All Amazing Babies

From this moment on, I’ll tell you more in detail!” Nastya murmured with interest, carefully wiping dust and cobwebs off her face. True chaos reigned in her temporary hideaway.

Sitting in that awkward position was extremely uncomfortable: she felt like sneezing, and her legs had long fallen asleep. But even such discomforts she was willing to endure in order to learn the truth about her husband’s intentions.

Boris was talking loudly on the phone, completely unaware that his wife was at home. He had just entered the apartment, even though he was supposed to be at work. His voice was so distinct that Nastya, who happened to be home during the day, could hear every word. And yet, he apparently had no inkling of her presence – as she had hidden in the closet.

Nastya had returned home specifically for the folder with documents that six-year-old Polina – the little hooligan – had tossed upstairs a week ago. The girl had merely been playing “hide and seek” with her mother’s important papers as a joke. It was probably her way of grabbing the attention of the parents she rarely saw. “Let them search together and then praise me,” the little one had decided.

The documents had gotten wedged between the wall and the cupboard, and now, to retrieve them, she had to move the heavy furniture. Nastya had repeatedly asked her husband to help her, but he constantly found new excuses: either he was busy, or tired, or promised to do it tomorrow.

“I’ll call my brother on my day off – I can’t manage on my own anyway,” Boris declared once again, demonstrating his infantile approach to matters.

Nastya, however, was of a completely different temperament – active and decisive. Therefore, when her boss demanded the contracts for the latest deals, she made the only correct decision: drive home personally and sort out this problem.

“I’ll bring them right now!” she confidently told her boss and set off for home.

“Long overdue! You’ve been feeding me promises for a week now!” grumbled the displeased boss.

To Nastya’s own surprise, she managed to shift the cupboard. Perhaps the strength came from her anger toward her husband. Besides the folder, she found several long-lost items and a thick layer of dust.

“I’ll quickly run the vacuum, then head to work,” the woman thought. “Let Boris put the cupboard back in the evening.”

However, her plans were interrupted by a sudden sound – Boris had entered the apartment while still talking on the phone. He was entirely absorbed in his conversation.

“What is he doing here?” Nastya wondered, crouched with the folder in her hands.

Her curiosity grew when she caught snippets of the conversation. It turned out that Boris had deliberately taken time off work so that no one would interrupt his “delicate conversation.”

“What delicate conversation?” Nastya pondered, straining to listen.

Now, leaving her hiding place would have been reckless. Nastya decided to stay hidden and find out with whom exactly her husband was having these “delicate” conversations.

“Go ahead, dictate the number – I’m writing it down,” Boris continued. “Of course, I’ll call you later! How could I not report back? Yes, I’ll tell everything!”

After a short pause, he spoke again, this time more formally:

“Hello! Can I have a paternity test done at your facility?”

At those words, Nastya froze, overcome with shock.

“What?!” she whispered, unable to believe her ears. “Come on, explain in more detail! What is he up to? What kind of test is this? Whose paternity? Is he doubting that Polina is his daughter? Or does he have someone else?”

Meanwhile, her husband continued his conversation:

“Understood. And how much will it cost? And how fast will I get the results? That expensive? This is nothing but a rip-off! I understand, it’s not just a regular blood test… I’m not a child who needs everything explained to me! Okay, how long does the procedure take? Yes, understood. And what materials are needed? Hold on, I’ll write it all down…”

Nastya stood, holding her breath, recording every word Boris said. Her thoughts raged: should she come out now and give her husband a good dressing down or wait and listen until the end? His intentions seemed obvious, but one important question remained: who was the subject? Could it be that there really was someone else besides their daughter?

 

After finishing the call with the clinic, Boris immediately redialed his mother. Now everything became clear – the first call had been to her. Boris’s tone took on the apologetic air familiar to Nastya when he spoke with his strict mother. It was a reminder of his childhood, when a stern woman had raised her two sons with particular severity. Though he loved his mother, it seemed Nastya believed he feared her a bit. And now, by all appearances, he was executing her orders, coordinating every move with her.

“Hello, Mom, I found out everything. Yes, I just called. They explained what needs to be done. But can you imagine the price they asked for? I’m just in shock! How can they rip people off like that? We’re only trying to learn the truth. We have that right,” Boris began, clearly already feeling guilty.

After waiting for his mother’s response, he continued, “Thank you, Mom! I knew you’d help with the money. Without that, Nastya would immediately suspect something amiss. She’d ask where I spent so much money. And you know I’m not good at lying.”

His words completely threw Nastya off balance.

“He’s not good at lying! Truly!” she whispered, barely holding back her indignation. “And who is this sly one that makes you suspicious? Spill your secrets, you scoundrel! Lay all your cards on the table!”

Nastya needed to find out whom her husband suspected – was it Polina, their daughter, or was it a child born out of wedlock? The answer could change everything.

She recalled how she had met Boris. It had happened purely by chance. He had approached her in a bar where Nastya, along with her friends, was celebrating receiving their diplomas. They were having such a carefree time, dancing with such bright energy that those around them applauded.

“Girls, hooray! We’re now lawyers!” they joyfully exclaimed, infecting everyone around with their enthusiasm.

And then a rather modest young man, watching their merriment from afar, invited Nastya for a slow dance. From the very first moment, he charmed her with compliments, declaring that he had never met a more beautiful woman.

From that moment, their romantic acquaintance began. Boris wooed Nastya with special passion, repeating daily that he was madly in love and couldn’t imagine life without her. However, Nastya was not in a rush to tie the knot, so she agreed only two years after their meeting.

For her, family was not the main goal in life. She dreamed of a career, of achievements, and financial independence. But fate had other plans: a year after their wedding, she learned she was pregnant. Polina was born – a little girl they both cherished with all their hearts. Nastya had always felt that Boris was even more attached to their daughter than she was. He spoiled her immensely, forgave all her mischief, and allowed almost everything. Their resemblance shocked all their acquaintances – they were like two peas in a pod. “There’s no need for a DNA test here,” people often said when they saw them together.

So why, then, was Boris now beginning to doubt his paternity? These thoughts tormented Nastya. Had these doubts haunted him since Polina’s birth? Or was it not about their daughter at all?

Her head pounded from the tension. It turned out that she knew nothing about the man with whom she had spent so many years.

“Mom, you really came up with something clever with this test,” Boris continued, outlining his intentions. “Of course, before taking such a serious step, one must be one hundred percent sure that Danilka is my son. I have no doubts about Polina – she’s like a sister to me. But this boy… He doesn’t resemble me at all, and that raises concerns.”

“Traitor! When did you ever have such doubts?” Nastya, still hidden behind the cupboard, seethed.

“So there really is a child on the side. Lika and Danilka… What an interesting life you have, Boris! And I thought you loved us – me and our daughter.”

Nastya took a deep breath, striving to remain calm even though inside she was boiling with anger. Meanwhile, Boris continued talking with his mother:

“Yes, Mom, you’re right. Before making a decision – to leave for Lika and the child – I have to be sure that he is indeed mine.”

Nastya had long suspected that her mother-in-law was meddling in their relationship, trying to sow discord between her and Boris. The woman clearly harbored little love for her granddaughter Polina, unlike her elder son’s children. Polina, sensing this, also did not strive to get close to grandma Zhenya. She much preferred spending time with her parents.

Realizing that not only was Boris cheating on her, but he had also managed to father a child on the side, was a true shock to Nastya. And his plans to leave her and their daughter for a new family – that surpassed all her expectations.

The woman was so stunned by what she had heard that she was even afraid to move. If her husband noticed her now, she would simply lose control. The only way out seemed to be to kill him on the spot. But to prevent that, she needed to calm down quickly, gather her thoughts, and weigh all her options. Only then could she decide how to take revenge on this traitor.

“Mom, you know, after the incident with Sergey from our department, when his wife claimed during the divorce that their son wasn’t his, I started to treat this matter with caution. That was a long time ago. And it’s as if you read my mind. If everything is confirmed, a new life awaits me – with a new wife and the son I’ve always dreamed of.”

With these words, Boris left the apartment, and Nastya finally managed to get out from behind the cupboard and stretch her numb legs. In her hands she still clutched the folder with documents that needed to be delivered to the office. That was exactly what she would now do, and on the way she would decide on her next actions. For what she had learned promised nothing but divorce, property division, and a life for Polina without a father, whom the girl adored.

In the toughest moments of life, Nastya always switched to rational thinking. That trait had helped her overcome stressful situations many times. And now, during her ride to work, her mind began working exactly that way.

She recalled the argument with her future mother-in-law that had taken place a week before the wedding. The reason had been trivial, but Evgenia Alekseevna had not held back and revealed her true attitude toward her daughter-in-law:

“Who are you? Where did you come from? You spoil everything! You’re turning my son against me!”

At that time, Nastya had only silently endured the attacks.

“Angela – now that’s a different matter! She’s such a good girl, she loves Boris! And you… Where did he ever find you?”

“Angela! Of course, it’s her!” Nastya suddenly realized. “Lika from Boris’s conversation – that’s Angelika! The very ‘good girl’ who perfectly fits under the control of the mother-in-law.”

This discovery made the woman shake her head. Now everything was falling into place: her mother-in-law had never refused to realize her dream of having that very girl by her son’s side.

 

“So, war it is!” Nastya declared confidently aloud. “I never officially declared it, but I have been preparing for it from the start.”

After that pre-wedding quarrel, Nastya had even refused to accompany Boris to the registry office. Convincing her had been extremely difficult.

“Alright,” she had said then. “But I have one condition. It’s the guarantee that one day you – like your dear mother – won’t betray me.”

“I agree to anything!” Boris had passionately replied. “I’m not going to betray you!”

“Then let’s finalize the purchase of the apartment we chose today. We have the money – what’s there to wait for? Let’s register it in my name. Before the wedding. Do you trust me? If not, let’s draw up a notarized contract specifying the amount you invested. I’ll never cheat you, but if anything happens – you’ll have a document. Agreed?”

“Yes! Write it down!”

Nastya quickly drafted the text of the contract, noting that she would sign it at the notary’s office the next day. However, she never remembered it again afterward. That document held no legal force, but the apartment purchased before the marriage remained her personal property.

Back then, they were happy and didn’t anticipate any betrayal. Now, having handed the folder with documents to her boss, Nastya headed to the lobby with its soft sofas and green plants, where the staff could relax. There she dialed her mother-in-law’s number.

“Hello?” replied Evgenia Alekseevna in noticeably gruff tones.

“Listen carefully! Unlike your son, I don’t need to wait for the paternity test results. I already know he is cheating on me,” Nastya stated calmly.

“What? How can you be so sure?” Evgenia Alekseevna exclaimed, startled.

“That doesn’t matter. What is important is: I do not know where your Lika and her child live, and I’m not interested. But starting today, Boris will no longer live in my apartment. And I will file for divorce today,” the woman asserted firmly.

“What—your apartment?! Have you lost your mind? This is a shared apartment! Boris invested just as much as you did!” Evgenia Alekseevna protested angrily. “If you’ve decided to divorce, then prepare for property division!”

“No, this apartment belongs solely to me. And we won’t share it. Perhaps Boris never told you because he was afraid of your negative reaction. But that’s your problem.”

“What are you even saying? This is just stupid lying!” the mother-in-law refused to believe.

“I’m not lying; that’s just not in my nature. The facts are: we bought the apartment before the wedding, and it’s registered entirely in my name. With your family, one must always be on guard – that’s why I took care of myself in advance. See? It wasn’t for nothing!”

“This just can’t be! I’ll call Boris right now and find out everything!” Evgenia Alekseevna fumed.

“Please, do. And tell him that his belongings can be picked up from the neighbors this evening. Polina and I will go to my parents’ place, so as to avoid scenes that might traumatize the child.”

After hanging up, Nastya decided it was time to go home and get rid of everything that reminded her of the traitor. The divorce papers could be filed later – it was now quite easy, just a matter of opening the internet and acting.

When Boris returned home after work, a surprise awaited him. He had expected a serious conversation, unable to believe that Nastya could really do such things. He even had his excuses prepared, but reality exceeded all his expectations.

There was a new lock on the door, and next to it a note informing him that his belongings were in apartment No. 17.

Gathering his bags, Boris went to his mother’s place. Lika and her son were temporarily living with her, and living with them would be strange, especially considering that the paternity test had not yet been done, and there was no certainty that Danilka was his son.

“How could you so foolishly lose your money?” Evgenia Alekseevna shouted at him. “Where will you live now? With me? And what, are you planning to drag Lika and the child here?”

“So far, there’s no other option. We’ll figure something out later,” Boris shrugged.

“You’ve already ruined everything once! Now you have to deal with it on your own. You’re left without a home and money. And you know what? I’ve never liked your Nastya from the very first day I met her. What a despicable and unprincipled person she is! I won’t let this go!”

“Yes, unprincipled,” Boris agreed, lowering his head. “She once promised me…”

Evgenia Alekseevna stared at her son with concern while he nonchalantly dined at her kitchen table. His wife had just kicked him out of the house, yet he behaved as though nothing special had occurred.

“Mom, why are you looking at me like that? Who else but you was pushing me against Nastya? Who was trying to set me up with Lika after all these years? And now you say that we are blameless?” Boris remarked between bites.

“How dare you blame your own mother for everything! Come on, son, keep it up! Say that I wished you harm, not happiness!” Evgenia Alekseevna couldn’t contain her emotions. They bubbled within her, making her visibly agitated.

Everything was going terribly wrong. But, as they say, water wears away stone. Once, three years ago, on the occasion of Boris’s daughter’s third birthday, the old story took a new turn.

Then, after a small celebration of Polina’s birthday, Boris decided to drive his mother home.

“Son, do you remember Angelika?” his mother asked casually, glancing out the car window at the houses passing by.

