Going back to the jewelry store was out of the question. The salesman would remember his dramatic exit with the expensive purchase. Showing up again asking for something simple would make him look ridiculous. Besides, Olivia had never cared for jewelry. In all their years together, she’d never once asked for a fur coat or a new car. She only wore her small cross necklace and preferred to save money, a habit ingrained from the early days when they were just starting out and struggling to build his business.
The only thing she truly loved was antiques. She often came home from weekend flea markets with little porcelain figurines or vintage silver trinkets. Victor didn’t mind her hobby. The little knick-knacks didn’t cost much and they brought her genuine happiness.
Truth be told, he had long since grown cold in their relationship. The passionate fire that once burned between them had dwindled to embers years ago. They were staying together now mostly out of inertia. His new relationship with Sophia had reawakened feelings he’d thought were long dead. With her, he felt young again, and their secret meetups added a shot of adrenaline, a thrilling edge to his life.
Maybe a divorce is the best option, he thought. If they were heading for a split anyway, why spend a fortune on a gift for Olivia?
Lost in thought, he was walking down a tree-lined path when his eyes fell on an elderly woman wrapped in a large, colorful shawl. She was sitting behind a small folding table covered with various trinkets: talismans, charms, and amulets. A cardboard sign propped up next to her read: “Fortunes Told, Futures Read.”
Victor instantly dismissed her as a common street hustler, but despite his cynicism, his gaze lingered on one of her items. A small, wooden box, slightly worn with age but still retaining an air of delicate elegance, caught his eye. It looked like something a noble lady might have kept on her vanity centuries ago. He carefully picked it up, examining it closer. The craftsmanship was intricate, clearly done by hand. He had a feeling his wife would genuinely appreciate something like this.
Just then, the old woman behind the table stirred.
- “That is a lucky box,” she said, her voice barely a whisper. “It brings good fortune.”
Victor just smirked, a barely perceptible smile playing on his lips. He wasn’t falling for that. He’d built his career on marketing and knew every advertising trick in the book.
- “How much?” he asked, his tone clipped and business-like.
The old woman looked up at him with a surprising seriousness, her eyes seeming to peer right into his soul.
- “You’re buying it for your wife?” she clarified.
- “Yes,” Victor nodded. “She’s into antiques. Just as long as the price isn’t too crazy.”
Suddenly, the woman leaned forward and touched his hand. Victor flinched and yanked his hand back as if he’d been stung.
- “What are you doing?” he blurted out, staring at her, startled.
The old woman’s face clouded over, and her voice became quieter.
- “Don’t worry. I’ll give you the box for a symbolic price. Whatever you feel it’s worth.”
- “Why so generous?” Victor asked sarcastically, his guard instantly up.
- “I want to give your wife a gift,” the woman replied.
- “What? How do you know about her birthday?” Victor stared at her in shock, then burst out laughing a moment later. “Wow, you’re good, grandma! You guessed. A perfect example of the law of averages at work!”
The old woman just smiled faintly, taking the box from his hands.
- “Let me just wipe it down, it’s gathered some dust today,” she said calmly.
Victor nodded and stepped aside, lighting a cigarette. This was working out perfectly. A few minutes later, the old woman returned the box, now neatly placed in a small paper bag. Not wanting to waste any more time, he took her up on her offer.
- “Here you go,” he said, pressing a crumpled five-dollar bill into her hand—barely enough to cover a subway ride.
The woman just shook her head sadly but didn’t argue.
- “May this box bring your wife what she deserves,” she said calmly, looking him straight in the eye. “And you as well.”
Victor didn’t reply. He simply turned and walked away.
Olivia got home, barely managed to take off her coat, and collapsed into an armchair in the living room of their large Scarsdale house. Her feet were throbbing after a long, frantic day of running around. The relief of finally being off her feet was pure bliss. She closed her eyes, savoring the quiet moment. The workday had been especially brutal—one of her colleagues at the pharmacy had called in sick, and she’d had to pull a double shift, covering not only her own duties but half of her coworker’s too. She hadn’t even had time for a proper lunch, just a sandwich scarfed down between customers.
