— “Lena, I’m back,” her ex-husband announced triumphantly, as if proclaiming victory in a war. “I realized I made a huge mistake. You’re the best woman in my life.”
Viktor stood on the threshold—her twice ex-husband, the man she’d divorced four years ago. He held a bouquet of white roses, and on his face was the very smile that once melted her twenty-two-year-old heart.
“Vitya, what a surprise,” Elena smirked, stepping aside. “Come in, since you’re here. But take off your shoes—I don’t want you tracking dirt through my home again.”
Elena silently moved out of the way, letting him into the hallway. Viktor expected hugs, tears of joy, maybe even reproaches he would magnanimously forgive. Instead, Elena returned to the kitchen and continued eating breakfast without even offering him a seat.
“How are you, Vitya?” she asked evenly, slicing her omelet. “Did your latest fling kick you out, or did you decide on your own to look for a temporary shelter?”
Viktor was thrown off. In four years he had forgotten that Elena could be this calm at critical moments. He remembered her young, enthusiastic, ready to forgive anything for the sake of family. Now, sitting before him, was a thirty-six-year-old woman with a steady gaze and nerves of steel.
“Lena, I want to restore our family,” Viktor put the bouquet on the table beside her plate. “These years I lived as if in a dream. Only now did I realize my place is here, with you and the kids.”
“How interesting,” Elena took a sip of coffee. “And what changed? Did your inborn talent for disappearing at the worst possible moment suddenly vanish?”
“I’m serious!” Viktor protested. “I want to be with you. I want to take care of the children, of you. Can’t you see—I came with flowers, with an open heart.”
“With an open heart and empty pockets, as usual?” Elena asked tartly, then softened. “Anyway, sit down. Coffee? Or are you on some kind of special ‘finding yourself’ diet now?”
Ten years earlier, young Elena had been studying economics at the teachers’ institute when she met Viktor at a student party. He was three years older, worked as a security guard at a shopping center, and seemed to her incredibly grown-up and independent.
“Marry me,” he proposed after two months. “Why drag it out? I can see you’re the one and only.”
“Vitya, but we know so little about each other,” Elena hesitated.
“What’s there to know?” he smiled, kissing her hands. “Love isn’t arithmetic, sunshine. No calculations needed.”
Blinded by romance, Elena agreed. Viktor rented a studio where she moved after the wedding. She had to juggle school with part-time work—she translated texts from English at night to help with the rent. Viktor earned pennies and constantly complained about unfair bosses.
“You see, Lenochka,” he’d explain, lying on the couch after yet another firing, “I’m a creative person. I need a job that gives room for self-expression. Those gray office plankton just don’t understand my nature.”
“Of course, dear,” Elena would agree, tallying the household budget. “While you’re finding yourself, I’ll work for two. It’s fine.”
After defending her thesis, Elena planned to get a job at a bank—her honors diploma and language skills opened decent prospects. But then she found out she was pregnant. Konstantin was born when Elena turned twenty-three. A year and a half later, Irina arrived.
“Children are happiness,” Viktor would say, rocking his daughter. “We’ll earn money. The main thing is love in the family.”
“You’re right, darling,” Elena would answer, mentally calculating how to pay utilities. “The kids are what matter most. The rest will fall into place.”
It was mostly Elena who earned money. Even with two little ones she managed to work online—translating, teaching English over Skype, writing articles. Meanwhile, in four years Viktor changed five jobs and each time had an excuse for his low salary.
“You understand, Lena,” he philosophized, “I can’t work where my soul isn’t invested. It kills everything alive in me. Better to make less and keep inner harmony.”
“Of course,” the exhausted Elena agreed. “Inner harmony is sacred. And outside circumstances will somehow sort themselves out.”
When Konstantin turned four and started preschool, Viktor suddenly declared:
“Lena, I’m emotionally burned out. I need freedom to find myself. I’m filing for divorce.”
“What do you mean ‘find yourself’?” Elena was stunned. “We have two kids, a mortgage… Vitya, what are you talking about?”
“That’s exactly why I need time to think,” he replied coolly. “I’m suffocating in this family routine. I demand division of property. Half the apartment is mine.”