“Angelika? Of course I do. But isn’t she married? As far as I know, everything is fine with her,” Boris replied in surprise, having long forgotten about the girl he had dated before Nastya.

“No, Boris, things aren’t fine with her. Quite the contrary – terribly bad. Her husband turned out to be a scoundrel, abandoned her without money. Thank goodness they didn’t have children,” Evgenia Alekseevna answered sadly. “Now she lives with her mother.”

“How do you know all this? Do you still keep in touch with Antonina, her mother? Why, Mom? Wasn’t one person enough in the past?” her son reproached.

“We never really stopped communicating. You know, I owe Antonina my life. If it weren’t for her, I’d be sitting behind bars because of debts,” sighed Evgenia.

“Come on, stop dredging up the past! That was a long time ago. Forget it and don’t talk to her anymore. She’s a real manipulator. And she keeps you on a short leash!”

“It’s not that simple, son…”

—

 

Evgenia Alekseevna’s thoughts drifted back fifteen years. At that time, she was working as an accountant in a shady private company. At first, it seemed she had hit the jackpot – her salary was twice as high as in a government job. However, it soon became clear why.

The woman had to turn a blind eye to numerous legal violations by the management. Not only did she silently observe them, but she also signed documents that could have landed her behind bars. One day, they simply set her up, claiming that she owed the company a large sum.

How she managed to get out of that situation, Evgenia still did not understand. She had to borrow money to cover the debt. And then Antonina – a neighbor she only knew superficially – entered the scene. After the death of her general husband, the woman was left with considerable savings, and she readily agreed to lend the needed sum.

Antonina practically latched on to Evgenia, making her her constant assistant. Every day she called her over: sometimes to help with household chores, sometimes to go shopping together, or just to chat. Evgenia complied without protest because she knew – only this woman was willing to wait patiently until she repaid her debt.

“I’m not rushing you, Zhenya. You’ll pay back the debt gradually. I understand – you have two sons and a useless husband who just sits at home. Where would you get money from? If he were even a little useful, I wouldn’t have to put up with him by my side. Kick him out!” Antonina admonished, watching Evgenia mop the floor in her spacious apartment.

Six months later, Evgenia’s husband indeed left her. Perhaps he realized that his wife had completely succumbed to the domineering neighbor. Or maybe he simply found someone else – a woman who was always there, baking pies and listening attentively.

One day, Evgenia invited Antonina along with her daughter Angelika to her birthday. The girl was turning eighteen then. She turned out to be quite enterprising and immediately took an interest in Boris. From that moment, Antonina began actively matchmaking her daughter with Evgenia’s younger son.

“Zhenya, imagine what a pair they would make! Your Boris is smart and easygoing – the ideal qualities for a husband. And studying at the institute shows his prospects. Of course, I would have preferred someone else for my daughter, but she fell in love with Boris. What can you do,” Antonina coaxed, trying to use her influence over Evgenia on her son.

Boris, young and carefree, paid some attention to Angelika for a couple of months. But fate intervened – he met Nastya. Although the future wife took a long time to commit, keeping him in the dark for almost two years, Boris never gave up.

Antonina came to despise Evgenia for allowing her son to choose another. She held her responsible for Boris’s decision to marry Nastya.

“I remember, dear, that you never returned the full sum to me. I can take you to court. All the receipts are in order,” she threatened Evgenia.

“What can I do, Tonya? He just doesn’t listen to me. But I will work off my debt to you. Ask me anything – I’ll do it,” Evgenia A. nearly burst into tears.

Eventually, the situation subsided. After Boris’s wedding, Evgenia learned that Angelika had also gotten married.

—

Years later, Antonina reappeared in Evgenia’s life, announcing that her daughter had divorced. The reason – unrequited love for Boris.

“They must be together, and that is not up for discussion! How to achieve that – I don’t care. You are a cunning woman; come up with something so that my daughter never cries alone again!” Antonina ordered enthusiastically, waving old receipts in Evgenia’s face.

Antonina did everything possible to bring Boris and Angelika together again, who now called herself Lika.

“Sounds simpler and is trendier!” she explained when visiting Boris’s mother.

Boris was already there – a situation deliberately set up by his mother-in-law had led to their meeting. The table was overflowing with food and drinks, and the former lovers found themselves in a romantic setting.

“Well, I’m off. My friends have invited me to the theater,” Evgenia Alekseevna said with a smile, leaving them alone.

“Good for you! You did the right thing! If they end up together, I’ll burn all the receipts and forget about the interest,” Antonina praised over the phone.

“Enough already! You’re getting on my nerves!” Evgenia snapped, hanging up.

But Boris soon reconciled with Nastya and no longer wished to see Lika, despite all his mother’s insinuations.

Evgenia tried to influence him by other means. She said that Nastya wasn’t a match for him, that his wife didn’t take care of herself and didn’t love him as Lika could.

“Mom, we have a daughter. I love both my wife and Polina. Stop interfering in our relationship,” his son pleaded.

“And what if Polina isn’t yours? Are you sure?” his mother pressed further.

“Come on, you’ve got to be kidding! She’s an exact copy of me!” Boris argued.

Everything seemed hopeless. But as the saying goes, water wears away stone. One day, Evgenia Alekseevna accidentally saw her son and Lika together. They were sitting in a car near her house. The woman laughed, flirted with Boris, and then they even kissed.

—

Half a year ago, Antonina called Evgenia and announced that Lika had given birth to a son by Boris.

At Antonina’s shrill shouts, Evgenia Alekseevna’s blood pressure spiked.

“What, you want a child to grow up without a father? I’ll drag you all to court, one by one!” she raged over the phone.

“Calm down, I’ll take care of everything,” Evgenia replied, trying to seize control of the situation.

 

After hanging up, she realized: this woman would never let her go. She would manipulate her until her dying day. Then she decided to call her son and devise a plan.

“Son, you know Lika has a son, right?” began Evgenia.

“Yes, I know. We’re in touch,” Boris answered calmly.

“Are you absolutely sure it’s yours? Answer honestly.”

“How could I know for sure? She says it’s mine, and the timing matches. But where’s the guarantee?” he philosophically noted.

“What will you do if it really is yours? They won’t leave us alone, you understand.”

“I’ll go to Lika. She’s been calling me for a long time. Besides, things with Nastya have been growing increasingly difficult these past months. It seems she has fallen out of love with me – all she does is nitpick. I do love Polina, though. Well, I’ll pay alimony like everyone else.”

“And you’ll have to split the apartment with Nastya. You don’t really plan to just give up your share, do you? That’s another problem. After all, you’ve stirred up quite a mess,” his mother declared accusingly, forgetting her own role in this story.

“Mom, that’s an even bigger problem than you think,” Boris sighed, remembering that the apartment had been registered in Nastya’s name a few days before the wedding. Fortunately, his mother still did not know about it.

“I’ve got an idea. Perhaps you won’t have to part ways with your wife and daughter. And with these two, we’ll shut their mouths for good,” Evgenia Alekseevna announced excitedly.

“What?” Boris asked, seemingly indifferent by now regarding whom to live with. “Just don’t tell me you’re planning something illegal!”

“Don’t joke around – now’s not the time. We need to do a paternity test!”

“What test?” he asked in surprise.

“Find out if you’re the father of Danilka. Understand now? If you’re the father, you’ll raise the child. And if not – we’ll prove that they were wrong and get rid of them once and for all. You’ll save the family.”

“That sounds not bad at all! Give me the number of the clinic where I can do it. I’ll call from home so that no one overhears,” Boris rejoiced.

But who could have predicted that Nastya, who was at home at that very moment, would inadvertently hear his conversation? Such was fate.

—

That very day, Nastya gathered the things of her unfaithful husband and sent him off to his mother, having changed the locks on the apartment. After all, on paper, it belonged only to her.

“Are you satisfied now? Sitting there like a beaten puppy. How could you so foolishly agree to her conditions? To give up your money for the purchase of an apartment and allow it to be registered in Nastya’s name? I simply cannot believe my ears!” Boris’s mother berated him furiously.

“Mom, enough. The past is the past. How else would I have persuaded Nastya to marry me after the scandal you instigated? Right now, I need to concentrate on getting that paternity test done as soon as possible. Only then will I decide whether to move in with Lika and the child.”

“Act! Who’s stopping you? Tomorrow, go to her, fetch the necessary materials for the analysis, and do everything quickly and quietly.”

Learning that Boris had left his wife and temporarily taken refuge at his mother’s place, Lika and her mother Antonina were ecstatic.

“You’re doing the right thing! Here you have your son and the woman you love. I always knew, Boris, that you and Angelika loved each other. That marriage was a mistake. But now, everything will fall into place. You’ll get a divorce, split the apartment, buy a new place – and you’ll live happily!” Antonina gushed, not suspecting that her plans would collapse because of one simple fact: Boris had no share in the apartment he and Nastya shared.

Evgenia Alekseevna emphatically advised her son to keep the paternity test matter a secret. Thus, he acted cautiously, following his mother’s advice. Now, all that remained was to wait for the results and start planning the future.

—

 

“Mom, the results have come! They sent them to my email, and the paper version can be collected later,” Boris announced hastily in the evening.

“Well, then? What does it say?” Evgenia Alekseevna burst out of the kitchen into the living room, where her son was lazily sprawled in front of the TV.

“Hold on… I’m reading. Let me see…” Boris stared at his phone’s screen.

As he read the message, his face grew increasingly surprised and confused.

“It says… No match at all. Zero percent… What does that mean, Mom?” he asked quietly.

“That means you were deceived by your perceptive Lika! She’s as cunning as her mother! They tried to pin someone else’s child on you, you villains! I’m going to shove that document right in their faces! Now the end of your little celebration is here, Antonina!” Evgenia Alekseevna screamed in outrage.

“How can that be… I ruined my family for her sake… Abandoned my own daughter…”

“You didn’t abandon your daughter because you decided to. You were simply booted out because you talk too much and don’t watch your words. If Nastya hadn’t found out about the test, you would still be sitting at home – happy and unsuspected,” her mother retorted with a snort.

Boris looked utterly lost, unable to reconcile his emotions with his mother’s. His future now seemed murky. He understood that he would have to pay alimony for Polina and try to see his daughter as often as possible. But for that, he needed Nastya’s agreement. The rest of his life seemed bleak and joyless.

The boomerang had returned to his life – as inevitable as ever. It was a pity that earlier, when he was running from his wife to Lika, he hadn’t been wise enough to consider the consequences.

By the way, Lika stubbornly refused to give up for a long time. She continued to cause a ruckus, coming to Boris with her son. She insisted that everything had been arranged and intended to conduct an independent expert examination. She even threatened to go to the television to expose Boris’s “unprincipled” nature.

He fully understood that he had acted wrongly. But now, there was no way to fix the situation.

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Vera looked at Alexei in disbelief, unable to believe her ears. “Lyosha, don’t you understand that you’re making a huge mistake?” Alexei dismissed her, showing his impatience. “Let’s skip the drama. I’m just tired of your constant dissatisfaction. It’s the same thing every day. Milana is completely different. She’s like a breath of fresh air to me. And you… I think I’ve been too lenient with you, allowing time to pack your things and find housing. You do realize that you have no right to demand anything? You’ve never worked, so my money doesn’t belong to you.” “Lyosha, but it was you who forbade me from working. You said that for a wife of someone of your status, work is considered an unacceptable luxury.” “Yes, I did say that when you were my wife. But now Milana will take your place, so you’ll have the opportunity to earn your own living.”

Vera recalled all these words while standing in the cemetery in front of a new grave. Alexei’s happiness with his new chosen one was short-lived—just three years. She knew the last year of their marriage for sure: it was full of suffering. Alexei’s illness also raised many questions.

 

He suspected Milana of adding something to his food or drinks. He even started his own investigation and shared it with Vera, but never finished it…

A month before his demise, Alexei visited her, asking for forgiveness. He talked about his life, looked ill, and her heart ached from his suffering. Now, standing in the cemetery, Vera turned her gaze to the elegant Milana with a dark veil on her face, supported by a young companion.

She heard the whispers of those present at the funeral, condemning Milana for her insensitivity. Vera decided: the investigation must be continued. Although Alexei betrayed her, she still loved him. Yes, he acted like the worst scoundrel, but he didn’t deserve such a death. Vera sighed and headed for the exit. At the gate, Milana called out to her.

“I hope you understand that you won’t get anything from my husband’s inheritance,” she said in an icy tone. Her face twisted with malice, though Vera gave no reason for such suspicions. They stood silent for a few seconds, like two combatants ready to fight. Then Vera turned and left, hearing behind her: “Don’t even try to get anything!”

Alexei was treated at a clinic chosen by Milana, but Vera knew: that was only part of the story. It turns out he was secretly observed elsewhere, about which almost no one knew. All the details were kept secret, and it seemed he feared it would be revealed.

“Hello? Vera Nikolaevna, you need to be present at the will reading.” “The will?” Vera smiled bitterly. “Did my ex really leave me something?” “I’m sorry, Vera Nikolaevna, but I can’t discuss the contents over the phone. Can you come?” “Of course, I will,” she replied.

Vera smiled: she didn’t need his money, but she was curious to see Milana’s reaction at the will reading.

Milana was in a great mood, accompanied by the same young man who smugly smiled as he met Vera’s gaze. As expected, all the property, including real estate, went to Milana. However, at the end, the notary announced an additional item—a house in a remote village located a hundred kilometers from the city.

Milana laughed loudly: “Old wife—old junk! But don’t worry, Verochka, I won’t take that shack from you. You have nowhere to live, you’re a renter. Now you have your ‘apartments’!”

Vera remained silent, took the documents, and left the office. “The start of a little adventure,” she thought, looking at the address.

