And she lived happily ever after. They lived happily ever after

Spend more time with your family, stay active, learn new things, eat in moderation, avoid stress and get enough sleep - centenarians say that helps them cross the 90-year milestone and live a rich life.

"Life is a continuous learning"

My secret is that I am very active and do not lose interest in life. Until last year, I worked as a cloakroom attendant at a hairdresser's. It turned out that it is very difficult to suddenly stop going to work. But I have a wonderful family, and now I can pay more attention to it.

On Mondays, I enjoy going to the gym for classes for those over 50. I attend a theater studio and plan to start learning German when the group is full.

Life is a continuous education, the biggest life lesson is patience. I used to worry about nothing. Now I know: everything that happens is not accidental and right.

"Need more sleep and don't drink too much"

Pam Zeldin, 94 (left), her great-great-granddaughter Sophie and sister Nora.

I live with my sister Nora, she is already 98. We take care of each other. Her husband died ten years ago, and both daughters were living in France by then. And I offered her to move in with me. We always got along well and became a great team.

We still do all the housework ourselves. Nora cleans the first floor, I clean the second. She cooks, and I do other things and sometimes help her in the kitchen. Only to work in the garden we hired an assistant.

If you want to live long, take care of your health. Be sure to get enough sleep and do not abuse alcohol. Nora, for example, allows herself a glass of gin and tonic in the evening.

"Age is a state of mind"

I live so long because death is good to me, and I love life and consider it the most valuable gift. Age is a state of mind. During my long life, I realized that the main thing is to be useful to yourself and others.

If I could write a letter to my young self, I would advise you to take more care of your mind and body. To feel good in old age, in youth you need to read a lot, think and move. We also need to be moderate in food, because we eat too much.

“Life and love should be taken with tenderness and try to avoid stress”

Now I don't have many hobbies. I read, communicate on the Web, do not part with my tablet. Having been widowed, I even tried to get acquainted on the Internet, but I realized that this was not for me.

For those who want to live to a ripe old age, I advise you not to fuss and not worry about nonsense. You don’t need to change jobs too often, it’s better to find a job to your liking. What I just did not do, from construction and real estate to teaching. Live slowly, enjoying every moment.

"I finally realized what I'm really interested in"

When you are over 90, life becomes very slow. It is difficult for me to move, but, fortunately, everything is in order with my head. Not so long ago, I have new interests. Before I never wrote, but now I write quite a lot. The biography of my husband is already ready and will be published soon. I also record audiobooks.

Over the years, I have become more tolerant. This does not mean that I have completely stopped screaming and being indignant. But now I am more sympathetic to those who live and think differently than I do.

I'm sure I live this long just because I'm lucky

I enjoy family and friends dinners and occasional trips to the theatre. I used to go to the pool, but now I had to forget about physical activity. This is a big disadvantage of old age.

I'm sure I'm living this long just because I'm lucky. I never ate healthy, did little exercise, and did nothing to prolong my life. I am sure that if you are 80 years old and you feel fine, you have every chance to live to 100. And I am going to do it.

They lived happily ever after... He and She...

HE. He woke up because the pillow was wet. He thought he had been crying at night. This hasn't happened to him for a very long time. He opened his eyes. It was raining outside and drops were falling through the open window. So it wasn't tears at all. He felt sad, as if he had lost something.
It was warm under the covers. The rushing air from the window cooled my face pleasantly. He pulled the blanket tighter around him and watched the rain make short strokes outside the window. It acted sedative.
He had already dozed off, when suddenly something pricked him. Some thought flickered with the mouse and disappeared, leaving a feeling of nasty emptiness. Still basking in the warmth of the blanket, especially pleasant because it was raining and cold outside, he lazily tried to catch the thought. Just to just define it. He had not yet imagined that it would be so important, and most importantly, so painful. She didn't give in. Instead, God knows what came into her head. He abandoned his attempts and again surrendered to the captivating sensation of bliss.
For some reason, he remembered his youth, when he, just wrapped in a blanket, lay down near the open window and, catching raindrops on his face, imagined how his future life would turn out. In those thoughts there was always a certain sweet bitterness - he remembered it well. But he did not remember at all what it was connected with.
Well, God bless her, he thought, basking in the lullaby sensation of the bed, when suddenly a sharp and surprisingly strong premonition of danger literally pierced him. With his habit of self-discipline and the ability to control himself, he pulled himself headlong out of nirvana, threw off bliss and quickly, in alarm mode, ran through his sensations. He would never have been able to achieve what he has achieved without this ability of his to concentrate to the utmost at the right moment. Yes, he easily discovered the source of this danger - it was that mouse-thought that slipped a few minutes ago. It was she who came to him in the morning - the time when a person is most defenseless in front of himself - and made him cry in his sleep.
For the first time in many, many years. All this, and most importantly, the very content of thought became known to him literally in a split second. But he immediately regretted it. Because it was a deadly thought. Of course, he could reject her from himself, it was still not too late. His will was enough for that.
But he didn't want to do it.
In a sober mind and a clear mind, by his own choice, he was left alone with a thought that was capable of crushing not only an individual, no matter how strong it was. She could crush the country. Nation. planet. Galaxy. Nobody ever loved him - that was the thought.

