Nika—that’s what everyone called her, although her real name was Veronika—was just heading to her table in the café to finally have a quiet bite to eat. At that moment, she suddenly turned around—someone called her by her old nickname. Here, at the company office where she had worked for five years, no one addressed her by anything other than her first name and patronymic: Veronika Andreyevna.
A man was quickly approaching her from the entrance. His smile seemed painfully familiar to her. And then Veronika almost gasped in surprise.
“Andrey?! It can’t be!”
The man laughed joyfully, stepped closer, and hugged her tightly—in a friendly way, like before, like a huge, good-natured bear.
“Maybe, Nika, maybe! All sorts of things happen in this world!”
She stepped back a little, studying his face.
“What are you even doing here? You left, almost to the edge of the world! They said it was forever. And I heard that everything worked out for you there and that you never thought of coming back!”
Andrey laughed again, throwing his head back.
“So our local ‘telegraph’ still works without interruptions?”
Veronika smiled awkwardly:
“Well… you know our grandmothers by the entrances. As soon as you arrived, each of them hurried to tell everyone how you were doing and how much you weighed!”
“Didn’t doubt it,” he smirked. “But I wanted to come back in a way that you’d regret not stopping me. You know what I mean?”
Veronika laughed—lightly, without the old bitterness. Twelve whole years had passed since they parted. And the first year after the breakup was pure torment for her—even smiling was forced.
Back then, they had quarreled over some trivial matter. Now it seemed insignificant, but then it was as if a war had started between them. Sparks flew, voices thundered, the air trembled with tension. Andrey literally burned with anger.
“Do you think that once people get married, they lose the ability to grow? That careers end and they just stop developing?!”
Veronika wanted to stay silent. She knew how much Andrey valued family. But she couldn’t help herself, as if pushing herself into conflict. She jumped up sharply from the chair:
“Yes! Exactly that! After the wedding, everything changes. People start thinking differently. They lose ambition, lose drive. To be precise—they become dull!”
Andrey recoiled. Veronika immediately regretted her words. She wanted to soften the situation, but it was too late. Until then, they had never quarreled. They only made plans, talked about a shared future. About starting a business, about being together. Only not now. Not today. They had nothing yet. No money, no stability.
One word led to another, and a chasm formed between them. Later Veronika long tried to understand what had happened to them then. It seemed they were both overtaken by sudden madness.
“All right, Nika!” he said, throwing a devastating look at her. “I’m getting married. Right now. And I will achieve everything I want. Got it?”
“I told you, I’m not ready!” she shouted after him, her voice trembling with pain.
“I wasn’t going to marry you!” he sharply replied, already leaving. “There are many other girls who don’t see marriage as a sentence.”
“Then go far away!” she yelled, barely holding back tears. “And may your brains finally dry up!”
He left. She left too. They parted like two enemy ships out of ammunition but unwilling to surrender.
They met in first grade and were inseparable throughout school. They spent all their youth together. Always sure they would marry someday. And now—the breakup.
Of course, the grandmothers by the entrances didn’t stay out of it. They eagerly awaited news. A couple of months later, Veronika heard: Andrey had married. The very next day after their quarrel, he left for the north. She didn’t believe it. Didn’t want to believe it. She didn’t even check social media on purpose—to prevent him from writing or trying to apologize. But curiosity got the better of her. She logged in—and froze. In the photo, he stood next to a girl in a wedding dress.
Veronika cried all night. And woke up different the next morning. A year later, she herself got married. Her chosen one, Gennady, was kind but too dependent on his mother and not very ambitious. The proposal came from her—more precisely, she just announced her decision.
“Gen, we’ve been living like a family for a long time. I think it’s time to make it official. No big celebration—just go somewhere together. Or the three of us, if you want, we can take your mom.”
Gena was glad—Veronika never figured out if he was happier about the wedding or about taking his mother on a trip. The mother-in-law indeed became a permanent part of their lives, but Veronika, busy with work, hardly noticed.
But back to the café.
“If it makes you feel better,” said Veronika Andreyevna, looking her ex straight in the eye, “then yes, it was unpleasant to hear about your success. I may not have bitten my elbows, but… it hurt.”
