Jane married for love, or so she thought, believing it would last forever. Everything was straight out of a dream: a white limousine decked out with rings and fluttering ribbons, a lavish restaurant, doves released into the azure sky, a designer gown, and fireworks lighting up the midnight horizon.
It was a beautiful future filled with absolute happiness.
And it truly was beautiful... for exactly five years.
Then Andrew announced that these hadn't really been his dreams at all. He claimed their marriage was suffocating him, their family life was nothing but a repetitive routine, and—to top it all off—he was expecting a child with someone else.
Jane was floored. Wasn't this her dear husband who had insisted on "freedom" from the midnight cries of a baby? Wasn't it Andrew who had repeatedly voiced their motto: "The first ten years are for us"? And yet, here he was, packing a suitcase and tossing that precious freedom aside. Apparently, nothing over there was suffocating him.
And apparently, it wasn't a routine.
Jane couldn't grasp how it was possible to lose her family in one fell swoop. The zips on the suitcase hissed, then the deadbolt on the front door clicked loudly, and just like that—the family was gone. Of course, she sobbed. She drank herbal sedative drops from a little medicine glass.
Sometimes, after taking the prescribed fifteen drops, she would immediately lose track of time and pour another fifteen.
She even took two weeks of unpaid leave right in the middle of quarterly reports, despite her boss's blatant disapproval. She needed to crawl into a hole of depression, cry into her pillow, and pick up the pieces of her shattered self.
Andrew didn't stick around to offer comfort. Once he was gone, he stayed gone. He told her she was a "strong girl" and would manage; she'd knock down any obstacle in her path—or trample it if she couldn't knock it down. He wished he had it so easy, he said! He was facing sleepless nights, diapers, and onesies, while Jane got her freedom back, no responsibilities, and a nearly new apartment in a prime location. Andrew "nobly" left the apartment to his wife. How noble! Considering Jane owned eighty percent of it—she had sold her old starter home to buy this place and added all the savings she'd accumulated before the wedding. Andrew had contributed a small amount via a loan because he hadn't been doing well with work at the time.
After the wedding, they had moved into the new place with a ten-year plan to travel the world and save up for a larger home. Well, they certainly saved up! Andrew's career took off to such an extent that after five years, they bought a three-bedroom luxury condo in an upscale complex. And that was the place Andrew was keeping for himself, claiming Jane would be fine in the two-bedroom. He needed the three-bedroom because, after all, he had a "family" now. Besides, the deed was in his name anyway.
"But we could have had a family too, Andrew! You were the one who—"
"Well, with us, it was 'could have.' With her, it already is."
So, for the second week in a row, Jane rubbed her red, swollen nose, wiped away tears, and sipped drops from her medicine glass. She tried to talk herself into forgiving her husband's betrayal, but her imagination kept conjuring up various cinematic scenes of his demise. She grieved that she wouldn't get a second chance to do everything right, to avoid the mistakes and the breakup. But grief or no grief, life had to go on.
***
They say time heals, and they aren't lying. For Jane, time proved to be the best doctor. That, and craftwork. Jane bought high-quality beads, sequins, gold thread, and ordered a bulk shipment of brooch pins online. She had always wanted to make insect-shaped brooches, and finally, the dam broke. She started spending her nights and weekends embroidering butterflies, moths, dragonflies, and spiders. Her sparkling black spiders, made from jet-black beads, were in particularly high demand. People started asking questions, then placing orders. Eventually, Jane tripled her prices—she couldn't keep up with the demand. Yet, defying all logic, people bought even more. Her handmade beetles and spiders were realistic and popular, and her social media following grew by the hundreds. Obviously, you don't make a fortune on little bugs, but a steady stream of "fun money" kept rolling in. It became a nice supplement to her main salary, and after the divorce, Jane started buying herself the nice things she used to deny herself. After all, she used to put every spare cent into the "big house" fund for her and her husband.
The house... damn that house! Her ex-husband had moved his new family in there. Well, Jane was going to live for herself now. This week, she was definitely buying a membership to a high-end gym with a spa and massage therapy. In May, she'd take two weeks off and fly to Madrid. She could tan there, see the sights, and admire the magnificent architecture. And the Spanish cuisine, of course—plenty to admire there, too.
Jane returned from Madrid looking refreshed, rejuvenated, and tan. People at work started showering her with compliments. They'd complimented her before, but the frequency had skyrocketed. One sunny Saturday in July, Jane stopped by an ice cream stand to get a fruit bar—the perfect thing for the summer heat. In front of her, a meticulous customer was driving the heat-exhausted cashier crazy, interrogating her about flavors.
"Tell me, this vanilla one and that one—do they taste different? Which one is sweeter?"
Jane felt a sudden urge to step hard on the bore's bare toes in his tattered sandals and pretend it was an accident. Finally, after enough prodding, he bought the cheapest plain wafer cone.