She had a day off over the weekend and decided to go there right now, wondering why Alexei owned a house in such a forgotten corner.

The trip took nearly three hours. She got lost twice and began to get annoyed: “How can the roads be so poorly marked? No signs, no proper turns.”

Finally, she saw the needed sign: “Finally!”

The village was strange: just a few kilometers back, there were signs of civilization, but now—old wooden houses, many of which had long been abandoned. “I wonder which one is now mine?” Vera thought, checking against a photograph. The house was at the very end of the village. She sighed—at the road here was just trampled grass and tire tracks.

Vera slowly made her way along the overgrown grassy road, her car bouncing on roots and bumps. Stopping in front of the house, she sat in the car for a while, surveying the area. The building looked abandoned, except for the flattened grass at the porch—it seemed someone regularly walked here. And the tire tracks at the gate indicated that cars sometimes came here.

“Did Lyosha leave me a house with tenants?” she wondered. Turning off the engine, Vera resolutely got out of the car and headed to the gate, which emitted a piercing squeak. She even flinched at the sudden sound. Climbing the porch, she found the door unlocked. Smirking to herself—”of course, it’s just a village”—she entered. The assumption that locals could come here and take anything valuable seemed logical.

However, when she pulled the door and stepped over the threshold, surprise enveloped her completely: the air was filled with the aroma of freshly brewed coffee. This scent in an abandoned house seemed utterly impossible. She scanned the room: inside it was clean and cozy, a laptop sat on the table. The house was clearly inhabited.

“Don’t be afraid,” a familiar voice sounded.

Vera turned sharply, but only darkness met her eyes before everything around disappeared.

“Vera, wake up! Sorry to scare you like that, but I had no other choice.”

She struggled to open her eyes. In front of her sat Alexei, and Vera herself was lying on the sofa. She reached out, cautiously touching him—he was alive, warm. His appearance had noticeably improved compared to their last meeting.

“Lyosha… am I dead?” she whispered. He smiled gently: “Of course not. Nobody died.” “Then whose funeral did we just have?” she asked, shocked. Alexei shrugged: “A mannequin. A very expensive and high-quality one.”

Vera shook her head, trying to comprehend what was happening: “I don’t understand. What’s going on here?”

Alexei leaned back in the chair and began to explain. Vera already guessed much of it. Milana’s lover returned from India, where, according to Alexei, he acquired a slow-acting poison. It was the doctor chosen by Milana who began to gradually poison him.

 

At first, Alexei didn’t even suspect that something was wrong. Suspicions only appeared after much of his property had been transferred to Milana.

“You see, I needed to do something to stop this,” he continued. “I talked to Misha, remember his clinic on Vasilyevsky? We decided that I needed to ‘die’. The risk was—Milana might decide to use the last dose of poison earlier. But everything worked out as best as it could. Now only a few details are left. And I realize I hurt you deeply, but you’re the only one who can help me.

They talked until late at night. Alexei detailed his plan, and Vera immediately agreed. How could she refuse, looking at her living husband, whom she mourned every night?

They spent that night together. Vera approached him, and he silently buried his nose in her hair. The only thing he said: “Sorry.”

In the morning, Alexei was preparing to leave. Holding his hand, she quietly replied: “I forgive you.”

Vera watched with light irony as Milana’s face turned red with anger: “What new will? This is complete nonsense! What gifts? Everything already belongs to me!” “There are reasons to believe that Alexei was given some drugs. Otherwise, how to explain that he transferred property to you that had previously been gifted to other people?” Vera calmly explained. Milana jumped up, outraged: “What drugs?! This is all mine, and I intend to sell it tomorrow!” The notary coughed: “Sorry, but the sale will have to be suspended. The situation requires detailed investigation, so all documentation is temporarily frozen.”

Milana threw a malicious glance at Vera: “You will pay very dearly for this, and very soon!” she hissed, grabbing her lover by the hand. “Shall we talk?” “Of course, let’s talk,” Vera replied unperturbed. Milana continued with a smirk: “Do you think I’ll give you something? You’re mistaken. I’ve invested a lot of time in your Alexei. You’ll end up where he is now.” “Are you going to slowly poison me like him?” Vera smirked. Milana looked at her attentively: “You’re smarter than I thought. Yes, I poisoned Alexei slowly to capture as much as possible. But with you, it will be different. The quicker you disappear, the better for me. There are poisons in India that act instantly and leave no trace. Our doctors will never detect them.” She laughed loudly, but suddenly Alexei appeared in the room. When Milana’s lover approached Vera, Alexei quickly struck him, knocking him out. Milana screamed in horror, seeing the person she thought was dead, and tried to flee. However, she was immediately surrounded by people in uniform.

Vera began to tremble with excitement, and Alexei gently took her hand: “Thank you. But we have one unfinished business.”

They headed back to the notary. Judging by the reaction, he was aware of all events and was not at all surprised. Alexei transferred half of his property to Vera, then stood up and quietly said: “Forgive me. It’s the least I could do for you. Perhaps I’ll move to the village. I don’t want to be in your sight.”

 

Vera aimlessly wandered around the apartment. “Why?” she pondered. It seemed she should be happy: Alexei was alive, she was now rich and completely independent. But inside, there was only emptiness. Something was clearly wrong. And suddenly it dawned on her: she needed Alexei—her Lyosha. Despite the pain, she continued to love him.

Vera hastily left the house, got into the car, and abruptly drove off. Now her path was clear—she knew what she had to do. Driving into the village, she noticed the first lights appearing in the windows of the nearby houses. Stopping on a small hill, she took several deep breaths to calm down. Her gaze fell on Alexei’s house window, where a soft glow had just lit up.

“Perfect. Everything is going exactly as it should,” she whispered to herself.

A few minutes later, she parked at the gate, turned off the engine, and slowly got out of the car. Each of her movements seemed mechanical, as if the body acted on its own, while the mind still hesitated. A thought suddenly flashed through her mind: “What if he no longer wants me? If his feelings for me have changed?”

But she quickly dismissed these doubts, deciding that now everything would become clear. Opening the gate, she saw Alexei already descending the porch steps to meet her. His eyes attentively studied her face.

“Are you sure? I’ve caused you great pain. Such things are not forgiven,” he said seriously. “Yes, you’re right, it’s hard to forgive,” Vera replied. “But I’m ready to try. We can both give it a chance.” Alexei hugged her tightly and sighed quietly: “It seems I needed to go through all this to understand how deeply I love you. To realize that I can’t live without you. If you can find a place in your heart to forgive, I promise: I’ll never hurt you again.”

Vera also sighed, looking him straight in the eye: “Lyosha, let’s try to forget everything that happened. Let’s start over. We’re still young—only forty years old. We have the opportunity to start a new chapter in our lives.”

 

Three months later, the trial of Milana and her accomplice took place. Vera couldn’t attend—she suddenly felt ill. Alexei was in a state of extreme anxiety, and as soon as the sentence began to be read, he immediately rushed home. Vera greeted him with a special, glowing smile.

“Vera, how are you feeling?” “Not ‘I’, but ‘we’,” she replied with a mysterious smile. “We? What do you mean? Did someone come?” “Not yet, but someone will definitely appear in seven months.”

Alexei stared at her face for a long time, trying to understand what he heard, then, astonished, asked: “Is it true? Are you not joking?”

“No, dear. This is the absolute truth.”

Alexei, not believing his fortune, lifted her in the air, as if she were weightless. Finally putting her down, he said: “You know, every day with you becomes more beautiful. I thought I had reached the peak of happiness, but now I realize I was wrong. Life with you is an endless source of joy.”

When the elderly woman’s consciousness returned, she found herself in an unfamiliar room resembling a hospital ward. A sharp pain throbbed at her temples, as if struck by something heavy. Her memory refused to reveal where she was or how she ended up there.

 

Squinting her eyes shut, she tried to piece together the chain of events that led her to this place…

Anna Semyonovna resided in a modest two-room apartment that had been inherited by her late husband from the company. After his passing, she continued to live there with her son, Igor. For a long time, their relationship was warm and mutually understanding. Everything changed after Igor’s marriage—his wife, Alina, moved in with them, and tension immediately arose between the daughter-in-law and the mother-in-law.

“How can one live under such conditions?” Alina fumed. “The entire décor is nothing but antique! A complete overhaul is needed.”

Anna Semyonovna could barely contain her irritation. To her, every item held memories of her beloved husband.

“This is my home, and I have every right to decide how to live. If something doesn’t suit you—consider the door wide open,” she snapped.

Alina took her mother-in-law’s words as an act of stubbornness and decided to retaliate in kind.

The very next day, the young woman demanded that the books be removed from the shelves: “There’s so much dust here! We’re expecting a baby; do you want him to breathe that?”

She had no idea how dear those books were to their owner.

“You can wipe off the dust, but I will never allow anything to be thrown away. If you want to change the interior—wait until I leave,” Anna Semyonovna firmly stated.

The incessant conflicts exhausted Igor, and he and his wife eventually moved into a rented place. However, the mother continued to visit. One day, after informing them that a child was on the way, he asked: “Mom, we really need your support. Please try to find some common ground with Alina.”

“But she’s always dissatisfied,” replied Anna Semyonovna. “It seems as if she enjoys provoking quarrels.”

“We’ll figure something out,” her son promised. But the conflicts did not abate.

While strolling in the park, Anna Semyonovna met Vladimir—a lonely widower with no children. Their conversation turned out to be exceptionally warm and trusting. Vladimir, who had longed for close relationships, developed a deep fondness for the new acquaintance. Anna Semyonovna seemed to have rejuvenated.

 

Inviting her son and daughter-in-law to dinner, she introduced them to her friend: “This is my son and daughter-in-law. And this is Vladimir Ivanovich. Soon, he will be living with me.”

Vladimir added with a smile: “You could move into my one-room apartment. It’s a bit cramped, but it’s free.”

Alina exploded: “Are you seriously suggesting that we cram into that hovel while you enjoy spacious living for yourself?! Not a chance!”

With a loud clatter, she pushed her chair aside and stormed out of the room. A flushed Igor mumbled, “Sorry, it must be the hormones…” and hurried after his wife.

Anna Semyonovna was left frozen in shock and despair…

Her reflections on that evening were abruptly interrupted by another onset of headache. Where was she? How had she ended up here?

 

A nurse named Irina entered the ward. Without a word, she checked the patient’s temperature and pulse. “Miss, would you be so kind as to explain how I ended up here?” asked Anna Semyonovna.

The nurse’s response came in an icy tone: “Don’t you remember how you attacked an elderly woman? Such cruelty… it could have ended in tragedy.”

Anna Semyonovna was stunned. “Me? But I haven’t harmed anyone! I am of sound mind!” she exclaimed.

Silently, the nurse administered an injection and left. After a while, another resident—Elena—appeared. “Hello. Are you Anna? I’m Elena. I’ll help sort things out. This isn’t a hospital. It’s a facility for the elderly. They place those here who have become inconvenient for their relatives.”

“But I have funds, property…” Anna Semyonovna stammered. “Igor would never do something like that…”

“Everyone here is ‘ill’: dementia, mental disorders… Although most of them are completely healthy. It’s just that it suits someone’s interests.”

“But I’m healthy! I’m perfectly fine!” she cried, bursting into tears.

“Have you not noticed any strange signs? Don’t you remember what happened before you ended up here?”

Anna Semyonovna pondered. Lately, her appetite had increased—but only in Alina’s presence.

 

“It’s her doing. She hated me… But Igor and Vladimir will find me,” she said hopefully.

“It’s no use harboring illusions,” sighed Elena.

“I can’t stay here! I must escape!”

“Not yet. Have you seen Nurse Irina? She’s dangerous. I tried to escape once—she injected me with something, and I was paralyzed for several days…”

 

Anna was frightened, but she resolutely grabbed her friend’s hand: “We must get out.”

“I had a plan,” Elena whispered. “There’s a good nurse, Dasha. She wants to help, but there’s no one to call…”

“I know someone! Vladimir is a retired military man. He will help!” Anna rejoiced.

The next evening, when Darya entered the ward, the women turned to her. After ensuring their safety, Dasha handed over a phone: “You have three minutes.”

With trembling hands, Anna dialed the number. After several rings, Vladimir answered: “It’s me, Anna. I’ll explain later, but right now, help is needed. Please, trust me!”

Half an hour later, the sound of police sirens was heard. Anna rushed to the window: “They’re here! We’re saved!”

Law enforcement officers stormed the building, heading toward the head nurse. Vladimir quickly found Anna and Elena. He embraced Anna tightly: “Alina deceived me. She claimed that you were ill. Igor is away on a business trip and thinks you’re in the hospital. She insisted that you did not want any contact. How I missed you, Anna…”

Anna returned home with Vladimir and offered Elena a place to stay. When Igor learned of Alina’s actions, he was shocked.

The management and part of the staff of the institution were detained, and a criminal case was initiated. Alina was also arrested. While in detention, she gave birth to a son, whom Igor took with him. This brought immense joy to Vladimir and Anna.

Later, Igor divorced Alina through the court. Vladimir moved in with Anna, promising always to protect and love her.

Maria fell in love with her new classmate at first sight. His name was Rustam. Such guys are usually called “majors” — they drive expensive cars, wear branded clothes, and the case on their phone costs more than the average monthly salary.

But it was him, not his status, that attracted Maria. She loved everything about him: his smile, his brown eyes… He exuded a special magnetism that made her head spin.

Maria grew up in an ordinary family. Her parents worked as doctors, and she dreamed of following in their footsteps by diligently studying medicine. The girl was her parents’ pride: quiet, gentle, intelligent… an example for all daughters.

But after meeting Rustam, Masha’s life changed dramatically. She secretly longed for him until he finally paid attention to the quiet overachiever. And as it often happens in such cases, the saying “still waters run deep” came to mind.