SHE. Getting ready for bed, she walked around the house and turned on the lights everywhere. The dog, a red setter, wagged his tail in front.
The sequence of rooms was an indisputable fact, it was impossible to show character here. But which switch to approach first - it assumed a lot of options. And the dog used them as he wanted. And she resignedly followed him. It was the only creature in nature to which she obeyed.
And so they walked, dog and mistress, through a long line of rooms, driving the darkness out of the huge house that occupied the entire hillside of Beverly Hills.
When they entered the hall where this idiotic picture hung, she made a wish. The last time the dog approached first the lamp by the window and only then to the block of lamps illuminating the picture. Eat. The dog went to the block of lamps. Sorry everyone. This picture will no longer be here. As there will be no more in her life and the author of this picture. But she's not to blame. All claims, please, to the dog. What a smart guy, she thought. She stopped him, sat down, hugged him. The dog was unhappy. He did not like tenderness at the wrong time. Things were still unfinished. There were several bedrooms ahead, another living room, a billiard room, a room with a bar, a room where her closest friend, who crashed in the Alps two years ago, liked to stay, a room that she would never have entered if it were not for the need for light, and a couple more rooms, which she still could not think of a use for.
No, enough for today, she said to the dog, God be with him, with the light. Let's go to sleep better.
Of course, she was under his command, he never doubted that. But she is a woman, and an extraordinary one at that. You don't have to be human to understand this. Just being alive is enough. And then today she is very excited about something. He felt it. So he licked her cheek in agreement and turned her back. It was an irreparable mistake. It was impossible to leave darkness in that part of the house.

They returned to her bedroom, and again his red tail dangled in front, and she still could not move away from the events of 30 minutes ago, no more.
She was driving home from the author of this picture. By the way, it is completely incomprehensible why it is so expensive. And why is everything that comes out from under his brush so expensive. Of course, he is a cult figure, a national treasure, a personal friend of the Presidents and an outstanding personality in general, divinely complex, a magnificent lover - she was ready to agree with all this, but she still did not like his paintings. So, she was driving home because she preferred to sleep alone. Preferred, in her case, with her character and will, meant only one thing - she always slept alone. Even when, being a dowry, cleaner than Ostrovsky's, she married the owner of this house, as well as about a dozen houses in different parts of the world and a business, the true size of which she still does not know, but, most importantly, the person who captivated her , strongly, almost without looking back - even then she did not sleep with him at night. Or that infinitesimal thing that was left of the night after their passion. She still had to go to her bedroom, lie down in her bed, which belonged only to her, and only then did sleep take her into its arms.

The author of the picture knew this preference. He knew it was useless to try to talk her out of him. He knew that she preferred silence after their meetings - he often caught himself that this silence, when he remembers him the next day, excites him much more than even the memory of the most frank moments of their passion. I knew that after that she would prefer not to drive, but to sit in the back, staring out the window, and listen to quiet, calm music.
She knew that he knew all of this, and perhaps a thousand other preferences of hers, the smallest, most imperceptible, and perhaps not even fully conscious of her. She also knew that if he had a chance, he would not hesitate to exchange his whole life for the possibility of realizing all her preferences and would never regret it - if only to be close to her.
Therefore, he drove her car home - he would return in a taxi back, drove silently, calm music played quietly, and, although he really wanted to, he did not try to quietly look at her in the mirror, as she preferred that he did not. She knew all this, but it did not affect her feelings at all.

So it was with him, so it was with everyone before him, and so it will be with those who will happen in her life later. It was as inevitable as the change of day at night. Of course, a pleasant change, but due to familiarity, it has long lost its sharpness and is therefore taken for granted. Natural.

And now, understanding all the desires of the person behind the wheel, but only the farthest corner of her consciousness, where there were some unimportant things for her, she looked through the car window at night Melrose Street.

