Here is the tale of an unmarried woman from a remote village whose life unexpectedly turned around, while her friends could barely hold back their envy.
All of Sonya Zaytseva’s friends had long since gotten married. Only Verka remained single—a girl covered in freckles with a large birthmark on her cheek.
Together, Sonya and Verka would attend local dances at the club, though their efforts to attract attention were futile. The village boys who hadn’t yet started their own families wandered in the club with eager eyes, searching for interesting girls. Yet, they carefully avoided Sonya and Verka, unwilling to raise false hopes.
Sonya had no illusions about these young men:
“Look at their high noses. Maybe Verka and I don’t need these clueless lads anyway.”
To console themselves, the two would lean against the club wall and reason:
- The decent guys were long taken.
- Only those considered undesirable remained.
Despite everything, Sonya kept coming to the club, always hoping for visitors from outside — rare guests whose eyes immediately settled on her. Naturally, Sonya was attractive, and she never failed to wear fashionable dresses. These visiting suitors noted right away how intelligent and eloquent she was, her smooth speech flowing from red lips with a pleasant voice.
Their fascination lasted only until Sonya was invited to dance.
Unfortunately, her limp could not be masked by any pretty dress, and the interest of her admirers would quickly fade.
At home, Sonya’s mother stayed awake late into the night, anxiously asking at the door:
“Well, daughter, how was the dance? When should we expect a groom to come to our house?”
Silently, hurting deeply, Sonya limped to her room and locked the door tightly behind her. Her mother sighed heavily and stood by the door, trying to encourage her daughter:
“Forget about those foolish boys. They don’t understand anything. And don’t go to the club anymore; fate will find you. Everyone else gets married, and you will too. You’re beautiful, and you have plenty of dresses.”
From behind the door came a trembling, tear-choked voice:
“What good are the dresses when I’m limping? Why did you give birth to me like this? You could have left me at the orphanage! I don’t want to live! How am I worse than the other girls? I’m even prettier, but they look at me like I’m a useless burden!”
The father got up and moved his wife away from the door, showing her his fist:
“Go to sleep, don’t poison the girl’s soul. Women always find something to suffer about. If you don’t get married, live with us! Who is chasing you from home? You’re Sonya! Stop crying! You are needed by me and your mother—end of story! Those club gamblers don’t matter anyway; life shows they’re useless.”
The days passed through household chores, and Sonya turned thirty-five. This age definitively marked her transition from a maiden to a woman with no hope left of settling a personal life. She had long accepted the reality that marriage was unlikely.
While village work kept her busy, Sonya still found free moments. That day, rain poured endlessly, postponing garden work indefinitely. She settled near her sewing machine at home. Over years spent in solitude, Sonya had become a skilled craftswoman. Everything in the house was sewn by her hands—colorful beadwork paintings and bright patchwork rugs.
Today, she planned to create a patchwork quilt—a demanding project requiring patience and meticulous effort, both qualities Sonya had in abundance. She had prepared thoroughly, gathering a large pile of fabric and carefully cutting patches while measuring each with a ruler. Yet her mother interrupted, surprised:
“Sonya, why are you sitting here? Aren’t you going to a wedding? Your friend Verka is getting married.”
Sonya stared wide-eyed at her mother:
“Verka is getting married? No one told me, and I didn’t receive an invitation.”
Her mother frowned:
“How strange! Almost the entire village is invited. It’s weird you don’t know.”
Sonya rose from the sewing machine, pursed her lips, looked into the mirror, and adjusted her shabby robe.
“Why bother dressing up like this? Who is there to impress?” she thought irritably, then limped steadily towards Verka’s home.
In the distance, she saw a crowd of guests huddled beneath colorful umbrellas.
She also noticed the groom—a stranger to her. A group of street boys demanded a bride price from him.
Sonya pushed past those blocking her way and entered the house, limping. On the porch, she encountered Verka’s mother, Natalia Pavlovna, who suddenly averted her gaze and grimaced slightly.
