She walked slowly down the street, trying to clear her head, and her feet eventually led her to a park. Exhausted, she sat down on a bench under the shade of a large oak tree, wondering what to do next. Nearby, at a small table, sat an elderly woman who was staring at her with an unexpected intensity.
- “Are you, by any chance, looking for me?” the old woman suddenly asked.
Olivia looked skeptically at the sign that read “Fortunes Told, Futures Read,” shook her head, and quickly stood up to leave. She never believed in psychics and charlatans with their tarot cards. But the woman’s next words made her freeze.
- “I’m the one who wrote you the note. And I hid it in the box.”
The words struck Olivia like lightning. She turned around and looked closely at the elderly woman. The woman continued to speak as if it were the most normal thing in the world:
- “Yes, it was me. Your husband bought the box from me yesterday.”
Olivia narrowed her eyes, her gaze darting between the woman and the crumpled bill the old woman was now holding out to her.
- “Here’s how much he valued a gift for his ‘beloved’ wife,” the psychic added with a hint of a sneer.
Olivia stood frozen, her mind racing.
- “But… he said…” She bit her lip, trailing off. Her husband had lied? So there was no expensive antique shop? Even the price was a fiction? The pieces of the puzzle were slowly starting to fit together, but Olivia still couldn’t understand why Victor would lie to her. She had never cared about money or material gifts.
- “He has a mistress,” the old woman said suddenly, her gaze piercing through Olivia. “I saw it immediately. He bought an expensive bracelet for her at a jewelry store, didn’t spare any expense. But with me, he tried to haggle.”
Olivia blinked slowly, trying to process what she was hearing. Nothing stirred inside her, not a single emotion surfaced. It was as if she were numb. Maybe it was because, deep down, she had suspected the truth for a long time but was too afraid to admit it to herself.
- “Who is she?” she finally whispered, trying to gauge how truthful this strange woman was.
- “I can’t say for sure, I don’t know her name,” the psychic shrugged. “I only see an image: young, with long, blonde hair.”
Olivia felt something tighten in her chest. It all matched her deepest fears and doubts. She desperately wanted to hear a denial, but instead, the psychic just sighed.
- “I see pictures, flashes of the past and future. They come and go quickly, and all I can do is try to interpret them. Sometimes I make mistakes. But I don’t do this for money. I never have. Life forced me to come out here, to sell trinkets and make charms,” the woman continued with a sad smile. “I used to be a librarian, you know, not some street-corner gypsy.”
Olivia stood motionless, listening to the stranger’s confession, a void growing in her heart. She no longer felt hurt or pain, as if everything inside her had already burned out. Now she had to figure out what to do next.
Thanking the psychic and taking the box, she slowly walked away. Should she believe this woman or not? And what should she do if she was telling the truth? Such a kind person couldn’t be lying!
This elderly woman, despite her hard life, radiated an incredible sense of peace. Her gentle way of speaking and her kind, thoughtful eyes made Olivia feel a sense of trust. She took a few steps, trying to understand what drew her to this stranger. Then she stopped and turned back.
- “What happened to you?” Olivia asked gently.
The psychic’s name was Irene. She had dedicated her entire life to working in a library, surrounded by the wisdom of books, but fate had left her with neither stability nor peace. Her husband had died when they were young, and Irene, having not accumulated much wealth, found solace in raising her only daughter. For a long time, her life was peaceful, until four years ago when her grandson, Danny, was born, becoming her greatest joy and the meaning of her life.
But fate was not kind. Six months ago, her daughter and son-in-law were killed in a horrific accident. They were waiting at a bus stop when the driver of a large truck, who had fallen asleep at the wheel, slammed into it at high speed, destroying everything in his path. The grief was so overwhelming that it felt like there was no way out. The only thing that kept her going was her responsibility for little Danny, who was now an orphan.
But the trials didn’t end there. Recently, the boy was diagnosed with a serious illness that required expensive treatment only available overseas. The money Irene could save from her social security checks was a drop in the ocean compared to the amount needed for the surgery. So, she had to find new ways to earn money, relying on her unusual gift as a fortune teller. The medicine Danny needed was rare, and every day was precious—Irene was terrified she wouldn’t raise the money in time.
