Little stories about love. Stories of beautiful love

Incredible facts

Do you believe in true love? What about love at first sight? Do you believe that love can last forever? Perhaps the love stories below will help you strengthen your faith in this feeling or renew your faith in it. These are the most famous love stories, they are immortal.

1. Romeo and Juliet

These are probably the most famous lovers in the whole world. This couple has become synonymous with love itself. "Romeo and Juliet" is a tragedy by William Shakespeare. The story of two teenagers from two warring families who fall in love at first sight, then get married, and later risk everything for their love. Willingness to give your life for your husband or wife is a sign of real feeling. Their premature departure brought the feuding families together.

2. Cleopatra and Mark Antony

The true love story of Mark Antony and Cleopatra is one of the most memorable and intriguing. The story of these two historical characters was subsequently recreated on the pages of William Shakespeare's work, and filmed by famous directors more than once. The relationship between Mark Antony and Cleopatra is a true test of love. They fell in love at first sight.

The relationship between these two powerful men put Egypt in a very advantageous position. But their romance extremely outraged the Romans, who feared that as a result of it the influence of the Egyptians would significantly increase. Despite all the threats, Mark Antony and Cleopatra got married. It is said that while in battle against the Romans, Mark received false news of Cleopatra's death. Feeling empty, he committed suicide. When Cleopatra learned of Antony's death, she was shocked and then also committed suicide. Great love requires great sacrifices.

3. Lancelot and Guinevere

The tragic love story of Sir Lancelot and Queen Guinevere is probably one of the most famous of the Arthurian legends. Lancelot falls in love with Queen Guinevere, wife of King Arthur. Their love grew very slowly, since Guinevere did not let Lancelot close to her. In the end, however, passion and love overcame her, and they became lovers. One night, Sir Agravain and Sir Modred, King Arthur's nephew, who led a group of 12 knights, burst into the queen's room, where they found the lovers. Taken by surprise, they tried to escape, however, only Lancelot succeeded. The queen was captured and sentenced to death for adultery. However, a few days later Lancelot returned to save his beloved. This whole sad story divided the Knights of the Round Table into two groups, thereby weakening Arthur's kingdom significantly. As a result, poor Lancelot ended his days as a humble hermit, and Guinevere became a nun, and remained so for the rest of her life.

4. Tristan and Isolde

The tragic love story of Tristan and Isolde has been retold and rewritten numerous times. The action took place in the Middle Ages during the reign of King Arthur. Isolde was the daughter of the King of Ireland, and had just become engaged to King Mark of Cornwall. King Mark sent his nephew Tristan to Ireland to escort his bride Isolde to Cornwall. During the journey, Tristan and Isolde fall in love with each other. Isolde still marries Mark, but the love affair continues after her marriage. When Mark finally learned of the betrayal, he forgave Isolde, but exiled Tristan from Cornwall forever.

Tristan went to Brittany. There he met Isolde of Brittany. He was drawn to her because she looked like his true love. He married her, but the marriage did not turn out to be genuine because of his true love for another woman. After he fell ill, he sent for his beloved in the hope that she would come and be able to cure him. There was an agreement with the captain of the ship he sent that if she agreed to come, then the sails of the ship upon return would be white, if not, then black. Tristan's wife, seeing the white sails, told him that the sails were black. He died of grief before his love could reach him, and soon after Isolde also died of a broken heart.

5. Paris and Helen

Told in Homer's Iliad, the story of Helen of Troy and the Trojan War is a Greek heroic legend that is half fiction. Helen of Troy is considered one of the most beautiful women in all of literature. She married Menelaus, king of Sparta. Paris, the son of King Priam of Troy, fell in love with Helen and kidnapped her, taking her to Troy. The Greeks gathered a huge army led by Menelaus' brother, Agamemnon, to bring Helen back. Troy was destroyed, Helen returned safely to Sparta, where she lived happily throughout her life with Menelaus.

6. Orpheus and Eurydice

The story of Orpheus and Eurydice is an ancient Greek myth about desperate love. Orpheus fell very much in love and married Eurydice, a beautiful nymph. They loved each other very much and were happy. Aristaeus, the Greek god of earth and agriculture, became infatuated with Eurydice and actively pursued her. Fleeing from Aristeas, Eurydice fell into a nest of snakes, one of which fatally bit her on the leg. The distraught Orpheus played such sad music and sang so sadly that all the nymphs and gods cried. On their advice, he went to the underworld, and his music softened the hearts of Hades and Persephone (he was the only person who dared to take such a step), who agreed to the return of Eurydice to earth, but on one condition: when they reached the earth, Orpheus would not must look back and look at her. Being extremely alarmed, the lover did not fulfill the conditions, turned around to look at Eurydice, and she disappeared a second time, now forever.

7. Napoleon and Josephine

Having married her for convenience at the age of 26, Napoleon clearly knew who he was taking as his wife. Josephine was older than him, a rich and prominent woman. However, over time, he fell deeply in love with her, and she with him, however, this did not stop both of them from cheating. But mutual respect kept them together, the passion that burned everything in its path did not fade and was genuine. However, in the end they parted because Josephine was unable to give him what he wanted so much - an heir. Unfortunately, their paths diverged, however, throughout their lives they kept love and passion for each other in their hearts.