It was Friday, restaurants and cafes were seething, young people swirled at the entrances to discos. The tinted side windows of her car added darkness, which made everything that was happening outside look a little unusual, as if the night had become blacker than usual, and she suddenly felt like she was on a completely different street. In another country. In another life. It was a very short moment, but it worked like a burn.

She did not like to delve into herself, in her thoughts, she preferred simplicity and clarity in everything - which was admired by everyone who knew her and considered it a national feature - but for more than half an hour she had been trying to figure out the reason for the appearance of this moment.
The phone rang and distracted her. The taxi had already taken the author of the picture home, he wanted to inform her about this, and at the same time once again wish her good night. She thought about telling him about the decision she made a few minutes ago in the hall with this stupid picture, but then she decided that this would provoke a long and difficult conversation, and remained silent.

Having brought her to the bedroom, the dog did not enter - he also knew that she preferred to sleep alone - and lay down at the threshold, in front of the door, which she closed behind her, kissing him and saying that they would definitely see each other tomorrow morning.

Once she read that dogs do not distinguish the length of time intervals and even a minute farewell to the owner is considered a farewell forever. Since then, at every parting, she promised her dog a new meeting.
She turned off the light and got into bed. She knew that now in the house shining with lights, the only dark window was in her bedroom. (The fact that this time it was not so and that almost half of the house remained in the dark most likely testified to a strong emotional agitation.) She did not know why, but for many years now, hating the darkness and turning on the light everywhere and always, where it was in her power, she could only sleep in a dark room and alone.
She fell asleep very quickly. Even now, not even a few seconds had passed, and she was already sliding down a steep hill into a dream. But suddenly, in that frontier, where there is no longer daytime life, and no night life yet, before her eyes again appeared that dark street that she had dreamed of on Melrose at night. Without having time to realize anything, and driven only by instinct, she quickly rushed back to reality, where she suddenly found with surprise that she was crying. For the first time in many, many years.
She was crying, burying her face in the pillow and choking on sobs so as not to disturb the dog. She wept bitterly, hopelessly, pitying herself, as she would pity a stranger. And how can one not feel sorry for a person who suddenly discovered a simple and terrible truth.
She never loved anyone - that was the truth.

HE. He looked out the window and smiled. It was a bad smile. Usually those to whom it was addressed remembered it for the rest of their lives - if he decided to leave it to them. But now he was smiling to himself, and that could mean only one thing - he decided to go to the very end.
For a couple of decades that have passed since his youth, he has developed a very definite relationship with himself. He never lied to himself. He wanted to deal with the damn idea. He knew it could be devastating. But he also understood that he could never consciously harm himself - for this, his instinct for self-preservation was too strong. No wonder they said about him that he senses danger before it appears. That is why this very instinct now had to moderate its agility.
He needed to bring himself to the edge of the abyss. Until the break. Only in this way, balancing on the verge of the unacceptable, it was possible to verify the truth or falsity of this thought. Only discarding, like last year's newspaper, male pride, the instinct of a male and the confidence of a lover. Always his victoriousness, fear of enemies and unchanging good luck. His empire, the subservience of subjects and the power of protection. His name, appearance and image, known to millions. In short, everything that made him exactly him - and remain just a Man who had - or did not have - a Woman who loved him.
God knows, this was not an occupation for a weak person. Although his opponent was not one of the last - he himself. More precisely, part of it is its own instinct.

SHE. She looked at the externally illuminated white, as if made of patent leather, magnolia flower, hanging in a theatrical way beautifully in front of the window - here all nature was in the manner of scenery - at the garden flooded with electric light, and the same thing pounded dryly in her head. She never loved anyone.
All the tears she could muster she had already shed. Now she, with her character, was interested in only one question - why? Why is this
happened to her? She knew right away that this was true. She did not like to lie, and never to herself. She was made for love, she never doubted that. She soberly assessed herself. Superlatives did not apply to her. They were much prettier than her, sexier, smarter, more attractive, bitchier, after all, if anyone likes such. But she was a woman. And it was felt by everyone, without exception, with whom her fate confronted. To her credit, she did not see her merit in this and perceived it simply as a kind of gift. Someone sings well, someone is capable of languages, and this is exactly what she got from God.
Without turning on the light, she sat up in bed, rested her back against the headboard, and threw her hands behind her head. Finding logical connections is a matter of the male mind. But she chose not to hide behind the peculiarity of the female intellect. And preference for her meant only one thing - she would find the reason for what happened to her.

