I was standing in front of the "generous compensation" that Ivan threw at me during the divorce.
"I leave everything to you, Maria!" he had said with that greasy smile as he signed the documents, while his 20-year-old mistress giggled next to him. "Grandma's house in the village is yours. You have a roof, you have land. What more do you want? I'm taking the apartments and the business, because I earned them. You were just in my way.
I looked at the rotting beams, the broken windows, and the yard overgrown with nettles as tall as me. This wasn't a house. This was a tomb. He mocked me even after the end. He wanted to see me humiliated, mired in mud, begging for help.
My tears flowed on their own. From anger. From frustration. I threw my bag into the wet grass and screamed at the top of my lungs, so that the dogs in the village started barking.
But after the scream came silence. And in that silence, as I watched the rain wash the windows of the crumbling ruins, something inside me clicked.
"Okay, Ivan," I whispered, wiping my eyes with my muddy sleeve. "You wanted to send me into the mud? Well, you'll see what grows in that mud. But when you come to pick the berries, I'll be waiting for you with the rifle."
The first night in the village of Gorno Uyno, I slept in the car. The house was full of mice and the roof was leaking like a watering can. Ivan was probably celebrating his freedom in our luxury apartment in Sofia, drinking 500 leva worth of whiskey, while I wrapped myself in an old blanket and listened to the howling wind.
In the morning, Uncle Stavri, the neighbor, came.
"Child, are you the new one?" he asked, leaning on his cane. "This house is cursed, no one has lived here for 20 years. Your husband must hate you very much."
"He hates me," I agreed, grabbing a shovel I found in the shed. "But I'm not giving in to him either."
I started cleaning. Day after day, week after week. My nails broke, my skin turned black from the sun, and my back hurt like I had been beaten. I sold my car to buy materials. Everyone in the village thought I was a crazy “citizen” who would run away at the first snow.
But I didn't run away. Under the weeds I found incredible soil. Black soil. I planted everything I could – tomatoes, peppers, rare herbs. I renovated the house room by room. I turned the old barn into a rustic-style guesthouse. I called the place "The Crow's Manor" – against all odds.
A year later, while watering the garden, I heard the familiar sound of an engine. A shiny car pulled up in front of my new, hand-forged gate. Ivan got out. But he didn't look like the Eagle I thought he was. He was thin, haggard, and his shirt was wrinkled.
“Maria?” he took off his sunglasses and stared.
Standing before him was not a battered woman from a divorce. Standing before him was the owner of the most successful organic farm in the region, with reservations for months in advance. The house behind me shone – cozy, beautiful, full of life.
“What are you doing here, Ivan?” I asked coldly, without putting down the hose.
"Well… I was passing by," he stammered, glancing around greedily. "I heard you're doing well. Bravo. See? I did you a favor. This land is worth a lot of money now. Actually… I came to talk. Business in town has been a bit slow. Plamena… she's been having a lot of expenses. I thought that since we're still married before God, we could join forces… This farm is joint, isn't it? I gave it to you."
He took a step forward, with that brazen confidence that I would forgive him everything.
I laughed. My laughter scared the chickens.
"Common?" I asked. "Ivan, you gave me a wreck. You threw the crumbs at me, hoping I would starve to death."
I reached into my apron pocket and pulled out my phone.
"See this camera? It's recording everything. Now, you have exactly 10 seconds to get off my private property before I release the dogs. And believe me, they don't like the Eagles. They like a crumb."
Ivan looked at me. He saw my eyes. There was no love or pity in them. Only the cold hardness of a man who had been through hell and emerged victorious.
He got into the car without a word.
I watched the dust from his tires rise into the air. Bai Stavri appeared through the fence and winked at me.
"Did you chase him away, child?
" "I chased him away, Bai Stavri. The weeds must be cleaned up on time."
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