"Cheapskate and a bore," Jane thought, finally buying her fruit bar.
Just then, the unlucky customer swung his hand awkwardly and dropped his vanilla cone right onto Jane's silk sundress, which she had just bought in Madrid. In her surprise, Jane nearly dropped her own treat. What a disaster! The man began profuse apologies with a guilty smile, wringing his hands, looking like he might fall to his knees on the hot, dusty asphalt.
Jane happened to notice his striking blue eyes and white-toothed smile. He started to seem less like a bore and actually quite handsome. Then, he casually lamented that he hadn't even gotten a taste of his ice cream and wouldn't be able to buy another today: he had no cash, and he'd forgotten his card. Jane forgave the bore and even bought him a second cone—a different one, a large one with raspberry jam.
"Here, this is for you! If you're going to indulge, you should enjoy it to the fullest!"
"Oh, I really shouldn't! You must tell me where I can pay you back. And we must introduce ourselves! I'm Ian."
Jane looked at him—and he truly looked like an Ian. Sandy curls, blue eyes, broad shoulders, and tanned arms.
"Don't worry about it, Ian. Just buy me an ice cream next time, and we're even. I'm Jane," she said, waving her hand dismissively with a smile.
"It's a deal!" Ian jumped on the idea immediately. "I'm holding you to that. Jane... that's a beautiful name."
They spent a long time walking through the park and the city that day, after stopping by a cafe first. Jane needed to use the restroom to wash the vanilla stain off her dress. Afterward, they drank iced mojitos from tall, frosted glasses. Again, Ian poured out apologies and thanks for being treated by a lady. They enjoyed each other's company. They could talk about anything. Ian was erudite and well-read, a perfect match for Jane. Finally, she could speak freely, use specific terminology, and touch on various topics, and her companion understood her without asking for explanations.
At night, Ian would text her, or they'd spend two hours chatting on video calls.
Jane told him she was recently divorced. Well, eighteen months ago—was that "recent"? It felt like only yesterday. She had suffered for a long time, then learned to live without him. Eventually, she got used to it and even found the beauty in it. She found herself in her art.
Ian told her he'd been married, but it hadn't worked out. He was divorced. His wife wanted palaces, yachts, and diamonds, and his old apartment in the suburbs and beat-up car didn't suit her. And who would they suit, really?
But what could he do, when research scientists in this country are paid so little?
Jane comforted him, saying she saw nothing wrong with living in a modest apartment—she had lived in one once, too. And research scientists sometimes become lab heads or directors of institutes.
In fact, many people would dream of being in his position, people who had much less. So, he was doing great!
"Thank you for supporting me... you're the only one who understands," Ian said emotionally. "My ex used to eat me alive about how little I made. I gave her every penny and ran around half-starved myself... I drove for Uber at night just to save up for that designer coat she wanted. In the lab by day, behind the wheel at night and on weekends..."
Ian would sigh: and what about his debts? He couldn't even afford an extra ice cream because he was financially ruined after the divorce and was paying off a loan. Eventually, Jane started cutting off his constant venting about life and his complaints about his ex-wife. Since she and Ian were in a relationship now, they needed to get used to talking about them, not someone else, especially someone from the past. Like her Andrew. When Jane and Ian went to a cafe to chat over a bite to eat, she usually picked up the tab. Unless Ian stuck to a single cup of coffee—then he'd pay for himself, and she'd pay for her order. Noticing that his weathered sandals were stitched together with mismatched thread—apparently he'd repaired them himself—Jane bought Ian a pair of high-end sneakers. He initially refused, embarrassed, but Jane insisted it was a gift. Ian took the gift and rejoiced like a child. He even smelled the new shoes, marveling at the scent of fresh leather. Soon they moved in together. Ian was five years younger, though.
It bothered Jane a little, but not much, and only at first. She got used to it. After all, she looked at least five or seven years younger than her age. After the sneakers, the gifts became more substantial. His boss at the institute had a milestone anniversary, and when Jane saw what Ian planned to wear to the gala, she went out and bought him a suit. Yes, an expensive one. But a cheap suit looks cheap! And she wanted her man to look like a million bucks. A shirt had to be added to the suit—unfortunately, all of Ian's old ones were hideous, worn out, and useless for anything but yard work. And a new leather belt by Lacoste fit the image perfectly. And, of course, leather dress shoes, since sneakers would clearly ruin the look. Each time, Ian never tired of shyly thanking Jane for the gifts, warmly kissing her hands. She bought him gifts... though she sometimes forgot to call them "gifts"; they were just necessary purchases for her man.
