— “Your wife has come to pick you up,” announced Elena to the man she thought was her fiancé, glancing at the door.

— “Your wife has come to pick you up,” announced Elena to the man she thought was her fiancé, glancing at the door.

— “What do you mean, ‘Elena Vladimirovna’? You’re only twenty-nine!” friends would remark, chuckling.

— “It just stuck,” Lena would wave them off. “For clients – I’m Elena Vladimirovna, for suppliers – even more so. And for colleagues too.”

Lena was building her business and was determined to be serious about it. That’s why, at work, a strictly professional atmosphere reigned, with no undue familiarity.

— “Come on, Elena Vladimirovna! Hurry, Elena Vladimirovna!” Lena urged herself on, squeezing through the crowd in the shopping mall. “What a cheerful nation we are,” she sighed inwardly. “One holiday after another! All you ever do is rush around buying gifts!”

She only popped in briefly to pick up some souvenirs for friends, colleagues, acquaintances, so that when the time came she wouldn’t have to rush around in a panic. The tasks didn’t get fewer, and just when the time was most needed, it always seemed to run out.

An old gypsy woman grabbed her firmly by the sleeve, pulling her out of the stream of people leaving the shopping center. Lena even spun around on the spot.

— “What a beautiful girl!” the gypsy flashed her gold teeth sweetly. “And the money rustles in your pockets, but your personal life’s a mess! You’ve chosen a man, but he hasn’t chosen you yet!”

Lena’s business success came from her ability to think fast in any situation. She gave the gypsy a mocking look:

— “Quite the opposite, he’s about to propose. Your hypnosis didn’t work? Don’t worry! Keep practicing, and you’ll get there!”

And with ease, she freed her sleeve from the gypsy’s fingers.

— “Oh-ho!” exclaimed the gypsy, her smile growing even wider. “So confident! Strong and brave! He’s lying to you! He’s using you, that’s why he’s still around. I see betrayal. And it’s not that he’s stepping out on you, but stepping out to you! Remember my words when you find out for yourself! And don’t buy him those wheels! He can manage without them!”

It was clear she was spewing nonsense, flattery mixed with humiliation of the man, plus a dose of fearmongering – the usual recipe.

“Not on you, but to you” – a classic phrase to throw someone off completely.

But about the car – the gypsy couldn’t possibly have known!

Lena had been saving for a year to buy Maxim a car. It was his dream that someday he would own a decent model.

Not extravagantly expensive, but not dirt cheap either. And Lena had not only saved almost all the money but had even found the right dealership. In a couple of months, she planned to go for a viewing.

— “That I’ll decide for myself,” Lena said without malice, slipping a bill into the gypsy’s hand before hurrying to her own car.

Soon the city center would be gridlocked, and Lena wanted to get home before that happened. Wasn’t that why she had arranged for a short workday?

Lena was hurrying home for one simple reason: her beloved was returning from a business trip. He’d been gone for two weeks. She wanted to cook him something tasty.

But when she opened the door, she caught the smell of frying cutlets.

— “You beat me to it?” she called out from the hallway.

— “Yep,” Maxim poked his head out of the kitchen, wiping his hands on a towel. “I missed homemade food so much, I’m frying cutlets for dinner!”

Maxim wasn’t really a cook, far from even a simple chef. But household organization played its part.

Once a month, Lena would prepare semi-finished products and stock the freezer: cutlets, chebureks, dumplings, varenyky, vegetable mixes, even broths.

So to make borscht, you just had to drop in a broth cube, some chopped meat, and a bag of vegetables. Minimal time, and a great meal was ready.

Over the years Lena and Maxim had lived together, he had mastered the simple skill of finishing off her prepped foods.

— “I wanted to cook something too, but you got back before me,” she said with a smile, changing into her home clothes.

— “Then you’ll make the farewell dinner,” he said casually. “Can you imagine, I was chosen for a training program in the capital! Three weeks under the guidance of masters and luminaries!”

— “You’re leaving again?” Lena asked, a little disappointed.

— “Are you kidding? This is such a chance!” he exclaimed joyfully, then, seeing Lena’s downcast face, he hugged her and whispered in her ear: “My darling, this is very important. For me, for us. I’m just a step away from a promotion! So many courses, trips, seminars. You understand, don’t you?”

Lena understood. She understood only because she had no choice.

Maxim believed a man should provide for and support his family.

On the one hand, that was fair. On the other…

Lena earned more than Maxim.

In principle, if two people are happy together and not struggling financially, what difference does it make who earns what?

But Maxim could never accept that.

He was clawing his way up the career ladder, taking courses for advanced training, preparation, and retraining. He graduated with honors from seminars on personal and professional growth.

