We arrived at the market around lunchtime. Turns out, Alice loves to sleep in, and by the time we all got ready, it was pretty late. David spent the entire morning fuming and irritated. Because of his sister, he missed a day of skiing and swore he wouldn’t give in to her whims again.
The market stalls, designed to look like little wooden cabins, are lined up in rows, forming narrow streets. Decorated with twinkling lights, they lure in curious shoppers and casual passersby alike.
At a small square near the main entrance of the market, a beautifully decorated Christmas tree stands tall. It’s there that we split up to explore on our own.
“Meet back here at this spot,” David announces before I slip away between the cabins, breathing a sigh of relief at the chance to be alone for a while.
I wander past the mock cabins, taking in everything with curiosity. My camera hangs around my neck, ready for the perfect shot. It’s not new, but it takes decent photos. After high school, I dreamed of studying to become a professional photographer, but my parents wouldn’t allow it, insisting it wasn’t a real career. So now I’m on track to be an elementary school teacher, and my dream has turned into a hobby. I saved up for this camera for ages, scraping together money from my scholarship and part-time shifts at a liquor store. I barely had enough for an outdated model, but I’m thrilled to have it. Around me, visitors bustle about, loudly discussing what they see and haggling with vendors. I’m not interested in the usual trinkets and souvenirs, often stopping at stalls selling handmade goods instead.
A soft wool blanket catches my eye. It’d be perfect to wrap up in on cold winter nights. I run my fingers over the fabric; the sheep’s wool is prickly yet warm at the same time.
“Young lady, you’ve got great taste. Look at this quality handmade work. One hundred percent wool,” a middle-aged vendor in a red scarf praises her product. “It’s sturdy fabric. It’ll last forever. A wonderful addition to any home.”
“How much is it?” I ask out of curiosity, though I already know something like this is out of my budget.
“A thousand hryvnia, but you won’t regret buying it. I can even give you a discount,” she says, not giving up hope as she unfolds the blanket and runs her hand over its fuzzy surface.
“Thanks,” I reply awkwardly, shaking my head and stepping away, no longer listening to her pitch. That’s almost all the money I have in my wallet. I can’t afford something like that.
“What, freezing at night?” I jump at the unexpected sound of David’s voice right by my ear. He’s standing close, just behind me, and I can feel the warmth of his breath on my cheek.
I shoot him an angry glare and keep walking. But he follows. Why can’t he leave me alone for even an hour? He seems to take pleasure in ruining my mood.
“If you like it, why didn’t you buy it?” he persists, keeping pace with me. “Don’t have enough cash for something so pricey?”
“What’s it to you?” I snap, irritated. His jabs about my financial situation are unbearable.
“If you ask nicely, I could buy it for you,” he says, his mocking tone humiliating me.
I stop abruptly and look into his smug eyes. This guy has no boundaries.
“And what else would I have to do for such a generous gift?” I ask sharply.
“Well,” a suggestive smirk plays on his lips. “I’m sure I’d think of something.” His insinuating gaze rakes over my body, making my skin crawl.
“Don’t bother. I won’t need it,” I say, barely containing my anger. He’s shameless and completely lacking in morals.
I quicken my pace, trying to shake off this leech, but he catches up. He has no intention of ending the conversation.
“Come on. Everyone has a price,” he says flippantly, and his words make my blood boil.
“Not everything in this world can be bought. You’re way too confident in your power.”
“Oh, really? You’re already partly bought by me. After all, you’re here on a trip paid for with my money.”
His unexpected jab makes me stop in my tracks.
It’s like I’ve been doused with ice water. I didn’t see that coming. I stare at the triumphant look on his face, my hand itching to leave a red mark across it.
“You’re such a disgusting person,” I raise my voice, not caring who’s watching. “A self-absorbed, arrogant rich kid.”
He laughs loudly, making a show of it.
“And now come the insults. You’re crossing a line,” he says, his voice as cold as the winter air, his gaze sharp and piercing.
“And you have no lines at all,” I stand right in front of him, close enough to see every infuriating detail of his face. “Why do you keep bothering me? What do you want?”
For a moment, he seems to think, furrowing his brows, but then he twists his face into his usual victorious sneer.
“As if anyone needs you,” he says dryly, looking at me with a dismissive stare. “You think you’re special? You’re just like everyone else. A speck in a sea of beautiful, elegant girls.”
I feel tears welling up in my eyes. I can’t let myself cry in front of him. He won’t get that satisfaction.
“Enjoy your victory,” I say bitterly. “But know this: this speck is the one who won’t fall for your money or status. And I hope this speck keeps getting under your skin.”
I turn and walk away as fast as I can, hoping this time he won’t follow and won’t see the tears rolling down my cheeks like beads.
The hurt gnaws at my soul. This guy feels entitled to mock me just because I’m poor. He acts so arrogantly, as if I don’t deserve to be treated with respect.
Why did I agree to this trip? I fell for the tempting offer. Now I just want to go home. That’s it—tomorrow, I’ll get on a bus and get out of here. I won’t put up with his presence any longer.
After calming down, I wander around the outskirts of the market for a long time. I don’t go back to the meeting spot, nor do I head to the cabin. Dmitry calls, sounding worried, and I tell him in a cheerful tone that I want to take some photos and will be back late. He knows about my passion for photography, so he quickly relaxes and wishes me good shots.
Eventually, I forget about David and our argument, immersing myself in my work. The stunning landscapes of the snow-covered mountains captivate me, and I capture every perfect moment on my camera.
I lose track of time while shooting and don’t notice dusk setting in. By the time I make it back to the cabin, it’s completely dark.
Inside the house, it’s suspiciously quiet. The living room is empty, the fire in the fireplace has died out, with only faint embers giving off a barely noticeable warmth. Hungry and exhausted, I head to my room.
“Where have you been?” Alice pounces on me the moment I step through the door, a hairbrush in her hand. I can’t tell if she’s worried or annoyed.
“I was walking around the area, taking photos,” I reply hesitantly, glancing at her sideways.
“Some walk. David was about to call search and rescue to look for you. He’s been irritated and angry all day. What’s gotten into him?”
“Why didn’t you ask him?” I say with a smirk, glad I’m not the only one who had a rough day.
“As if you can get anything out of him,” she says indignantly, pouting as she fiddles with the hairbrush. Her anxious gaze darts around the room. “He’s been in a bad mood all day. Ruined everyone’s vibe. Because of him, I didn’t buy anything at the market. He yelled at me. I’m not even gonna talk to him tomorrow.”
She sits on the bed and starts slowly brushing her long blonde hair. The repetitive motion seems to calm her, and she visibly relaxes.
“Me neither,” I say with satisfaction. Alice thinks I’m agreeing with her and smiles. But I’m just thrilled that I managed to ruin the rich kid’s day. I hope he remembers this conversation for a long time and maybe even learns something from it.