriously going to feed this beggar? No way! If you want, give her a dollar and tell her to get lost!
— Abigail, how can you say that? — Oliver took Julie’s hand and headed toward a fast-food stand.
— Come on, Julie, what do you want to eat?
— A pie… with cabbage…
Oliver bought a dozen pies, some cutlets, hot dogs, and juice. He handed the packed bag to the girl and turned to pay the vendor. When he stepped away from the stand, Julie was nowhere to be seen, but Abigail stood nearby, watching him expectantly.
— Where’s Julie? — he asked.
— She ran off. Like she needed you. So, are you done with your charity for today? Can you finally pay attention to me? I’m cold, tired, and hungry.
— Fine, let’s go home.
— No way! We’re going to a restaurant. I already called and reserved a table.
Oliver had no appetite, but Abigail eagerly enjoyed her gourmet dishes and lectured him on life:
— You think you did a good deed? That cheeky girl just took advantage of your weakness. Those beggars are always deceitful; you can’t trust or pity them, or they’ll just walk all over you. In this world, everyone has to make their own success. Otherwise, hordes of lazy bums will roam the streets, refusing to work. That little pest is probably sitting somewhere now, laughing at you, stuffing pies in her mouth with her dirty hands. Ugh! How disgusting!
— You’re right, — Oliver said. — It’s disgusting to hear this from you. — He stood, tossing money on the table.
— Here, this is for dinner and your cab. Oh, and one more thing: go home… to your place. I don’t want to see you anymore.
— Oliver! How dare you? — Abigail shouted after him, but he didn’t listen, thinking about how a beautiful exterior can hide rot and filth.
He drove around the neighborhood for a long time, hoping to find Julie, but she was nowhere to be found. Utterly upset by the awful day, Oliver went home and immediately went to bed, hoping tomorrow would be different.
After parting with Abigail, Oliver became his old self again. It was as if he’d emerged from a pink fog and was now breathing clean air, not the intoxicating scent of expensive perfume. He started visiting his mother often again and sometimes had lunch or dinner with her and Daisy.
To Oliver’s surprise, Daisy turned out to be intelligent and well-read; it was interesting to talk to her and pleasant to be around. But she never smiled, only occasionally smirking. And he had never heard her laugh.
One day, returning from the store with Daisy after shopping, Oliver gathered his courage and asked:
— Daisy, where did you get that scar?
— A memento from a fiancé who never was.
— What do you mean?
— Do you really need to know?
— Yes, very much.
— Alright, then listen. I was born into a wealthy family. In fact, I’m still the heiress to a multimillion-dollar fortune.
— You? No way! — Oliver couldn’t help but exclaim. — Then why do you earn a living cleaning stairwells?
— My father had his own business. I was his only daughter. When I was eight, he 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 him.
I don’t know exactly what happened because I lived with my grandmother, my dad’s mom, for a few years. We were very poor. Meanwhile, my mother was living it up with her new husband. But one day, she remembered me and came to take me back to her rich life.
My father had died in prison by then. My grandmother didn’t want me to go with my mother, but she convinced me, a fourteen-year-old, with promises of buying me everything so I’d never want for anything again. I went, seduced by the glamorous life. I’ll never forgive myself for that.
At first, everything was fine; I thought my mom loved me. But it turned out my stepfather insisted on bringing me back. He needed a servant. Meanwhile, my mom got sick. I tried to help her, be there for her, but she suddenly started pushing me away.
You know, Oliver, it took me a while to realize she was jealous of my stepfather. Out of spite, she signed everything that was mine over to him. Six months later, she was gone. Then my stepfather sold the house, the property, and… me.
I was seventeen, and the man was fifty-five. I hated and feared him. He was cruel. It took me a month to escape. I went back to my grandmother. — Daisy sighed and asked Oliver: — Can we sit down? It’s so hard to relive this.
— Daisy… — Oliver said, stunned by her story.
