1950: I caught my fiancé with my best friend in the orchard – so I married her boyfriend out of spite, and a relationship built on resentment turned into passion and a quiet revenge that would be whispered about by the well for another twenty years

“One day, one celebration for everyone… Maybe the children will be born at a similar time someday?” Vera mused, wandering around Ludmila’s room when news arrived from the office about the accepted applications.

Ludmila replied more quietly, more cautiously. She was happy, but somewhere deep inside, she felt a tremor—as if she were standing on the edge of something vast and not entirely known. Vera quickly nodded, reassuring her friend that it was natural: everyone feels apprehensive before an important step, and fear gradually transforms into sweet anticipation.

Increasingly rare visits and a disturbing silence

Summer was slowly drawing to a close. Lyudmila and her mother were preparing for the trip: choosing patterns for embroidered towels, browsing through bedding, and planning holiday meals. Vera, on the other hand, began to visit less and less often—she cited help from her future mother-in-law and her own preparations. It all sounded reasonable, yet her demeanor was one of urgency and tension.

Alexander, Ludmila’s fiancé, also stopped visiting as often as before. First, he’d disappear for a day, then two, until finally he’d only show up briefly, once or twice a week. He looked tired, his thoughts were far away, and his warmth—once natural—had become something of a learned skill.

Wiera no longer had time for long conversations, she just dealt with matters “quickly”.