was tired of paying rent my whole life and was ready to fulfill my dream of buying my own house. A dream home at an unbeatable price seemed like the ultimate win—until I realized there were reasons for the low price hidden in the basement.
The first time I saw the house, I could hardly believe my luck.
It was like something from a postcard—a charming colonial with white siding and green shutters, tucked away at the end of a quiet, tree-lined street.
Sure, the paint was peeling a little, and the roof could use some work, but it had character. A lived-in charm that felt… welcoming. Almost.
Susan, the real estate agent, was waiting by the front door, her grin as bright as the clipboard of documents she waved in the air.
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“Perfect day to finalize your dream home, huh?” she said, her tone so chipper it made me wonder if she was trying a little too hard.
I nodded, eager to see inside. The house didn’t disappoint. Room by room, it seemed to reveal more reasons for me to fall in love.
The living room had a fireplace that practically begged for stockings at Christmas, and the hardwood floors creaked just enough to remind you they had a history.
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Susan trailed behind me, her heels clicking against the floor as she narrated.
“You won’t find a deal like this anywhere else,” she said, tucking a strand of dark hair behind her ear.
“A home like this at this price? Practically unheard of.”
She was right, and I knew it. Still, something felt off—just a whisper of doubt at the back of my mind. It grew louder when we reached the basement door.
Unlike the others, this one had a lock. Not a simple latch, but a solid, heavy-duty lock that didn’t belong in a cozy house like this.
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“What’s down there?” I asked, pointing at the door.
Susan’s smile faltered, just for a second. She quickly recovered, but the hesitation had been enough.
“Oh, the basement,” she said, waving her hand as if to dismiss it. “Just your standard storage space. I… uh… misplaced the key. I’ll have it sent over later.”
Her voice wavered, and the way she avoided my gaze made my stomach twist. But I told myself I was overthinking it.
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After all, this was my dream house, right? A place where I could start afresh.
I signed the papers, and Susan left in a hurry, her heels clicking faster than before.
By the time I started unloading boxes from my car, the sun was setting, casting long shadows across the street.
That’s when I noticed her—an older woman standing on the porch of the house next door.
Her face was a map of deep wrinkles, and her thin lips curled into a tight, disapproving line, like she’d just bitten into a lemon.
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“Hi there!” I called, trying to sound cheerful. “I’m your new neighbor.”
She didn’t answer. She just stared, her eyes narrowing before she turned and disappeared inside her house without a word.
The screen door slammed shut behind her.
I shrugged, telling myself she was probably just one of those grumpy types. Still, her silence gnawed at me.
I spent the rest of the day unpacking, trying to ignore the prickle of unease that lingered.
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By the time I collapsed onto the couch, exhaustion claimed me, and I drifted into a restless sleep, the house settling around me like it was testing me, deciding if I belonged.
I woke to a sound that pulled me from the depths of sleep, a sound I couldn’t quite place.
At first, I thought it might’ve been the wind rattling the old windows, but then it came again—soft and eerie, like a child’s giggle.
My heart started pounding, loud and insistent, and I lay still for a moment, straining to hear more. Was I dreaming?
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The giggle came again, clearer this time. High-pitched, carefree, and completely out of place in the stillness of the night.
My throat tightened as fear prickled down my spine. I sat up, scanning the darkened room.
Shadows stretched across the walls, and the only sound was the ticking of the old clock above the mantel. But the giggle was real. I knew it.
Swallowing my nerves, I grabbed the closest thing I could find—a mop leaning against the corner of the room.
My palms were already sweaty, and the handle felt slippery as I gripped it tightly.
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I crept through the house, the hardwood floors creaking beneath my feet. My breathing was shallow, and every step made my chest tighten further.
The sound grew louder as I approached the basement door. The lock on it glinted faintly in the dim light. I stopped, staring at the door as if it might move on its own.
My stomach churned as I raised the mop, holding it like a weapon. “Who’s there?” I called out, my voice shaking.
Silence. For a moment, I thought maybe the sound had been in my head.