8. Odysseus and Penelope

Few couples understand the essence of sacrifice in a relationship, however, this Greek couple understood it best. After they were separated, 20 long years passed before their reunion. Shortly after marrying Penelope, war required that Odysseus leave his new wife. Although she had little hope of his return, Penelope still resisted the 108 suitors who sought to replace her husband. Odysseus also loved his wife very much and refused the sorceress who offered him eternal love and eternal youth. Thus, he was able to return home to his wife and son. So believe Homer when he said that true love is worth the wait.

9. Paolo and Francesca

Paolo and Francesca are the heroes of Dante's famous masterpiece "The Divine Comedy". This is a true story: Francesca was married to a terrible man, Gianciotto Malatesta. However, his brother, Paolo, was the complete opposite, Francesca fell in love with him and they became lovers. The love between them became even stronger when (according to Dante) they read the story of Lancelot and Guinevere together. When their affair was discovered, Francesca's husband killed them both.

10. Scarlett O'Hara and Rhett Butler

"Gone with the Wind" is one of the immortal literary works. Margaret Mitchell's famous creation is permeated with love and hate in the relationship between Scarlett and Rhett Butler. Proving that timing is everything, Scarlett and Rhett never seemed to stop "fighting" each other. Throughout this epic story, this violent, volatile passion and their tumultuous marriage took place against the backdrop of the events of the Civil War. Flirty, fickle and constantly pursued by fans, Scarlett cannot decide among the numerous contenders for her attention. When she finally decides to settle on Rhett, her fickle nature pushes him away from her. Hope finally dies when their romance is never rekindled, and Scarlett says at the end: “Tomorrow is a new day.”

11. Jane Eyre and Rochester

In Charlotte Brontë's famous novel, loneliness is cured by being alone and having each other's company. Jane is an orphan who takes a job as a governess in the house of the very rich Edward Rochester. The couple quickly became close, as Rochester had a tender heart underneath his rough exterior. However, he does not reveal his penchant for polygamy, and on their wedding day Jane discovers that he is already married. Heartbroken, Jane flees, but then returns after a fire destroys Rochester's home, killing his wife and leaving him blind. Love triumphs, lovers are reunited and live out their days in each other's company.

12. Leili and Majnun

A well-known classic of Persian poetry and one of the most famous poets of the medieval East, who complemented Persian epic poetry with colloquial speech and realistic style, Nizami of Ganja became famous after he wrote his romantic poem "Leyli and Majnun". Inspired by an Arabian legend, Layla and Majnun is a tragic tale of unattainable love. For many centuries it was told and retold, and the main characters were depicted on ceramics and written about in manuscripts. Leili and Kays fell in love while studying at school. Having noticed their love, they were forbidden to communicate and see each other. Qais then decides to go into the desert to live among animals. He often goes undernourished and becomes very emaciated. Due to his eccentric behavior, he becomes known as Majnun (madman). In the desert, he meets an elderly Bedouin who promises him to win back his Leili.

The plan fails, and Leili's father continues to refuse to let the lovers be together because of Majnun's insane behavior. Soon he marries her to someone else. After the death of Leili's husband, the old Bedouin facilitates her meeting with Majnun, however, they were never able to completely get on the same page and understand each other. After death they were buried next to each other. The story is often interpreted as an allegory of the soul's desire to connect with the divine.

13. Heloise and Abelard

This is the story of a monk and a nun whose love letters become world famous. Around 1100, Pierre Abelard went to Paris to study at Notre Dame School. There he gained a reputation as an outstanding philosopher. Fulbert, a high-ranking official, hired Abelard as a tutor to his niece Heloise. Abelard and Heloise fell in love, conceived a child, and married secretly. However, Fulbert was furious, so Abelard hid Heloise in a safe place in the monastery. Believing that Abelard had decided to abandon Heloise, Fulbert had him castrated while he slept. Heartbroken, Eloise became a nun. Despite all the troubles and adversities, the couple continued to love each other. Their emotional love letters were published.

14. Pyramus and Thisbe

A very touching love story that will not leave anyone indifferent who reads it. Their love was selfless, and they were sure that even in death they would be together. Pyramus was a very handsome man and from childhood he was friends with Thisbe, a beautiful maiden from Babylonia. They lived in neighboring houses and fell in love with each other as they grew older. However, their parents were strongly against their marriage. One night, just before dawn, while everyone was sleeping, they decided to sneak out of the house and meet in a nearby field near a mulberry tree. Thisbe came first. While she was waiting under the tree, she saw a lion approaching the spring located near the tree to quench his thirst, his jaw covered in blood.

Seeing this terrifying sight, Thisbe rushed to run to hide in the depths of the forest from the lion, but on the way she dropped her scarf. The lion followed her and came across a handkerchief, which he decided to taste. At this time, Pyramus approached the place, and seeing a lion with bloody jaws and with the scarf of his beloved, he lost the meaning of life. At that moment he stabs himself with his own sword. Unaware of what had just happened, Thisbe continued to hide. After some time, she came out of hiding and discovered what Pyramus had done to himself. Realizing that she has nothing to live for, she takes her lover’s sword and also kills herself.

15. Elizabeth Bennet and Darcy

In fact, Jane Austen embodied two attributes of human nature, pride and prejudice, in her heroes Darcy and Elizabeth. Darcy belongs to high society, he is a typical educated representative of the aristocracy. On the other hand, Elizabeth is the second daughter of a gentleman of very limited means. Mr. Bennett is the father of five daughters who were given the right to grow up as they wanted, who did not receive a school education and were not brought up by a governess.