Jane began to think more and more that he would soon be her husband. They lived together, shared a household, and were essentially a family. They had a foreseeable future together! At the boss's anniversary, Ian was the most handsome man there, and many female colleagues saw him in a new light. It turned out that under those faded old plaid shirts and blue lab coats was a real heartthrob! Every woman wanted to dance with him that night. Ian hadn't invited Jane, however, because the celebration wasn't that large and was only for the immediate staff. But he told her every detail when he got home. He even showed her the photos on the boss's social media later. And once again, he thanked Jane from the bottom of his heart for the wonderful gifts that made him look like a wealthy businessman.
Jane was proud of Ian. He truly looked like a successful, respectable man.
As fate would have it, Ian's boss suddenly fell ill. A stroke. The old man was quickly ushered into retirement. They gave him a basket of flowers and appointed a new leader. The upper management decided there was no better candidate than Ian, and the team readily supported him. A PhD, a clever scientist with many publications, and he looked the part—as polished as a veteran director. They held a meeting, signed the paperwork, and the new head took over his duties.
"See, I told you—even junior scientists become department heads... and eventually directors!"
Ian grabbed Jane and spun her around in his arms.
"You're my fairy godmother! You bring me luck! Since you came into my life, everything has been looking up. I love you so much." He kept spinning her, and she closed her eyes, dreaming she was in a wedding dress with a white limo and doves in the background.
Well, Jane loved weddings like that. Doves and all. And fireworks.
As a director, Ian had to look the part and maintain his image. He felt it was shameful to walk from the subway to the institute! What about public respect?
"I really need a car; it's just embarrassing... It's just that I'm still paying off that previous loan... It's not settled yet... But I'll be making more now, so I'll save up the amount faster," Ian muttered with a guilty face.
He would apologize for even starting the conversation, especially about such a large sum... then he'd say he couldn't possibly take money from Jane since he was already living in her home on her dime... then he'd emphasize again how much he needed the car and that he would definitely pay her back; he wasn't a scoundrel, after all.
Jane didn't doubt for a second that her almost-husband would return the money she lent him for the car. Her savings wouldn't vanish; he'd give it all back in time, and she'd put it all back in the bank. Then she'd get a car for herself—just a bit later than she'd planned.
Ian bought the car. Naturally, he registered it in his name. Jane hesitated for a moment but then decided it was only right! He was buying it for himself, after all. He'd pay off the debt gradually; no one was rushing him. And Jane began to wait even more impatiently for a proposal from her beloved man—dear to her in every sense of the word.
With his new position, Ian grew arrogant. He started walking with a swagger, his tone became dismissive, and he began snapping at Jane more often. He stayed out later and later, explaining that he had a lot of work since he was running a large department.
"Sorry, the position demands it!" Ian loved to repeat, whether it fit the context or not.
Jane was baffled—what "position" was so grand? He was just running a lab with eight subordinates. Yes, he was puffing himself up, acting like a high-ranking official, even buying a car to look respectable. Trying to join the "elite," so to speak.
Jane managed a division at her firm with fifty people under her—and even she didn't consider herself a VIP. She still took the subway. And she still waited for a proposal from the man she had done so much for, wondering what Ian was waiting for. It seemed like everything was in place for them to finally unite... maybe even without a wedding. Forget the doves. They'd probably just poop on the guests anyway.
Then, out of nowhere... Ian moved his things out of Jane's apartment. He then announced he was getting married. Not to Jane. To the daughter of a very famous professor—and that's not just anyone!
"What? I've been waiting and waiting for you to propose, and you're telling me you're marrying someone else?"
"Not just someone else. A professor's daughter! She is, I might add, five years younger than me. And you—you're five years older! Seriously, you expected a proposal? Did you really think I'd marry an... aging auntie? Look, if you want, we can keep seeing each other on the side..."
Jane was breathless. She realized he was trying to hurt her on purpose—but for what? For all her kindness?
Doing an "aging auntie" a favor by seeing her occasionally so she could keep showering him with gifts? What was wrong with Jane? One husband stole an apartment for a new life with another woman... a second almost-husband took a car... How long would Jane slave away for the sake of selfish men, trampling her own interests? Obviously, Ian was gone, especially after what he'd said and done. And good riddance. Just like Andrew back then.
But now she decided she wasn't going to give up. She was going to fight for this life! No more depressions, tears, or sedative drops. Andrew had once told her she was strong and would knock anyone down, or trample them... well, fine! She'd trample! So be it. Jane threw Ian's remaining things into a bag and tossed it into the hallway.
"That's quite unrefined, by the way," Ian muttered resentfully.
"If you don't get out of my house right now, I'm going to personally refine your face with my fist. Now that would be unrefined," Jane hissed, holding the door open to slam it behind him.
***
Jane took a vacation, again in May. While vacationing in Madrid last time, Jane had noticed there were many men who were mature but far from old. Men who could be considered pleasant travel companions with long-term potential, especially if—by some miracle—the companion was from the same city! It would be nice to have someone to discuss the sights with, instead of looking at them alone. To visit Las Ventas, the Royal Palace, and the Reina Sofia Museum... Why Madrid?
