**A Cursed Love**
*”What happens now?”* Olesya murmured anxiously, more to herself than to her sweetheart.
*”Well, I’ll send matchmakers your way. Just wait,”* the lad replied coolly.
…Olesya returned from what would later prove to be the most fateful night of her life—giddy, mysterious. She told her younger sisters every detail of her rendezvous with Borislav. They knew she’d been madly in love with him. He’d promised to marry her come autumn, after the harvest.
Now, after their tryst in the hayloft, surely he’d propose. But the fields lay empty, the barns were full, New Year approached… and no matchmakers arrived.
Her mother, Auntie Agnes, noticed the change in Olesya. Once cheerful, she grew sullen, her body altering unevenly. A heart-to-heart followed. When Olesya confessed, Agnes resolved to look her would-be son-in-law in the eye—and demand where those matchmakers had got lost.
Without hesitation, Agnes marched to the next village, where Borislav lived. His mother greeted her, clueless about her son’s actions. Agnes laid bare her fury. Both women turned on Borislav, who sneered:
*”How do I know it’s mine? Plenty of lads in the village. Should I claim every child as my own?”*
Agnes stormed out, leaving behind a curse:
*”May you marry a dozen times over, you wretch!”*
Perhaps heaven heard her. Borislav wed four times.
Olesya read the truth in her mother’s face. Agnes warned her daughters sharply:
*”Not a word to your father. We’ll handle this.”*
She sent Olesya to relatives in Sheffield. *”Leave the babe at the hospital. The village gossips will shred our name otherwise.”*
Agnes’ husband, Denis, was the village schoolmaster—respected, stern. The disgrace of an unwed daughter would undo him. To Denis, Agnes lied: *”Olesya’s gone to the city for work. She’s twenty—old enough.”*
But whispers travel. Denis learned the truth from his own pupils. He erupted at Agnes:
*”You’d abandon your grandchild? Bring her home at once!”*
Trembling, Agnes fetched the baby—Annie—from the orphanage. Olesya bore the guilt lifelong. No matter how wild Annie grew, Olesya endured it silently.
Years later, a childhood friend, Frederick, courted Olesya. He knew her past yet adored her. They wed quietly, moving to London to escape prying eyes.
Olesya bore a daughter, Lucy. Frederick treated both girls as his own. He revived Olesya’s broken spirit—their home brimmed with peace.
A decade passed. During a summer visit to Agnes, Annie discovered Olesya’s old diary in the attic—and the truth. Furious, she confronted her grandmother, then stormed to Borislav’s village.
His mother recognized Annie instantly—she was Borislav’s mirror. Over tea, the old woman wept: *”I never forgot you, but he forbade me…”*
When Borislav entered, he eyed the sisters. *”Which one’s mine?”*
Annie spat back: *”I *could’ve* been yours.”*
Alone in the yard, he offered her money. She refused. *”Pathetic,”* she seethed to her sister afterward.
Agnes fretted: *”Should we tell Frederick?”*
Annie cut her off: *”Frederick’s my only father.”* Yet resentment festered. She scorned Olesya for yielding to shame.
Years rolled on. Borislav, thrice-divorced, still sought Olesya out in London. She dressed finely for these rare meetings—proof she wanted nothing from him. She never mentioned Annie’s decade-long estrangement, nor how Annie barred her from seeing the grandchildren.
At their golden wedding anniversary, amid family laughter, Annie pulled Olesya aside in tears: *”Forgive me, Mum. I had no right to judge.”*
Borislav called too, lamenting: *”I’ll never make fifty years with one wife. Why did I let you go?”*
Olesya silenced him: *”If you’d loved me, you wouldn’t have. But I’m happy now. Frederick’s my sun. No regrets.”*
She hung up. Some shadows, at last, had lifted.