Elizabeth's very indulgent mother and irresponsible father never thought about the future of their daughters, believing that it was self-evident that they would be fine. “Everything is fine” in the understanding of the girls’ mother meant marrying a rich and prosperous man. For a man of Mr. Darcy's social status, the shortcomings of Elizabeth's family were very serious, and absolutely unacceptable to his polished and refined mind. He falls in love with Elizabeth, but she turns him down, but later she realizes that she cannot love anyone but Darcy. The story of their unification and the birth of love is very interesting.

16. Salim and Anarkali

Every lover knows the story of Salim and Anarkali. The son of the great Mughal Emperor Akbar, Salim, fell in love with an ordinary but very beautiful courtesan Anarkali. He was captivated by her beauty, so it was love at first sight. However, the emperor could not come to terms with the fact that his son fell in love with a courtesan. He began to put pressure on Anarkali, using all sorts of tactics to make her fall in the eyes of the loving prince. When Salim found out about this, he declared war on his father. But he failed to defeat his father's gigantic army; Salim was defeated, captured and sentenced to death. At this moment, Anarkali intervenes and gives up her love in order to save her beloved from the clutches of death. She was buried alive in a brick wall in front of Salim.

17. Pocahontas and John Smith

This love story is a famous legend in American history. Pocahontas, an Indian princess, was the daughter of Powhatan, who was the leader of the Powhatan Indian tribe, who lived in what is now the state of Virginia. The princess first saw Europeans in May 1607. Among everyone, she paid attention to John Smith, she liked him. However, Smith was captured by members of her tribe and tortured. It was Pocahontas who saved him from being torn to pieces by the Indians; later the tribe accepted him as one of their own. This incident helped Smith and Pocahontas become friends. After this incident, the princess often visited Jamestown, conveying messages from her father.

John Smith, seriously injured after an accidental gunpowder explosion, returned to England. After another visit, she was told that Smith was dead. Some time later, Pocahontas was captured by Sir Samuel Argall, who hoped to use her as a link between him and her father so that the latter would free the English prisoners. During her captivity, she decides to become a Christian and, taking the name Rebecca, is baptized. A year later she married John Rolfe. Having gone to London after a certain time, she and her husband met his old friend John Smith, after 8 long years. This was their last meeting.

18. Shah Jahan and Mumtaz Mahal

In 1612, teenage girl Arjumand Banu married 15-year-old Shah Jahan, ruler of the Mughal Empire. Then she changed her name to Mumtaz Mahal, bore Shah Jahan 14 children and became his beloved wife. After Mumtaz died in 1629, the grieving emperor decided to create a worthy monument in her honor. It took 20,000 workers, 1,000 elephants and almost 20 years of work to complete the construction of this monument - the Taj Mahal. Shah Jahan never completed the construction of a black marble mausoleum for himself. Overthrown by his own son, he was imprisoned in the Red Fort in Agra, where he spent lonely hours looking across the Yamuna River at the monument of his beloved. He was subsequently buried next to her at the Taj Mahal.

19. Marie and Pierre Curie

This is a story about partnership in love and science. Unable to continue her studies in Poland because universities did not accept women, Marie Skłodowska-Curie came to Paris in 1891 to attend the Sorbonne. Marie, as the French began to call her, spent every free moment in the library or laboratory. The hardworking student one day caught the eye of Pierre Curie, the director of one of the laboratories in which Maria worked. Pierre actively courted Maria and proposed to her several times to marry him. Finally, in 1895, they got married and began working together. In 1898, the couple discovered polonium and radium.

Curie and scientist Henri Becquerel received the Nobel Prize in 1903 for their discovery of radioactivity. When Pierre died in 1904, Marie promised herself to continue their work. She took his place at the Sorbonne, becoming the school's first female teacher. In 1911, she became the first person to win a second Nobel Prize, this time in chemistry. She continued to experiment and teach until her death from leukemia in 1934, driven by the memory of the man she loved.

20. Queen Victoria and Prince Albert

This is the love story of an English queen who mourned her dead husband for 40 years. Victoria was a lively, cheerful girl who was interested in drawing and painting. She ascended to the English throne in 1837 after the death of her uncle King William IV. In 1840 she married her cousin Prince Albert. Although Prince Albert was initially disliked in some circles for being German, he later came to be admired for his honesty, hard work and devotion to his family. The couple had 9 children, Victoria loved her husband very deeply. She often used his advice in state affairs, especially regarding diplomatic negotiations.

When Albert died in 1861, Victoria was devastated. She did not appear in public for three years. Her prolonged seclusion drew public criticism. There were several attempts on the queen's life. However, under the influence of Prime Minister Benjamin Disraeli, Victoria returned to public life, opening Parliament in 1866. However, she never stopped mourning her beloved husband, wearing black robes until her death in 1901. During her reign, which was the longest in English history, Britain became a world power on which “the sun never sets.”

This section is dedicated to the topic of love stories. And we women simply adore this topic. Reading love stories, we learn not only from the mistakes of other girls, but also from their successes in winning men's hearts. We don’t always have time to read long romance novels, but we really want love, at least fictional. But the women's magazine “Your Rules” will tell you not only about the love fantasies of our readers, but also about real love stories that happened in their lives.

It started with a real love story that my mother told me. This story happened before her eyes. The main character is her best friend. It so happened that the first and most real youthful love ended in marriage and marriage, but not to those at all... And nevertheless, true love was carried through the years and already in adulthood Nadezhda and Vladimir met again and then they made no mistakes, committed in youth. This is a real life love story. Read and discuss, not everything is so simple in it...