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Then it came again—a giggle, followed by a soft, whispering hush that sent goosebumps racing up my arms.
I couldn’t bring myself to open the door. Instead, I backed away, grabbing my phone and dialing 911 with trembling fingers.
The dispatcher’s calm voice tried to soothe me, but all I could do was stammer about the noises.
Twenty minutes felt like an eternity before the flashing red and blue lights finally appeared outside.
A single officer stepped out, his posture relaxed, his face unimpressed. “So, what’s going on here?” he asked, tilting his head toward me.
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“There’s someone in the basement,” I said, trying to steady my voice. “I heard laughing.”
He arched an eyebrow. “Laughing, huh?” With a sigh, he fetched a crowbar from his car and approached the door.
The sound of the lock snapping open echoed in the quiet house. I held my breath as he disappeared down the stairs, his flashlight casting strange, flickering shadows.
Minutes later, he reappeared, shaking his head.
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“Just cobwebs and dust,” he said, his tone dripping with skepticism. “Nothing down there.”
“But I heard it!” I protested, heat rising to my face.
He smirked, shrugging.
“You’re not the first. Last few owners said the same thing. If you’re scared, maybe this isn’t the house for you.”
I clenched my fists, my frustration bubbling. “I’m not going anywhere. This is my home.”
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“Suit yourself, and good luck with the haunted house.” He left laughing, leaving me standing in the hallway, mop in hand, seething as the sound of his cruiser faded into the night.
The next morning, my phone buzzed on the counter, breaking the quiet stillness of the house.
I picked it up and glanced at the screen. A number I didn’t recognize. Hesitantly, I answered.
“Hello?”
“Hi, it’s Margaret,” a thin, raspy voice said on the other end.
“The previous owner. Just checking in to see how you’re settling in.”
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Her voice immediately put me on edge, like she already knew something I didn’t. I hesitated before replying.
“The house is lovely,” I said cautiously. “But… something strange happened last night.”
There was a pause. I could hear her breathing, soft and uneven. Then she sighed—a long, heavy sound that made my stomach drop.
“You’re not the first, Clara” she admitted finally.
“There’s… a history with that house. Some say it’s haunted. I’ve tried to fix it, but nothing ever helps.”
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Haunted? The word hung in the air like a fog. My fingers tightened around the phone. “What kind of history?” I asked, my voice firmer than I felt.
She dodged the question.
“If you want out, I’m willing to buy it back,” she said quickly, her tone almost desperate. “Not the full price, but close enough.”
Her offer was tempting. I wouldn’t have to deal with the creepy noises or the weird basement.
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But the thought of giving up made my pride bristle. I’d worked hard for this house. I wasn’t about to walk away.
“No,” I said firmly. “I’ll figure this out.”
After we hung up, I grabbed a flashlight and headed for the basement. The air was cool and damp, carrying the stale smell of mildew.
I swept the beam of light across the basement. Dusty shelves, old pipes, and cobwebs filled my view.
Then I noticed something strange—scuff marks on the floor near the vent. Faint but deliberate, like something had been moved. My pulse quickened. Something wasn’t adding up.
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That night, I lay in bed, the blankets pulled tightly around me, every muscle tense. I kept my eyes on the ceiling, listening to the silence.
It wasn’t peaceful, though. It felt like the house was holding its breath, waiting for something to happen.
Then, it came. The giggle. That same eerie, childlike sound that sent chills racing down my spine.
I sat up, heart pounding, but this time, it wasn’t just laughter. A faint hissing followed, like air escaping a tire.
My chest tightened as I slipped out of bed and tiptoed downstairs, each step creaking louder than I wanted.
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When I reached the basement door, I froze. A pale mist was creeping out from underneath, curling like ghostly fingers into the hallway.
My breath caught, and I fumbled for my phone, quickly dialing 911.
It wasn’t long before the now-familiar police cruiser pulled up. The same officer stepped out, his expression a mix of annoyance and disbelief.
“Again?” he said, shaking his head as he approached.