The dog felt something behind the door, grunted and scratched the door with his paw - a dry clatter of claws was heard. He could not enter, the door opened outward, he simply let her know that he was here and, as always, he was ready for anything for her. She quietly told him that she was all right, let her not worry and continue sleeping, although she knew that he would fall asleep only after he was sure that she had fallen asleep.
I'm afraid, dear, she said to herself to her dog, you and I will have a sleepless night and in the morning you won't recognize me. She involuntarily chuckled to herself - even in this state she was flirting, and with herself. Well, then she is a woman. She knew perfectly well that not a single night, no matter how stormy, had yet affected her in the morning.

She again mentally returned to that moment of this evening when she was sitting in a car going along the night Melrose - for some reason it seemed to her that the search should begin from there. So, she was sitting in the car, and her body was full of that tired lightness that she usually had after love, she liked this feeling, and she completely gave herself to him, thoughtlessly looking out the window. And suddenly she was on that dark street.
In recent years, her thoughts have less and less often returned to her homeland, which she left many years ago, drawn by an instinct that is always aimed at success, like a compass needle - to the north. But she recognized this street immediately. It was the street of her youth.
Something had happened there, on that street, something very dangerous that had affected her here in Melrose like a burn, even after so many years. And what happened then was somehow connected with the terrible truth that had just been revealed to her.
She tried to remember, but she couldn't. Something was bothering her. There was a feeling that that place in her memory was closed by heavy gates. She fell on them with her whole body, she beat them with her shoulder, legs, and they suddenly succumbed. A little. At first. Then more and more. Until they burst open and vanished like they never existed. And what did she see?

HE. With his characteristic scrupulousness and methodicalness, he sorted through his past, trying to find something that could prove the falsity of this killer thought. He called for help from all the women who were in his life. And they came. Flash memories. That face, that posture, that part of the body. It was like a crazy projectionist jerking back and forth the tape of his entire life.
The only thing that united these memories - they were all sexually conditioned. Whatever he remembered about any of the women, it was only moments of physical intimacy with them. Or proximity - he, for example, remembered how he lowered the straps of one of them and caressed his breasts. Or after the proximity. Twice in a row - probably, once it was emotionally very strong - he saw how he immediately fell into a dream after a hot hug. He even saw bits of this dream. But not so bright anymore. It was like a copy of a copy.

He sorted through these memories like a rosary, now going into their very depths, now emerging to the most recent, sometimes returning several times to the same woman, but in different flashes, and suddenly felt that he was getting pleasure from this. His masculine vanity was pleasantly amused, on his face - he caught it by the tension of his cheek muscles - a satisfied smile appeared. Clearly, he told his self-preservation instinct - and he had no doubts that it was he who acted - it means that you do not want to give in kindly. And he smiled his wicked smile to himself again.

The mobile phone beeped. This number was known only to a few of the closest people and the head of his security. Something extraordinary had to happen for them to call him. A hand reached for the phone, but he stopped it midway. I warned you, he told his call-struck instinct, as he would tell anyone else who let him down. Now you have to pay. And immediately, as if in a whirlpool of his head, he rushed to where his instinct did not want to let him go.
Into a black well, into a secret pit, where all the refusals, betrayals, neglects, rejected requests, insulted dreams, unrequited feelings and, most importantly, the main thing that was hidden at the very bottom, were imprisoned - the three loves of his life. All in varying degrees, but depressingly uniformly deceived, insulted and humiliated.
And again, all flashes. But this time they flashed pictures. Frozen, as in the children's game "Freeze".

Summer, evening, Sokol metro station. Yalta, self-service dining room. Trolleybus "B" passes by the planetarium. An apartment, an apartment, a four-bed hotel room, a room in a communal apartment, a cafe with loud music and flashes of blue light, a skinny mattress on the floor, a sofa with a sagging back, the back seat of a car, an institute auditorium, an electric train vestibule, a beach sunbed ... That's enough ! You'll kill yourself, it's suicide! Come up! Come up quickly! .. - yelled instinct.

Shut up! he shouted at him. He screamed and writhed like a sinner in a frying pan, but did not back down and begged, begged and slipped a saving thought: it was all when you were a nobody - a schoolboy, a student, a junior researcher, an unsuccessful husband, an unenviable father, a poor lover, a novice broker, a card player who bets the last thing, a man who is afraid of shaved heads in leather jackets, the police, the law, the change in the dollar, the turn in the country to the old, Lord, what were you only then afraid of. But it's all gone, it's all behind. You remember what happened next. When you became who you are now. When you are rich, famous, when your photographs do not leave newspaper and magazine pages, when acquaintance with you is considered an honor by far not the last people in the country and abroad.