At first, Maria couldn’t believe her good fortune, but as soon as he took her hand, she lost her head for love. They skipped lectures together, played truant from classes, and kissed in the back row…

 

Deciding that this was a love for life, Maria introduced Rustam to her family. The family dinner went quite well. Rustam showed his true colors, and Maria glowed with happiness by his side. Only her mother became seriously concerned after meeting the fiancé.

“Honey, maybe you and Rustam should slow down a bit?”

“What do you mean, Mom?!” Masha snapped.

“Don’t get me wrong, but I think you should finish the academy first and only then plan serious relationships.”

“First studies, then practice, residency, post-graduate training, and then… retirement! Do you think Rustam will wait until I’ve redone everything?!”

“If he loves you, he’ll wait. Not until retirement, of course, but at least until you graduate. Look at your father and me…”

“You and Dad got married twenty years ago! Times are different now! No one lives the way they used to!”

“Alright. But keep in mind, Rustam isn’t an ordinary guy. Be cautious and don’t make mistakes you’ll regret for a lifetime…”

“You’re just saying that on purpose!” Masha ran away in tears. It seemed to her that her parents did not wish happiness for her.

Masha called Rustam, and he comforted her all night, and she gave him the most precious thing a young, innocent girl possessed. After that, he was expected to marry her, or at least introduce Maria to his family. But Rustam wasn’t in any hurry.

“My father respects traditions. He’d be surprised if I brought you along.”

Those words struck Masha so hard that she had no reply. She stood silently, swallowing tears of hurt. And Rustam simply shrugged and drove her home.

But despite that, their relationship did not end. Maria loved Rustam, and he reciprocated her feelings in every way except in the familial sense. Nevertheless, Masha never gave up hope, thinking that sooner or later he would change his mind.

Then one day, several months into their “secret” relationship, an encounter finally happened. Perhaps by chance, or perhaps not. But it was not at all as Masha had hoped.

Rustam and Maria were strolling along the embankment, and their path passed by a pompous, expensive restaurant where Maria had never been before. She hoped that Rustam would invite her in, but something incredible happened: as they passed the restaurant’s terrace, Rustam suddenly stopped and his expression changed.

“Is something wrong?” Maria asked, frightened.

“Stay here. Wait for me.”

Instead of entering the restaurant with his girlfriend, he left her on the street and headed to one of the tables. Maria saw that an elderly man was sitting there, staring at her intently. The man was alone, perhaps waiting for someone. Masha couldn’t hear what they discussed, but from Rustam’s face it was clear that the conversation was unpleasant.

She waited for him a long time. And when Rustam emerged, he was no longer the same. Maria tried to find out the reason for his change in mood, but he remained silent. His behavior wounded her. She wanted to be hurt, but she couldn’t. Her feelings were too strong.

However, Rustam was completely unaffected by emotions. From that evening on, their meetings ceased without any explanation from him. Masha tried to distract herself with studies, but her mind was consumed by one thought — how to win back Rustam’s favor. Eventually, she called him herself.

“Where did you disappear to?! What’s going on?”

“I’m getting married,” he said.

“To whom?!”

“My family has chosen a bride for me.”

“And what, do you love her?!” Masha laughed hysterically. She thought it was a joke.

“No, but I’ll have to love her. Recently, the will was announced — my grandfather left a large inheritance, but it will only come into effect when I get married and continue our lineage, on the condition that the firstborn is a boy.”

“Are you serious? In the 21st century, does that still happen?!”

 

“I won’t discuss it, Maria. And I advise you not to either if you want our relationship to remain cordial.”

“Cordially? What does that mean?”

“I’ll handle my affairs and, maybe, if you’re good and obedient, we might continue to see each other. But, of course, strictly confidentially.”

“Why don’t you just go to hell, Rustam?!” Masha shouted and hung up. She couldn’t believe that this wasn’t a dream.

But the worst happened a few weeks later. Masha discovered that she was pregnant. And her first thought was joy. She hoped that this would win Rustam back.

She called him again.

“I asked you not to call.”

“I’m pregnant, Rustam. We’re going to have a child.”

“Are you trying to divorce me? You know, Masha… I thought you were an honest girl, but it turns out you’re just like everyone else.”

“If you don’t believe me, you can take a test.”

“I have nothing to do with your problem. Get rid of this disgrace and don’t call me again.”

After learning about Maria’s pregnancy, the father of the child, Rustam, disappeared from her life. He took the documents from the medical academy where they had studied together and transferred to another university.

Maria was devastated. She couldn’t concentrate on anything and nearly failed her session due to stress and worry.

Apart from her parents, she had no one to support her. She feared their anger, but her growing belly could not be hidden, and she had to confess. Her parents, guided by their moral principles and medical background, forbade Maria from having an abortion.

“Give birth. Otherwise, there will be problems later,” her mother said.

“The child will grow up without a father…” Masha wept.

“You should have thought this through earlier. Now, there’s nothing to be done.”

Summoning her courage and “tightening her belt,” Maria’s family managed to prepare for the baby’s arrival. And Masha was able to arrange for an academic leave so that she wouldn’t be expelled.

She gave birth on time. Ironically, a boy was born.

Masha looked into her son’s brown eyes and couldn’t stop admiring him. Despite Rustam’s actions, in the child she saw his reflection, and the feelings she had diligently hidden flared up once again.

Masha couldn’t help herself. She desperately wanted to show Rustam what he had lost by refusing the child. She took a bold step and sent a photo of the newborn to the child’s father, not considering that someone else in his family might see it. And that’s exactly what happened. After a while, she received a call.

“Maria? This is Rustam’s uncle. Listen to me, I won’t repeat myself…” followed by a brief monologue after which Maria realized she had made a huge mistake,

“You’re right. My son has no father. Goodbye,” Masha said in a trembling voice. She decided that Rustam’s family should have nothing to do with her child.

“So, what do we write in the ‘father’ field?” asked the registry office worker.

“Nothing.”

 

“Your child must have a patronymic; please indicate a name. You can choose any if you do not wish to mention the father’s name. Such are the rules.”

“I want it to be like this,” Maria declared, and despite being dissuaded and told that it couldn’t be done, she went her own way, choosing a suitable equivalent from the list of male names.

“Timur Maryevich?” everyone repeated.

“Yes.”

“And what kind of name is that for a father? ‘Marij’?” those who heard the patronymic were astonished.

“And the father is not involved here. My son has only a mother, Maria. He has no father. So Timur Maryevich, derived from my name.”

“You’re strange… abnormal,” some even condemned Maria’s choice. But she responded in the same manner:

“It’s up to me, not you. My son has a patronymic. Everything according to fairness.”

Three years later, while Maria was walking in the park with her son, a man approached them. He removed his glasses, and Maria shuddered. Standing before her was Rustam.

“Well, hello there, little one…” he said, trying to make contact.

“You’ve mistaken us for someone else,” Maria said, grabbing her child’s hand and quickly taking him away. Later, she learned that Rustam had never managed to produce an heir. His wife turned out to be infertile… and he remembered his son, whom he had rejected. But Maria was determined to fight for her child’s rights and to deprive her ex of any chance to see his son.

Anastasia was arranging the buns, taking her usual place behind the counter. The scent of baked goods filled the small shop. She liked working in the residential area of Yekaterinburg. For Anastasia, this store was more than just a business. It was a legacy she received from her parents.

The bell over the door rang, and an elderly woman entered the shop.

“Good morning, Anna Petrovna!” Anastasia smiled. “The usual, a loaf of Borodinsky bread and a pack of cottage cheese?”

“Oh, Nastenka,” the old woman sighed. “You always remember what I need. That’s why I love your little shop—it always feels like home here.”

Anastasia was proud that she knew almost all of her regular customers by name. For many locals, this wasn’t just a grocery store. It was a place where residents gathered to discuss recent events, catch up on news, and so on.

When the morning rush subsided, Anastasia sat down on a chair and pondered. Today was the anniversary of her parents’ death. Three years ago, there was a car accident. Afterward, Anastasia inherited the shop. She vividly remembered how her father taught her bookkeeping and her mother taught her how to stock the shelves. Her parents had been preparing her for adult life even then.

Suddenly, the phone rang, pulling Anastasia out of her reverie. Her husband’s name flashed on the screen.

“Hello, Vitya,” she answered.

“Nastya, what time are you free today?” Victor’s voice sounded unusually spirited.

“As usual, at seven. Why?”

“Great! I have a surprise for you. Let’s meet at our favorite restaurant at eight, okay?”

Anastasia smiled. Despite being married for three years, Victor still knew how to surprise her.

“Okay, I’ll be looking forward to it.”

 

After hanging up, Anastasia returned to work, but her thoughts kept drifting to the evening ahead.

“What surprise has Victor prepared? Maybe he finally found a job?”

Victor had been unemployed for several months, working on a business plan for a startup. Anastasia supported her husband as best she could. But the financial situation of the family was beginning to worry her.

At the restaurant, Anastasia immediately noticed Victor. He was sitting at a distant table, twirling a glass in his hands.

“Hello, dear,” Anastasia kissed her husband on the cheek. “Well, tell me, what’s the surprise?”

Victor smiled broadly:

“Nastya, I finally found an investor for my startup!”

Anastasia joyfully clapped her hands:

“Vitya, that’s wonderful! Congratulations!”

“Yes,” nodded Victor. “But there’s a catch. To show my seriousness about the project…,” he hesitated, watching his wife’s reaction. “I need to invest too. Basically, we need a starting sum for the project launch. And I was thinking…”

Anastasia tensed up. She already guessed what her husband was leading up to.

“Maybe we should sell your store?” blurted Victor. “Invest the money in my project, and in a year or two we’ll be millionaires!”

Anastasia felt a chill inside. Sell the store? The only memory of her parents? The only source of income?

“Vitya, are you out of your mind! You know what this store means to me,” she said quietly.

“Come on, Nastya!” Victor waved his hand dismissively. “It’s just a building and goods. But we have a real chance to get rich!”

Anastasia shook her head:

“No, Vitya. I can’t. This store is not just a business, it’s a memory of my parents, a part of me. I already have stability and reputation. Is your project really more important than what I’m doing?”

Victor frowned:

“Well, okay, let’s at least discuss this at home. Take a look at the business plan! Then you’ll understand our prospects!”

Reluctantly, Anastasia agreed, feeling it was a bad idea.

The following weeks were a nightmare. Victor constantly talked about his project, convincing his wife of the need to sell the store. He showed her numbers, drew charts, promised mountains of gold.

“Nastya, understand, the little shop is outdated,” said Victor. “But my project is a step into the future. Imagine, we will have our own chain across all of Russia.”

But the more her husband pressed and insisted, the more Anastasia resisted. Something about Vitya’s words alarmed her. And her husband’s behavior had changed. Victor became irritable, temperamental. He often whispered to someone on the phone and locked himself in the office.

One day, Anastasia accidentally overheard a conversation of Vitya.

“Don’t worry, Kolyan,” Victor was saying. “Everything is going according to plan. This fool will soon agree to sell the store. Then we’ll quickly arrange a divorce, and the money will be ours.”

Anastasia froze, not believing her ears. Her heart pounded furiously, and one thought hammered in her head: “How could he? How could he do this to me?”

Gathering all her willpower, Anastasia quietly walked into the bedroom and locked herself there. She needed time to come to her senses and decide what to do next.

The following days Anastasia spent as if in a fog. She mechanically performed her work at the store, smiled at customers, but inside a storm of emotions raged. Nastya was overcome with anger and disappointment. And then Anastasia wanted revenge.

Vitya did not notice the changes in his wife’s behavior. He continued to build castles in the air, describing how they would benefit from selling the little shop.

“Nastya, just think for yourself,” he said during dinner. “Why do we need this little shop when we can have a whole network? You will manage all this, not just stand behind the counter.”

Anastasia silently nodded, but a plan was already forming in her head. She decided to play along to buy time and protect the store.

“You know, Vitya,” said Nastya the next day. “You were right about the shop.”

Victor beamed:

“Really? You agree to sell it?”

“Well, not quite,” Anastasia paused. “I was thinking, maybe we should register the shop in both our names? To develop the business together?”

Victor was momentarily disconcerted but quickly composed himself:

“That’s… a great idea, dear! I knew you’d understand!”

He hugged Anastasia, and she forced herself to smile, feeling a wave of disgust inside.

“Let’s start the paperwork tomorrow,” suggested Victor.

“Of course, darling,” replied Anastasia. “I’ll organize everything myself.”

The next day, indeed, Anastasia went to a lawyer, but not for the documents Victor expected. She began preparing papers to protect her property in case of a divorce.

In the evening, returning home, Anastasia found Victor talking on the phone. He quickly ended the conversation when he saw his wife.

“How are you, dear?” he asked, trying to look casual. “Did you manage to take care of the documents?”

Anastasia nodded:

“Yes, everything is going according to plan. Soon our store will be the beginning of something bigger,” she smiled, trying to sound sincere.

 

Victor beamed:

“I knew you’d understand! We’ll move mountains together!”

Anastasia nodded, internally preparing for a protracted battle.

Nastya met with a family law attorney at a cafe.

“The situation is complicated, but there’s a way out,” concluded Elena Sergeyevna. “You have to act quickly. But in a way that won’t raise suspicions from your husband.”

The lawyer advised Nastya to gather all documents proving that the store was her inheritance. She should also take care of the will. Even in unforeseen circumstances, the store should not go to Vitya!

“What about a joint account?” asked Anastasia. “Victor will likely suggest this soon.”

“If you agree to a joint account, insist on separate management,” advised Elena Sergeyevna. “And don’t even think about signing anything! First, consult with me. Alright, I’ll be in touch!”

Armed with new knowledge, Anastasia returned home. As she suspected, Victor brought up finances in the evening.