Certificates and commendations rained down on him like golden showers.

— Lenka, after this internship they’ll definitely promote me! And then the salary! Ooooh! And right away we’ll set the wedding date! We’ll pick a beautiful one!

“Another postponement,” thought Lena, and on the edge of her mind surfaced the gypsy woman’s words.

A man who works this hard to build a family couldn’t possibly be chasing adventures on the side!

Dinner was heavy with tension. Lena decided to lighten the mood by telling the story of the gypsy woman, who had so insistently missed the mark:

— “Either she has no gift, or her hypnosis didn’t work on me, but to make up something like that! She said you were either unfaithful to me, or… with me—anyway, not faithful.” Lena smiled faintly. “I gave her a bit of change for her imagination.”

Maxim stiffened, scraping his fork against the plate.

— “Maxim?” Lena asked cautiously.

Maxim was sweating from how quickly his brain was working.

Then he blurted out:

— “Check the rest of your money in your bag! And your documents! If you gave her cash, then something worked on you!”

Lena jumped up and ran to the hallway where she had left her purse.

— “Everything’s in place,” she shouted, returning to the kitchen with the bag in her hands.

She only noticed Maxim hastily crumpling a napkin in his fist. And on his forehead—a tiny piece of white paper stuck…

— “Sveta, tell me honestly, am I overthinking, or was she telling the truth?” Lena later asked, turning to her almost only friend.

— “Let’s just say,” Sveta replied, having heard the whole story about the gypsy and Maxim’s reaction, “you should never stop thinking. That’s what we women are for: to always think, to always control everything.”

— “If you wanted to elegantly send me packing, you didn’t need to try so hard,” Lena snorted. “I came to you for advice, as a friend, and you’re giving me this demagoguery!”

— “Lena, your naïveté is off the charts,” Sveta said sternly. “Check his phone, his computer. Go through his pockets. Men don’t know how to hide evidence.”

— “First of all, that’s wrong. And second, I decided long ago that I would never do such things. Everyone has a right to personal space!”

— “That’s in general, but when it comes to your Maxim, I’ve had doubts for a long time. He’s living off you, with those endless business trips. I could’ve told you without any gypsy that something’s not right here.”

— “We’ve been together so many years,” Lena objected. “I would have noticed something by now!”

— “Well, maybe your Maxim is the exception—maybe he knows how to hide the evidence…” Sveta sneered.

With such a “comforter,” Lena only felt worse. Old doubts weren’t dispelled, and new ones were planted.

To distract herself from intrusive thoughts, Lena decided to drive around the city. She returned home late in the evening.

At the door of her apartment stood a woman with two children. She held the older one by the hand, while the younger one was in a sling on her chest.

— “Are you looking for someone?” Lena asked anxiously.

— “I’m looking for my husband,” the woman replied, “and his rat of a mistress!”

Lena shrugged and slid the key into the lock.

— “So it’s you!” the woman screamed and swung her free hand at her.

Lena dodged.

— “What do you think you’re doing?”

— “You’ve got yourself a flat in a fancy building, driving around in your car, and now you’re trying to steal my husband too!” the woman hissed, her eyes flashing with hatred…

— Wait! I don’t know you, and I certainly don’t know who your husband is. Maybe we should clear this up? And stop swinging your fists at me—there are children here! Lena tried to speak calmly, though inside everything tightened.

The woman lowered her hand to the door handle. Lena pulled out the key, barely managing to turn it until it clicked.

— And where do you think you’re going? Lena asked, unceremoniously yanking the woman back from the door by the coat on her shoulders.

— My husband is in there! the woman shrieked.

— And this is my apartment! I didn’t invite you in! Lena darted inside and slammed the door, leaving the stranger on the landing.

Maxim emerged from the room, pale, his hands trembling. He had not only heard everything, but he also knew details Lena didn’t. The pieces of the puzzle came together.

— Bra-vo! Lena spat out the word syllable by syllable, her voice cold as ice. Now grab your things and get out.

From the other side of the door came a cry:

— Open up! I know he’s in there!

— You can take your… Lena hesitated between “husband” and “father,” but chose neither, simply repeating, …your man.

— Lena, please forgive me, Maxim begged. At first, I didn’t think it would go this far. Later, I tried to make everything right with us. I was going to divorce her, marry you here. I didn’t even live there, not really—just went sometimes, to see the kids.

— Don’t lie, Maxim! We’ve been together over three years, nearly four. And the baby in that sling is one year old. A year and a half at most. You were cheating not only on her, but on me as well.

— Lenochka! Maxim dropped to his knees.