Because she liked it there, that's why. She didn't want to pick anywhere else—somewhere else could be for next time. Now, a feeling was growing in her that if she flew to Spain again, she'd be doing the right thing. Last time she went to Madrid in a depression, trying to recover; this time, she went with anticipation: something new was coming! Something wonderful! Something long-awaited!
Jane met George in a very cliché way: she tripped over his suitcase in the hotel lobby. She dropped her own bag and bruised her leg. George began profuse apologies in English, lamenting that it was his fault and wanting to make it up to her. Jane explained in English that it was fine and she wasn't seriously hurt. But the man escorted her to her room, carried her suitcase, helped her open the door with the key card, gently sat her in a chair, and promised to send a medic.
"Oh, good grief. I definitely don't need a medic; the injury isn't that bad!" Jane muttered, and the man perked up.
"Oh, you speak Russian? What luck! What luck that it was a Russian beauty who ran into my suitcase!"
"If you tell me you're from the same city as me, I'll say this is some kind of mysticism... But no, that's impossible. I didn't see you on the plane," Jane said skeptically.
He explained that he'd arrived two days ago but only checked into this hotel half an hour ago because he hadn't liked the previous one. And it turned out they really were from the same city. They introduced themselves and agreed to have dinner together.
They met in the lobby the next morning and went sightseeing together. They talked all day with such pleasure they couldn't get enough of each other! After flying back from Madrid, George announced that Jane was the woman of his life and he'd never let her go! George said his first marriage started with a grand wedding and ended in a nightmare. Now, he just wanted happiness.
Jane said her lavish wedding hadn't brought her happiness either, and her married life had ended in disaster. So, who needs a wedding? They just went to the courthouse and signed the papers.
Later, George asked Jane to quit her job. She thought about it and agreed. His business involved frequent flights and negotiations in different countries, and he wanted his beloved wife to accompany him everywhere, side by side. He wanted her to grace his business meetings with her presence. Afterward, they'd explore interesting places together, discuss everything they saw, and share their impressions. Besides, in addition to English, Jane spoke decent Italian and German. She could help him in negotiations as a translator.
"If you want, I'll pay you a salary as a translator, darling. And it will be more than you made in your previous job! Just so you don't regret leaving your work."
Jane refused, saying she'd happily accompany her husband and translate for free. Her husband was once again moved by her selflessness and easygoing nature.
"Sometimes you can work for more than just money. You can simply love your job, can't you?" Jane asked, leaning against her husband's shoulder.
She respected him and listened to his opinion. Not like his former wife, who for years had subjected him to endless scenes and hysterics. She demanded only money for shopping and never wanted to be by his side. Instead, she'd return from every trip with four new suitcases of designer goods. Finally, exhausted by the constant stress and landing in a clinic with a pre-infarction condition, George had called his lawyer and filed for divorce. He hadn't even considered getting married again...
From their first meeting in the hotel, he realized Jane was completely different. She had a heart! She had a soul! And her neatly styled head was packed with brains—such a rarity! George kissed her fingers and never tired of complimenting and praising her, over and over. He showered her with gifts and anticipated and fulfilled her every wish.
"You're going to over-praise me, darling," Jane laughed.
"There's no such thing, my dear!"
And when she gave her husband an heir, he nearly burst with happiness. He didn't know how else to please his wife or what gifts to give her. He hired a whole army of nannies so his wife wouldn't get tired. She barely managed to convince him that one would be enough. Jane often thought back to that fateful decision to fly to Madrid. She had been right! She was happy now! No—they were happy with each other!
One day, Jane ran into Ian outside a shopping center, wearing a faded plaid shirt just like before. She couldn't help but laugh. He, however, wasn't surprised by the reaction.
"Hello, Jane! You're right, I'm not looking my best right now..."
"I'm sorry, really, I am! I don't take joy in others' misfortunes... but damn it, I'm sure everything in life happened fairly! You're right back where you belong!"
"You don't understand. It was a fatal combination of circumstances! I was removed from my position. And my wife divorced me, stripping me of everything..."
"Exactly! That's what I'm saying. Right where you belong."
Ian couldn't find an answer to that. Then he surprised her by suggesting they start seeing each other again. Jane laughed again.
"Goodbye, Ian! There's no point. Oh no, Jane isn't pulling losers out of the swamp anymore; you might catch the bad luck yourself."
She waved a hand at the bewildered Ian and lightly stepped into her Mercedes. Her caring husband had chosen it himself: he was convinced it was the most reliable car. He had promised her another surprise today. She wondered what he would give her this time. And Jane, smiling, drove home to her not-so-young but very caring husband.
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