Cyprus bungalow. Maldives, yacht. Fiji, private pool. Moscow - sauna, sauna, sauna. Mansions, restaurants, country dachas, offices of organizers of beauty contests, artistic restrooms, American women, French women, Italian women, a German woman who looks like a Russian woman, a Spaniard, exactly a Kazakh woman, an American singer, private jet salons, hotel apartments in different cities and different countries. Hotel in Beverly Hills.

For some reason, he remembered her especially. Excited, still out of breath, he got out of bed and went out onto the balcony to catch the breath of the wind on his wet skin. The entire slope of the hill opposite was occupied by a huge house, shining with the lights of its countless windows. Only one of them, on the ground floor, was dark. He looked at this window for a long time, then for some reason returned to the bedroom, silently threw the woman heading for the bathroom onto the bed, and again took possession of her. Violent, ruthless and evil. It was like taking revenge on someone.

SHE. She didn't see anything special. The dark street of Podolsk, infinitely far from here, with broken lamps and a young man standing next to it. And it's all?! she asked herself in relief. And because of this, all the fuss?! she continued to ask herself, but the relief suddenly shrank in panic and disappeared, and she remembered everything.
But first she remembered that the gates in her memory had been erected by herself, and she remembered what they were supposed to protect her from.

She was always, even at a very young age, distinguished by an amazing sobriety of thought and knowledge of what she needed. And she needed everything. She didn't want to live the way her family lived, her neighbors, her town, and the whole country. She needed the whole world. And it will be brought and laid at her feet by men, she felt it. Almost as a girl, she instinctively felt that she was able to get what she wanted, but for this she had to be strong. And love is weakness. Vulnerability. Addiction. Well, then there will be no love. It will be replaced by passion, respect, pity, habit. Lord, there are so many things in the world that can replace love.

At the same time, being already an adult, she was always proud that she never acted contrary to her own feelings. She never slept with people she didn't want to sleep with, never once did money or power govern her choice. But she never chose among people who did not have money or power. The horses that carry her up, she selected only in the elite stables.
But the main rule according to which this selection took place was never, for anything and under no circumstances, to allow that disastrous sensation that seized her when she came to her friend in her distant youth and saw this cheerful young man with sad eyes.
It was from this feeling that the gates were erected by her. Which today for some reason collapsed and let out what she forever forbade the exit.

HE. So what, he said to instinct, I remembered. And what happened? Instinct was silent. Yes, he was lucky with instinct. Cowardly, of course, but this is its fundamental quality. But what got honest - well done. When there is nothing to say, he is silent, does not bustle. Although what can I say, and so clear - everything was bought and paid for. And not necessarily money. His position in society, loud scandals associated with his name, the opportunity to amuse female vanity. And it is unlikely that with his fame there would be a woman who could be distracted from all this entourage and fall in love with him just like a man.

Without a doubt, this was an excuse. Instinct was no longer just silent, it was silent contentedly. Although he was still quite shriveled. Come on, he told him, never mind, it's not evening yet. They didn't love it, they will love it. Still ahead, what are our years. And they don't like it, well, to hell with it. It's still nice to know that any woman you like can become yours.
Hearing this, instinct purred blissfully, relaxed - and at that moment he dealt him a mortal blow. He always did this to his enemies. He pretended that everything was forgotten, everything had passed, cloudless friendship was ahead, and when they canceled the alarm and unloaded their weapons, a fatally inevitable attack followed.

Just like now, when he asked himself a simple question, like the blade of a homemade knife: what kind of person are you, if neither in poverty nor in wealth
became anyone's favorite? Parents who have long been gone from the world do not count, they were meant by nature to love you. Just think about it, he said to himself, - if you die tomorrow, it won't be a tragedy for anyone. There will be regrets, of course. But no one will be choked with grief, will not go into hysterics, believing that life is over without you. And let this be an exaggeration, which will weaken with time and turn into the usual deaf melancholy, but at least there would be something to exaggerate. It won't happen to you either, he told himself and froze.

He was seized by an amazing sensation he had never experienced before. No one held his hand, no one tried to stop him at the edge, moreover, the feeling of the edge disappeared altogether. And he stepped forward.
If so far, in your best years, no one has fallen in love, then how many chances do you have that this will happen later, he asked himself a question. Just don't forget, you have to love this person too. After all, talking about whether someone loved you, whom you also loved. The question is just that. Otherwise it's nonsense. But then you have to take into account your many times increased demands on this person, your thousand times multiplied disbelief that they love you, and not accompanying you. Yours, confess, generally disbelief in love. And if you take all this into account, then your chances are zero.

