Timur noticed a young cleaning lady sitting quietly in the corner, her face streaked with tears.
“Excuse me, can I help? What happened? Did someone upset you?” he asked gently.
She flinched, quickly wiping her face before responding.
“Sorry for the trouble. Everything’s fine.”
“There’s no need to apologize. Are you sure you’re okay?” Timur pressed, his concern growing.
“Yes, really. I should get back to work,” she replied hastily before walking away.
Timur stood there for a moment, watching her leave. He had a feeling there was more to the situation than she was letting on. As he walked to his office, he considered what he could do to help. By the time he arrived, he already had an idea—he would ask Tatyana Yegorovna.
She had worked there for years, maintaining order and keeping a keen eye on everyone. He found her number in his notebook and called.
“Good afternoon, Tatyana Yegorovna. Could you stop by my office in about ten minutes?”
Not long after, she was sitting across from him, sipping tea.
“Maybe I just wanted to invite you for tea,” Timur joked. “Can’t a boss have a cup of tea with the cleaning staff?”
Tatyana chuckled. “Come on now, Timur Alexandrovich. What is it you want to know?”
He leaned forward slightly. “You probably know our employees better than anyone. What do you think of the new cleaner?”
“She’s a good girl. Hardworking. Life hasn’t been kind to her, but she doesn’t let that break her,” Tatyana replied. “Why do you ask?”
“I saw her crying earlier. She wouldn’t say why.”
Tatyana sighed, shaking her head. “She’s been having a rough time here. Some of the women in the office look down on her. She’s not like them—doesn’t wear expensive clothes or layers of makeup. And that, apparently, makes her a target.”
Timur frowned. “They actually bully her?”
“They call her names, make fun of her clothes. ‘Queen of the slums’ and ‘donkey skin’ are their favorites,” she said with a note of disgust.
Timur was taken aback. “We have highly educated employees. How could this be happening?”
“Education doesn’t always mean kindness. I even told Svetlana to stop, but she and the others think it’s amusing,” Tatyana said.
“And what about the girl? What’s her situation?”
“Her mother is sick, but they won’t grant her disability benefits. She can’t work, and the medicine costs a fortune. Sonya does everything she can to take care of them both. She’s smart, but there’s no time for school. She works too much,” Tatyana explained.
Timur sat in silence for a moment, contemplating the cruelty people were capable of. He thanked Tatyana for her insight and escorted her out. Alone in his office, he thought about how he could make things right. After a few minutes, he came to a decision.
Taking out his wallet, he withdrew all the cash he had on hand. He knew that offering money directly might embarrass Sonya, so he opted for a more discreet approach. Heading toward the cleaning supply room, he spotted her bag.
His plan was simple—he would quietly slip the money into her wallet. But as he opened it, something caught his eye. A small, familiar golden cross.
His breath caught in his throat. He had seen this cross before. It wasn’t something just anyone could own—it belonged to his father. Memories long buried came rushing back.
Twenty years ago, his mother had fallen seriously ill. His father, desperate to save her, had done everything he could, but nothing seemed to work. One morning, she seemed to be improving, even making breakfast. Timur had allowed himself to believe she was getting better. But before they even left the house that day, she collapsed.
His father had scooped her into his arms, voice shaking as he ordered, “Get in the car, we’re going to the hospital!”
Timur had sat beside her, holding her hand, silently pleading for her to stay with them. His father drove like a madman, desperate to reach the hospital in time. But as they sped through traffic, an accident happened right in front of them.
Another car lost control, overturning in a ditch. Timur’s father hesitated, torn between stopping and continuing their race to save his wife.
Through the shattered windshield of the overturned car, Timur had seen a little girl—no older than six. Her mother was slumped over the wheel, blood running down her face. The woman had grabbed the cross hanging from his father’s neck, whispering with what little strength she had left, “Save my daughter.”
But his father had backed away, shaking his head. “I can’t. My wife is dying.”
Without looking back, they had sped away. His mother never made it.
The guilt had lingered in Timur’s heart ever since. Over the years, he had tried to find out what happened to the woman and child, but there was never any news.
Now, standing in the storage room, holding that very same cross, he realized the answer had been right in front of him all along.
Sonya was the girl from that accident.
His thoughts were interrupted by a voice behind him.
“Excuse me, what are you doing here?”
He turned sharply to see Sonya standing in the doorway, looking at him curiously.
Feeling foolish, he quickly placed the money on the table. “I, uh… I wanted to give you a bonus and didn’t know how to do it directly.”
She looked surprised but accepted the money hesitantly. Timur muttered an apology and hurried out, his mind still reeling.
That night, he knew there was only one person who could help him make sense of everything.
“Dad, we need to talk,” he said as he sat across from his father.
His father raised an eyebrow. “Are you finally getting married?”
“Not quite,” Timur replied. “Do you remember the accident, the day we took Mom to the hospital?”
His father’s face darkened. “I thought you forgot about that.”
“I never did. And today, I met the girl from that car.”
His father’s expression changed. “That’s impossible.”
“It’s her, Dad. She works for me. Her mother survived, but she’s disabled. Sonya has been taking care of her ever since.”
His father sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair. After a long pause, he finally said, “Then we’ll help her. Whatever she needs.”
Days later, Timur received a call from his father. “I met with her mother. I’ve arranged for her to be treated at the best clinic we have. She holds no grudge, Timur. She’s a kind woman.”
Back at work, Sonya was stunned to hear the news. “Why are you doing this?” she asked.
Timur hesitated before answering. “Because I was there that day. My father was the one driving the car that scared yours off the road.”
Sonya’s expression was unreadable. “That’s why you didn’t stop?”
“Yes. My mother was dying. But that doesn’t make it right. Let me fix this now.”
After a long silence, Sonya nodded. “Maybe it was fate. If not you, someone else might have startled her. Either way, what’s done is done.”
Six months later, Timur approached his father again.
“Dad, we need to talk.”
His father sighed. “What is it now?”
“This time, it’s actually about marriage,” Timur said, smiling. “Sonya is finishing school, and we’re filing the paperwork.”
The office celebrated their wedding, led by none other than Tatyana Yegorovna. Sonya’s mother, after months of treatment, had regained her mobility and even danced a little at the wedding.
As for the women who had once mocked Sonya, they didn’t dare look her in the eye. Life had changed, and now, she was not only Timur’s wife but someone they all respected.