“It’s simple, Nik,” Andrey shrugged, his gaze darkened. “I got tired of the north. Split up with my wife. Divided the business. She stayed there, I came back. Bought a building nearby. Going to modernize it, organize fish processing. Bring products from the old plant—start over.”
“Do you… still have such a good relationship?” Veronika asked, hesitating a little. “With your ex-wife?”
“Yes, we’ve always been more than just a couple,” Andrey smiled. “We’re basically best friends. No resentment, no complaints. She’s getting remarried soon—to her school friend. I think it’s her old love that unexpectedly returned. And I’m genuinely happy for her.”
He looked at Veronika thoughtfully.
“And you? Tell me.”
“I’m fine,” she replied, smiling too, without the old tension. “Working. Married.”
“And where do you work?”
“There, see that blue building?” she nodded toward the window, beyond which a modern skyscraper rose.
“Yeah… I heard. They say it’s a serious, powerful company.”
“People say right,” nodded Veronika. “Three competitors have already joined our holding. We’re expanding further. By the way, today they signed my promotion order. Now I’m responsible for an entire division.”
“Congrats!” he said sincerely. “Happy with the position?”
“Well… rather happy with life in general. I’ve achieved much of what I aimed for. Of course, people always want more—that’s normal. So we’ll keep moving forward.”
A strange thing: this meeting knocked her off balance. Something troubled her inside, but understanding why was difficult. Only later, sorting through her feelings, she realized—it would have been easier if Andrey hadn’t done so well. If he hadn’t achieved such success. After all, her family’s burden lay entirely on her. She worked, developed, motivated herself. And Andrey… built his career together with his wife. They grew together. Supported each other.
Veronika remembered household chores. Gennady, her husband, had a higher education but was now at home. At her insistence. He didn’t work, didn’t develop, didn’t strive for much. Only now did she realize: that’s exactly how she boxed him in. Didn’t let him grow, didn’t support or inspire him.
The house greeted her with silence. Not long ago, she and Gena moved here—a perfect house she chose herself. He chose neither the wallpaper nor the furniture—nothing. Infantile, too soft, he just went with the flow.
Gena peeked out of the kitchen:
“Hi. I made a festive dinner. Chilled the champagne.”
“Why?” Veronika was surprised, not even taking off her coat.
Husband was confused:
“What do you mean why? You said—promotion!”
She didn’t know why those words slipped out. Maybe to test his reaction?
“I got fired.”
Gena’s face fell. He was silent. Stood silently and watched.
Veronika went to the bedroom, changed into an expensive suit, and came back out. Husband looked puzzled.
“I’m leaving.”
“And dinner?! I… I tried!”
She held back harshness but not irritation.
“Later. I don’t want to eat now.”
Incredible, right? Wife says she lost her job, and he suggests eating.
She drove around the city for a long time, repeatedly taking Andrey’s business card out. Wanted to call but each time put it back. No way! He had her number. He knew he could call anytime. Let him make the first move.
A couple of times she circled the neighborhood; it got boring—she went home. Decided to say she joked. That work was fine.
She quietly entered the house. And heard voices. In the kitchen sat Gena and his mother. Talking.
“Genochka, maybe it’s for the best?” said the mother-in-law. “Now you can return to work. You loved your profession so much. Besides, they’ve been calling you back for a long time.”
“Yes, mom, you’re right… But how do I tell Veronika? You know how she’ll react. She’ll say: ‘Work? Who needs you there?’”
Veronika froze in the hallway. They were talking about her. About her like she was a stranger, a terrible person.
“You can’t do that, son,” the mother continued. “I understand she does a lot. But life isn’t solitary. You have to share everything equally. Not chase away everyone near you.”
“Mom, she has such a character. Not out of malice.”
“Gena, I love you, but I’ll say it plainly: there’s no love in your house. Only duties. No glance, no word. You live like neighbors, not like husband and wife.”
With every word, Veronika felt her heart tighten. It was a blow. And pain. And truth.
Running out onto the street, she quickly called her friend:
“Katyukha, tell me honestly… how do you feel about me?”
“Are you crazy?”
“Seriously. Answer me. If I ask one question, will you tell the truth?”
“All right, what happened?”
“Tell me… is my husband lazy by nature or did I make him that way?”