— Enough! Pack your things—they’re waiting for you! Your children are waiting! Have some decency! Lena’s voice didn’t tremble, though inside everything turned upside down.

When he finally left, Lena sat on the couch and let the tears flow. The bitterness of betrayal and the weight of injustice tortured her until sleep at last brought oblivion.

But in the morning, with inexplicable lightness, came the realization that it was all for the best. How much worse it would have been if the truth had come out after a wedding.

— And how do those gypsies always know? Lena asked with a smile, before going to wash up.

A week later, over a cup of strong coffee in her favorite office, Lena sorted through papers. A knock.

— Come in.

It was Anton, her chief accountant—smart, reliable, working with her for years. He held a folder, but his face was more serious than usual.

— Elena Vladimirovna, we’ve uncovered something about Maxim. As you requested.

Lena set down her pen. Anton’s eyes warned that the news was unpleasant.

— Speak, Anton.

— The business trips… they were fake. All those “seminars” and “internships”—fabricated. He was listed as a clerk in a small firm. His salary… very modest. It seems he spent most of his time… there, with his family. And the money you gave him “for expenses” on those trips…

Lena nodded without surprise. The bitter truth no longer burned; it left only a cold residue. Anton carefully laid the printout on the desk: meager wages from that very firm.

— Thank you, Anton. Clear. Very clear.

The accountant left. Lena finished her coffee, gazing at the printout. Everything aligned. His “career growth” had been nothing more than a façade for his double life. Now he had lost both her home and the other one. He was left with nothing.

That evening, as Lena dined in silence, a sharp knock sounded at the door. Not guests—she recognized the insistent rhythm. She peered through the peephole. Maxim. His face—hunted. In his hand—a pathetic bag of belongings. Evidently, he had finally been thrown out.

Lena opened the door. He tried to push in, but she blocked his path.

— Lena! Darling! His voice shook, blending drama with despair. I divorced her! Officially! I’m free! Now we can… as we planned! Get married! It’ll all be real!

He reached for her, but Lena stepped back, her gaze icy.

— Divorced? Her voice was even, touched with frosty irony. Or were you simply tossed out with your pathetic bag once they found out you weren’t a “promising specialist,” but just a clerk with fake business trips? And that the apartment you lived in with her belonged to her parents?

Maxim paled. His entire act was stripped bare.

— Lena, listen… he stammered, panic bleeding through his words. I made mistakes! But it’s over with her! I’m here! I’m yours! We’ll start fresh! You won’t leave me on the street, will you?

— I will, Lena answered simply. Without hesitation. You used me. You used her. Now you have nowhere to live? That’s your problem, Maxim. You made this mess.

— You have no right! he suddenly shouted, his face contorted with rage. This is all your fault! You pushed me! Your money, your apartment… I tried to be worthy! And you… bitch!

Lena didn’t flinch. His screaming only reinforced her resolve.

— Worthy? With lies and a double life? Fine method. But stop shouting. You’re disturbing me. I have company.

She deliberately turned toward the slightly open bathroom door, where water had just been running.

— Darling! she called warmly, a tenderness in her voice absent moments before. Are you almost done? Maxim just dropped by… to say goodbye. He won’t be long.

The water stopped at once. Silence. Maxim froze, staring at the bathroom door, terror spreading across his face. The thought that Lena already had someone else, someone right here in her home—it shattered his last hope.

— Who… who’s in there? he hissed, retreating.

— Oh, a serious man, Lena replied lightly, stepping aside as if to make room for an unseen figure. But that doesn’t concern you. He’ll be out soon… and I think you’d better vanish before he appears. Quickly.

The effect was instant. Fear of humiliation before a “new” man, fear of confrontation—these outweighed everything.

— You… you planned this! he shouted, snatching up his pitiful bag. Rat! Bitch! I curse the day I didn’t divorce her at once! I curse it!

He bolted for the exit, stumbling, not looking back. The door slammed behind him with a crash. On the landing, his muffled curses and hurried steps echoed down the stairs.

Lena leaned against the closed door. A deep breath. Out. The crushing weight lifted from her shoulders. The air in the apartment felt cleaner. She walked to the bathroom door, turned the handle, and opened it.

Emptiness. Only drops of water plinking softly from the faucet into the sink.

Lena smiled. Broadly. Truly.

— Thank you, she whispered to the gleaming, empty bathroom. Excellent work.

She closed the door and went to the window. Down below, she glimpsed the pitiful figure, still skulking, glancing around nervously before vanishing into the night. The chapter of lies and betrayal was finished for good. Ahead lay only her life—clear, honest, free.

Elena Vladimirovna turned back to the desk, where papers and a cooling cup of coffee waited. Time to work.