— It’s okay, I’ll finish. So, I arrived at my grandmother’s on the day of her funeral and found her lying in her coffin. That’s how it was. The neighbors buried her with money they’d collected together. The daughter of a millionaire left this world like a pauper. And I was the same. I sobbed and wailed at her grave, but you can’t turn back time.
One neighbor brought me documents—my grandmother had left her apartment to me. So… I couldn’t live there, of course. I sold the apartment, paid off her debts, and with the remaining money, I bought a small studio in your mom’s building. She reminds me so much of my grandmother. — Daisy sighed and fell silent.
— And your stepfather? And that… that man…
— Oh, my stepfather’s been living abroad for a long time. I don’t even know where. I think he changed his name. And that man… I only saw him once after that. I got pregnant by him but didn’t tell him. I have no idea how he found out—maybe he saw me on the street or somewhere else. But when my daughter was six months old, he showed up. He asked about the child, and I told him she wasn’t his.
— Don’t lie to me! You’re lying! You’ve never been with anyone else! — In a rage, he grabbed a vase and smashed it into a mirror, shattering it.
— I was! I cheated on you with everyone, got it! — I shouted, lying, of course. But he believed me, grabbed my hair, and threw me against the wall. I was holding my baby and tried to dodge to protect her. In doing so, I fell and cut my cheek, and my daughter still got a cut near her elbow. He laughed when he saw my wound:
— No one will ever look at you again! Freak!
My baby started crying, and he grabbed her and left. I never saw them again. I looked for them, went to his place, waited outside his house, but I got nowhere.
— Daisy, what a terrible fate! You’re so young, just starting to live…
— No, Oliver… I’m old… I feel like I’m a hundred years old, — Daisy said seriously, swallowing hard and standing up. — Come on, Aunt Tammy’s waiting. — When he stood too, she stepped closer and looked him in the eyes: — I don’t know why I told you all this. Maybe because I’m tired of carrying this pain inside?
Oliver didn’t respond. He just hugged her tightly. For a moment, Daisy lingered in his embrace, then pulled away and said quietly, with a hint of bitterness:
— Don’t ever do that again…
A month passed. One day, an old army buddy, in town briefly, called Oliver. He met up with him happily, and on his way home, he saw a group of kids shouting. As he got closer, he realized they were beating a child lying on the ground. He rushed to help, scattering the bullies, and found a little girl lying in the dirt. He gently lifted her and gasped: it was Julie.
— Julie, sweetheart, are you okay? Are you alive? What hurts? She stood and whispered faintly:
— Uncle Oli-i-iver… — then fainted.
Five minutes later, Oliver got her to the hospital and stayed until he was sure her life wasn’t in danger.
— She’s malnourished, which is why she’s so weak. But don’t worry, we’ll take care of her. By the way, who is she to you?
— No one. I found her on the street being beaten by some kids.
— Those little punks. Who raises them? In that case, we’ll have to notify the police.
For two weeks, Oliver visited Julie in the hospital and dealt with the police, who couldn’t find her relatives. When he asked if he could adopt her, they told him it was only possible if he was married.
Oliver clutched his head, even thought of Abigail, but then remembered Daisy and immediately went to her.
— Daisy, would you agree to a fake marriage with me? There’s a little girl I want to adopt, but it’s impossible for an unmarried man.
Daisy looked at him carefully and, without asking a single question, nodded.
Oliver got permission to take Julie home after her discharge and introduced her to Daisy. Julie was wary of her and even got scared when Daisy took her to bathe that evening and suddenly screamed, kissing the girl’s wet cheeks.
Oliver peeked in, confused, and gasped when he saw a long white scar near Julie’s elbow.
Years passed. Oliver and Daisy’s fake marriage lasted only three days—it became real. A DNA test confirmed Daisy was Julie’s mother, but how the girl ended up on the streets, they never found out. None of them wanted to dwell on it, though—they were too happy.
Daisy’s scar became nearly invisible; Oliver found a plastic surgeon for her. In return, Daisy gave him a little son, who joyfully kept everyone busy with his antics.
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