Then he felt that same chill that usually served him as a premonition of extreme danger.
In fact, when a person admits to himself even in his most terrible troubles, he is implicitly sure that there is a way out. This is the main property of human nature - the instinct of self-preservation works. Otherwise, a pipe is a pipe for a person, it makes no sense for him to live on. It looks like this happened to him.
No pros, no prospects. And he drove his instinct so far that he completely disappeared. Well, he told himself, it's time to shoot. Or take potassium cyanide.

SHE. She came to her friend when everyone was already at the table - they were celebrating a birthday. She, as best she could, glanced around at the seated ones and immediately realized that there was no one here who could interest her. She was already sitting down in an empty seat when he entered the room from the balcony - he was smoking there. She raised her eyes, met his gaze - and then she did not remember anything.

She woke up from this faint, passing with full consciousness, already on the street. It was dark, it was drizzling, the rare surviving lanterns gave almost no light, the swaying traffic police sign creaked in the wind. She was in his arms, and all she wanted was for this to never go away.
She realized that the worst thing that can only happen is happening: she is losing the future that was already built in her imagination. Gathering the last of her strength, she pushed him away and said that she had to go. She has a wedding tomorrow. She wanted him to believe her. I really wanted to. But she knew she wouldn't believe it. No one would believe such a ridiculous lie, that's obvious. And she had already come to terms with the fact that she had lost her so wonderfully designed future, but for some reason she was happy. Immeasurably.

HE. He knew perfectly well that he would not use either poison or a bullet. And the reason for this is not at all in instinct - he is alive or already dead. It's a matter of elementary logic. Death doesn't change anything. She only puts an end to it. And whether this point is made now or much later, the conclusion to which he has just arrived will not change in the least.
For him, a man who never recognized hopeless situations, such a thought was even worse than death. He felt that he was acutely short of breath.
I jumped out of bed, tore at myself a slightly ajar window - with heavy bulletproof glass, recently inserted at the insistence of the head of security, it went with an effort - deeply, with my whole chest I took in the cold air, saturated with rain and the smell of distant forests, and suddenly thought that only a few seconds of summer to the asphalt below, and the suffocation will disappear.
And at the same moment, his instinct, finally giving up, swept out with a white flag in memory the most secret thing that he hid from the owner, held as the last frontier, followed by unconditional surrender - the love that he so unsuccessfully tried to discover this morning.

He vaguely remembered the circumstances of their meeting, how they left the house, where they were going and what they said to each other. But he remembered, as if it had just happened, her face raised to him, the coldness of her lips and the street lamp dangling in the wind, like an announced, over their very heads. I remember his creak. And most importantly, he remembered the feeling of such happiness, which he never had again later.
She suddenly pushed him away and said that she had to go - she had a wedding tomorrow. He wanted to laugh and pull her closer to him - she didn't know how to lie at all, it was obvious. How obvious it was that their meeting was something that happens only once in a lifetime - and then, if you're very lucky. But instead, he unexpectedly unclenched his hands and coldly said: "Congratulations."
As he turned to leave, he thought he saw a flicker of relief in her eyes.

SHE. She saw that he did not believe. But in the next second I realized that I was mistaken - he believed! He released her from his arms, coldly said: "Congratulations" and left. Quickly, as if running from something. An impossibly sharp pain engulfed her entire being, but at the same time she experienced great relief. She realized that her future is no longer in danger and it will remain as she intended it to be.

HE. Congratulations, he told his instinct with obvious irony, good job. It was necessary to hide everything so - I barely remembered.
Yes, he agreed with some resentment for the forced surrender, but rapidly gaining his former strength.
You remembered. But not all. Now remember your desperation. Your fear.
You hugged her and understood that apart from this you don’t need anything else in life. You no longer have to climb up, climb steeps and win your right to happiness - you already have it.
A small apartment in a "socket", diapers drying in the kitchen, ordinary work and ordinary life - that's what awaited you ahead. And that's what you ran away from so quickly, using a ridiculous pretext.

SHE. Well, she told herself as she lay in bed and looked at the leathery magnolia flower outside the window, then everything happened just as you planned. And it's not the worst thing that could happen to you. She smiled and immediately fell asleep, and her sleep was deep and calm.
And that dark street from her past, which she dreamed of at night Melrose, never bothered her again.

