<div style="text-align: justify;">Mariya Konstantinova had lived a very different life, compared to her old friend. She had started out in humble origins, just like he had. But her family had wanted a different future for their only daughter. Her father had spent a long time planning for a different way of life, and had ended up finding it far away from his home land. Young Mariya was already almost of age when she had left the Soviet Union for England. It had been quite the cultural shock for the family. Mariya's father had passed away shortly after the move, before the family had even had time to actually settle into their new home land.<br/><br/>Mariya had worked hard to make sure her mother wanted for nothing. They found a home, started working providing meals to several people who worked nearby, and, after the two women managed to learn some English, even made a few friends. Mrs. Constantine, as Mariya's mother became known in her own country, was a kind woman, albeit shy. Her daughter was much more gregarious and open to company. Attracted by the mother's cooking and the daughter's charming ways, many people went in and out of the house, where mother and daughter had started serving meals after they managed to install a few more tables.<br/><br/>Many prominent men had sat on their tables and eaten their meals, drank their coffee. And they had spent long hours talking to the two women and hearing about their lives. One of these men spent long hours talking to Mariya. Mrs. Constantine believed she would end up marrying him, but she was mistaken. He had a keen interest in the girl, yes. But it wasn't sentimental. No, it was something much more practical.<br/><br/>And now, Mariya Konstantinova was coming home.<br/><br/>Before leaving England, she had made arrangements for an old friend to meet her, as she had admitted, a bit ashamed, "she didn't know anything anymore". Or anyone, the girl had to admit. She wasn't even sure about where she would stay for her time there, or, if she decided to stay, where she would live. And for that she needed help.<br/><br/>When her deep blue eyes, under the eyebrows that matched the blonde hair, found the person she expected to see, though, the young woman forgot about everything, and her concerned expression dissolved into a huge smile. "Just look at the great man himself!", Mariya exclaimed, excitedly. "How do I... I am at a loss. Am I allowed to hug the National Hero?", she asked, finally. There was a lot to say, but it could all wait. She was home. <span style="font-style: italic">Now</span>, it felt like home.</div>