“Maya, how old are you?” her father asked quietly. “Honestly, it feels like you’re not in your first year of university but in primary school. Love is one thing, but where will you live? What will you eat? You cant just rush into marriage tomorrow! Nobodys against your Oleglet him come over, well meet him, have a chat, get to know his parents Am I right?”
“Dmitry, when will you be home?” Gala called her husband at work.
“Soon. Just finishing up,” he replied.
“Dont be late! We need to talk,” she said suddenly.
“Did something happen?” Dmitry tensed.
“Well it hasnt yet, but we need to discuss it,” Gala sounded uneasy, though nothing disastrous had occurred.
Fifteen minutes later, the head of the household walked through the door.
“Whats going on?” he asked cautiously.
“Change your clothes, wash your hands. The world wont end in the next five minutes,” she kissed him and nudged him toward the bathroom.
Soon, freshly changed, he joined them in the living room.
“Come,” Gala led him to their daughters room. Maya sat on her bed, eyes red from crying.
“Whats happened?” Dmitry kept his voice steady.
“Ask your daughter,” Gala muttered. “Go on, Mayatell your father what youve decided!”
Maya huffed, turning toward the window, unwilling to speak.
“Right then,” Dmitry slapped the table firmly. “Either you both explain calmly, without hysterics, or sort it out yourselves while I rest after work.”
“Were getting married,” Gala announced with biting sarcasm. “Today, apparently!”
“What?” Dmitry blinked. “Just like that? To whom, if I may ask?”
When Maya stayed silent, Gala answered for her: “Oleg Nikitenko. Youve seen him around lately.”
“Ah. So Maya?”
She glared stubbornly.
“Right. Enough games. Am I supposed to dance around to get answers out of you?” Dmitrys tone hardened.
“Oleg and I love each other!” Maya burst out. “Hes perfect, and we *are* getting married!”
“At least weve got some clarity,” Dmitry sighed. “Is he in your class?”
“Yes. Same group.”
“First year,” Dmitry exhaled, half-disbelieving. “Children.”
“Were *not* children!” Maya shot back. “Were eighteenadults!”
“Fine. If youre adults, lets talk like adults.”
“I dont *want* to talk! Itll just be, Wait, grow up, think it throughall that nonsense! Youre wise and practical, but you dont understand real love! Youll ruin everything!”
“Im not ruining anything,” Dmitry said tiredly. “I just want to understand. You and Oleg love each othergood. You want to marryboth of you, or just you?”
“Dont insult Oleg! He wants it too!”
“Brilliant. So youre agreed. Where will you live? How will you afford it? Have you thought about that?”
“That doesnt matter! Love is enough!” Maya cried.
“Maya, *how old are you*?” Dmitrys voice dropped. “You sound like a child. Love wont pay rent or buy food. Why the rush? Nobodys against Oleginvite him over, meet his parents. Sound fair?” He glanced at Gala.
“Very fair. But theres a catch They *have* to hurry.”
“Is Oleg being conscripted?”
“Not Oleg. Mayaarent you going to say it?”
“Im *not* keeping quiet,” Maya muttered. “Oleg and I are having a baby.”
“Ah,” Dmitry rubbed his forehead. “And your plan is?”
“Get married! Have the baby! And dont you *dare* suggest”
“Enough! Nobodys suggesting anything yet. Do Olegs parents know?”
“Hes We agreed wed each talk to them today.”
“And?”
“He hasnt called yet.”
“Fine. When he does, tell me. Now let me eatyour drama isnt feeding me.”
In the kitchen, Gala reheated dinner. “What do we do?” she whispered.
“Wait. Lets hear what his parents say first.”
The news came just after dinner: Olegs parents were firmly against it. A nasty row had erupted.
Fifteen minutes later, Maya entered with her phone. “Olegs mum. She wants to talk to one of you.”
Gala crossed her arms. “You handle it.”
Dmitry took the call on speaker. “Hello, Im Mayas father, Dmitry.”
“Larisa. Olegs mother. Our son says theyre in loveand now, given your daughters *condition*, theyve made plans. Are you aware?”
“We are.”
“Good. Then understand: we *oppose* these plans.” Her sarcasm dripped. “Oleg must finish university, build a career. Marriagelet alone a *baby*is out of the question.”
“Nor was it in *our* plans. But there *will* be a babyyour sons. What do you propose?”
“*Your* problem, Dmitry. First, I doubt its even Olegs. Second, this shotgun wedding trick wont work. Your daughters after securityOlegs from a good family, with a flat and prospects. But we *will* protect him. He agreestell Maya to leave him alone. Goodbye.”
The line went dead. Dmitry looked at his wife and daughter. “Heard that? Well, well raise the babyits innocent. Take a gap year, return to studies later. Well help financially. As for *them* Well deal with it. Cowards.”
He pulled Gala aside. “Stay with Maya tonight. Ill sleep in her room.”
An hour later, the doorbell rang.
“Who now?” Dmitry grumbled, answering.
He returned with a young man.
“Oleg!” Maya rushed to him. “You came for me?”
“Yes. Dmitry, GalaIm taking Maya with me.”
“Where, exactly?” Dmitry raised a brow.
“Not sure yet. Well rent a flat. Were adultsdont try to stop us. Maya, ready?”
“Of course!”
“Hold on,” Dmitry cut in. “Your mother said your whole familys against thisincluding you.”
“Not quite. That was *her* decision. Dad just nods along. I pretended to agree, grabbed my wallet and passport, and left.”
“Interesting,” Dmitry mused. “Youll rent a flatwith what money?”
“Ive saved from my side giga blog with subscribers. Enough for a few months rent. Ill earn more.”
“Not bad Gala, shall we let her go? Hes sharper than we thought.”
“But *tonight*?”
“Right, not tonight. Oleg stays hereguest rules. Text your parents youre at a friends. Tomorrow, you *both* reconcile with themcalmly. No dropping outespecially *you*, Oleg. Mayall take maternity leave, catch up later. Well help, but we wont carry you. Keep the registry office quietsave money. Big wedding later. Agreed?”
“Yes,” Oleg said firmly.
“But I wanted a *real* wedding!” Maya pouted.
“Not now,” Oleg insisted. “Well celebrate properly in a year or two.”
“Fine”
“Good. Plans set. Everyone sleeptomorrows busy.”
Later, Gala cornered Dmitry. “You changed your mind fast.”
“Did I? That woman made my blood boil. Then *he* shows upnot a spoiled brat, but a man who stands by his girl. *Thats* who Ill trust with our daughter.”
“Youre always right,” she kissed him, then went to settle everyone for the night.
Sometimes, love needs more than passionit needs courage, patience, and a plan. And parents who know when to hold on, and when to let go.