Despite the exhaustion, Olivia had never regretted her choice of career. For over a decade, she’d worked as a pharmacist, a job she’d dreamed of since she was a little girl. While her friends imagined being astronauts or fashion designers, little Olivia would be in the backyard, mixing dandelions and herbs into imaginary potions for her stuffed animals. Her dream was for no one in the world to ever be sick.
Olivia had grown up in a small town with her grandmother. She rarely saw her mother and never knew her father.
She knew her mother had left for the big city long ago to find her own happiness, leaving her daughter in her grandmother’s care. Her grandmother, Alevtina, always spoke of her flighty daughter with a tone of reproach, calling her “irresponsible,” but she showered her granddaughter with all the care and warmth she had. Olivia often remembered how gentle her grandmother’s hands were, how her tired blue eyes, framed by a web of fine wrinkles, always shone with a soft warmth.
Alevtina had passed on to her granddaughter the best parts of her own character: kindness, a calm demeanor, and the ability to forgive. After her grandmother passed away, Olivia moved to the city for college. By then, her mother was building a new family and showed little interest in her daughter’s life. For her, Olivia was the “practice child,” an inconvenient reminder of a past she’d left behind. Despite this, Olivia held no resentment toward her mother, though she did feel a faint pity for her. She understood that the search for happiness was a personal choice, even if it wasn’t always the right one.
Her grandmother used to say, “It’s not our place to judge. The one upstairs will sort it all out.” Those words had stayed with Olivia. She never held grudges, believing that everyone eventually gets what they deserve.
She didn’t feel like going down to the kitchen for a snack—she knew her mother-in-law, Tamara, would be there, ready to launch into another tirade about how ineptly she managed the household. Lately, it seemed that no matter how hard she tried, her efforts were never good enough. Olivia decided it was better to wait for Victor and have dinner with him, even if it meant enduring her mother-in-law’s critical comments in his presence—assuming he wasn’t working late again, which was happening more and more often.
Over the years, something had shifted in their relationship. Tomorrow, Olivia would be 36, and she increasingly found herself questioning her life. Was she living it right? What was the point? Work, home, a house where she couldn’t even move a vase without her mother-in-law having a meltdown… And what about her dream of being a mother? She had always wanted a child but had never been able to conceive. Perhaps their marriage had grown cold because of it. “Barren,” Tamara loved to call her, and the word always stung.
Olivia felt aimless, as if she were moving through life on autopilot—from work to home and back again, without any real purpose. A single, hot tear traced a path down her cheek. But then she heard the crunch of tires on the gravel driveway as Victor’s car pulled in. Her heart fluttered with a small spark of joy. Forgetting her exhaustion, Olivia jumped up and rushed to the bathroom—she couldn’t let her husband see her crying.
Over the years, she had made it a habit to greet him with a smile and a cheerful mood, always hiding her own anxieties and worries. He had enough on his plate, she reasoned; the responsibility for the family rested on his shoulders. Tomorrow was their day—every year, they celebrated her birthday together, just the two of them.
They’d walk in the park, see a movie, and have dinner at a cozy restaurant. It was their little ritual. In fifteen years of marriage, Victor had missed her birthday only once, when he was hospitalized with appendicitis. Olivia had been terrified, staying by his side in the hospital overnight. But as soon as he recovered, he made sure to give her a belated celebration.
That all felt like a lifetime ago. Back then, his eyes shone with love and admiration for her. Now, he was always tired, and his attention was increasingly elsewhere. Olivia understood that time had changed them both.
As she hurried past her mother-in-law, the older woman muttered under her breath, “Always smiling like an idiot, as if she doesn’t have a care in the world.” Tamara still couldn’t forgive Olivia for never giving her grandchildren, and she took every opportunity to remind her of it.
Victor came home in an unusually good mood. He hugged Olivia warmly at the door and grandly presented her with a small, wrapped package.
- “Liv, my dear, happy early birthday!” he said, unable to wait to give her the surprise.
Olivia looked at him, surprised, her eyes lighting up with happiness. She suddenly felt that this was the same Victor she had married all those years ago. The anxious thoughts about his distance that had been plaguing her lately seemed foolish. Everything was fine!