HE. Diaper. Child. Darling. Maybe this is just what he lacked all his life, he suddenly thought. For some reason he liked this idea very much, and he decided to dwell on it longer.
But the cell phone beeped. Something important must have happened if this number is called a second time, he decided, and picked up the phone.
And everything that occupied him this morning was pushed aside by a slight effort of will, never to disturb him again.

HE AND SHE. They lived happily ever after. And they never mentioned each other again.

Story from Cosmopolitan magazine

They lived happily ever after...
So they lived, not knowing the other, understanding alone that there is no more beautiful life together ... they understood each other, from a half-word, from a half-look. Others said about them that they were a couple, and they didn't and wouldn't have others. So it happened in the fates for a long time. She went to the cinema with him, he gave her flowers, they drank expensive wine ... at the table, in an expensive restaurant.
She loved to look into her eyes, he just enjoyed it, delving into the oceans of eyes, he thought, right now, I love you more than life.
And there was no end, and there is no beginning for a long time, there are only them, and at the word “We”, holding hands tightly, they go somewhere forward. And once the classic remarked aptly, - they are destined to live happily ever after.
And there is no fear of losing each other, as, however, everyone wants to hug the other ... and never let go. A cheerful bird echoed them, boldly speaking out the window, “never, never, never ...
They won't be alone. And while their hearts are burning, the world around will not be cruel. And if someone wants to destroy them, then, know the scoundrel, his elderly father said, I will tear you apart, but I will not let you destroy their family. I allowed my heart to love, and a wonderful son was born from love, and his wife was born from love. I will not let anyone forbid them ... to be happy and live happily.
And so fate developed, they lived, as a dream writes to someone, soul to soul, looking ingratiatingly into the eyes, and saying, - we will never ... we will not leave each other.
And there is no father for a long time, but, no one will say a wry word, everyone is so afraid of the wrath of the old man, who was ready to give his life, if only they were happy to the end. Yes, and so that they enjoy life without a trace, looking at the world through the prism, a mirror image of their soul. But their souls were and are, so pure that envy is around, but they just don’t care about this envy. They live, look into each other's eyes, not forgetting the words of their father, who invisibly keeps their comfort, and no one knows what strength is given to them to live so happily.
They lived happily ever after, hand in hand through life, forgetting about the hardships of the days, looking at the world as if not seeing people in it, except for each other. And they lived happily ever after, she gave him children, he was support in moments of gray days, in general - they created happiness. And until now, no one knows how it happened by fate, they met in a cold winter, but even then they gave birth only to spring around, and suddenly, even from somewhere a bird sang. Spring was born in their faces, and in the summer the words of that love that they shared with each other burned, and the shelves had already become dusty for a long time, and they all live for each other.
They lived happily ever after...

Chase Riordan walked up to the porch of the ranch that had belonged to his family for more than two hundred years. Before entering the house, he stopped, as always, to clean the dirt stuck to his shoes. Slamming the door behind him, he took off his shabby hat and took a few steps to hang it on the old hanger that had stood by the back door for centuries. For thirty-two years now, Chase had been throwing his hat on the hanger every evening with a familiar gesture, since he began to reach it. He had never missed before. Until tonight.

Who removed the hanger? he roared, picking up his hat from the floor.

Chase froze. The warm voice was the embodiment of passion. He slowly straightened up, opening his mouth and carefully scanning the familiar surroundings for whoever had made this intrusion. The girl was wearing faded jeans that emphasized her slender hips and slender waist.

Mr Riordan?

His gaze darted to her face and met eyes that were softer and more tender than he had ever seen. The brown velvet rays were fraught with danger, which Chase immediately sensed. His whole body suddenly ached, his heart pounded wildly, his breathing became intermittent, his thoughts were confused. The upper half of his body seemed to be paralyzed, but the lower half throbbed in such a way that Chase felt like a teenager who had recently understood the meaning of the word "hormones".

In the dim sunset light, Chase studied the heart-shaped face, looking for flaws. She had remarkably regular features, if only a little sharp, so that they could be called beautiful in the classical sense of the word. But she seemed to glow with some kind of inner beauty and confidence.

She wore almost no makeup, but a natural matte light blush set off her face beautifully. A straight, slightly curved nose, full, inviting lips, a heavy mop of soft golden hair that flowed freely down her back. It might look sloppy on someone else, but the effect was amazing. Curls curled around the neck and cheeks, and this gave the girl a slightly disheveled look, as if she had just got out of bed. The thought nearly drove Chase insane.

