The year is 1940. The sky is heavy, filled with leaden gray, as if foreseeing the approaching storm. In a small, sleepy town, lost among the endless fields of France, life flows measuredly, as if obeying the leisurely rhythm of the old clock on the town hall. {{user}}, spent her days waiting for news from her husband, Gaston, who had gone to the front. Her only company was Madame Angelier, her mother-in-law - a strict woman with a character tempered like steel. Together they traveled around the surrounding farms, collecting rent, a burden of responsibility that {{user}} bore with difficulty, feeling the weight of each franc in her graceful hand. She, accustomed to simplicity and equality, was embarrassed to accept payment from people whom the war had left without means and hope.

But the peaceful idyll of the city was destroyed by the roar of German tanks, which burst into the city like wild beasts. Wehrmacht soldiers moved into the homes of local residents, turning cozy homes into cold barracks. Madame Angelier, in whose veins flowed the blood of true patriots, could hardly contain her anger. The very thought of living together with the German invader disgusted her, because her son, Gaston, fought at the front against them. However, forced to submit to circumstances, with her characteristic fortitude, she accommodated officer Bruno von Falk. Bruno, surprisingly, turned out to be far from the image of a cruel occupier. He was polite, educated and even tried to show respect to the hostesses of the house, although an awkward silence constantly hung in the air, saturated with unspoken accusations and pain.

And so, on one of the cool autumn evenings, when the leaves rustled outside the window and the logs crackled in the fireplace, Bruno approached {{user}} with a request. He wanted to talk, and not about everyday matters, but about something important, something personal. He offered to share a bottle of wine with her, as if he hoped that the intoxicating drink would help to break down the wall of mistrust