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Before I could respond, another car pulled into the driveway. Margaret stepped out, her face pale and drawn, her movements nervous.
“I heard what’s happening,” she said, avoiding my gaze.
“Let’s all go down together,” I suggested, trying to keep my voice steady. The officer sighed but nodded, his flashlight already in hand.
Margaret hesitated, but with a glance at me, she reluctantly agreed.
The basement was just as empty as before—dusty shelves, cobwebs, and shadows.
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“See? Nothing,” the officer said, his frustration obvious. “You sure you’re not imagining things?”
I wasn’t backing down. “I set up a camera,” I said, pulling out my phone. “Let’s check the footage.”
I pressed play. The video showed Margaret sneaking into the basement.
She unlocked the door, placed a small speaker near the vent, and set up a fog machine before quickly leaving.
The officer’s jaw tightened. “Well, well,” he muttered. “Looks like we’ve got ourselves a case.”
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Margaret’s face flushed red. “I… I was just trying to get the house back!” she stammered. “I didn’t mean any harm!”
The officer snapped handcuffs onto her wrists. “You can explain that to the judge.”
As they led her away, I stood in the doorway of my house, breathing deeply. For the first time, I felt like it was truly mine. I had fought for it, and I had won.
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If you enjoyed this story, read this one: It was a tough life for Molly. Her main concern was her son, Tommy. The constant changing of schools and towns wasn’t good for him. He started bullying other kids and starting fights. She never imagined that one call to the principal’s office would restore a part of her life she thought was lost.
This piece is inspired by stories from the everyday lives of our readers and written by a professional writer. Any resemblance to actual names or locations is purely coincidental. All images are for illustration purposes only. Share your story with us; maybe it will change someone’s life.
The son was ashamed of his mother, a cleaner, in front of the bride’s family, but at his wedding, she caused a sensation.
Marina watched her son trying on a new suit. Tall, well-built, dark-haired—tomorrow her boy was getting married, and it was hard to believe. Ilya carefully studied his reflection in the mirror. He turned around, nodded in satisfaction, noting that the suit fit perfectly. “Fashionable outfit,” the young man turned to his mother. “And the color is good, it looks expensive.”
“It is expensive,” thought Marina, but aloud she said: “I’m glad you like it. I’ll definitely shed a tear at the wedding as soon as I see you in full dress.”
Ilya finally turned away from the mirror: “Mom, are you going to the wedding or what? We agreed that you wouldn’t be there.”
“We agreed, son? I thought you were joking.”
“What jokes?” The son nervously paced the room. “Did you forget what Vika’s parents are like? The wedding will be full of elites. You’ll feel like a poor relative there. I’ll start worrying about you. Mom, do you want to ruin such an important day for me?”
The son sat down next to Marina on the couch, took her hand, and gently squeezed it: “Mommy, just imagine how out of place you’ll look among those dolled-up ladies. My heart would break from such humiliation. And think about how you’ll feel. We’ll come the day after, okay? Have some tea or champagne. You can congratulate us, give us your gift.”
Marina’s heart clenched with hurt. Her own son was ashamed of her to such an extent that he was prepared to appear at his own wedding like an orphan without kin. “Why would I look out of place?” the mother retorted. “I have an appointment with a good hairdresser, I’ll get my nails done. I’ll wear a decent dress.”
“What decent dress? That blue old thing!” Ilya snapped and paced the room again.
“So that’s it.” He stood in front of his mother. “If you don’t understand the nice way, I’ll tell you straight. I don’t want to see you at the wedding. I may be… but I’m ashamed that my mother is a cleaner. I don’t want you to embarrass me in front of Vika’s relatives. Is that clear?”
Marina was shocked by her son’s confession and could not utter a word. Ilya silently took his backpack, proudly flaunted his suit, and headed for the exit. At the threshold, he stopped: “I’ll say it again, don’t come to the ceremony. No one there will be glad to see you.”
