I have always believed in fate and known that nothing happens by chance. A few years ago, I lost my husband, and in order to survive, I decided to rent out one of my rooms. The tenant was a young man named Ruslan, who was a painter, and I immediately liked him. He wasn’t like boys his age—he was serious, well-read, and often in the evenings we would drink tea in the kitchen, talk, and share our experiences and views.
I knew he had a father who lived in the countryside and ran a farm. He was also a widower, but I had never met him. Every day Ruslan would tell me about his projects, and I would share my own plans, and we both found it very interesting.
Once, I hinted that it was time for him to find a wife, but he shyly replied that he didn’t know how to talk to girls. About a month passed after that conversation. One day, I returned from a neighbor’s house, entered Ruslan’s room, and saw him working with a model. I immediately left the room, thinking my tenant was involved in something else.
Later, during a cup of tea, he admitted that he liked that girl but didn’t know how to tell her. It turned out that later we invited the girl over for tea, as if to clarify the misunderstanding, and then the two young people started talking and the ice between them was broken. Ruslan thanked me many times for this, and once he asked me to allow his father to come and stay with us for a period of time to undergo some medical tests.
He even said he could pay for his father’s treatment, but I refused to take the money. His father came, and I couldn’t believe that I could feel so interested in a man again. We started talking, and it turned out we had many things in common.
Now we are planning two weddings—Ruslan’s with his girlfriend, and mine with Ruslan’s father. I am happy and glad that I decided to rent out that room.
