“So, will you come over? My mom just made some salad, and we still have some pilaf left from yesterday,” Timofey said, his voice brimming with pride, as if his personal chef had just whipped up a royal dinner.
Rita was holding her lightweight coat and gazing out the window—hail was tapping against the glass. It had turned unusually cold for May, and she was only dressed in a light top and sneakers. She’d had a rough day at work, and her head was throbbing.
“Tim, you know I wanted us to have a night to ourselves. Without your mom. Just to unwind a little. Maybe we could go to a restaurant? How about you meet me at work? There’s a lovely new place nearby. My colleagues have been, they loved it, plus I wouldn’t have to cross the whole city to get to your place. I’m really not dressed for it,” she said gently, bracing herself for Timofey’s response. He wasn’t surprised—he answered just as she expected.
“Why waste money on someone else’s food? There’s homemade here! Mom worked so hard! Don’t you appreciate her efforts?!” he said, offended.
Rita sighed.
“So, you’re not coming?” she asked quietly, knowing what he would say.
“And it seems you aren’t either. Fine, another time then. Have it your way,” he muttered and hung up.
Rita had met Timofey online. While scrolling through profiles of men who looked like they were straight out of magazines, his photo caught her eye. Timofey’s picture was simple—no filters. He stood in a plain T-shirt, a birch tree in the background. He looked like one of the guys.
“Tired of empty relationships,” his profile said. “I want real warmth. Seriousness. Gold diggers, please don’t message me.”
Rita was thirty. After a string of dates with smooth-talkers, womanizers, and ‘perpetually busy’ men, Timofey seemed different. Genuine. Ready for family life.
On their first dates, he always said the right things:
“A woman is the angel of the home. With her, it should be warm and cozy. My mom is like that. A real Woman. With a capital W.”
Rita would smile and listen to him talk about his mom, thinking that a good husband is revealed by how he treats his family. If he respects his mother, surely he’ll treat his wife well, too.
Timofey really was interested in Rita.
“So why haven’t you had any serious relationships until now?” he asked.
“Because I was always focused on studying, then working, and then working some more.”
“That’s sad…”
“Not at all. I’ve already saved enough to buy an apartment. By myself. No family help. Next up—a car,” Rita boasted, and Timofey nodded approvingly.
“See? Those years weren’t wasted. Good job.”
“What about you? Why are you single?”
“I take my time. And honestly, I want it to be once and for life. Not like most—divorcing in six months because ‘we’re different.’”
“I agree. I want it to be once and for life too,” she smiled, waiting for him to start courting her.
And it seemed to her he really was trying—he met her after work a few times, remembered which day she had an important report. He even remembered her professional holiday—Accountant’s Day. True, he brought a bouquet that wasn’t very fresh, a bit wilted.
“Here, this is for you,” Timofey said proudly, holding up the flowers.
“Oh… thanks,” Rita mumbled, looking at the brown petals on the white roses.
“Mom couldn’t take all the flowers home from work, they had some kind of celebration there. It’s such a shame if they go to waste,” he explained. “And today is a perfect reason—Accountant’s Day.”
“Well… thank you,” Rita said with a strained smile. She couldn’t help but feel uncomfortable.
Then came the usual days—work, phone calls, walks in the park. Timofey acted completely ordinary, not trying to impress her at all.
“I think it’s better to show your true self right away, instead of finding out after the wedding that we don’t suit each other,” he would say.
“Yeah… Of course,” Rita replied, though deep down she wished for a bit more romance in their relationship.
One time, instead of the promised movie date, he invited her to his place.
“Why pay for a movie that’s already online?” he asked with a sly wink. “Popcorn from the store is way cheaper than at the theater. Soda is unhealthy, anyway. Come on, I’ll treat you to my mom’s homemade kvass. She makes it herself.”
At first, Rita wanted to say no, but after a little thought, she agreed to go.
Curiosity won out. Rita got to see his home—and as they say, a home reveals a lot. Timofey’s apartment was filled with all kinds of “feminine” stuff: jars of face masks, eye patches, a pink towel in the bathroom with a woman’s name on it.
“Does someone else live with you?” she asked cautiously.
“My mom. For now. But soon she’ll go to the country house. For a long time. Maybe the whole summer!” he said with a wink, hinting at intimacy. But Rita didn’t appreciate the suggestion.
The movie was too slow, the supermarket popcorn was dry and tasteless, and Rita didn’t even dare try the kvass.
“I think I should go. It’s getting late,” she said, checking her watch.
“Yeah? Well, go ahead. My mom will be here soon. You really should get going,” Timofey nodded.
“Will you drive me home? Or call a taxi?” Rita decided to ask directly. Timofey didn’t exactly live in the safest area, and she didn’t want to walk to the bus stop alone.
“What, the buses have stopped running already?” he responded in surprise.