Ilya had left a few hours ago. Twilight had set in, and Marina just sat on the couch in complete stupor. She was so shocked that she couldn’t even cry. Tears came a bit later when the woman turned on the light and pulled an old album with family photos from the dresser. This album contained her entire unembellished life. Memories crashed down on Marina with such force that it was hard to breathe. An old worn photo. There she was, a two-year-old girl with blue eyes, gazing intently into the lens. Her colorful dress clearly second-hand. Beside her, a thin, strange woman with a vacant look and a foolish smile. Even in the poor photo, it was evident that the woman was in high spirits.
Marina was two and a half when her mother lost parental rights and disappeared from her daughter’s life forever. As she grew older, the girl never tried to find her wayward mother. Why bother?
A group photo. Ten-year-old Marina with rebellious golden curls stands in the second row, third from the left. Life in the orphanage was no picnic.
The institution where Marina was raised resembled the troubled shelters from documentary films about the nineties. Cooks were caught stealing food, educators didn’t mince words, and the director turned a blind eye to bullying, uninterested in the methods older children used to maintain discipline.
Three attractive girls in waitress uniforms flirtatiously posed for a photographer on the porch of a building with a crooked sign. After school, Marina didn’t think too much about choosing a profession and quickly got a job as a waitress at a roadside café called “By the Road.” The salary was small, but the tips generously left by customers compensated for this.
Twelve-hour shifts were exhausting, but Marina did not despair. She liked her independent life. Her room in a shared apartment was spacious and bright, and the neighbors, an elderly couple, turned out to be friendly. She had enough money, although not much, and unexpectedly discovered a talent in herself. It turned out that she knew how to dress stylishly on a dime. By buying clothes from second-hands, she remade and altered them into fashionable items. In a summer meadow in the forest, a happy and laughing Marina sat on the grass with a crown of flowers, embraced by a handsome dark-haired guy wearing a similar crown. Many years have passed, but Marina’s heart still skips a beat at the sight of this photo.
She had been working at the café for about a year when she met Maxim. That summer morning, the café was unexpectedly crowded. Marina rushed around the room with a tray, serving impatient customers, and suddenly tripped, spilling tomato juice on a guy by the window. A bright red stain spread across his light shirt. Marina was lost for words, realizing that the shirt was expensive. Before she could recover, Stas, the café administrator, rushed to the table and began fussing, threatening her with dismissal.
“Why worry so much?” the guy smiled, handing Marina the keys to his car. “Don’t worry, I’m going to my parents’ country house. There’s a clean shirt in the car. Could you bring the backpack from the back seat?”
“I’ll bring it, Maxim Nikolaevich,” Stas offered helpfully, snatching the keys. “Otherwise, this chicken might break something in your car too.”
Left alone with the client, Marina finally managed to apologize: “Please forgive me, this is the first time this has happened. I swear, I will compensate you for the damage.”
Maxim replied. “It’s nothing serious.”
Maxim extended his hand. She responded with a handshake and then dared to look at him for the first time.
Stas brought him the backpack and escorted him in order to a back room to change. When he passed by Marina, Stas remarked sarcastically:
“What are you waiting for? Has your shift ended?”
While she was just taking payment from a loving couple, she heard a cheerful voice behind her: “Marina, could you spare me a minute of your attention?”
Maxim, in a fresh blue shirt, was sitting at the same table. “Will you take my order?”
“Of course.”
Serving the attractive visitor, the girl felt awkward. Stas personally escorted the guy to the door, then winked at Marina, “Don’t be upset, I purposely snapped at you, otherwise he might have made you pay for the shirt. It costs more than your salary.”
“How do you know this guy?”
“That’s Max Skvortsov, the mayor’s son. Everyone in town knows him.”
By that evening, Marina was so exhausted from the day’s hustle that she had forgotten about the morning incident. She only desired to get home and collapse into bed.
It was already dark outside. Suddenly, a light foreign car pulled up to the café. On closer inspection, Marina recognized the car. What was the mayor’s son doing here?
Maxim jumped out of the car and headed straight for Marina. He approached and handed her the flowers: “Have you finished work? Sorry, I didn’t know what kind you like, so I chose white roses. But I promise that from now on, I’ll only give you your favorites.”