“Nastya, I was thinking,” he began, feigning a casual tone, “maybe we should merge our finances? Open a joint account for business development?”

Anastasia pretended to ponder:

“You know, that’s an interesting idea. Let’s discuss the details tomorrow? I’m a bit tired today.”

Victor agreed, as his wife didn’t reject the proposal.

The next day at the bank, Nastya opened a new personal account, about which she told Vitya nothing. Part of the income from the little shop went there. The main account was left with only minimal expenses.

In the evening, when Victor again talked about a joint account, Anastasia agreed but on one condition:

“Let’s do this: we’ll open a joint account, but each of us will have the right to manage only their part of the contribution. That would be fair, right?”

Victor frowned:

“But why all these complications? We’re a family. Relationships should be built on trust.”

“Of course, dear,” smiled Anastasia. “But in business, you need to be cautious, you said it yourself. Let’s start with this, and then we’ll see.”

Victor reluctantly agreed, not to raise suspicions.

Anastasia was busy protecting the business. She checked all the documents, all contracts were registered in her name. Nastya made sure that Vitya had no relation to the store. Everything was documented.

Victor became increasingly careless. He believed that the “perfect plan” would work. He often shared with Nastya plans for “their” future. Vitya didn’t know that Nastya already knew everything.

“Imagine, in a year we will already have our own network! Many branches not only in the city but also beyond!”

Anastasia nodded and smiled, supporting the conversation, but internally she was preparing for the decisive moment.

That moment came two weeks later. Victor came home with papers for signing.

“Nastya, I’ve prepared documents for transferring your inheritance to our joint account,” he said, laying out the papers on the table. “Let’s sign, and start a new chapter in our lives!”

Anastasia took the documents, pretending to study them attentively. Then she looked up at her husband and calmly stated:

“Victor, I know about your plans to divorce me and take my business.”

Victor turned pale:

“What? What are you talking about?”

“I heard your conversation with Nikolai,” replied Anastasia. “You called me a ‘fool’ and discussed how quickly to arrange a divorce after selling the store.”

Victor tried to justify himself:

“Nastya, you misunderstood! It was just a joke…”

 

“Enough lying, Victor,” Anastasia interrupted him. “I know everything. And I won’t let you take what belongs to me and my family.”

With these words, she pulled out another set of documents from her bag:

“Here are the papers for the divorce and property division. The store remains entirely mine, as it was before our marriage. You can take everything we’ve acquired together over these three years.”

Victor was shocked as he looked at his wife:

“You… you’ve been pretending all this time?”

“I learned from the best,” Anastasia bitterly smiled. “From you.”

Victor tried to object, but Anastasia stopped him:

“Don’t bother. I’ve already consulted with a lawyer. All documents are in order, and you can’t claim my business.”

Victor slumped into a chair, realizing that his plan had completely failed.

“What now?” he asked in a defeated voice.

“Now you sign these papers and leave,” Anastasia said firmly. “I’ll give you a week to pack your things and find a new place to live.”

Victor silently signed the documents. When he looked up at Anastasia, his eyes showed surprise and even something akin to respect:

“I underestimated you, Nastya.”

“That was your main mistake,” replied Anastasia, opening the front door.

After Victor left, Anastasia felt a strange emptiness. Three years of marriage, which seemed happy, turned out to be a lie. But along with the bitterness came a sense of relief—now she was free from manipulation and deceit.

The next day, Anastasia arrived at the shop earlier than usual. She walked between the familiar shelves, inhaling the smell of fresh bread and coffee. This was her world, her legacy, and she had managed to protect it.

Anna Petrovna, stopping by for fresh cottage cheese, immediately noticed a change in the mood of the owner:

“Nastenka, is everything alright? You look somewhat tired.”

Anastasia smiled:

“Everything’s fine, Anna Petrovna. Just… starting a new chapter in life.”

“Well, well,” the old woman nodded. “Just make sure our shop doesn’t go anywhere. We’re used to it.”

“Don’t worry,” Anastasia sharply replied. “The shop isn’t going anywhere. On the contrary, I’ll make it even better!”

Anastasia fully immersed herself in work. The shop’s interior was updated, the assortment expanded, and farm products added. Nastya introduced grocery delivery for the elderly. Local residents grew to love Anastasia even more.

The business thrived, and Nastya was over the moon with happiness. After all, Anastasia had found her calling. She was not just selling products. Anastasia had created a place where all residents of the district felt comfortable being and communicating.

One day, Nastya was sorting through old photos. She accidentally stumbled upon a picture where she and her parents posed in front of the newly opened shop. That day, the whole family hoped that the business wouldn’t fail but would bring happiness and stability.

“Thank you,” Nastya stroked the photo, “I managed to keep the little shop afloat. And I’ll do everything to ensure your business lives and grows.”

In the evening, Nastya was finishing closing the shop. She saw her reflection in the window. Anastasia saw a strong and self-sufficient girl. She had gone through pain, humiliation, and betrayal. But Nastya coped with everything and became stronger.

“It seems I’ve grown up,” Anastasia cheerfully muttered.

 

Nastya locked the shop and headed home. New events and adventures awaited her. Anastasia eagerly awaited to see what fate had prepared for her.

Six months later, Nastya accidentally ran into her ex. Vitya looked worse.

“Hello, Nastya,” Victor said uncertainly. “How are you?”

“Good. And you?”

Victor shrugged:

“Could be better. You know, I… I wanted to apologize. You were right about me.”

Anastasia looked attentively at her ex-husband:

“Thank you for the apologies, Vitya. I hope you’ve learned a lesson from this story.”

“Yes, I have,” nodded Victor. “You taught me that honesty and hard work are more important than any schemes and machinations.”

Anastasia smiled:

“I’m glad to hear that. Good luck, Vitya.”

Anastasia sighed with relief when her ex-husband left. The past had let go of Nastya, and she was ready to move forward.

The girl took up her work with new energy. Nastya had many plans. And now she had the belief that everything would work out. Anastasia smiled. Life went on.

Veronika slowly lowered the cup of cooling coffee. Her fingers, adorned with rings—gifts from her husband over twenty years of marriage—trembled slightly. Through the vast panoramic window of the Bellagio restaurant, the view of the evening city spread out, yet she noticed neither the twinkling lights nor the bustling waiters.

Her entire world had shrunk to a single table at the opposite end of the room.

— What a coincidence! — she whispered, watching Igor tenderly caress the hand of a young brunette. — What an amazing coincidence…

How many times had she asked her husband to take her to this very restaurant? Ten? Twenty? “Honey, I’m tired,” “Sweetie, maybe another time,” “Verochka, I have an important meeting”—excuses multiplied year after year until she finally stopped asking.

And now she saw him, reclining casually in his chair, laughing so genuinely as if he had regained fifteen years of youth.

A waiter approached her table:

— Would you like anything else?

— Yes, — Veronika raised her eyes, in which something resembling merriment flickered. — Please bring the bill from that table over there. I’d like to give a gift.

— Pardon?

— That man in the burgundy blazer is my husband. And I want to pay for their dinner. Just, please, don’t mention who exactly did it.

The young man looked at the unusual customer with surprise but nodded. Veronika took out her credit card—the very one Igor had given her for her last birthday. “Spend on yourself, my dear,” he had said then. Well, technically she was doing just that—spending on herself. On her future.

After settling the bill, she stood and, as she passed by her husband’s table, slowed her pace for a moment. Igor was so absorbed in his companion that he didn’t even notice the familiar silhouette. Or perhaps he simply didn’t want to see it? Veronika smirked: how many times had she been blind when she didn’t want to see the obvious?

Stepping outside, she took a deep breath of the cool evening air. One thought swirled in her mind: “Well then, Igor, you chose this. Now it’s my turn.”

At home, Veronika first kicked off her shoes and walked into her study.

Strangely, her hands no longer trembled. Inside, an amazing calm reigned—as if after a long illness the fever had finally subsided.

— So, where do we begin? — she asked her reflection in the mirror.

Opening her laptop, Veronika methodically created a new folder titled “New Life.” Something told her that the next few weeks would be very eventful. She retrieved an old box of documents from the closet—the very one that Igor had never bothered to even open.

— It really pays to be meticulous, — she murmured, sifting through the papers.

The house documents were exactly where she had left them five years ago. The house… her little fortress, bought with the money from selling her grandmother’s apartment. Back then, Igor was just starting his business and kept repeating:

— Veronichka, you understand that all funds are needed for business development right now. I’ll make it up to you later.

She understood. She had always understood everything. That’s why she registered the house in her name—just in case. Igor hadn’t even inquired about the details of the deal, completely trusting her with “this paper hassle.”

The next item was the bank accounts. Veronika opened her online banking and methodically began to check the flow of funds. Thanks to her habit of keeping track of all finances, she knew exactly which amounts belonged to her personally.

Her phone vibrated—a message from Igor:

— Running late at an important meeting. Don’t wait for dinner.

Veronika smiled:

— An important meeting… Yes, dear, I saw just how important it was.

She opened her contacts and found the number of Mikhail Stepanovich—the family lawyer. Or rather, now her personal lawyer.

 

— Good evening, Mikhail Stepanovich. I’m sorry for the late call, but I need a consultation. Does ten o’clock tomorrow work for you? Excellent. And one more thing… Let’s meet not in the office, but at the “Swallow” café. Yes, that’s right—the matter is delicate.

After ending the call, Veronika stretched and approached the window. In the darkness, the city lights twinkled—just like in the restaurant. But now they seemed to her not romantic, but heralding change. Big changes.

The morning began with the aroma of freshly brewed coffee. Igor, who had returned after midnight, was still asleep, while Veronika was already sitting in the kitchen, reviewing her notes.

For the first time in twenty years of marriage, she was delighted by her habit of noting down every little detail.

— Good morning, dear, — she said as she heard her husband’s footsteps. — How did yesterday’s meeting go?

For a second, Igor froze, but quickly regained himself:

— Productive. We discussed a new contract.

— Oh? And what is this… contract called? — Veronika looked up from her cup, carefully watching her husband’s reaction.

— What do you mean? — his voice sounded almost natural, but his right eyebrow twitched ever so slightly—a sure sign of nervousness.

— Nothing special. I’m just curious about your affairs, — she smiled and rose from the table. — I have to go; I have a meeting.

— A meeting? With whom? — now his voice carried a note of worry.

— With the future, — she replied enigmatically and left the kitchen.

The “Swallow” café greeted her with its cozy half-light and the smell of freshly baked pastries. Mikhail Stepanovich was already waiting at a table in the far corner.

— Veronika Alexandrovna, I must admit, your call surprised me, — the lawyer began as they placed their order.

— Lately, many things surprise me, — she said, taking out the folder of documents. — Tell me, Mikhail Stepanovich, how quickly can a divorce be finalized if one party owns most of the jointly acquired property?

The lawyer choked on his coffee:

— Pardon… what?

— You know the house is registered in my name, don’t you? And most of the funds in the accounts are my personal savings. I want to know my rights.

For the next two hours, they methodically went over every document, every bank statement. Mikhail Stepanovich grew more astonished by his client’s foresight.

— You know, — he said towards the end of their meeting, — I’ve never seen such a prepared woman. Usually, in these situations, everyone acts on emotion.

— And I don’t want to act on emotion, — Veronika neatly folded the papers back into her folder. — I want to give a special gift.

After leaving the café, she headed straight to the bank. It was time to turn her plan into action.

At the bank, Veronika spent nearly three hours. The young manager looked at her with unmistakable admiration—few clients knew exactly what they wanted as clearly as she did.

— So then, — she summarized, — we close the main account, transfer the funds to a new one registered solely in my name. And block the cards.

— And what about your husband? — the manager asked cautiously.

— He will keep his salary card. I think thirty thousand a month is enough for… important meetings.

Leaving the bank, Veronika felt a slight dizziness—not from fear, but from the sensation of freedom. Her phone vibrated again—this time it was their joint accountant calling.

— Veronika Alexandrovna, there’s been an offer to buy your share of the company. The price is more than attractive.

 

— Excellent, Anna Sergeevna. Prepare the documents. And… let’s not inform Igor Pavlovich for now. I have a surprise for him.

Next on her list was the travel agency. Veronika pushed open the glass door and smiled at the consultant:

— Hello. I need a tour to Italy. The Tuscan valley, two weeks, the most picturesque places.

— For two? — the young woman asked out of habit.

— No, — Veronika shook her head. — Just for me. And the sooner, the better.

That evening, upon returning home, she found Igor in an unusually agitated state.

— Veronika, do you know why our joint cards are blocked?

— Really? — she feigned surprise. — Perhaps it’s a system glitch. We’ll figure it out tomorrow.

— But I needed to pay for… — he faltered.

— Pay for what, dear? — a hint of honeyed notes crept into her voice. — Perhaps for dinner at the restaurant? By the way, how did you like the Bellagio? They say the cuisine there is exquisite.

Igor paled:

— You… you were there?

— Oh, don’t worry, — Veronika patted his shoulder. — I even paid your bill. Consider it… an advance on a future gift.

Their twentieth wedding anniversary day turned out to be surprisingly sunny.

Veronika woke up early, put on her favorite black dress, and neatly arranged her hair. On the kitchen table, a set breakfast awaited along with a beautifully wrapped folder with a golden bow.

Igor came downstairs, holding a bouquet of roses:

— Happy anniversary, dear! I reserved a table at…

— At the Bellagio? — Veronika interrupted him. — No need. I have a special gift for you.

She handed him the folder:

— Open it. I’m sure you’ll like it.

Igor untied the bow and began pulling out documents. With each new paper, his face grew paler.

— What is this? — his voice trembled with anger. — Have you lost your mind?

