Because he was ill, the husband stayed home—and when his wife came back early, she heard what she was never meant to hear.
Hermann lay on the sofa in the living room, wrapped in a blanket. For the third day his temperature had been above thirty-eight, and the doctor had категорically forbidden him to go to work. He worked as a sales manager for luxury real estate and was proud of his achievements—over the past year he had closed several major deals that had allowed the family to move into a new apartment in a prestigious neighborhood.
Alexandra had left for work that morning—she ran a small advertising agency. Usually she came home after seven in the evening, but today an important meeting with a client was canceled, and she decided to come home early to cook something tasty for her sick husband.
The front door opened silently. Alexandra deliberately tried not to make any noise—what if Hermann was asleep? In the entryway she took off her shoes and tiptoed toward the living room, but stopped when she heard her husband’s voice. He was talking on the phone.
“OF COURSE, Mom, I understand everything,” his voice sounded completely healthy, without the slightest hint of a cold. “Yes, Sasha’s at work—we can talk спокойно.”
Alexandra froze. Sasha? He had NEVER called her that. And why did he sound so upbeat?
“You know, Mom, I’m already tired of this whole act,” Hermann went on. “Three years since we got married—and what’s the point? Her agency is barely scraping by, and she keeps pouring money into it and pouring money into it. I thought she’d turn out to be smarter.”
Alexandra leaned against the wall. Her heart started pounding faster.
“NO, Mom, you don’t get it!” Hermann’s voice grew louder. “I married her because I thought—promising girl, ambitious, she’d make money. And what does she do? Buries everything in that agency of hers! Profit—zero! Nothing but expenses!”
A pause. Apparently Emilia Arkadyevna, his mother, was saying something.
“What difference does it make—love, schm-love!” Hermann snapped раздражённо. “I’m thirty-five years old, Mom! It’s time to live нормально already! Max, my buddy, married the daughter of a construction company owner—now he’s a deputy director there. And me? Still the same sales manager!”
Alexandra slowly slid down the wall and sat прямо on the hallway floor.
“Listen, Mom, let’s be honest,” Hermann’s voice turned businesslike. “I’ve got someone in mind… Her name’s Zlata. Twenty-six. Her daddy owns a chain of fitness clubs. She’s already hinted that she likes me. If I start something with her…”
“WAIT, don’t interrupt!” he raised his voice. “I’ve thought it all through. I’ll развод quietly from Sasha. I’ll say I fell out of love, that we’re different people, all that. The apartment is in my name—I made the down payment from my savings. I’ll leave her some small thing so she won’t cause a scandal. And I’m free!”
Alexandra clapped a hand over her mouth so she wouldn’t cry out. The apartment… Yes, Hermann had paid the down payment, but the rest—she had paid it off! Every bonus she got, all the profit from the agency!
“Mom, will you stop with the ‘it’s not right, it’s not right’!” Hermann continued. “What’s right about it? Sasha is always исчезает at work, she doesn’t want kids yet—says it’s too early. She cooks every other time, feeds me nothing but convenience food. Zlata is different! A домашняя girl, well brought up. And her daddy—he’s a gold mine!”
“I’m not sick, Mom!” Hermann suddenly laughed. “I just needed time to think everything through calmly. Told her I had a fever, so here I am at home. Tomorrow I’m meeting Zlata—I’ll invite her to a restaurant. By the way, I’ll need money—Sasha hides all hers, says it’s for business development. IDIOT! What development when there are, like, two clients and that’s it!”
Alexandra got up. Her eyes were filled with tears, but inside a wave of cold determination rose. She quietly walked up to the living room door and pushed it open.
Hermann was lying on the sofa, but when he saw his wife he abruptly sat up, dropping his phone.
“Sasha! You… you’re early…”
“Go on,” Alexandra walked into the room and sat down in the armchair opposite him. “Don’t be shy. The part about the idiot was especially interesting.”
Hermann went pale.
“It’s not what you—”
“SHUT UP,” Alexandra cut him off. “Just shut up. I heard everything. EVERYTHING.”
“Sasha, sweetheart, let’s talk…”
“About what? About you pretending for three years? About marrying me out of greed? Or about how you’ve already found a replacement for me?”
Hermann got up from the sofa, trying to look indignant.
“You were eavesdropping! How could you!”
“I came home to my sick husband,” Alexandra said calmly, but her hands were trembling. “I wanted to make soup, take care of you. And instead I heard the truth.”