Pause. Long, heavy.
“Nika… you… you know how to break people. Not spitefully. Just… you bend them to yourself. You bent him. And with subordinates, you repeat the same—same phrases, same style.”
“With me at work too?”
“Well, yes. Think about it yourself. Then decide whether to be mad at me or not.”
“Thanks, Katya. For honesty.”
Veronika got into the car. Left. Didn’t want to go home. Needed to think. Just be alone.
She ended up by the river—the very one where she once spent evenings with Andrey. Funny how her feet brought her here by themselves.
“Nika,” a voice sounded behind her.
She turned around—it was him. Without surprise.
“Hi,” she said, looking down.
Andrey sat down next to her on the grass.
“What’s with your face? You look all tense.”
She began to talk. Slowly at first, then faster and faster. Jumping from memories to the present, from the past to today. Tears were ready to fall from her lashes.
“Andrey… I’m such a fool…”
“Ah,” he stretched, listening carefully. “It took many years for you to realize that.”
“Andrey… what should I do now?” Veronika asked, looking confused at him.
“What do you think?” he gently replied with a question. “What do you want?”
She thought.
“You know… I want to let Gena go. Let him leave. We never had real love. Probably, that’s how it is.”
“Not ‘probably,’” Andrey said firmly. “There definitely wasn’t. He deserves to do what he loves. And you’re great for finally understanding that. And he’s great, too. He put up with you for a long time.”
Veronika jumped up.
“Right now! This minute I’ll go and tell him everything!”
Andrey smiled:
“I was going to call you many times after our meeting at the café. Afraid you wouldn’t want to hear me. That you were already someone’s wife…”
“You were wrong,” Veronika smiled through unshed tears. “I was waiting very much for your call.”
At home, the situation was unexpected: Gena and his mother sat in the kitchen, tense and worried. They clearly noticed her sharp departure and probably guessed she overheard their conversation.
“Hello,” Veronika said calmly, entering. Sat down at the table. Looked at her husband. “Well, get your treats out. And champagne too.”
Gennady raised his eyebrow in surprise but stayed silent. A couple of seconds later, snacks and three glasses stood on the table.
“The first toast… to my promotion,” Veronika said, raising her glass.
Gena glared gloomily at her—he was sure she had just been fired. But he didn’t object.
“And the second… to a new life.”
Gena looked confused at his mother.
“Whose new life?”
“Yours. Mine. And mom’s,” Veronika said firmly. “Gen, we’re divorcing.”
Husband froze. His mother gasped.
“Not as enemies. As friends. We’ll split everything evenly. So you won’t even think that I’m leaving you. You were always there. Only I… I didn’t let you live. Develop. Fulfill yourself.”
She looked him straight in the eyes:
“Answer honestly. Do you love me?”
Gena was silent. Lowered his eyes. And shook his head.
“No.”
“I can’t say ‘I love you’ either. It was convenient. Convenient for me. And you’re right—it’s wrong to live at someone else’s expense. That’s not right.”
A long silence hung. Gena was digesting what he heard. Then slowly raised his eyes. Relief flickered in them.
“You know, Veronik…”
“What?”
“Thank you. Seriously. I feel like I can breathe easier.”
The divorce went quickly, without scandals or mutual accusations. The house stayed with Veronika. From their joint savings, Gennady was given a good apartment. The cars stayed with their previous owners. She helped him a little to get a job—where he used to work with pleasure.
At the farewell, they hugged.
“Thank you, Veronik,” Gena said.
“For what?”
“For not letting me make decisions.” He smirked a little. “And for this step, too. Now I want so much! To work, move forward!”
“I believe in you,” she quietly replied.
Veronika stood by the window in the large, now completely quiet house. Holding a glass of wine. The silence was unusual—not empty, but somehow free. Light. She knew: she had made the right choice.
Nearby, the phone rang on the table. Veronika picked up.
“Hi,” Andrey’s voice sounded. “Someone hinted to me that you’re a free woman now. Wanted to know… can I come visit?”
Veronika laughed—lightly, sincerely.
“People like you, Andrey… I accept at any time, day or night.”
And already calmly, without the old anxiety, she added:
“Come. I’ve been waiting for you a long time.”