— No, dear. For the first time in twenty years, I’m thinking completely clearly, — Veronika calmly sipped her coffee. — The divorce papers, confirmation of my sole ownership of the house, and… oh yes, the restaurant bill. I thought it would be fair if I paid for our last dinner together.

— You can’t do this! — Igor jumped up, knocking over a chair. — This is my business! My house!

— Yours? — she raised an eyebrow. — Look at the documents more closely. And yes, I have already sold my share in the company. Very lucratively, by the way.

— You… you’re just taking revenge on me! — he grabbed his head. — All because of some innocent flirtation…

— No, dear. I’m giving you a gift—I’m giving you freedom. Now you can officially be with Natalya. By the way, tell her that the earrings look wonderful on her. I remember how I chose them myself last Christmas.

Veronika rose from the table and picked up the suitcase she had prepared in advance:

— You always said that women are too emotional. Well, I decided not to make a scene. I’m just grateful to you for opening my eyes.

— Where are you going? — Igor asked in a daze.

— To Tuscany. Remember, I always dreamed of visiting there? Now I can indulge that little weakness.

At the doorway, she looked back:

— You know what’s most amazing? I’m truly grateful to you. If it weren’t for your… meeting, I would never have dared to change my life.

A taxi was already waiting outside. As she got into the car, Veronika looked at the mansion where she had lived for so many years. Strangely, she felt neither sadness nor regret. Only lightness and anticipation for a new life.

— To the airport? — the driver asked.

 

— Yes, — Veronika smiled. — To a new life.

The airplane took off right on schedule. Gazing out the window at the shrinking city below, she took out her phone and read a message from Igor: “We can discuss everything! Come back!”

— No, dear, — she whispered, deleting the message. — Now my life belongs only to me. And it’s the best gift I could ever give myself.

Lida lived with her husband, Oleg, for twelve years. But then she found a trace of another woman’s lipstick on his shirt.

She was not a foolish woman and understood immediately. But just to be sure, she checked his phone and found several messages from a certain Varvara.

 

At first, it was business correspondence, but then came the affection, photos, and even… a joint business trip to the south.

Lida understood that her husband had been deceiving her for a long time. It was bitter and hurtful. She decided to leave, but their daughter, Mila, was too attached to her father, thought he was perfect, and couldn’t live without him. And Oleg, it seemed, was staying in the family only because of their daughter. Lida decided to endure. But with each passing day, Oleg became more distant, no longer hiding that he was spending his evenings with another woman, and one day Varvara even showed up at their house.

At first, Lida was stunned by such audacity, but then she still let Varvara into the kitchen and even poured her some tea.

— What do you want?

— Let Oleg go. He doesn’t love you.

— What makes you think that? — Lida laughed sarcastically.

— Look, he loves me! I should be in your place! — Varvara showed Lida several photos that were enough to understand what Oleg was doing when he was alone with her. But Lida didn’t cry or attack her husband’s lover. She calmly listened to her and nodded.

— You want to be in my place? Fine! — Lida took off her apron, threw it on the table, and started packing her things under Varvara’s surprised gaze.

Lida quickly stuffed her dresses and valuables into a large suitcase, took the car key, and left.

— And where are you going? — Varvara yelled after her. She was glad that her rival had given up so easily, but dissatisfaction and anger still lingered. She wanted a scandal, and that’s why she came to Lida.

— It’s none of your business. You’re staying here now. There’s meat in the freezer, and a manual meat grinder in the drawer. Grind the meat, make some steamed cutlets. Oleg has gastritis, he can’t have fried food. The electric meat grinder is broken, so go ahead! And don’t forget to wash the dishes; Oleg is a cleanliness freak and won’t sit at a dirty table, — Lida said, slamming the door behind her.

Lida was terribly hurt and upset, but she held back her tears.

“Let her live in my shoes if she wanted so badly! How long will she last?”

Lida went to her mother’s house in the countryside, told her everything, and shed a tear.

— It’s good Mila’s at camp; don’t tell her anything yet. Maybe Oleg will come to his senses. After all, you have a family.

— I don’t know… if I can forgive him.

— We’ll see.

Lida stayed with her mother. Her job was remote, so there were no problems.

She rested from the daily grind, felt rejuvenated by the fresh air and organic food, and even got a tan… She didn’t answer the phone, although Oleg called her. Lida knew she had to hold off. If he wanted a divorce, he could deal with it on his own. She wasn’t ready to meet him, although she secretly followed his life through social media. Varvara had no shame in posting their joint photos. Lida learned that she had moved her four-year-old son into their home and moved in herself.

— Well, well… — Lida’s mother threw up her hands when she saw the photos on social media. — Should I intervene? Pull her hair and throw her out?

— No, Mom, I won’t degrade myself, — Lida refused.

 

A month passed. It was time to pick up Mila from camp. Lida didn’t know how to tell her daughter about the separation from Oleg, so she was worried. To her surprise, she spotted Oleg in the parking lot at the camp’s gate.

He stood there looking at her. Guilty, like a naughty dog.

— Lida…

— There’s nothing for us to talk about, Oleg. Leave, — she waved him off.

— Mom! Dad! — Their happy daughter ran up to them, dragging a suitcase behind her. — I’m so glad you’re both here! I missed you so much!

Mila was so joyful that Lida couldn’t bring herself to confess. It turned out that Oleg had purposely come to her on the train. But he hadn’t told Mila about it.

Oleg approached Lida, and what he said to her changed her life forever.

— Please, for our daughter’s sake… — Oleg whispered.

— What for her? To lie? — Lida shot him an angry look.

— Let’s be a family for now, and then we can admit that we’ve separated.

— You want that? Fine! — she pushed him in the chest. — Then act like you love me! And don’t you dare call your Varvara! Turn off your phone or I’ll tell Mila who’s been living in her room while she was at camp!

Oleg lowered his head, but for Mila’s sake, he agreed.

— Are we going to Grandma’s? — Mila cheerfully asked.

— Yeah. We’re going to live with her until the end of summer.

— What about Daddy?

— He’ll come on weekends when work allows, — Lida quickly said. — Dad has a new… position. It’s very important, that’s why he’s willing to…

— Lida! — Oleg interrupted. — What are you saying? I’ll come in the evenings and on weekends! I love you so much, sweetheart.

— What about Mom?

— And Mom too, of course!

— So everything’s good with us? — Mila seemed to notice that there was tension between Lida and Oleg.

— Everything’s wonderful! We had talked about moving to Grandma’s for the summer. She needs help, and we need a break.

— Well, okay, — Mila agreed and continued sharing her camp experiences. It seemed like nothing had changed. But Lida knew it was all an illusion, and that her husband was waiting for another woman in the city.

Her mother greeted Oleg with a rolling pin. But Lida quickly explained the situation to her mother, and she didn’t get a chance to lecture her son-in-law. In the end, everyone behaved as if nothing had changed, and they were a happy family. For Mila’s sake. And Oleg stayed the night. And went to bed with his wife.

Lida was angry at her husband. She remembered how lately he hadn’t shown interest in her. And after his betrayal, sleeping with him felt pretty strange. On the other hand, she felt a sudden surge of excitement. It seemed like her husband had left her, but now he was with her.

While she was processing this, Oleg didn’t waste time. He suddenly seemed to feel an incredible love for his wife. At first, Lida pushed him away, but then she thought, why not? They hadn’t divorced. So she had every right. In the end, the night felt like their first one. Lida hadn’t felt this good in a long time. And most importantly, after that, she didn’t feel used. On the contrary, she threw her husband’s clothes at him the next morning and said:

— Leave. You’ve visited long enough.

— Lida? What about…?

— I’ll tell Mila you were called to duty.

Her husband remained silent.

— Hurry up, the bus leaves in an hour. After that, only in the evening. I’m not spending the whole day with you.

Oleg was surprised, but didn’t argue. He quickly put on his jeans and left.

Mila was upset, but when she found out Grandma was going to buy her a bike, she happily went to the nearest store and spent the afternoon riding around the village.

A few days later, in the evening, the gate creaked, and Oleg walked into the house. But he wasn’t empty-handed. He brought a huge bouquet for Lida and gifts for Mila.

— This is for you, dear, — he said and kissed his wife. Lida didn’t even have time to push him away. The kiss felt very natural. Mila turned away, not wanting to embarrass her parents. Grandma just shook her head.

— Sit down for dinner, son-in-law, since you came.

They fed Oleg, and afterward, Mila took her parents to the riverbank. It was their favorite spot. They roasted sausages, built a hut, and played tag. But then Lida tripped over a log and twisted her ankle.

— How will I walk? — she complained, and Oleg picked her up and carried her home. Mila ran beside them, laughing. They seemed so happy. Such a strange phenomenon. It seemed like the father and husband were now strangers, but he was right there with them and was happy to be there!

That night, everything repeated. It felt like Lida had a second honeymoon with her husband. Who cared about everyday problems when such passion was burning at night?

— You’re in love… — her mother remarked, noticing the sparkle in Lida’s eyes.

— Oh, come on, I’m just having fun, — Lida waved her hand.

 

— Your relationship is strange.

— Strange is when I cook him borscht, and he gives flowers to another woman.

— That’s also true, — her mother said, confused. She didn’t know whether to feel happy or sorry for her daughter. But judging by how often her son-in-law visited and how lovingly he looked at Mila and Lida, she decided not to give any advice.

And Lida blossomed! Even men started looking at her. A happy woman is easy to spot from afar.

And Oleg noticed. He started visiting almost every evening, and one day he even placed tickets to the south in front of Lida!

— What’s this?

— Let’s go, shall we?

— What about Varvara?

He didn’t answer.

— She’ll be jealous of you for your real wife! — Lida found it amusing.

— Let’s go… remember how you wanted? There’s a sea view, all-inclusive! We’ll take Mila.

— To the sea?! I want to! — Mila saw the tickets, and of course, Lida had to agree.

The vacation was magical. Lida felt free, desired, and beautiful. She no longer feared her husband might leave her. She flirted with men, enjoyed herself to the fullest. And Oleg pampered her, never calling his lover. In fact, Lida didn’t care. But somehow, Varvara found her number and called her.

— You… I know everything! — Varvara shouted into the phone, showering Lida with insults.

— What do you not like? — Lida asked indifferently.

— What?! I… — Varvara began again, but Lida interrupted her.

— You wanted to be in my place. Well, enjoy, your dreams came true, — she said, hung up the call, and blocked Varvara’s number.

— Who was that, dear? — Oleg asked, placing a glass of freshly squeezed juice in front of her.

— Wrong number. They thought they were calling a wish fulfillment agency, — Lida laughed.

— You’re my Golden Fish… and will you fulfill my wish while Mila’s at the kids’ club? — Oleg smiled and pulled his wife toward their room.

Anton had always considered himself the master of his life. Even back in college, he managed to move in such a way that his classmates could only gape in amazement. While others were slogging over textbooks, Anton was already busy with business. Sometimes he was reselling cars, other times he was assembling computers to order. It was then that he met Albina. She was a modest honor student, studying a foreign language. She was nothing like Anton’s lively girlfriends. But something about her caught his eye.

 

Anton courted her beautifully. Albina melted under the attention of the popular guy. Soon they started dating.

— You are so beautiful, — Anton said. — Why do you need to study? Marry me. I’ll take care of you.

Albina smiled shyly:

— I want to work as a translator. To communicate with people from all over the world.

Anton waved off her words.

— Well, you’ll get to talk with some of my business partners.

In the end, he persuaded Albina. They got married. Money was plentiful. Soon their firstborn, Dimka, was born. Albina threw herself wholeheartedly into motherhood. A couple of years later, a daughter, Lenochka, arrived. Taking care of two little ones took up all her time and energy. Albina wanted to hire a nanny.

 

At least, that way she could somehow continue working. They had plenty of money, after all. But Anton was against it. Children should be cared for by their mother. Albina was running around like a squirrel on a wheel. Besides, she didn’t really put much effort into her appearance with the kids.

Anton claimed that he was investing everything in developing his business. Meanwhile, he’d buy a big TV, or a car for himself, or go out with friends. And when Albina asked for a hairdryer, her husband said that her old one was just fine.

Years went by. The children grew up and started school. Albina began to feel lonely. She hardly saw her husband. And when he was home, he was always on his phone. If Albina asked him to go somewhere, Anton would say he was busy. Sure enough, he always found time to meet with his friends.

But Albina never thought things could get to this point. How could your husband just drop this bombshell:

— We’d better break up, — Anton blurted out. — I’m tired of this whole family game. I have my own life. And I need freedom.

— Break up? — Albina was bewildered. — What about the children? What about me?

— Well, you’ll figure something out, — Anton shrugged. — You’re a mother, after all. You’ll manage somehow.

And so, in an instant, Albina found herself alone with two children and no means of support. That very evening, Anton moved out, taking all his things. At least he had the decency to leave her the house. At first, Albina couldn’t believe that her comfortable life had collapsed overnight. She roamed the city in search of work. She had to leave the children with a neighbor.

At least the neighbor didn’t mind. Katya had her own child, too. But wherever Albina went, they refused to take her. Whenever she tried to work in her field, she was turned down because she lacked experience. With great difficulty, she managed to get a job as a cleaner at a shopping mall.

It wasn’t the job Albina had dreamed of. But money was catastrophically short. She had to take on extra shifts at night. The children were often left alone—sometimes with neighbors, sometimes with friends, sometimes with her grandmother, who occasionally came to help. Albina was torn between work and home. And then she would collapse exhausted in the evenings.

— Mommy, why are you always at work? — little Lena asked. — I miss you so much.

— I’m sorry, sweetheart, — Albina sighed. — I need to earn money to buy us food and clothes.

— And what about Daddy? He earns a lot. Why doesn’t he help us?

Albina didn’t know what to say. Anton had seemingly vanished from their lives. He paid alimony irregularly and very little, and he didn’t answer phone calls.