Sonya instantly recognized that look—different on various people but always speaking the same language: “You are not welcome here.”
“Hello, Sonya,” whispered Natalia Pavlovna. “Where are you going? You can’t enter; the bride is inside.”
Trying not to attract attention, Natalia steered Sonya away from the house.
“What did you want to tell Verka?”
“I… I wanted to find out why Verka kept silent about her wedding. We were friends. I was her best friend. But now I see she chose Svetka Proskuryakova as her bridesmaid instead of me. How is that, Aunt Natasha? It doesn’t seem very friendly.”
Natalia Pavlovna smiled insincerely, placing her arm around Sonya’s shoulders:
“Dear, you two were friends long ago. Now Verka has other concerns; she’s about to get married. You look like you came with bad intentions. Are you planning a scandal? We don’t have time for you. Go with God, but don’t go through the front door. Use the back gate through the garden.”
The reason why her best friend had not invited her and why her mother’s expression was so cold became clear to Sonya later when she met Verka again.
Verka had remarkably improved her appearance by removing the birthmark from her cheek, and not a single freckle remained on her face. It wasn’t surprising that she married quickly.
One might have expected Sonya to be happy for her friend, but instead, a deep melancholy filled her heart.
She remained alone, still without a partner, and it pained her deeply.
- Her parents tried to keep her from sinking into despair.
- As haymaking season approached and mushroom gathering began, Sonya wrapped a kerchief around her head and took up her tools with renewed vigor, despite her tears.
Another year slipped by in this unmarried existence. The village women stopped calling her an old maid and gave her a new nickname—the “ancient one.”
Her mother did all she could to support her:
“Old woman Tamara told me we should take you to a clairvoyant. There’s a curse of singleness on you—that’s for sure.”
“Uh-huh,” Sonya agreed quietly.
It was time to get used to the name Sofia instead of Sonya, a sign of her changed status. Being called Sonya or Sonya-darling no longer seemed fitting.
“Nadya Pershina divorced,” her mother whispered. “She returned to her mother’s home with three kids and immediately found someone on a dating site. A widower willing to accept a woman with children, especially one from the village. He’s ready to take her away.”
Sonya listened thoughtfully. Other women were remarrying, even with children. She alone remained sheltered under her mother’s wing. Life felt unjust.
She thought about Verka, who had spent money to remove the facial blemish. Perhaps it was time for her to consult doctors and solve her own problems once and for all.
By the age of thirty-seven, the cast was removed from Sonya’s leg. Though the limp still lingered, it became less noticeable. Rejuvenated, Sonya began seeking a groom again.
“It’s not over at thirty-seven,” they say. Even at forty, love—the true kind—can still find you unexpectedly.
Sonya asked Nadya Pershina to register her on the dating site where Nadya had found the widower.
Surprisingly, Sonya looked even more beautiful in photographs—like a model, captivating every gaze.
Unexpectedly, her profile attracted interest from affluent men who preferred smart, beautiful, childless women—often those divorced or disillusioned by loveless marriages. Sonya had chosen the username “Sofi” on the site.
Meanwhile, Verka returned home after a year of marriage, seeking shelter with her mother.
It turned out finding a husband isn’t the hardest part—staying married can be much more challenging. Verka’s husband was unpleasant.
One day, Verka knocked on Sonya’s family home. Sonya’s mother opened the door.
“Oh, Verka! You must be here for Sonya? She got married and now lives in Italy. That’s just how it turned out.”
She shrugged and smiled:
“Fate saved Sonya for a foreign marriage; it happens. Half a life limping to marry successfully—what a story.”
Verka was saddened to hear her friend was gone.
“Could you please say a good word to Sonya for me?” she asked. “We were best friends once. I wish I could also travel abroad.”
In conclusion, this story reflects how life’s unpredictable paths can lead from hardship to happiness. Despite years of loneliness and challenges, Sonya’s perseverance transformed her fate, reminding us that true love and a better life can arrive even when least expected.