- “I work in a pharmacy,” Olivia said suddenly, realizing she might be able to help. “Give me the name of the medication. I’ll try to find it.”
This birthday could have been the loneliest of her life, but instead, Olivia spent it with Irene, and she didn’t regret it for a moment. The woman was a fascinating conversationalist, well-read and intelligent, and she also bore a subtle resemblance to Olivia’s late grandmother—perhaps it was the warmth in her voice, or the wisdom in her sad eyes. They talked about everything—life, loss, love, and hope. At the end of their conversation, Irene picked up the very box she had given Olivia.
- “You should keep it,” the psychic said, thoughtfully stroking its surface. “I put all my good wishes into it. I don’t just give things like this to strangers, but it will bring you luck. Just believe that everything will be alright for you.”
Olivia accepted the gift gratefully, and Irene continued:
- “Remember, my dear, I can predict the fates of others, but I am not allowed to change my own.”
Olivia had talked a lot about her life but avoided the most painful topic—her inability to have children. However, the clairvoyant didn’t need words. She seemed to see right into her soul:
- “I see you’re grieving because you don’t have children. It’s your greatest pain.”
Olivia nodded. Talking about her deepest sorrow brought back the sadness, but the psychic was so empathetic and understood her without needing an explanation.
When Olivia returned home, the thought of getting the medicine for the boy consumed her. She remembered the new regional manager of her pharmacy chain, Nicholas, and cringed—she really didn’t want to ask him for anything. The man had long made her uncomfortable with his blatant hints and attempts to get closer. But in this situation, she had no other choice.
She gathered her courage and went to his office. He was sitting at his desk and looked at Olivia with obvious interest.
- “You came to see me yourself? Finally ready for that date?” His voice was oily and full of insinuation.
Olivia sighed and took the plunge.
- “I need your help, Nicholas,” she began calmly. “There’s a very important medication. Here’s the name.”
She stepped closer to hand him the slip of paper with the drug’s name and felt his gaze on her, a gaze that had long ceased to be purely professional.
- “A medication? For whom?” he asked, his eyes fixed on her lips, ignoring the point of her request.
Olivia’s presence stirred a storm of emotions in the man. He could barely contain himself but knew he had to get a grip, or the consequences could be disastrous. With an effort, he regained his composure, glanced at the paper, and said almost immediately:
- “Okay, I’ll tell you right now, you’re not going to find this drug anywhere in the country.”
Seeing the disappointment on Olivia’s face, he quickly added:
- “But I might be able to order it from overseas.”
That single sentence instantly brought back her hope, and Olivia looked at him with a pleading expression.
- “Nicholas, I’m begging you, please order it. This medicine could save a child’s life!”
The man let out an exaggeratedly heavy sigh, as if contemplating all the difficulties he would have to overcome.
- “It’s going to be a lot of hassle, you know,” he grumbled, “calls, contracts…”
He deliberately used a tone meant to make Olivia feel indebted to him. And his plan worked. In a burst of gratitude, she began to speak quickly:
- “I’ll do whatever it takes! You can count on me. If you need me to cover a shift or anything else—just say the word!”
The manager looked her straight in the eye and said meaningfully:
- “Olivia, I was expecting a different kind of favor from you.”
Although Olivia had long suspected what he was after, the moment still caught her by surprise.
- “What do you mean?” she asked, though his gaze said it all.
His desire was palpable, his intention to win her over undisguised. His next sentence erased any doubt:
- “Let’s discuss this in a more… comfortable setting. I’m inviting you to dinner. The Birchwood Manor—it’s a wonderful place, they have excellent seafood and wine.”
Olivia blushed deeply and clenched her fists.
- “I can’t tonight,” her voice trembled with a mix of anxiety and indignation.
- “Then when can you?” Nicholas wasn’t about to back down.
- “I don’t know. I have too much going on…” she whispered, avoiding his gaze.
The manager’s eyes narrowed, and an unkind glint appeared in them:
- “Then I’m afraid I won’t have time to help with your medicine, either.”
From that day on, the situation at work only got worse. Nicholas, offended by her rejection, began to harass Olivia in every way he could. She was assigned the most inconvenient and grueling shifts, nitpicked for minor mistakes, and fined for the smallest infractions. She tried to hold on, but each day became more unbearable.
