Lyuba closed the door and leaned her back against it. The apartment greeted her with its familiar quiet and the scent of fresh renovations. Her parents had done their best—the two-room place in a modern neighborhood was any graduate’s dream.
“Finally home,” Lyuba whispered, kicking off her shoes in the hallway.
The doorbell rang unexpectedly. Lyuba looked through the peephole and saw an unfamiliar man holding a bouquet of roses.
“Sorry, you’ve got the wrong address,” she said, opening the door on the chain.
“I’m your new neighbor. Grigory,” the stranger smiled. “Thought I’d introduce myself to such a charming neighbor.”
Lyuba slowly removed the chain. In front of her stood a tall man of about twenty-eight, with a confident gaze and a disarming smile.
“I’m just Lyuba,” she replied, flustered. “And what are the flowers for?”
“Beautiful girls should always be given flowers,” Grisha said, offering the bouquet. “May I come in? I’d like to know if you’d mind us running into each other now and then on the landing.”
Lyuba laughed and stepped aside. Grisha walked in, taking in the place.
“Great renovation,” he remarked. “Did you do it yourselves?”
“My parents took care of it,” Lyuba put the roses in a vase. “A graduation present.”
“Some people have all the luck,” Grisha sat down on the sofa. “I’m renting. But I’m not complaining! Do you work anywhere?”
“Not yet, I’m looking for the right opening,” she sat opposite him. “And what do you do?”
“Marketing,” Grisha answered shortly. “Boring topic. Better tell me about yourself.”
Lyuba talked about her plans, dreams, and university. Grisha listened attentively, asked the right questions, and laughed in all the right places. She didn’t notice how two hours flew by.
“I’ve got to go,” Grisha stood up. “See you tomorrow?”
“Of course,” Lyuba walked him to the door. “Thanks for the flowers.”
The following weeks flew by like a dream. Grisha showed up every day—sometimes with coffee, sometimes with pastries, sometimes for no reason at all. Lyuba was losing her head from all his attention and compliments.
“Lyuba, I want to spend more time with you,” Grisha said one evening. “What if I move in with you? No point paying for a place I’m hardly ever at.”
“But we’ve only known each other a month,” she hesitated.
“Does that matter when two people have a connection like this?” Grisha took her hands. “I’m serious. I want to build a future with you.”
Lyuba nodded, unable to resist his charm. A week later, Grisha moved in. The apartment filled with his things, his laughter, and plans for tomorrow.
“Marry me,” Grisha said unexpectedly over dinner. “Decide right now.”
“Seriously?” Lyuba set down her fork. “We’ve only just started living together.”
“That’s exactly why I’m asking,” Grisha took out a ring. “I love you. I want to make it official.”
Lyuba held out her hand, her eyes shining with happiness. The ring fit perfectly.
“Yes,” she whispered. “Of course, yes.”
A few days later Lyuba’s friend Katya called.
“Lyuba, I need to tell you something,” Katya’s voice was agitated. “I saw Grisha at a café today with some girl. They were hugging, whispering about something.”
“Katya, you’re mistaken,” Lyuba answered calmly. “Grisha was at work all day.”
“Lyuba, I’m not blind!” her friend protested. “It was definitely him!”
“Probably his cousin,” Lyuba cut in. “He told me about a relative from another city.”
“As you say,” Katya sighed. “But be careful.”
Lyuba hung up and looked at the ring. Grisha loves me. He definitely loves me.
“What are you thinking about?” Grisha hugged her from behind.
“The wedding,” Lyuba replied dreamily. “I can see how beautiful it’ll be.”
“It will be,” he kissed the top of his fiancée’s head. “The most beautiful wedding in the city.”
The next weeks slipped by in pleasant bustle. Lyuba chose a dress, ordered the cake, and made the guest list. Grisha supported every decision, calling his bride the smartest and most beautiful.
“Sweetheart, I need to go see my mom for the weekend,” the groom-to-be said at breakfast. “To arrange the banquet.”
“Okay,” Lyuba nodded. “I’ll go to the salon with Katya and pick a hairstyle.”
Everything was coming together so easily and perfectly.
The day at work flew by. Lyuba finished a project ahead of schedule and decided to treat her fiancé. The favorite patisserie always sold the very eclairs Grisha loved.
A voice near the registers made her turn. There stood Grisha, phone pressed to his ear. His face was tense; his voice sounded cold and businesslike.
“I’m telling you, it’s only a couple of weeks until the wedding,” Grisha said crisply into the phone. “I’ll make her sign the apartment over to me right after we register.”
Lyuba froze, unable to believe her ears. Her hands began to tremble.
“After the wedding the apartment will be mine!” Grisha went on. “The naive girl suspects nothing. Thinks I love her.”