“Tim…”
“Getting a taxi is wasteful! Walking is good for you. It’s such a beautiful evening,” he said as he put on his jacket. “Come on, I’ll walk you to the bus stop.”
She was freezing as she walked, cursing herself for her foolishness and realizing Timofey was not the hero of her story. After that, there were a few more ridiculous situations, moments when expectations didn’t match reality.
Instead of a restaurant, Timofey would invite Rita over for yesterday’s pilaf, and for her birthday, he gave her a present a week late. He handed her a random book, and later that evening, Rita found out there’d recently been a special day at the Lyceum where his mother taught. Apparently, the book had been gifted to his mother… and then regifted to Rita. Late. The crafty fiancé was timing dates and sneaking unwanted gifts and wilted flowers from his mom to give to his beloved. But that wasn’t even the worst part. After giving her the book, Timofey hinted that they should celebrate.
“Let’s go, you’ve been wanting to go to a café,” he said.
Rita cheered up, thinking he’d saved money on the present so he could treat her to a restaurant. But that wasn’t the case.
“It’s your holiday—you pay,” he said when the waiter put the bill in front of him.
Rita’s eyes widened and she shook her head.
“What?”
“I thought…”
“…You think I’m going to pay for your spaghetti? No way. I only had coffee, and you had a full meal. I’m not even paying half. And it’s your special day, so you should be the one to pay! Or are you secretly a gold-digger?” he asked. Rita felt embarrassed and quickly paid the waiter.
After that incident, Rita disappeared. She ignored his calls for two weeks. He figured Rita, like so many others, just wasn’t worth his time, so he reactivated his dating profile. Meanwhile, Rita wondered if she’d ever meet a decent guy. Was she destined to be alone forever?
Rita’s relatives only made things worse. Everyone was asking when she’d finally get married. Maybe she would have forgotten about Timofey altogether, but her mom’s birthday was coming up. Her sister asked sarcastically:
“Showing up alone again? Or do you actually have someone to brighten your loneliness this time?”
“Yes, daughter… I’m honestly embarrassed that you’re still single. People ask me about it all the time…”
“Don’t worry. I won’t be coming alone,” Rita replied through gritted teeth.
She messaged Timofey. Of course, he “generously forgave” her.
“But you’re in charge of the gift. I’m nothing to your mom,” he said.
“Already taken care of,” said Rita. “The money’s in a box. Mom collects them—with flowers and handmade decorations. You just need to come with me, eat, and congratulate her. Nothing else.” Rita already knew their relationship was doomed. She’d only invited Timofey to put an end to everyone’s whispers. She just wanted them to get off her back.
At the birthday, everything was proper. Rita was a little nervous—about her mom, the gift box, and Timofey, who ate more than anyone else and surprised the guests with his huge appetite.
They gave out the gifts near the end of the party. The birthday girl immediately noticed the box from her daughter. She was happy to get a cash gift, especially since she needed to pay the host.
Rita’s mom reached into the box for the money and… her face turned red.
“It’s just play money from a joke shop,” the host announced. “I hand these out during games—good one!”
But Rita’s mom didn’t find it funny. She opened the box all the way and realized her daughter’s present was nothing but fake bills.
“Your guests really are pranksters,” the host mumbled as the birthday girl opened another card. Luckily, that one had real money inside.
Rita was nearby at that moment and went over to thank the host. Seeing her mother’s expression, she asked what was wrong. And then she understood herself.
“Is this a joke?” she said, holding a wad of fake bills. “This is all fake! Where is the money I put in the box for you?”
“I thought you just wanted to play a prank.”
An uncomfortable silence fell. Rita thought back on who had access to the box and… glanced at her companion. Timofey shrank into himself.
“Well, I guess someone mixed it up. Or pulled a prank. Ha-ha!”
Rita turned pale.
“I put real money in there. Myself. I…had been saving! There was enough in there for a new phone for you!”
Her mom looked at her intently. Then she glanced down at the box, ran her finger along the inside of the lid, and quietly said:
— Someone switched the money. We need to check the security cameras and report this to the police right away.
Rita turned to Timofey.
— Are we calling the police, or are you going to confess right now?!
He looked away, shuffled his feet awkwardly, and muttered:
— How was I supposed to know your boxes were so special? I was thinking about our future. I wanted to bring that money back to our family…
— Whose family?
— Well… ours. Our future family.
— There is no “us”! And there never will be! Not anymore! Rita shouted.
— Young man, should we file a report against you, or will you return the money?
— I’ll return it.
He wanted to explain himself, but Rita had already left the restaurant. She had no desire to see Timofey again. She was certain this was the end.
Sometimes, being alone isn’t a punishment, but a chance to avoid making a mistake. No one ever truly suffered from loneliness. But rushing, making the wrong choices out of fear of being alone—those are the real tragedies, with thousands of victims.
Don’t be afraid of being alone. Be afraid of being with those who only see you as a convenient option.