A sunny evening in Torrevieja awaits two...

You know, when people tell me, "Ksenia, you’re a serious, driven young woman—a future keeper of the family hearth, really"—I nod and agree... and then comes last night. And everything goes to hell (in the spiciest sense of the word).

So, the scene was Torrevieja. The sun was setting, the sea was lazily lapping at the shore, and I was sitting on the terrace, savoring a well-earned glass of wine after a productive day. Then came a call from my friend Marinka. Her voice betrayed panic, hysteria, and a touch of the amateur sleuth:
"Ksyukha, help! What have you done?!"

Honestly, before I could even blink, it turned out that I—a quiet angel with a culinary diploma and a passport ready for a move anywhere in the world—was now the prime suspect in a local "Italian affair."

It turns out that last night, I decided to take a shortcut home through the narrow streets of the Old Town. I ran into a gorgeous blond man in a suit who stumbled so spectacularly on the cobblestones—presumably blinded by my natural beauty—that he dropped... no, not a bouquet of roses. Instead, he dropped a designer case filled with some odd blueprints and—get this—a collection of handmade wine corks worth as much as a small yacht.

Being a helpful person and a quick learner, I decided to help the poor guy out. We gathered the corks together under a romantic streetlamp, chatting away in broken Spanish, and at the end, he gallantly kissed my hand and left me his business card.

But that wasn't enough for Marinka! Somehow, she spotted us from the café balcony, and now she’s telling all our mutual acquaintances that I:

I pulled off a virtuoso heist, robbing a secret agent.

I returned the stolen goods in exchange for a ransom: dinner at a Michelin-starred restaurant.

Now I’m gearing up to flee the country with a suitcase full of corks and a handsome Spaniard.

And the "aftermath"—in the form of endless calls from Marinka—won't let up: she’s demanding I either confess to having a knack for mafia-style schemes or give a masterclass on seducing foreign millionaires. All I wanted was to get home in peace and roast some sea bream with herbs!

In short, there’s never a dull moment in Torrevieja. But if my future husband thinks the way to my heart is through spy-thriller antics... well, he’s absolutely right. The only thing is, I’d really prefer to skip the police involvement and my friend’s amateur detective work this time around!