“Sasha, it’s not like you think…”
How is it not, Hermann? You laid it all out clearly to your mother. Divorce, the apartment goes to you, a new wife with a rich daddy. Great plan!”
Hermann stepped closer and tried to take her hand.
“GET AWAY!” Alexandra jumped up from the chair. “Don’t touch me!”
“This is my home!” Hermann suddenly snapped. “I paid the down payment!”
“Your home?” Alexandra gave a bitter little laugh. “Fine. Then I’m leaving.”
She walked toward the exit, but stopped in the doorway.
“You know what, Hermann? Thank you. For showing your true face. For not making me waste another ten years living in illusions with you.”
“Where do you think you’re going?” Hermann shouted after her. “Running to your mommy to complain?…”
“And weren’t you the one calling your mommy? And anyway, it’s none of your business,” Alexandra said as she slipped on her shoes. “By the way, about my ‘unprofitable’ agency… Yesterday I signed a contract with an international corporation for an advertising campaign. One and a half million dollars. But you won’t be finding out about that anymore.”
She walked out, slamming the door.
Hermann remained standing in the middle of the entryway. Then he rushed to the window—Alexandra was getting into her car. He grabbed his phone and dialed her number—long rings.
His next call was to his mother.
“Mom, we’ve got a problem. Sasha heard everything… No, don’t yell! What am I supposed to do now?”
The next day Hermann called Alexandra’s office. The secretary, Inessa, informed him that Alexandra Pavlovna had flown to Milan on a business trip for a week.
“To Milan?” Hermann blinked, stunned. “What for?”
“Company business,” Inessa replied dryly, and hung up.
Hermann dialed Zlata.
“Hi, beautiful! How about dinner tonight?”
“Oh, Gera, sorry, I can’t,” Zlata chirped. “Dad found out yesterday that you’re married. He said I’m not to talk to you. He’s just like that—principled. Bye!”
The line went dead.
Furious, Hermann hurled his phone onto the sofa. How had her father found out? From where?
That evening his mother called.
“Hermann, what have you done!” Emilia Arkadyevna screamed into the phone. “Valentina just called—Alexandra’s mother! She knows everything! She said you’re a scoundrel and a kept man! A dowry hunter! I’m ashamed to even leave the house now!”
“Mom, calm down…”
“How am I supposed to calm down? Valentina has already told all her friends! In our building all the neighbors are looking at me sideways! Mironova from the third floor said she wasn’t surprised—like father, like son!”
“What does that mean?”
“It means everyone remembers how your father left us for a rich widow! History is repeating itself!”
Hermann hung up. His father… Yes, his father really had left when Hermann was fifteen. For the owner of a jewelry store. His mother hadn’t been able to recover for a long time after that.
A week passed. Alexandra didn’t return. She didn’t answer his calls. Hermann was starting to worry. Maybe something had happened?
On the eighth day, the doorbell rang. A courier stood on the threshold with a packet of documents.
“Please sign here.”
Hermann signed and tore open the envelope. A petition for divorce. And another document—a lawsuit for division of marital property.
“What the hell is this!” Hermann dialed his friend, the lawyer Boris. “Borya, there’s something going on…”
“Gera, hi! Listen, I’ll call you back—it’s not a good time…”
“Wait! I need legal advice urgently! My wife filed for divorce and property division!”
“Ah… well… You should contact a different lawyer. I can’t.”
“Why?”
“Because I represent Alexandra Pavlovna’s interests. She’s my client now. Sorry.”
Hermann sank onto the sofa. Boris—his friend since college—was working for Sasha now?
His phone rang. An unknown number.
“Hermann Igorevich?” a male voice said. “This is Pyotr Maksimovich Kuleshov, director of Elite-Estate. I’m forced to inform you that as of tomorrow, you are dismissed.”
“WHAT? For what?!”
“For repeated violations of workplace discipline. You were absent from work for three days without a valid reason.”
“I was sick!”
“We have no sick leave certificate from you. The medical note you sent turned out to be forged. We checked—Doctor Semyonov didn’t see you and didn’t issue any note.”
“But—”
“The decision is final. A courier can collect your personal items. Goodbye.”
Hermann sat with the phone in his hand, unable to believe what was happening. How did they find out about the note? He’d bought it from an acquaintance for three thousand—everything was supposed to be clean!
The next call was from the bank.