Albina was barely keeping afloat when another misfortune struck. Her mother called to say that grandfather… Albina couldn’t believe it. How could it be? Grief overwhelmed her. The woman was hanging on by the skin of her teeth.

She needed to be a support for her mother. But Albina never expected the notary’s call. Apparently, grandfather had left a will. The woman was surprised—grandfather had nothing except an old house in the village. Yet the notary insisted on a meeting.

Albina barely managed to get time off from work and went to the office. There, she was in for a surprise. It turned out that grandfather had been quietly buying shares of various companies throughout his life. And now he had left his entire inheritance to his beloved granddaughter.

Albina couldn’t believe her ears. The sum seemed unreal—enough money for several years of comfortable living. She remembered how grandfather always said, “Save your pennies, granddaughter. They’ll come in handy someday.” Now those words had taken on a new meaning. Albina was finally able to quit her grueling job. She devoted more time to her children, and Dimka and Lenochka were happy.

Albina decided to use the money wisely.

She enrolled in professional development courses to return to her field. And part of the funds was invested in a small business. She opened a café in their neighborhood. Business took off. The café quickly became popular. Albina hired staff, though she often worked behind the counter herself.

Days went by. The café thrived, with more and more regular customers. The woman felt that she had finally gotten back on her feet. One day, she decided to cover for a sick waitress. She enjoyed working in the dining area sometimes—it allowed her to better feel the café’s atmosphere and chat with the patrons.

The bell above the entrance jingled. Albina instinctively turned to greet the new guests—and froze. At the doorway stood Anton. Next to him was a young, striking blonde. Her heart skipped a beat. She hadn’t seen her ex-husband in over three years, and now he was in her café with a new partner. Regaining her composure, she approached the table the couple had chosen.

— Good afternoon. What would you like to order? — Albina said.

Anton looked up from the menu and stared at his ex-wife in surprise:

— Albina? Are you working here as a waitress? — His voice carried poorly concealed glee.

— Yes, I work here, — the woman replied calmly. — So, what will you have?

— Two cappuccinos and croissants, — Anton casually threw out. — Look at you, down on your luck. I thought you were still working as a cleaner. Although perhaps this is a step up, right? — he smirked.

The blonde giggled, clearly pleased with her companion’s joke. Albina restrained herself from saying anything. She was above that.

— Your order will be ready in a few minutes, — she said, heading to the counter.

While waiting for the order, she watched Anton out of the corner of her eye. He and his companion were laughing. At first, Albina felt uneasy, but then she even began to feel a sense of joy. How pathetic Anton was—and why hadn’t she noticed it sooner?

When Albina brought the order, Anton couldn’t resist commenting again:

— You’re doing pretty well. Maybe serving coffee really is your calling?

 

Albina said nothing. After a while, the bell jingled again. Two men in expensive suits entered the café.

— Albina! How are you? — one of them greeted her cheerfully. — So, shall we discuss our proposal? Are you free now?

Albina smiled:

— Well, as you can see, I’m working a bit on the side.

The second man laughed.

— You, as usual. In your situation, everyone is in offices, and here you are, out among the people.

Albina glanced at the stunned Anton.

— Enjoy your meal.

Anton sat there, mouth agape.

— So you’re the owner? — he finally managed to ask.

Albina smiled:

— Yes, this is my establishment. Enjoy. Excuse me, I have an important meeting. If you need anything, you can ask the waitress Lena. There, the one with dark hair.

And Albina walked into the office. She could feel her ex-husband’s amazed gaze on her back. She felt light at heart. It was clear that she had finally let go of the past. In the office, Albina discussed plans for expanding her chain with her partners.

When she came out, Anton and his companions were gone. Albina went to a table to clear away the dishes. On a napkin was hastily scribbled a phone number. She smirked and threw it into the trash.

Now that life was behind her. And she had a new one. One that was better than before.

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Lyud, you understand…” Volodya began. “No, I love you, but you look so much like her and… I’m confused.”

She suspected that he might be cheating on her, but she could never have guessed with whom. It was some kind of madhouse. It just didn’t add up.

“Don’t, don’t explain,” she said, suddenly feeling indifferent about what would happen next. She couldn’t stay in the apartment with two people who had betrayed her. “I’ll come back for my things later, okay? I need to be alone.”

“What’s frozen? What are we going to do? Soon Lyudka will arrive, and it’ll look suspicious to everyone.”

“How am I supposed to know what to do? First, get dressed!”

They stood in the middle of the apartment, staring at each other in bewilderment, not knowing what to grab first. Should they make the bed? Hide the traces of a romantic evening? Gather the belongings that shouldn’t be there?

It was useless. Ten minutes. In that time, it was impossible to cover up the traces. The only option was to dignifiedly greet the mistress of the apartment, who had returned at the wrong time, and calmly explain what was happening. But first, she had to get dressed.

Two weeks ago, Lyudmila had kissed her husband goodbye and flown off to Crimea for a vacation to visit a friend. She had been looking forward to the warm sea, the scorching sun, fruits, and the long evening chats with her friend—something she had sorely missed since her move.

Only one thing had marred her pure joy: at the last minute, her husband was handed some sudden, extremely urgent, but very lucrative project. She hadn’t really understood the project, but it had somehow prevented Volodya from going on vacation with her.

Volodya tried to console her, saying that perhaps he would manage to deal with the most urgent matters within a week and then join her for the rest of the vacation. Lyudmila wanted to believe that, but… Every time urgent business held him back in Moscow, he promised to wrap things up quickly and catch up with her, and every time she ended up vacationing alone.

That wasn’t such a big problem: Lyuda was an independent, self-sufficient woman who never felt bored even when alone. She always had something to do. Besides, she had company for her vacation.

She just wished to spend more time with her husband. But what could she do, work was work. In the end, they had decided that they needed to buy a bigger apartment, and then have children. They needed to earn money for that apartment.

Nina greeted Lyuda at the airport with strawberries and an excited squeal. After hugging for a long time, they walked to the car.

“Where’s your Vovka now? It’s the second time you’ve come without him. I almost forgot what he looks like.”

“As always, work.”

Nina smirked:

“He doesn’t take care of himself at all.”

Lyudmila smiled sadly. What else could be said?

“At least no one will interrupt the evening gossip. Did you hear? Zhenya is getting divorced again, a third wife, and nothing seems right for him…”

“You’re kidding…”

The conversation gradually captivated Lyudmila, and for a while, she forgot that she had once again ended up on vacation alone.

The sunset over the sea was beautiful. The sun was diving straight into the waves, melting them, flooding everything with gold. In moments like these, Lyuda regretted that she hadn’t become an artist. It would have been wonderful to paint all of this. But there were no paints, no canvas… All she could do was take beautiful photos.

Lyuda pulled out her phone, turned on the camera, and began to adjust to the landscape. The image on the screen looked great. A finger tapped on the white circle…

The landscape was obscured by a male silhouette, hopelessly ruining the photo.

“Beautiful lady, how about I take a picture of you against the sunset?”

Lyudmila looked at the young man, her age peer—maybe about three years older—in irritation. He might have been quite handsome, but Lyuda was too upset about the ruined photo. Muttering discontentedly, she said, “No, thank you,” and went to set up a new shot.

“Why are you like that?” Nina asked her. “You’re just attractive to him, and he doesn’t know how to get your attention.”

“Not at all, Nina, not at all. I’m married, after all.”

“Remember, your husband didn’t come with you again—he’s working, you know. And now, you’re returning to Moscow without having had any rest.”

“I’m not planning to cheat on my husband!” Lyudmila declared firmly.

“Oh, come on, who’s talking about cheating? You can just have a fun time, chat with a handsome man, listen to a sea of compliments, and then go back to Moscow, charged with those compliments and glowing like a mysterious star.”

“No, that’s just too awkward.”

That whole evening, Lyudmila thought about her friend’s words. Maybe there really was nothing wrong with such casual interaction? Just chatting, going somewhere together—it wasn’t cheating. It was simply a new acquaintance, pleasant conversation.

The next day on the beach, they encountered the same man again. Seeing them, he even seemed happy—his smile, at any rate, became much wider.

After a while, he approached the ladies with three cups of iced lemonade.

 

“Would the ladies like to cool off?”

“Yes!” Nina replied on behalf of both, and shifted so that the new acquaintance could only sit between them. “I’m Nina, and this is Lyuda from Moscow, my friend. And you are?”

“Oh, a Muscovite? I am too. Almost. From Korolyov. I’m Max.”

Lyudmila blushed. She had hoped he would say he was from somewhere in Siberia or the Far East, so that even if the acquaintance went somewhere unwanted—if, for example, he got angry about a refusal of a closer acquaintance—they would eventually part ways, not even remembering each other. But now, they were practically neighbors.

However, Nina was already engrossed in a trivial conversation with him, which meant the communication would continue.

“I’m a programmer, working in Moscow. I came here with my brother.”

“And where is your brother?” Nina exclaimed. “Because you and Lyudka were talking about programming, and I’d be bored.”

“Are you a programmer too?” Max asked with a sincere smile. “My brother is on a tour; he doesn’t like beach holidays. Honestly, I would have gone with him too, but I was hoping to meet you on the beach.”

Nina smiled charmingly, and Lyuda blushed again. Nina gave Lyudmila a skeptical look and decided to take charge.

“What’s his name, then?”

“Andrey.”

“So, why don’t you come over to our place tonight?!” she suggested to Max. “I have my own house not far from the sea, with a gazebo, we can fire up the grill, have some shashlik. Let’s get to know each other better.”

That evening, the group indeed gathered at Nina’s house. They brought marinated meat, sausages, and fruits. Andrey immediately focused his attention on Nina, while Max lingered around Lyuda.

This embarrassed her. It felt as though she was deceiving him, promising something she wasn’t going to deliver. At one point, she couldn’t stand it any longer:

“Maxim, I want to be honest with you: my husband is waiting for me in Moscow, I love him, and I’m not going to cheat. You interest me, and I’d like to continue our acquaintance, but purely as friends.”

Max was silent for a while, then smiled enigmatically:

“You’re even better than I thought. Fine, let it be strictly friendly.”

The following week flew by. By day, Nina organized city tours for everyone, and in the evenings the guys treated the girls to various delicacies. It seemed that Nina and Andrey’s relationship had become more than serious.

For Lyuda and Max, it was a bit more complicated. In his eyes, admiration for her burned brighter each day, while Lyuda became increasingly embarrassed. Even though she undoubtedly liked Max, that fact scared her much more than his overt affection.

At one point, in a burst of passion, Max tried to kiss her. Lyuda recoiled and ran out to the porch. Then she returned:

“I thought we agreed!”

 

 

“Lyuda, I’m sorry, for heaven’s sake. I understand everything, but I can’t help myself. I think I love you: you’re bright, pure, decent, smart… I can’t list it all. I don’t know what to do. How do I restrain myself? Maybe we shouldn’t even keep in touch anymore. I just want you to know that you can always call on me for help.”

Without waiting for a reply, Max left.

Lyudmila watched him go, then glanced into the house where Nina and Andrey sat, and without even looking at them, she said, “I need to take a walk!”

For hours she wandered along the seashore, trying to settle her feelings. She only returned to her friend’s by early morning. Nina was alarmed:

“What happened? I was so worried! Did he hurt you?”

“No… He confessed his love for me.”

“Oh, come on! That’s wonderful.”

“What’s so wonderful? I’m married. I love my husband and I’m not planning to get a divorce or cheat. It turns out that I muddled Max’s head, made him fall for me, but I can’t give him anything.”

“Alright, I agree, it’s not wonderful. But it’s not terrible either. You didn’t promise him anything; in fact, you set clear boundaries right away.”

“It doesn’t make it any easier.”

“Don’t beat yourself up. You were honest with everyone, and what happens next is out of your hands.”

“You know, I think I’ll go home tomorrow. I can’t relax any longer.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m not sure about anything. But I don’t want to torment him or myself. So, I’m going home—to my husband—to hold him and forget everything.”

And so, she disembarked from the plane in Moscow, got into a taxi, and headed home. The turmoil in her soul was so intense that she didn’t even realize right away that she hadn’t informed her husband of her early return. As she neared her home, she quickly texted him: “Dear, I’m back in town as a surprise! I’m in a taxi; I’ll be there in about 10 minutes.” And at that moment, Lyudmila suddenly felt at ease: she had been honest with everyone, she was blameless. Soon she would see her husband. Everything was fine.

The taxi stopped in front of her building. Lyuda grabbed her suitcase and practically flew into the entrance, frantically pressing the elevator button.

The apartment door opened almost before she could ring the bell, as if she had been expected. Well, of course they had been expected. She had given a heads-up, even if not very early. Pushing the front door open, she shouted:

“Honey, I’m home!”

She placed her suitcase in the corner, took off her shoes, and then raised her eyes.

“Mom?! What are you doing here?”

Lyudmila rushed into the room: the bed had been hastily made, on the coffee table were remnants of salads, snacks, and extinguished candles. She dashed into the bathroom. There, too, nothing was comforting: in the glass, instead of her toothbrush—the one she had taken with her—was her mother’s toothbrush; on the shelves were a heap of cosmetics for someone over 55; on a hook hung a dark silk robe, not hers. Her mother’s.

Lyuda spun around. Her husband and her mother still stood in the center of the room, their faces guilty, eyes cast downward. In Lyudmila’s mind, thoughts swirled and facts assembled: that was why he hadn’t gone on vacation with her. It wasn’t about work. No, she had even considered a couple of times that he might be spending that time with someone else—but with her own mother? It was sheer madness. It just didn’t add up.

“Lyud, you understand…” Volodya began. “No, I love you, but you look so much like her and… I’m confused.”