Love stories fantasy or reality?

Another thrilling love story - Game of love for life. There is no point in talking about it - you need to read and enjoy the plot.

For those who remember pioneer camps and the romance associated with this time, and perhaps those who heard about pioneer camps from their parents, will be interested in a slightly naive, but no less interesting love story that happened in a pioneer camp.

New Year's matchmaking is another fairy-tale love story. Fiction or truth, it's up to you to decide. You will definitely like the outcome of this fairy tale!

The following love story did not fit into one article, so it was published in the “Dreams Come True” trilogy. Perhaps, after reading love stories on our women's site, your imagination will run wild, and you will come up with your own equally interesting love story, or maybe you will want to tell about a real love story that happened to you personally. In any case, we will be glad if you share your impressions on the pages of the women's magazine “Your Rules,” as Angela did. Her love story also did not fit into the format of a short article, which makes it more interesting to read the continuation of the love story “Strawberries Can Be Bitter.”

"Where are you?" - this is the cry of the soul. The next reader told us about her love story with the hope that her lost love will be found after reading this confession.

No matter what life is like, each of us has love stories. Whether they are optimistic or saturated with sadness, the main thing is that they are there.

Deep night. Somewhere a quiet breeze runs through, dispersing the last dust on the damp asphalt. A little rain at night added freshness to this stuffy, tortured world. Added freshness to the hearts of lovers. They stood hugging each other in the light of a street lamp. She is so feminine and gentle, who said that at 16 years old a girl cannot be feminine enough?! Here age does not matter at all, only the one who is nearby, the closest, dearest and warmest person on earth is important. And he is most glad that she is finally in his arms. After all, it is true that they say that hugs, like nothing else, convey all the love of a person, no kisses, only the gentle touch of his hands. Each of them in this minute, the minute of hugs, experiences unearthly feelings. The girl feels safe knowing that she will always be protected. The guy shows care, feels responsible - an unforgettable feeling towards his beloved and only one.
Everything was like the finale of the most beautiful film about happy love. But let's start from the beginning.

Current page: 1 (book has 7 pages in total) [available reading passage: 2 pages]

Irina Lobusova
Kamasutra. Short stories about love (collection)

It was like this

Almost every day we meet on the landing of the main staircase. She smokes in the company of her friends, and Natasha and I are looking for the women's restroom - or vice versa. She is similar to me - maybe because we both completely lose the ability to navigate the huge and endless (as it seems to us every day) space of the institute. The long, tangled bodies of which seem to be specially created to put pressure on the brain. Usually by the end of the day I start to go wild and demand to immediately hand over the monkey who built this building. Natasha laughs and asks why I am sure that this architectural monkey is still alive. However, endless wandering in search of the right audience or women's toilet is entertainment. There are so few of them in our lives - simple entertainment. We both appreciate them, I recognize everything in their eyes. When, at the most unexpected moment, we bump into each other on the stairs and lie to each other that our meeting is completely unexpected. We both just know how to lie classically. Me. And she.

We usually meet on the stairs. Then we look away and look important. She explains sedately how she just left the audience. I am walking along the corridor nearby. No one admits, even under the guise of a terrible death penalty, that in fact we are standing here and waiting for each other. No one except us is given (and will not be given) to know about this.

Both very amicably pretend that they are incredibly happy to see each other. From the outside, everything looks so easy to believe.

– It’s so nice to meet friends!

– Oh, I didn’t even know that you would be passing through here... But I’m so glad!

– What do you have to smoke?

She holds out cigarettes, my friend Natasha brazenly grabs two at once and in complete female solidarity the three of us smoke silently until the bell rings for the next pair.

– Would you give me your notes on economic theory for a couple of days? We have a test in a couple of days... And you already passed the test ahead of schedule... (she)

- No problem. Call, come in and take... (me).

Then we go to lectures. She is studying in the same course as me, just in a different stream.

The auditorium is damp from the morning light, and the desk is still damp from the wet rag of the cleaning lady. In the back people are discussing yesterday's television series. After a few minutes, everyone dives into the depths of higher mathematics. Everyone but me. During the break, without taking my eyes off my notes, I sit at the table, trying to at least see what is written on the paper sheet open in front of me. Someone slowly and quietly approaches my table. And without looking up, I know who I will see. Who is standing behind me... She.

She enters sideways, as if embarrassed by strangers. He sits down next to you and looks devotedly into his eyes. We are the closest and best friends, and have been for a long time. The deep essence of our relationship cannot be expressed in words. We're just waiting for one man. We both wait, without success, for another year. We are rivals, but not a single person in the world would think of calling us that. Our faces are the same because they are marked with the indelible stamp of love and anxiety. For one person. We probably both love him. Maybe he loves us too, but for the safety of our common souls, it’s easier to convince ourselves that he really doesn’t care about us.

How much time has passed since then? Six months, a year, two years? Since that time, when was there one, the most ordinary phone call?

Who called? I can’t even remember the name now... Someone from a neighboring course... or from a group...

"- Hello. Come right now. Everyone has gathered here... there's a surprise!

- What a surprise?! It's raining outside! Speak clearly!

– How about your English?

– Have you gone crazy?

– Listen, we have Americans sitting here. Two came on exchange to the Faculty of Romance-Germanic Philology.

- Why are they sitting with us?