“Good afternoon, Hermann Igorevich. This is a reminder that tomorrow is the final day to make your monthly mortgage payment. Two hundred thousand rubles.”
“I… I’ll pay it…”
“We also inform you that all funds have been withdrawn from the joint account opened in your name and your spouse’s name. The transaction was carried out by Alexandra Pavlovna as a co-owner of the account.”
“How much was there?”
“Eight hundred fifty thousand rubles.”
Hermann dropped the phone. That money—those were their shared savings! How could she?
That evening he sat in the kitchen, trying to figure out what to do. No job, no money, his wife filing for divorce… And then a message came from Alexandra:
“Hermann, here’s the number of a good attorney: +7-916-XXX-XX-XX. You’ll need it. And yes, the apartment is registered in my name. I checked the paperwork—when the mortgage was оформлена, I was listed as the primary borrower, because my official income was higher. You’re a co-borrower. The down payment of 500,000 was my money; the transfer was simply made from your card for convenience. I have all documents confirming the origin of these funds. Good luck in court.”
Hermann read the message three times. Then he dug into the folder with the documents. Alexandra was right—in the contract she was listed as the primary borrower.
“NO!” he hurled the folder to the floor. “NO! This can’t be!”
He called his mother.
“Mom, I need money. Urgently!”
“What money, Gera? My pension is fifteen thousand! You know that!”
“And your savings?”
“What savings? I gave it all to you when you were buying the apartment!”
Hermann remembered—yes, his mother really had handed over her last two hundred thousand back then.
The next days blended into one continuous nightmare. The bank started calling three times a day. Former colleagues wouldn’t pick up. Zlata sent a message: “Don’t write to me again. Dad says you’re a loser.”
On the fifth day after receiving the divorce papers, Hermann sat in a café across from Alexandra’s office. He’d been waiting for her for two hours. At last she appeared—elegant, in a new suit, with a new hairstyle. Beside her walked a tall man in an expensive coat. They were talking animatedly and laughing.
Hermann sprang out of the café.
“Sasha!”
Alexandra turned around. Her gaze was cold.
“What do you want?”
“We need to talk! Please!”
“There’s nothing for us to talk about,” she said, turning away.
“Sasha, please! I understand everything now, I was wrong! Let’s put everything back the way it was!”
The man beside Alexandra stepped forward.
“Alexandra Pavlovna, do you need help?”
“NO, Fyodor Arkadyevich, thank you. This is my ex-husband. Hermann, leave. We have an important meeting.”
“Sasha, listen to me!”
“Why? So I can hear again what an idiot I am, burying money in an unprofitable agency?” Alexandra smirked. “By the way, Fyodor Arkadyevich is an investor. He’s putting five million euros into my ‘unprofitable’ agency. We’re opening branches in Europe.”
Hermann stared at her, unable to find words.
“You know, Hermann,” Alexandra continued, “I forgave you a lot. Your contempt for my work, your mockery of my plans, your unwillingness to help around the house… But betrayal—NO. That I can’t forgive.”
“But three years… We were happy…”
“You were happy because I provided your comfort. I paid for the apartment, bought groceries, paid for your suits and watches so you could ‘match the status.’ And me? I lived with a man who saw me only as a source of money.”
“That’s not true!”
“It IS true, Hermann. Your mother wouldn’t give you bad advice, right? You said it yourself. You married me out of calculation. You waited for me to start earning millions. When it didn’t happen, you decided to find someone else. Well, go ahead—look. Only you’re unlikely to find her.”
She turned and walked toward the office building. Fyodor Arkadyevich—a gray-haired man around fifty—paused for a second.
“Young man,” he said to Hermann, “you didn’t just lose a wife. You lost a diamond. Alexandra Pavlovna is a brilliant entrepreneur. In a couple of years her company will be worth millions. And you… you’re left with nothing. You got what you deserved.”
Hermann stood on the street, watching them disappear behind the glass doors of the business center.
Half a year passed. The divorce was finalized quickly—Alexandra didn’t seek compensation, but by court decision the apartment remained hers. Hermann moved in with his mother in her one-room flat.
He couldn’t find work in real estate—the news about the forged medical certificate had spread through every agency. He had to take a job as a manager at an electronics store for thirty thousand a month.
Zlata married the son of an oil company owner. Hermann, of course, wasn’t invited to the wedding.
Emilia Arkadyevna couldn’t forgive her son for the disgrace.
