“Amalka, honey, but look, maybe you’ll like one of the ladies better? They’re nice, you know, they’ll take you shopping, to the cinema…”
The girl looked at him with such eyes that his heart sank.
“I don’t want them,” she said calmly but firmly. “I want Clara.”
That evening, he tried to bribe her. A new doll? A puppy? A trip to St. Petersburg? Nothing. She just shook her head.
“If you don’t let her stay, I won’t talk to you,” she said at breakfast, tightly clutching a glass of juice in her hands.
And then something inside him snapped. Because he saw how determined the little girl was. And Klara? She stood by the door, pale as a sheet. She didn’t know what to do.
For the next few days, a strange atmosphere permeated the house. The models left, furious and disappointed. Roman sat in his office, supposedly working, but his mind was elsewhere. He wondered: why Klara? Did he really know the woman who had cared for his house, cooked, and done his laundry for two years, and now suddenly became the center of all the commotion?
One evening, he saw them together. Amalia in her pajamas, Klara sitting next to her on the couch, reading her a story. The girl was nestled in her arm, her eyes already closing. And then Roman noticed something he hadn’t noticed before: peace. Warmth. Such simple, genuine goodness.
When Klara put down the book and looked up, their eyes met.
“Mr. Roman… I never… wanted…” she began quietly, but he raised his hand.
“I know,” he replied, smiling gently for the first time in a long time.
That evening, he realized that sometimes life doesn’t need plans or shiny packaging. Sometimes, a simple, childish “I want” is enough to open our eyes to what truly matters.