– They are not interested there, besides, they met Vitalik and he brought them to our dorm. They are funny. They hardly speak Russian. She (named the name) fell for one. She sits next to him all the time. Come. You should look at this! “

The rain that hit my face... When I returned home, there were three of us. Three. This has been the case ever since.

I turn my head and look at her face - the face of a man who, faithfully laying his head on my shoulder, looks through the eyes of a pitiful beaten dog. She definitely loves him more than me. She loves so much that it is a holiday for her to hear at least one word. Even if this word of his is intended for me. From the point of view of damaged pride, I look at her very closely and competently note that today she has her hair done poorly, this lipstick does not suit her, and there is a loop on her tights. She probably sees the bruises under my eyes, unmanicured nails and tired appearance. I have known for a long time that my breasts are more beautiful and larger than hers, my height is taller and my eyes are brighter. But her legs and waist are more slender than mine. Our mutual inspection is almost unnoticeable - it is a habit ingrained in the subconscious. After this, we mutually look for oddities in behavior that indicate that one of us has recently seen him.

“Yesterday I watched international news until two o’clock in the morning...” her voice trails off and becomes hoarse. “They probably won’t be able to come this year... I heard there’s a crisis in the States...”

“And even if they come, despite their shaky economy,” I pick up, “they are unlikely to come to us.”

Her face falls, I see that I hurt her. But I can’t stop anymore.

- And in general, I have long forgotten about all this nonsense. Even if he comes again, you still won’t understand him. As last time.

– But you will help me with the translation...

- Hardly. I forgot English a long time ago. Exams are coming soon, the session is coming, we need to study Russian... the future belongs to the Russian language... and they also say that Germans will soon come to the Russian Geographical Fund for exchange. Would you like to sit down with a dictionary and go look at them?

After her, he turned to me - it was normal, I had long been accustomed to such a reaction, but I did not know that his ordinary masculine actions could cause her such pain. He still writes me letters - thin pieces of paper printed on a laser printer... I keep them in an old notebook so as not to show them to anyone. She does not know about the existence of these letters. All her ideas about life are the hope that he will forget me too. I guess that every morning she opens a map of the world and looks at the ocean with hope. She loves the ocean almost as much as he loves him. For her, the ocean is a bottomless abyss in which thoughts and feelings drown. I do not dissuade her from this illusion. Let him live as easily as possible. Our history is primitive to the point of stupidity. So ridiculous that it’s embarrassing to even talk about it. Those around us are firmly convinced that, having met at the institute, we simply became friends. Two closest friends. Who always have something to talk about... It's true. We are friends. We are interested together, there are always common topics and we also understand each other perfectly. I like her - as a person, as a person, as a friend. She likes me too. She has character traits that I don't have. We feel good together. It’s so good that no one is needed in this world. Even, probably, the ocean.

In our “personal” life, which is open to everyone, each of us has a separate man. She is a biology student from the university. Mine is a computer artist, a rather funny guy. With a valuable quality - the inability to ask questions. Our men help us survive the uncertainty and melancholy, and also the thought that he will not return. That our American romance will never truly connect us to him. But for this love, we secretly promise each other to always show concern - concern not about ourselves, but about him. She doesn’t realize, I understand how funny and absurd we are, clinging to cracked, torn straws in order to float to the surface and drown out some strange pain. Pain similar to a toothache, occurring at the most inopportune moment in the most inopportune place. Is the pain about yourself? Or about him?

Sometimes I read hatred in her eyes. As if by silent agreement, we hate everything that exists around us. An institute that you entered just for the sake of a diploma, friends who don’t care about you, society and our existence, and most importantly, the abyss that forever separates us from him. And when we are tired to the point of madness from eternal lies and poorly hidden indifference, from the whirlwind of meaningless but many events, from the stupidity of other people’s love stories - we meet her eyes and see sincerity, real, truthful sincerity, which is purer and better... We never talk about the topic of a love triangle because we both understand perfectly well that behind this there is always something more complex than the dilemma of ordinary unrequited love...

And one more thing: we think about him very often. We remember, experiencing different feelings - melancholy, love, hatred, something nasty and disgusting, or vice versa, light and fluffy... And after a stream of general phrases, someone suddenly stops mid-sentence and asks:

- Well?

And the other one shakes her head negatively:

- Nothing new…

And, having met his eyes, he will understand the silent sentence - there will be nothing new, nothing... Never.

At home, alone with myself, when no one sees me, I go crazy from the abyss into which I fall lower and lower. I desperately want to grab a pen and write in English: “leave me alone... don’t call... don’t write...” But I can’t, I’m not capable of doing this, and therefore I suffer from nightmares, from which my other half only becomes chronic insomnia. Our jealous sharing of love is a terrible nightmare in my dreams at night... Like a Swedish family or Muslim laws on polygamy... In my nightmares, I even imagine how we both marry him and run the same kitchen... Me and her. I shudder in my sleep. I wake up in a cold sweat and am tormented by the temptation to say that from mutual friends I learned about his death in a car accident... Or that another plane crashed somewhere... I invent hundreds of ways, I know that I cannot do it. I can't hate her. Just like she did me.

One day, on a difficult day, when my nerves were shaken to the limit, I pressed her against the stairs:

- What are you doing?! Why are you following me? Why are you continuing this nightmare?! Live your own life! Leave me alone! Don't seek my company, because in reality you hate me!

A strange expression appeared in her eyes:

- It is not true. I can't and don't want to hate you. I love you. And a little bit of it.