The world around Lyuba seemed to stop. Her fiancé stood two meters away, not even realizing she was there. She walked slowly up to the counter.
“One chocolate pastry,” Lyuba said deliberately loud—loud enough for her fiancé to hear.
Grisha snapped around at the familiar voice. His face went pale in an instant; the phone slipped from his hand.
“Lyuba?” he stammered. “What are you doing here?”
She silently handed the cashier her money. Her hands were shaking, but Lyuba forced herself to take the pastry.
“Lyuba, wait!” Grisha grabbed her by the elbow. “It’s not what you think!”
“Let me go,” she said quietly, pulling her arm free.
“I can explain everything!” he panicked. “It was a conversation with a buddy—a joke!”
Lyuba looked into the eyes of the man she had thought was the love of her life. Now she saw only calculation and fakery.
“What a hilarious joke,” she said evenly. “Especially the part about the naive girl.”
“Lyuba, please, hear me out!” Grisha tried to block her path. “We can talk this through!”
She walked around him and headed for the exit. Every step was hard, but she kept going. His pleas sounded behind her, but the bride didn’t turn around. The pastry lay untouched in her hands.
The way home turned into an eternity. Lyuba moved her feet mechanically while Grisha’s words spun in her head. “Naive girl,” “make her sign the apartment over”—each phrase echoed with pain in her chest.
Her keys rattled in her hands as she opened the door. The apartment met her with its usual silence, but now every object reminded her of betrayal.
“Lyuba!” Grisha burst in after her. “Let me explain!”
“Explain? What exactly?” she asked calmly, setting the kettle on. “How you planned to take my apartment?”
Grisha paced helplessly around the kitchen. Sweat beaded on his face; his hands clenched nervously into fists.
“It was a stupid joke with a friend!” he blurted. “I never meant to deceive you!”
“Such a funny joke,” Lyuba brewed the tea unruffled. “Especially the part about you not loving me.”
She took the pastry out of the box and took a small bite. The chocolate cream melted on her tongue, but she couldn’t taste it.
“I love you!” Grisha cried desperately. “You know how I feel about you!”
“I do,” she nodded, continuing to eat. “Now I know for sure.”
Grisha sank to his knees before her. His eyes shone with tears; his voice climbed into a high, breaking pitch.
“Forgive me, I’m begging you!” he sobbed. “We’re getting married in two weeks!”
“We were going to,” Lyuba corrected him, finishing the last bite. “But plans have changed.”
She slowly slid the engagement ring off her finger. The stone glinted in the lamplight, reflecting a farewell sparkle from hopes that would never come true. Lyuba set the ring on the table in front of her kneeling fiancé.
“Take your ring,” she said softly. “And pack your things.”
“Lyuba, you can’t do this!” Grisha howled. “We love each other!”
“You’re wrong,” she stood up. “There was never any love here. Only your game. And the goal—my apartment.”
Lyuba walked to the front door and flung it wide. Cool evening air swept into the apartment, stirring the curtains.
“Leave,” she said firmly. “And don’t ever come back into my life.”
“That Katya filled your head with this!” Grisha snapped, getting to his feet. “She’s jealous of our happiness! She turned you against me!”
“Katya warned me,” Lyuba replied calmly. “And I was too in love to listen. Now I’m grateful to my friend for the truth.”
Grisha shuffled toward the door, grabbing his things on the way. He stuffed shirts and documents into a bag, dropping half of it on the floor. His hands shook; his movements were fussy and clumsy. At the threshold he turned, hope in his eyes.
“Maybe you’ll think it over?” the former fiancé asked plaintively. “I’ll change, I swear!”
“There’s nothing to think about,” Lyuba said, closing the door.
The lock clicked too loudly, deafening. Grisha pounded on the door for a few more minutes, begging her to open up, but she didn’t respond to his pleas.
Silence enveloped the apartment. Lyuba leaned her back against the door and took a deep breath. The air felt cleaner; it was easier to breathe without the liar’s presence. She took out her phone and dialed her mother’s number.
“Mom,” Lyuba’s voice trembled. “The wedding’s off. Grisha turned out to be a swindler.”
“My dear girl,” her mother answered gently. “Tell me everything from the beginning.”
Lyuba talked about the overheard conversation, the betrayal, the broken dreams. The words poured out, freeing her soul from pain and disappointment. Her mother’s words soothed her and warmed her wounded heart.
“Everything will be all right, sweetheart,” her mother comforted her. “Real love and real happiness are ahead of you. And now you’ve become stronger and wiser.”
“Thank you for listening,” Lyuba whispered. “I’ll be okay.”
“Of course you will,” her mother said with certainty. “You’re my smart girl.”
Lyuba hung up and looked out the window. The city lights shimmered beyond the glass, promising new opportunities and meetings. A new chapter of her life was beginning right now.