“Don’t, don’t explain,” she said, suddenly indifferent to what would come next. She couldn’t stay in an apartment with two people who had betrayed her. “I’ll come back for my things later, okay? I need to be alone.”

Leaving her suitcase in the hallway, Lyudmila walked out of the apartment. She had no idea where to go. Her closest friend was in Crimea, and she could fly there again, but why? And how long could she keep going back and forth? She didn’t feel like talking to anyone else.

Then, one last phrase spoken by Max surfaced in her mind: “I just want you to know that you can always call on me for help.”

Her hand automatically reached for her phone. Should she call him? What would she say? And besides, he was probably still in Crimea. Okay, she decided, she’d just send a message: “You said I could count on your help.”

She received an almost immediate reply, as if he had been waiting for her message: “Yes, of course. Anything within my power. What happened?”

“I came home at the wrong time and saw something that wasn’t meant for me.”

The reply was as succinct as could be:

“Cheated?”

“Yes, and with my mother.”

It took about five minutes for him to respond, but he finally did:

“I’m gathering my things and I’m ready to come. Where are you now?”

Her husband and her mother maintained a few days of silence, then began calling and texting Lyuda, trying to persuade her to talk. But she didn’t want anything from them anymore. That night, Max found her in some courtyard, guided by her tangled descriptions, took her to his place, treated her to tea, and put her to sleep.

 

Later, Lyudmila was amazed at herself—and at him. In her state, convincing someone to do anything hadn’t been difficult, yet he hadn’t said a word or even raised a finger. He cared for her so touchingly, supporting her through the divorce with her husband.

Lyuda felt that after what had happened, she would never be able to trust anyone again. But over time, Max managed to thaw her heart. And when, half a year later, he suddenly asked:

“Will you marry me?” – she unexpectedly agreed. And it turned out to be the best decision of her life.

You know, I’ve always dreamed of having my own place,” I said with a faint smile, looking at the keys he held in his hands. “And I’ve always had my own place,” he replied with that same smile, which now only caused me disgust.

It was already 9:30 PM. I checked my phone again—no messages from Sergey. Dinner had long gone cold, the candles had burned out, and the wine I had opened two hours ago had lost all its aroma, just like our relationship.

Suddenly, the front door slammed so hard that the glass in the china cabinet rattled. Sergey burst into the apartment, carelessly removing his tie. He smelled of expensive perfume—not the one I gave him for our anniversary.

“Why are you late?” I asked, trying to stay calm. “What, do I have to report to you now?” he threw back, tossing his briefcase on the sofa. “I work, you know. Someone has to support this house.”

I bit my lip. Six years of career growth at a major company, three promotions, and still, to him, I remained just a “woman with career ambitions.”

“I made dinner. I wanted to discuss something important…” I started.

 

“You know what, Anya?” he interrupted. “I’m tired. Tired of these endless complaints, your constant dissatisfaction, these staged candlelit dinners. You live in some kind of romance novel, but it doesn’t work.”

I froze. A lump formed in my throat, but I wasn’t going to show him my tears.

“You’re right,” my voice sounded firmer than I expected. “I do live in a novel. Only it’s not a love story. It’s a detective story. And you’re the main antagonist.”

His laugh sliced through the air like a whip. That sound painfully echoed inside me.

The divorce process went quickly, as if Sergey had prepared for it in advance. The apartment we created together, where I invested not only money but also a piece of my soul, remained his. “Legally, it belongs to me,” he said calmly, as if it were an old t-shirt.

Marina, my best friend, helped me find a temporary rental apartment in a nearby district. Small but cozy. “It’s only temporary,” she repeated, and I nodded, trying to believe her words.

“You know what the worst part is?” I asked, pouring wine into glasses in the new tiny kitchen. “I really loved him. Not the apartment, not the status, not the lifestyle, but him himself.”

“And he only loved himself,” Marina handed me a napkin. “And you know what? It’s time you learned this art too.”

I looked at my reflection in the window. Before me was a tired woman with a dimmed gaze. Was this really me? The same Anna who once dreamed of conquering the world at university?

“You’re right,” I said resolutely, finishing the wine in one gulp. “It’s time to learn to love myself. And something else.”

“What’s that?” Marina inquired.

“Revenge,” I answered, and for the first time in a long time, my smile was genuine.

A month after the divorce, I existed as if on autopilot. Work, home, back to work. I tried not to think about the past and avoided the temptation to check Sergey’s social networks. Marina joked that I had become like a zombie from “The Walking Dead,” only dressed. Perhaps she was right.

“You can’t isolate yourself in this apartment forever,” Marina declared one evening, bursting in with a bottle of wine and a box of pizza. “And no, working until midnight doesn’t count as normal social activity.”

“I’m not isolating,” I countered, closing the laptop. “Just… adapting.”

“Adapting?” She snorted, pulling two glasses from her bag. “Honey, you’re not a coral reef, needing centuries to adapt. By the way, remember the presentation of the new project next week?”

I groaned. Of course, I remembered. The project I had been working on for the last six months was supposed to be either my triumph or my downfall. Honestly, the latter seemed more likely, given the current state of my life.

The morning before the presentation began with me spilling coffee on a white blouse. At another time, this would have thrown me off, but today I just laughed. What could be worse than losing a husband and an apartment?

“Anna Viktorovna,” called Alexey Petrovich, our director, as I was heading to the conference room. “A moment of your time?”

My heart seemed to drop. Was he about to cancel the presentation? Or worse, did he already know about the project’s failure?

“I reviewed your materials last night,” he began, as we entered his office. “I have a suggestion.”

I braced myself for the worst.

“How do you like the idea of heading a new department?”

“Excuse me… what?” I blinked, sure I had misheard.

“The new strategic development department,” he continued, smiling. “Your project is exactly what we need. And judging by how you prepared it, you are the perfect person to implement it.”

“But… what about Mikhail Stepanovich? Wasn’t he supposed to get this position?” I asked, still in shock.

“He was supposed to,” nodded Alexey Petrovich. “However, he accepted an offer from competitors. And you know what? I’m glad. Your approach is much more interesting.”

By the end of the day, I still couldn’t believe the reality of what was happening. The presentation went off with a triumph, the promotion contract was in my bag, and my phone was literally exploding with congratulations from colleagues.

“I told you so!” Marina triumphed over a glass of champagne in our favorite bar. “You were always smarter than all of them, just letting that guy overshadow your light.”

“Don’t call him that,” I replied mechanically, then laughed. “Though you know, you’re right. He really is a fool, took everything we had together and left.”

“And now what?” she winked at the waiter, and a new bottle appeared before us.

“Now?” I pondered. “Now I’ll buy myself an apartment. One that I want, not Sergey. And you know what? I’ll hang pink curtains. Sure, I’ll take out a mortgage, but with the new position, I’ll manage.”

“He hated pink!”

“Exactly why!” I raised my glass. “To pink curtains and a new life!”

The next six months flew by. The new position demanded full dedication, but I enjoyed every moment. For the first time in my life, I felt like I was doing what I really loved.

My new apartment (with pink curtains) accumulated details that made it truly mine. No compromises, no “what will Sergey say.” Only what I liked.

“You’ve changed,” Marina noticed once over lunch, examining me. “And it’s not just the new haircut and wardrobe.”

She was right. I really had changed. The uncertain woman who constantly looked to her husband was gone. Now I made decisions independently—and was responsible for their consequences too.

“You know what’s funny?” I asked, stirring sugar in my coffee. “I’m grateful to him. Grateful for opening my eyes. Now I live my life.”

“To whom? Sergey?” Marina choked on her salad, nearly spilling the sauce.

“Exactly. If not for his betrayal, I would have continued living in his shadow, content with the role of ‘successful husband’s wife.’”

That day started as usual: a meeting with the CEO, then the way back through the reception. As I passed by, I inadvertently overheard a conversation:

“…Confirmed from the head office. The entire department is moving under her leadership.”

I froze in place.

“Anna Viktorovna will now also be responsible for the Moscow branch?” someone wondered.

“Yes, starting from the first of the month. Can you imagine the scope? Thirty people in the team.”

The corners of my lips twitched into a smile. Thirty people—a serious responsibility. But now I knew I was ready for any challenge.

“Do you know who works there?” continued the voice. “Sergey Vitalievich, her ex-husband.”

My smile slowly turned into a predatory grin. Oh yes, I knew exactly who worked there. And fate clearly decided to give me a special gift.

In the evening, I stood in front of the mirror for a long time, examining my reflection. The expensive suit fit perfectly, the new haircut added confidence, and my eyes shone with determination.

“Well, Sergey Vitalievich,” I whispered to my reflection, “ready to meet your new manager?”

Marina’s message vibrated on my phone:

“Heard the news! How does it feel?”

 

 

I quickly responded:

“Remember, you said life is the best screenwriter? It seems it just wrote the perfect ending to my story.”

“Ending?” Marina immediately returned. “I think it’s just the beginning!”

The first meeting with Sergey in the new role was to take place at the department’s general meeting. I was as nervous as before a first date. Two hours spent trying on different outfits, three times redoing my makeup. Finally, I settled on my favorite gray suit, which I once bought on sale. It wasn’t the most expensive, but it fit impeccably. And the shoes… I remember how he threw a fit then: “Just a pair of shoes! Why such money?” For me, they were a symbol of personal victory.

Looking at my reflection in the glass office doors, I almost laughed. Where was that bewildered woman, stumbling over boxes as she left his apartment? She was gone. In her place stood another—with a straight back and a cold gaze.

“Good morning, colleagues,” my voice sounded confident as I entered the conference room.

Thirty pairs of eyes turned towards me. The only pair frozen in shock belonged to Sergey. His face paled so quickly that I even worried he might faint.

“For those who are not yet acquainted,” I began, smiling professionally and politely, “I am Anna Viktorovna, your new manager. I’m sure we’ll work excellently together.”

As soon as the meeting ended, Sergey tried to catch me in the hallway.

“Anya, wait! This must be some mistake!”

I turned around, raising an eyebrow:

“Sergey Vitalievich, do you have work-related questions? If not, I’m sorry, but I have an important meeting in fifteen minutes.”

“What the hell, work-related questions?!” he exclaimed, grabbing my elbow. “You were always just…”

“Remove your hand. This instant,” each word sounded clear and cold. “And for the future, I advise being careful with expressions. I wouldn’t want to consider this a breach of discipline.”

He immediately withdrew his hand, as if burned.

“You’ve changed,” he muttered, clearly shaken.

“Really?” I feigned surprise. “I think I’ve always been like this. Just some preferred not to notice.”

Several weeks turned into a complicated game. Sergey alternated between trying to find common ground and flaring up with irritation. I remained impenetrable, focused solely on work. Without personal emotions, without compromises. Every day became a new step forward, every success—another proof that I could do more than he ever expected.

“Sergey Vitalievich,” I addressed him at one of the meetings, “your report on quarterly indicators… how to put it mildly…”

“What’s wrong with it?” he snapped. “I always compile reports just like this.”

“That’s exactly the problem,” I responded, lightly tapping the pen on the table. “You continue to use a methodology from five years ago. The world evolves, and you are stuck in the past. Reevaluate the data considering new metrics. Deadline—by the end of tomorrow.”

“By tomorrow?!” he blushed. “That’s impossible! I already have plans, theater tickets…”

“Those are your personal difficulties,” I retorted coldly. “Work always comes first, or didn’t you teach me that?”

After the meeting, Olga, his new girlfriend who worked in the neighboring department, approached me:

“Anna Viktorovna, may I have a moment?”

I nodded, expecting a scandal or reproaches. However, she surprised me:

 

 

“I wanted to thank you.”

“For what?” I asked cautiously.

“For opening my eyes to his true nature,” she bitterly smiled. “Yesterday, I packed my things and moved out from his place.”

Three months into my leadership, Sergey hardly recognized himself. His former confidence was replaced by disarray, work performance went downhill, and attempts to maintain past authority seemed increasingly pitiful.

“Anya, we need to talk,” he intercepted me one evening at the exit from work.

“Anna Viktorovna,” I automatically corrected, taking out my car keys.

“Damn it!” he exclaimed, clearly on the edge of desperation. “I get it, okay? I was a blind idiot. Didn’t appreciate you, your ambitions, your potential. Let’s start over?”

I froze. How many times had I imagined this moment? How many nights had I dreamed of hearing these words?

“You know what’s ironic?” I slowly turned to him. “A year ago, I would have done anything for this. But now…” I shook my head. “Now it’s different.”

“Different?” he frowned. “You’re not even happy?”

“No, I’m grateful,” I calmly responded. “If not for you, I would never have realized how capable I am. Never found the strength to become the person I am now. You did far more for me than you could imagine.”

“And now what?” his voice trembled.

“Now?” I opened the car door. “Now you should write a resignation letter. Voluntarily, of course. And I will provide you with excellent references.”

“Are you taking revenge on me?” his face contorted.

“No,” I countered, starting the engine. “I’m just conducting business. Unfortunately, you no longer meet the company’s standards.”

In the evening, Marina and I settled on the balcony of my new apartment. The sunset painted the sky in the same pink hues as my curtains.

“You know,” Marina began thoughtfully, “when you talked about revenge a year ago, I thought it was just emotions.”

“And I was really angry,” I honestly admitted, taking a sip of wine. “But then I realized one important thing.”

“What’s that?”

“The best revenge isn’t causing pain to others,” I responded. “The best revenge is becoming so strong that the person realizes how much they were mistaken.”

Marina raised her glass:

“To strong women!”

“And to those who help them reveal that strength,” I added with a smile.

My phone notified me of a new message: the company approved Sergey’s resignation. I looked at the sunset and thought that sometimes life writes scripts far more interesting than any movies. Sometimes the end of one story becomes the beginning of another—much more exciting.