Every day for two years we meet on the landing of the stairs. And every meeting we don’t talk, but we think about him. I even catch myself thinking that I’m counting down the clock every day and looking forward to the moment when she quietly, as if shyly, enters the classroom, sits down with me and starts a stupid, endless conversation on general topics. And then, in the middle, he will interrupt the conversation and look at me questioningly... I guiltily look away to the side to shake my head negatively. And I’ll shiver all over, probably from the eternal cold dampness in the morning.

Two days until the new year

The telegram said “don’t come.” The snow scratched his cheeks with hard bristles, trampled under the broken lantern. The edge of the most brazen of all telegrams protruded from his pocket through the fur of his fur coat. The station looked like a huge pheonite ball, molded from dirty plasticine. A door leading into the sky fell brightly and clearly into the void.

Leaning against the cold wall, she studied the railway ticket window, where the crowd was choking, and thought only that she wanted to smoke, she just wanted to smoke like crazy, drawing in bitter frosty air into both nostrils. It was impossible to walk, you just had to stand, watching the crowd, leaning your shoulder against the cold wall, squinting your eyes from the familiar stench. All the stations are similar to one another, like fallen gray stars, floating in the clouds of other people's eyes, a collection of familiar, undeniable miasma. All stations are similar to one another.

Clouds - other people's eyes. This was essentially the most important thing.

The telegram said “don’t come.” This way he didn’t have to look for confirmation of what he was going to do. In a narrow passage, a trampled drunk homeless man fell out from under someone’s feet and fell right under her feet. She crawled extremely carefully along the wall so as not to touch the edge of her long fur coat. Someone pushed me in the back. Turned around. It seemed like she wanted to say something, but she couldn’t say anything, and so, unable to say anything, she froze, forgetting that she wanted to smoke because the thought was fresher. The idea that decisions can gnaw at the brain in the same way that half-smoked (in the snow) cigarettes gnaw. Where there was pain, red, inflamed dots remained, carefully hidden under the skin. She ran her hand, trying to cut off the most inflamed part, but nothing happened, and the red dots ached more and more painfully, more and more, leaving behind anger, similar to a hot broken lantern in the usual pheonite ball.

Sharply pushing part of the wall away from her, she crashed into the line, professionally throwing away all the bag-men with her confident elbows. The impudence caused a friendly opening of the mouths of seasoned ticket resellers. She pressed herself against the window, afraid that again she would not be able to say anything, but she said, and where the breath fell on the glass, the window became wet.

- One to... for today.

- And in general?

- I said no.

A sound wave of voices hit the legs, someone was vigorously tearing at the fur side, and very close by, the disgusting onion stench of someone’s hysterical mouth entered the nostrils - so the indignant masses of the people righteously tried to take her away from the railway ticket window.

– I may have a certified telegram.

- Go through the other window.

- Well, look - one ticket.

“Are you kidding me, damn you...,” said the cashier, “don’t hold up the line... you..., moved away from the cash register!”

The fur coat was no longer torn; the sound wave hitting the legs went to the floor. She pushed the heavy door that went into the sky and went out to where the frost immediately bit into her face with sharpened vampire teeth. Endless night stations floated past my eyes (other people's eyes). They shouted after us - along the taxi stands. Of course, she didn't understand a word. It seemed to her that she had forgotten all languages ​​a long time ago, and around her, through the aquarium walls, before reaching her, human sounds were disappearing, taking the colors existing in the world with them. The walls went all the way to the bottom, not letting in the bygone symphony of color. The telegram said “don’t come, circumstances have changed.” A perfect semblance of tears dried on her eyelashes, not reaching her cheeks in the vampire frost. These tears disappeared without appearing at all and immediately, only inside, under the skin, leaving a dull callous pain, similar to a drained swamp. She took a cigarette and a lighter (in the shape of a colored fish) from her purse and took a deep breath of the smoke, which suddenly stuck in her throat like a heavy and bitter lump. She pulled the smoke into herself until the hand holding the cigarette turned into a wooden stump, and when the transformation took place, the cigarette butt fell down of its own accord, looking like a huge falling star reflected in the velvet black sky. Someone pushed again, Christmas tree needles caught on the edge of her fur coat and fell onto the snow, and once the needles fell, she turned around. Ahead, in the hare's mark, loomed a wide man's back with a Christmas tree attached to his shoulder, which danced a fantastic funny dance on its back. The back walked quickly and went farther and farther with each step, and then only needles remained in the snow. Frozen (afraid to breathe), she looked at them for a very long time, the needles looked like small lights, and when her eyes dazzled from the artificial light, she suddenly saw that the light coming from them was green. It was very quickly, and then - nothing at all, only the pain, suppressed by the speed, returned to its original place. It stung in her eyes, spun in place, her brain shrank, and inside someone said clearly and clearly “two days until the New Year,” and immediately there was no air, there was bitter smoke, hidden deep in her chest as well as in her throat . A number, black as melted snow, floated out and knocked something off my feet, carried me away through the snow, but not in one place, somewhere - from people, to people.

“Wait, you...” from the side, someone’s heavy breathing reeked of a full range of fusel oils. Turning around, I saw fox eyes under a knitted hat.

- How long can I run after you?

Was someone running after her? Nonsense. It has never been like this - in this world. There was everything, except for two poles - life and death, in complete abundance.

– Did you ask for a ticket before...?

- Let's say.

- Yes, I have it.

- How many.

– I’ll pay you for 50 as if you were my own.

- Yes, let's go..