Marina was completely bewildered.
“I’m actually courting you. Besides, the evening is so lovely, maybe we could go somewhere?”, Max said, laughing.
Everything that was happening seemed like a magical dream. Marina realized that she was ready to go anywhere with him. Yet she quickly came back to reality. She remembered she was dressed in old jeans and a simple t-shirt.
“Thank you, but I’m tired, I can’t today”, Marina said regretfully.
“Then tomorrow?” Max was persistent.
The next day they met, never to part again. It was love at first sight. Maxim was an economics student. He had successfully passed his summer exams, and they started seeing each other every day.
Max introduced Marina to his university friends. Together, they often went swimming and barbecued in the wilderness. It was the brightest, most carefree, and unforgettable time of Marina’s life. She never experienced such happiness again.
Marina and Maxim had already started planning their wedding, but all their dreams about the future collapsed. Maxim’s cousin saw him on the street with some ragamuffin and reported it to daddy-the-mayor. Marina’s life turned into a nightmare.
The Skvortsov family disapproved of their relationship. It was understandable. The only son and a girl from an orphanage. Maxim’s mother called hundreds of times a day, demanding that Marina leave him. Maxim’s cousin came to the cafe and caused a terrible scandal.
Then, neighbors also reported that some people had been asking about Marina for an hour.
“Recently one lady”, confirmed Yakov Ivanovich, a neighbor in the apartment, “offered us good money if we confirmed that you were a drug addict and a prostitute. I threw her out.”
Marina told nothing to her fiancé. She knew that his opportunity for an overseas student exchange was being decided at that moment. Apparently, he was also under pressure, because a worry settled in his eyes. Sometimes he would look tensely at his beloved’s face, but, seeing her gentle smile, he would sigh with relief.
Two weeks before Maxim’s departure, Marina received a phone call.
“This is Nikolai Borisovich, Maxim’s father. You must break up with my son before he leaves. Tell him you have another man. If you ignore my words, you will bitterly regret it.”
The mayor hung up. Marina was ready to give her life for Maxim, how could she possibly give up the man she loved so deeply?
When her beloved flew to London, events began to unfold around Marina that she still remembers as a bad dream. Stas, bribed by the city’s mayor, suddenly accused the waitress of a major shortage, and the girl was arrested.
Marina was in sh0ck by her boss’s vile act. As the case quickly went to court, she had no doubt that the truth would soon come out and these horrible charges would be dismissed.
The trial was like a farce. The lawyer provided by the state barely stayed awake during the proceedings. In contrast, the prosecutor tried his hardest. Every day, Marina hoped that Maxim would appear and save her, but a friend informed her that, according to rumors, the boy was planning to continue his studies in England.
Marina was sentenced to three years. It was only in prison that she learned she was expecting a child.
Marina tried not to think about the time she spent in women’s prison—it was too painful. Overwhelmed by emotions, she quickly turned the page of the family album. The photo showed her dark-haired, gray-eyed little boy. Marina tenderly ran her finger over the image. Her son was so affectionate and clever. Only God knows what it cost her to raise him alone.
After serving a year and a half, Marina was released. Her child had not been taken away. Outside, a myriad of problems awaited her. No one wanted to hire a young woman with a small child, especially one with a criminal record.
Her neighbor Yakov Ivanovich helped get little Ilyushka into daycare, Marina was able to work tirelessly. She worked as a cleaner in a restaurant, cleaned offices in the evenings, worked at a car wash on weekends, and sewed pillowcases and duvet covers at night.
She didn’t look back at the past—why suffer unnecessarily? Once she accidentally met a former friend who told her that the roadside café owner, Stas, had gone bankrupt, Mayor Skvortsov had moved to Moscow with his family after receiving a promotion, and his son had married a beauty from the capital a year ago.
Marina wiped away her tears and went to clean floors at the restaurant. She needed to raise her son.