“Because of you I can’t even show my face in public anymore!” she wailed. “Everyone points at me! ‘There goes the mother of a gigolo!’”
“Mom, ENOUGH!”
“Not enough! Alexandra was the best thing that ever happened to you! And you ruined everything! Just like your father!”
Hermann kept silent. There was nothing to argue about.
One evening, coming home from work, he saw an interview on TV. Alexandra was talking about her agency, her growth plans, new contracts. She was glowing.
“I’m grateful to fate for every trial,” she said. “They made me stronger. Now I know I can achieve everything on my own, without anyone’s support.”
“And your personal life?” the host asked. “No plans to get married?”
“You know, I’m very cautious now,” Alexandra smiled. “I already made that mistake once. I married a man who saw me only as a wallet. I won’t make mistakes like that again. If I meet someone who loves me and not my money—maybe. But for now I’m happy on my own. I have work I love, a wonderful team, big plans. Isn’t that happiness?”
Hermann turned off the TV. The small kitchen in his mother’s apartment felt stifling. Outside, the road roared—her windows faced the avenue.
He remembered the apartment he’d shared with Alexandra—spacious, bright, overlooking the park. He remembered how happy she’d been when they moved in. How she chose curtains, how she arranged the furniture…
“Idiot,” he said to himself. “A complete idiot.”
His phone vibrated. A text from an unknown number: “Hermann Igorevich, congratulations! You’ve won a million! To claim your prize, follow the link…”
He gave a bitter half-smile and deleted the message. Even scammers were mocking him.
Behind the wall, his mother was watching a soap opera. The hero was telling the heroine: “I realized money isn’t the most important thing. The most important thing is love!”
“That’s right!” his mother shouted. “And you, son, didn’t understand! That’s why you ended up with nothing!”
Hermann closed his eyes. His mother was right. Completely right. He’d traded the real thing for something imaginary. A loving wife—for a dream of a rich bride. The result was only natural.
The phone rang. Boris.
“Gera, hi. Listen, that was awkward back then… Maybe we could meet up, talk?”
“What is there to talk about, Borya?”
“What do you mean what? We were friends…”
“We were,” Hermann agreed. “But now you’re a successful lawyer at a big company, and I’m selling TVs. What are we supposed to talk about?”
“Don’t be so dramatic. By the way, Alexandra Pavlovna is looking for managers for the European office. Maybe you should send your résumé?”
“You kidding me?”
“No, I’m serious. She doesn’t hold grudges. Business is business. If a specialist is good—she’ll hire him.”
“Thanks, I’ll pass.”
Hermann hung up. Work for his ex-wife? NO WAY! Though… the salaries there were probably good. And there’d be career growth…
No. His pride wouldn’t allow it.
A year later Hermann was still working at the electronics store. Alexandra had opened offices in Paris, London, and Berlin.
On Hermann’s birthday—he turned thirty-seven—a card arrived. No signature, but he recognized Alexandra’s handwriting: “Hermann, I wish you find what truly matters—and learn to value it.”
He stared at the card for a long time. Then he hid it in a desk drawer.
That evening his mother called.
“Gera, I’ve been thinking… Maybe you should apologize to Alexandra? What if she forgives you?”
“Mom, she’s living a different life now. Forget it.”
“But try! What does it cost you?”
“My dignity, Mom. The last thing I have left.”
“Dignity!” Emilia Arkadyevna snorted. “What dignity? You betrayed a loving wife, ended up with nothing, and now you’re talking about dignity?”
Hermann didn’t answer. His mother, as always, was right.
That night he couldn’t sleep. He remembered how he and Alexandra had met. A corporate event at a hotel—she was the client’s representative, he was a sales manager. She talked about her plans to create the best advertising agency in the country, her eyes shining… And back then he had thought: “Energetic, smart, promising. Exactly what I need.”
Only he’d been wrong about the most important thing. He’d decided he could use her energy and intelligence for his own purposes. But she turned out to be stronger. Smarter. And in the end—more successful.
Hermann had long stopped making plans—every day was like the one before: work, home, sleep. When, at a corporate party, a pretty salesgirl from the neighboring department tried to strike up a conversation with him, he hurried away—fear of rejection and loneliness paralyzed him more than the pain of the past.
Meanwhile Alexandra was opening her third European office, appearing on the covers of business magazines, giving interviews about the secrets of success—work had become her calling, her passion, and the source of real happiness that depended on no one.