- Well, a measly 50 bucks, I’m giving it to you as if it were my own, so take it...

- Yeah, one for today, even the lowest place.

She held the ticket up to the lantern.

– Yes, that’s right, in kind, no doubt about it.

The guy crunched and held up a 50 dollar bill to the light.

- And the train is at 2 am.

- I know.

- OK.

He melted into space, like people who do not repeat themselves in daylight melt. “Don’t come, circumstances have changed.”

She grinned. The face was a white blur on the floor with a cigarette butt stuck to his eyebrow. It protruded from under sleepy drooping eyelids, and, fitting into the dirty circle, it called far, further and further. Where she was, the sharp corners of the chair pressed on her body. Voices merged in my ears somewhere in a forgotten world behind me. A sleepy web enveloped even the facial curves in a non-existent warmth. She bowed her head down, trying to leave, and her face only became a dirty white spot in the station tiles. That night she was no longer herself. Someone born and someone dead changed in ways that could not be imagined. Without falling anywhere, she turned her face away from the floor, where the station lived a nocturnal life that was not subject to consideration. At about one o'clock in the morning a telephone call was heard in one of the apartments.

- Where are you?

- I'd like to check out.

– You decided.

- He sent a telegram. One.

- Will he at least wait for you? And then, the address...

– I have to go – it’s there, in the telegram.

- Will you come back?

- Come what may.

– What if you wait a couple of days?

- This makes absolutely no sense.

- What if you come to your senses?

- There is no right to another exit.

- There is no need to go to him. No need.

“I can’t hear well—the receiver is hissing, but you speak anyway.”

- What should I say?

- Anything. As you wish.

- Satisfied, right? There is no other such idiot on earth!

– There are two days left until the New Year.

- At least you stayed for the holiday.

- I have been chosen.

- Nobody chose you.

- Doesn't matter.

- Do not leave. There's no need to go there, do you hear?

Short beeps blessed her path and the stars turned black through the glass of the telephone booth inside the sky. She thought that she was gone, but she was scared to think about it for a long time.

The train crawled slowly. The carriage windows were dimly lit, the light bulb in the reserved seat aisle was dimly lit. Leaning the back of her head against the plastic of the train partition that reflected the ice, she waited for everything to go away and the darkness outside the window to be washed away by those tears that, without appearing in the eyes, do not dry. The glass, which had not been washed for a long time, began to tremble with a small, painful tremor. The back of my head hurt from the plastic ice. Somewhere inside, a small, chilly animal was whining. “I don’t want...” somewhere inside a small, tired, sick animal cried. “I don’t want to go anywhere, I don’t want to, Lord, do you hear...”

The glass shattered with small painful tremors in time with the train. “I don’t want to leave... the little animal cried, - nowhere at all... I don’t want to go anywhere... I want to go home... I want to go home to my mother...”

The telegram said “don’t come.” This meant that staying was not an option. It seemed to her that, together with the train, she was rolling down the slimy walls of the frozen ravine, with melted snowflakes on her cheeks and Christmas tree needles on the snow, down to the most hopeless bottom, where the frozen windows of the former rooms glow with electricity in such a homely way and where the false ones dissolve in the warmth. the words that there are windows on earth, to which, having abandoned everything, you can still return... she was trembling, her teeth knocked out tremors where the fast train wheezed with agony. Cringing, she thought about the Christmas tree needles stuck in the snow, and that the telegram said “don’t come,” and that there were two days left until the New Year and that one day (it warmed with a painful artificial warmth) the day would come when she would no longer need to go anywhere drive. Like an old sick beast, the train howled along the rails that happiness is the simplest thing on earth. Happiness is when there is no road.

Red flower

She hugged herself by the shoulders, enjoying the perfect velvety skin. Then she slowly smoothed her hair with her hand. Cold water is a miracle. The eyelids became the same, without retaining a single trace of what... That she cried all night the night before. Everything was washed away by the water, and we could safely move forward. She smiled at her reflection in the mirror: “I am beautiful!” Then she waved her hand indifferently.

She walked through the corridor and found herself where she was supposed to be. She took a glass of champagne from the tray, not forgetting to give a sparkling smile to either the waiter or those around her. The champagne seemed disgusting to her, and a terrible bitterness immediately froze on her bitten lips. But none of those present who filled the large hall would have guessed this. She really liked herself from the outside: a lovely woman in an expensive evening dress drinks exquisite champagne, enjoying every sip.

Of course he was there all the time. He reigned, surrounded by his servile subjects, in the heart of the great banquet hall. A socialite, with an easy charm, he strictly follows his crowd. Has everyone come - those who should come? Are everyone enchanted - those who should be enchanted? Is everyone scared and depressed - those who should be scared and depressed? A proud look from under slightly knitted eyebrows said that was all. He sat half-sitting in the center of the table, surrounded by people, and, first of all, beautiful women. Most people who met him for the first time were fascinated by his simple-minded, attractive appearance, his simplicity and ostentatious good nature. He seemed to them an ideal - an oligarch who kept it so simple! Almost like an ordinary person, like one of our own. But only those who came into contact with him closer or those who dared to ask him for money knew how, from under the outer softness, a formidable lion’s paw protruded, capable of tearing apart the culprit with a slight movement of a formidable palm.

She knew all his gestures, his words, movements and habits. She kept every wrinkle in her heart like a treasure. The years brought him money and confidence in the future, he greeted them proudly, like an ocean flagship. There were too many other people in his life to notice. Occasionally he noticed her new wrinkles or folds on her body.