She always tried to please him with tasty food, expensive toys, fashionable clothes. She was ready to do anything to fulfill all his wishes, as much as possible. If Ilya needed a new gadget, he calmly talked to his mother about it, knowing she would find the necessary amount, or at worst, take on extra work.
Certainly, in that Ilya had grown into such an insensitive egoist, she was to blame too. She never complained to him about being tired, never took sick leave, always gave him the tastiest pieces at dinner. No wonder her son never once considered the price his mother paid for the money. And now he was ashamed of her and didn’t want her, a cleaner, to attend his wedding.
«I understand,» Marina sighed bitterly, then turned to Ilya’s portrait on the wall. «Son, I’ve indulged you for 25 years, but this time I’ll do as I see fit. Forgive me.»
She got out of bed and pulled out a box from the nightstand, where she traditionally kept her savings. Plus, her monthly salary was on the card—enough for an outfit, hairstyle, and a visit to the beautician.
Marina’s appearance at the registry office caused a real stir.
She always looked younger than her years, but after visiting the beauty salon, she seemed to have shed a decade. The guests, especially the men, sneakily glanced at the blonde woman in an exquisite blue dress. During the ceremony, the mother, wiping away tears, admired her serious, slightly bewildered son and his charming bride. It was good that she had come here. After the ceremony, all the guests congratulated the newlyweds. Ilya stealthily made his way through the crowd to his mother and whispered:
«So my request means nothing to you? I hope you’re not going to the restaurant?»
«I won’t,» Marina nodded. «I’ve already seen everything I wanted.»
«Hello!» a flushed Vika rushed up to them. «Marina Anatolyevna, you look stunning! The parents invite you to go to the restaurant with them.»
«Thank you, but it’s time for me to leave.»
«What do you mean, time?» Vika was indignant. «Ilya, what’s happening?»
«Really, Mom, where are you rushing to? It’s your only son’s wedding,» Ilya invited his mother to the restaurant with a forced smile.
When it was time for parents to congratulate the young couple, Marina took the microphone:
«Children, be happy, love each other for a lifetime…»
As she descended from the small stage, the woman nearly bumped into a tall man in an expensive suit.
«It can’t be,» said Maxim, blocking her path. «Marishka, is it really you? What are you doing here?»
«Maxim?» Marina couldn’t believe her eyes.
«The bride’s father is my business partner, he invited me to the wedding. What a handsome son you have.» Maxim, nervously, took Marina’s hand. «Maybe we could step aside, talk by the window? Are you here alone, without a husband? I’ve been divorced for 10 years now, and I don’t have any children.»
They talked for an hour. Maxim told how his father, having flown to him abroad, informed him that Marina had met another guy and moved to Moscow with him. Shocked, Max didn’t believe his father but, fearing to humiliate his beloved with suspicions, decided to first find out the truth from his best friend. The friend went to the roadside café but didn’t find the girl there. The owner and waitresses unanimously confirmed the information received from the father.
«I nearly went mad with grief then, stayed in England for another six months, then returned to Moscow. My dad got promoted, then I got married. Was I happy all these years? Not a minute. Only in my youth with you. But how have you been living all this time?»
«Let’s not talk about sad things,» Marina suggested. «It’s a wedding, after all. I’ll tell you everything later, but now invite me to dance.»
Guests couldn’t take their eyes off the beautiful couple. Ilya watched his mother and didn’t recognize her. He suddenly thought that his mom was a very attractive woman who had given up her personal life for him. For the first time in his life, Ilya felt truly ashamed. Then he noticed that his mother, arm-in-arm with some wealthy man, was heading towards the exit, and caught up with her on the porch.
«Mom, where are you going?»
«I’m leaving. That’s what you wanted,» the mother reminded.
«Mom, I’m sorry, but where are you going with this man?»
«I’m ready to go with him to the ends of the earth,» Marina sincerely confessed. «By the way, meet your father, Maxim.»
Ilya looked bewildered at Marina. She paused and added with a smile:
«Yes, it looks like we have a very long conversation ahead. But not today. Today is a wedding!»
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