She held out her hand, which Chase glanced at, embarrassed, but didn't budge.

He was suddenly afraid that one touch of those thin fingers would deprive him of his last opportunity to control himself. He tried to convince himself that such a reaction was only a consequence of abstinence that had lasted long enough, but it did not help.

You probably want to know who I am. Her deep, chesty voice was full of languor.

Stop it! Chase breathed, angry at himself for the trembling that shook his body, and at her for the apparent pleasure it gave her. “I already know, or at least I guess, who you are.

The mischievous, teasing gleam in her eyes disappeared with her smile. She lowered her hand and raised her head proudly.

Really?

The stupid sense of remorse that washed over him when she stopped smiling made Chase even angrier.

You are not the first woman who tries to catch a man in her nets. Hell, you're not even the first person to try this on me. I want to save both time and nerves and say that I'm not going to get married. Never. Even if you have not thought about marriage and are looking for another fling, forget about it. Any man will appreciate your body, but I prefer that the initiative come from me.

You are either terribly old-fashioned, or unrequited love has made you such a psycho.

Chase laughed hoarsely.

Love was invented by women and they perfectly use this weapon in the fight against men.

I didn't ask you for love or anything like that.

Dear, it is enough to hear your ragged breathing - it can be unmistakably taken as an invitation.

She laughed, and Chase knew what real torture was. He wanted to press his lips against that smiling mouth, to taste her laughter, to inhale the full lungs of her breath. He wanted to feel her ignite with the same fire that burned him.

I'm glad you're not angry anymore, Mr. Riordan,” she murmured, her eyes glowing with pleasure.

Why did you decide so? he growled.

Of course you tease me. I am not at all one of the women for whom men are ready to throw themselves into the abyss.

Chase's gaze flickered over her body, landing on her breasts, poorly hidden even under a loose sweater. Is she asking for a compliment? he thought in surprise. Trying to find out what impression she made? Had she seen the desire in his eyes? Well, no, he will not give her such pleasure.

Before Chase could think of a tougher answer to her, his proud old cat Charlie appeared in the kitchen and jumped into her arms.

What have you done with my cat? he asked, frightened by the strange hoarse voice in which he said this.

Nothing, she replied.

Charlie hates people. Damn it, he only tolerates me because I feed him.

She smiled back, which pissed off Chase even more.

When I entered the house, he hissed at me like crazy, she said. “But you know what curious animals they are. I just ignored him until his ego kicked in and he came up to me. I should have scratched behind his ear to make us friends.

She looked up at Chase from under the fluffy golden lashes that framed her beautiful eyes, and dug her fingers into the soft cat hair.

They say that the owners are very similar to their pets. Tell me, Mr. Riordan, will you stop hissing at me if I scratch behind your ear?

Charlie purred like a well-oiled motor, and Chase understood why. He himself was ready to purr, although she had not yet laid a finger on him.

It seemed that he had long ago coped with what is called the desire of a woman, but with this girl it was beyond his strength to control himself.

Of course, her body could make a monk burn with hellish flames, but Chase always prided himself on his ability to follow the laws of the mind.

Even in the dim light of the kitchen, he could see that she was wearing branded jeans, a gold chain gleaming around her neck that cost more than a month's upkeep of his ranch. The smell of expensive perfume hung in the air, and her hands were white and well-groomed.

Everything about her said that she was born and raised in the city. It won't do much good on the ranch. If he does not manage to get rid of her as soon as possible, his body will rush into her arms, despite the protest of the mind.

Why don't we start over, Mr. Riordan? She broke the silence that had hung in the meantime.

Her composure against the background of his irritability infuriated him even more.

Okay, he snapped. “The hat rack was in this place for two hundred years, until you showed up. What made you think of moving it?

She prevented me from mopping the floor.

When he saw that the floor under his feet had been cleaned to a shine, except for the island where he had trampled in his dirty boots, his anger burst like a balloon. He smelled the pine air freshener and the beeswax polish his mother used.

In the spring there is no one to do the cleaning. All forces go to livestock. "There's only enough time for sleep," he thought.

Wow!

She paced the kitchen, and every muscle in his body tensed. All he could do now was stare at her, admiring her natural grace and the swaying of her breasts and hips. He struggled to keep from touching her as she walked right beside her, picking up a hanger from the floor and putting it back in its place. Before he could be glad that he had escaped her touch, she turned and held out her hand to turn on the light. The switch was behind him, and she had to lean on his arm to reach the button. They both closed their eyes at the bright light from the ceiling.