- Darling, you can’t do that! You need to take care of yourself! Look in the mirror! With my money... I heard a new beauty salon has opened...

-Who did you hear it from?

He was not embarrassed:

– Yes, a new one has opened and it’s very good! Go there. Otherwise, you will soon look like you are forty-five! And I won't even be able to go out with you.

He wasn't shy about showing off his knowledge of cosmetics or fashion. On the contrary, he emphasized: “You see how the youth loves me!” He was always surrounded by these same “enlightened” golden youth. On either side of him sat the two most recent title holders. One is Miss City, the other is Miss Charm, the third is the face of a modeling agency that dragged its charges to any presentation where there might be at least one earning more than 100 thousand dollars a year. The fourth was new - she had not seen her before, but she was just as evil, mean and impudent as everyone else. Perhaps this one had even more impudence, and she noted to herself that this one would go far. That girl sat half-sitting in front of him right on the banquet table, coquettishly placing her hand on his shoulder, and burst into loud laughter in response to his words, with her whole appearance expressing a greedy predatory grip under the mask of naive carelessness. Women always occupied first places in his circle. The men crowded behind.

Squeezing the glass in her hand, she seemed to be reading her thoughts on the surface of the golden drink. Flattering, ingratiating smiles accompanied her around her - after all, she was a wife. She had been his wife for a long time, so long that he always emphasized this, which meant that she also had the main role.

Cold water is a miracle. She no longer felt her swollen eyelids. Someone touched her with his elbow:

- Ah. Expensive! – it was an acquaintance, the minister’s wife, – you look great! You are a wonderful couple, I always envy you! It’s so great to live for more than 20 years and maintain such ease in relationships! Always look at each other. Ah, wonderful!

Looking up from her annoying chatter, she really caught his gaze. He looked at her and it was like bubbles in champagne. She smiled her most charming smile, thinking that he deserved a chance…. He did not get up when she approached, and the girls did not even think of leaving when she appeared.

-Are you having fun, dear?

- Yes darling. Everything is fine?

- Wonderful! And you?

– I’m very happy for you, dear.

Their dialogue did not go unnoticed. People around thought “what a lovely couple!” And the journalists present at the banquet noted to themselves that they should mention in the article that the oligarch has such a wonderful wife.

- Dear, will you allow me to say a few words?

Taking her by the arm, he led her away from the table.

-Have you finally calmed down?

- What do you think?

“I think it’s bad to worry at your age!”

- Let me remind you that I am the same age as you!

– It’s different for men!

- Is that so?

- Let's not start over! I'm already tired of your stupid invention that I had to give you flowers today! I have so much to do, I’m spinning like a squirrel in a wheel! You should have thought about that! There was no need to cling to me with all sorts of nonsense! If you want flowers, go buy it for yourself, order it, or even buy a whole store, just leave me alone – that’s all!

She smiled her most charming smile:

- I don’t even remember anymore, dear!

- Is it true? - he was delighted, - and I was so angry when you clung to me with these flowers! I have so much to do, and you come up with all sorts of nonsense!

“It was a little feminine whim.”

- Darling, remember: little feminine whims are allowed only to young beautiful girls, like the ones sitting next to me! But it only irritates you!

- I will remember, my love. Don't be angry, don't be nervous about such trifles!

- It’s very good that you are so smart! I'm lucky with my wife! Listen, darling, we won’t be going back together. The driver will pick you up when you're tired. And I’ll go by myself, in my car, I have some things to do…. And don’t wait for me today, I won’t come to spend the night. I'll only be there for lunch tomorrow. And even then, maybe I’ll have lunch at the office and not return home.

- Will I go alone? Today?!

- Lord, what is it today?! Why are you getting on my nerves all day?

- Yes, I take up so little space in your life...

- What does this have to do with it! You take up a lot of space, you are my wife! And I carry you with me everywhere! So don't start!

- Fine, I will not. I did not want.

- That's good! There is nothing left for you to want!

And, grinning, he returned back, where too many - much more important - were waiting impatiently. From his point of view, more special than his wife. She smiled. Her smile was beautiful. It was an expression of happiness - enormous happiness that could not be contained! Returning to the toilet room again and locking the doors tightly behind her, she took out a small mobile phone.

- I confirm. After half an hour.

In the hall, she again lavished smiles - demonstrating (and she did not need to demonstrate, that’s how she felt) a huge surge of happiness. These were the happiest moments - moments of anticipation... So, beaming, she slipped into the narrow corridor near the service entrance, from where the exit was clearly visible, and clung to the window. Half an hour later, familiar figures appeared in the narrow doors. It was her husband's two guards, and her husband. Her husband hugging the new girl. And the kisser is on the go. Everyone hurried to the shiny black Mercedes, the husband’s latest acquisition, which cost 797 thousand dollars. He loved expensive cars. Loved it very much.

The doors swung open and the dark interior of the car swallowed them completely. The guards remained outside. One was saying something on the radio - probably warning those at the entrance that the car was already coming.

The explosion sounded with deafening force, destroying the hotel's illumination, trees and glass. Everything was mixed up: screams, roar, ringing. Fiery tongues of flame that shot up to the very sky licked the mangled body of the Mercedes, turned into a huge funeral pyre.

She hugged herself by the shoulders and automatically smoothed her hair, enjoying the inner voice: “I gave you the most beautiful red flower! Happy wedding day, dear."

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