Maxim Artemyev cherished his Friday mornings. There was something about the stillness of the city, just after a night’s rain, that made everything feel calm. The air was fresh with the scent of ozone and blooming linden trees. Maxim leaned back in his chair on the balcony, savoring his coffee as he gazed at his prized fishing gear—his newest spinning rod, shiny reel, and a box full of colorful wobblers. It was all just part of the weekend routine, a tradition he held dear.
His phone buzzed in his pocket. It was his mother.
“Hi, Mom,” he answered, a smile tugging at his lips.
“Maximushka, will you come by? I baked your favorite pies,” she said, her voice filled with warmth.
“Of course, I’ll stop by. Just for a short while, though—my friends are waiting for me at the country house.”
“Fishing again?” Her voice carried a gentle, familiar reproach. “Maybe you’ll bring a girlfriend this time? You’re thirty-two already!”
“Mom, we’ve talked about this. As soon as I find the one, I’ll bring her over. I promise.”
He hung up, breathing a little more heavily. His friends, Pavel and Grisha, had been teasing him for years. They had families, children, and yet Maxim remained the eternal bachelor, steadfast in his belief that love had to be something extraordinary.
At thirty-two, he had seen countless relationships come and go, but none of them had felt right. He wasn’t interested in settling down with someone who wasn’t meant for him. He was waiting for the kind of love that would sweep him off his feet—a love that would hit him like a thunderclap, a love that would make him want to breathe in unison with the other person, to feel that connection as deep as a heartbeat.
As they drove toward the country house, Pavel and Grisha mocked his romantic ideals. “So, what’s your theory, Max?” Pavel teased, his voice slurring slightly from the beer they had been drinking. “You’ll just wait for the perfect woman to fall out of the sky?”
Maxim grinned. “I’ll marry the first woman I meet. I believe in love at first sight.”
Grisha snorted. “That’s the stuff of fairytales. You might as well be waiting for a princess to come riding in on a white horse.”
Maxim chuckled, but his belief in true love remained unwavering. When they arrived at the country house, the men carried on their tradition of barbecues, beer, and laughter. At one point, Pavel suggested a game. “Let’s test your theory. A game of stare-downs. The loser has to go to the highway and propose to the first woman they meet.”
Maxim, not one to back down from a challenge, agreed, confident that he’d win. But when a tall blonde woman walked by, he caught her glance and, in the heat of the moment, looked away. His friends burst into laughter.
“Looks like someone’s getting married!” they teased. Maxim, feeling both embarrassed and intrigued, reluctantly agreed to the bet’s terms.
Soon, they were driving down the highway. The sun beat down on them as Maxim’s heart raced with a combination of dread and excitement. A few kilometers away from the country house, they spotted a woman standing alone by a table covered with fresh greens and berries. She wore a simple chintz dress and a headscarf that obscured most of her face.
“Well, groom, get to it!” Pavel pushed him.
Maxim stepped out of the car, trying to calm his nerves. He approached the woman, who looked up at him with strikingly blue eyes—eyes that seemed both cautious and clear. As he drew closer, he noticed the burn scars on her hands. His heart sank. She didn’t look like someone who belonged in a bet.
She stared at him for a moment before silently pulling out a small notebook and pencil. She handed them to him, writing one simple question: What do you want?
Maxim hesitated. His words faltered. How could he do this to her? To her, a complete stranger? He had expected mockery, anger, maybe even ridicule, but she had offered him nothing but silence, calm, and a question.
“Sorry,” Maxim finally stammered, feeling the weight of his actions. “This is a silly bet… My friends dared me to propose to the first woman I met. And I… I’m sorry for this.”
She paused. For a moment, he thought she might get angry. But instead, she simply nodded. She tore a page from the notebook, wrote something on it, and handed it to him. On it was an address.
Maxim felt a surge of guilt. How could he leave things like this? But he took the address and, the next day, he found himself on the doorstep of a small house on the edge of the village, torn between curiosity and shame.
He knocked, and the woman opened the door. She was the same as the woman he had met by the highway, except now, in the light of day, her features were clearer, more defined. She looked at him, her gaze steady, and he felt his guilt turn to embarrassment.
“I’m sorry about yesterday,” Maxim said, looking down at his shoes. “I didn’t mean to make a joke out of something important.”
She regarded him silently for a long moment before speaking. “Why are you here?”
“I—I don’t know. I was wrong yesterday. I didn’t want to make you feel bad. I came because… I didn’t want you to think I was a fool.”
She smiled, though it wasn’t one of mockery. It was understanding. “Then let’s start over,” she said softly. “You never know when a man might get his head in the right place.”
Maxim smiled back, genuinely this time, as if he’d found the answers to questions he hadn’t known he was asking. Maybe love didn’t fall out of the sky, but sometimes, it showed up in the most unexpected places. And as he stood there, the woman with the scars, with her calm demeanor and understanding, felt like the beginning of something real.