“But I bought this apartment!” Elena protested. “I took out the loan, I’m paying the mortgage!”
“We’re a family,” Viktor shrugged. “Everything acquired in marriage is split evenly. That’s the law, darling.”
Elena realized she and the kids could end up on the street. The two-room apartment in a new building was all they had. She had to borrow from friends and take on more debt to buy out Viktor’s share. Her mother, a retired teacher, couldn’t help financially.
“Sweetheart,” her mother cried over the phone, “if I had money, I’d give it all. But my pension is tiny, and that scoundrel… How can he do this to his own children?”
“It’s okay, Mama,” Elena soothed her.
The court set child support. Viktor paid reliably for two years, then disappeared. He didn’t call the kids on birthdays or for New Year’s. He simply dissolved into thin air.
A month after the divorce, Mikhail—Viktor’s former classmate and friend—came to Elena.
“Lena, I’ve always been in love with you,” he confessed, standing in the hallway with a bouquet of daisies. “I know this isn’t the best time, but… marry me. Kids don’t scare me; I’ll love them as my own.”
“Misha, you’re a golden person,” Elena was moved. “But I can’t take advantage of your kindness. You deserve a woman who will love you with her whole heart, not thank you for rescuing her.”
Mikhail was a programmer, well-paid, kind, and decent. But Elena looked at his gentle features, listened to his unsure voice, and felt nothing but gratitude.
“Misha, you’re wonderful, but I’m not ready…” she said gently. “Let’s stay friends? That means a lot to me.”
“I’ll wait,” he answered, hope in his eyes. “As long as it takes. You’re worth any wait.”
“Don’t waste your best years on me,” Elena smiled sadly. “Find a woman who will immediately recognize the treasure beside her.”
For two years Elena lived with the children, working tirelessly. She finished professional development courses and began teaching online economics lectures for part-time students. That let her pay off debts and close most of the mortgage. Mikhail offered financial help several times, but Elena refused—she didn’t want to owe anyone.
“Lena, what pride is this?” he pleaded. “We’re friends.”
“Precisely because we’re friends, I don’t want to spoil it with money,” she’d reply. “Your friendship is worth more to me than any help.”
And then the repentant Viktor appeared.
“Lena, these two years I lived like a hermit,” he said then, kneeling in the middle of her living room. “I rethought everything. I realized family is what’s most important. Children are the meaning of life. And love… True love happens only once.”
“Where were you all this time?” Elena asked, keeping a close eye on him.
“Working, renting a room, thinking about you. I needed to regain my strength and understand my mistakes. Now I’m ready to be a real husband and father.”
The children—six-year-old Konstantin and four-year-old Irina—ran joyfully to their dad. They remembered him as the kind man who played hide-and-seek and read bedtime stories. Elena had never told them how she cried after he left, how they pinched pennies.
“Daddy, will you never leave again?” Irina asked, clinging to him.
“Never, princess. Daddy has realized his place is here, with the dearest people in the world.”
Elena gave in. Two years of loneliness, the fatigue of constant survival, the children’s pleas—together they broke her resistance. Viktor formally proposed, and they registered their marriage at the civil registry office.
“Why the stamp in the passport?” Mikhail asked when Elena told him the news. “Isn’t living together enough?”
“Viktor insists. He says he wants to show how serious he is. And, honestly, I also want to believe in stability.”
“I understand, Lena. But a man who’s already run once…”
“Misha, please. People change. Give us a chance.”
Elena’s mother greeted the family reunion with measured joy:
“Daughter, I’m happy for you. But remember—a man who’s tasted freedom once doesn’t forget it. Be careful.”
“Mom, not all men are the same. Viktor is sincerely repentant.”
Three years of family life seemed almost ideal to Elena. Viktor behaved like a model husband and father. He did repairs, fussed over the kids, even took everyone to the sea in Turkey. He continued paying court-ordered child support, though several times he suggested canceling it.
“No need,” advised her mother. “Let it go into the kids’ accounts. A financial safety cushion never hurts.”
“Mom, you’re too distrustful. Viktor has proved he’s reliable.”
“Time will tell, daughter. Time puts everything in its place.”
And then, just when Elena felt life had finally settled, Viktor blew her world up again:
“Lena, I’m filing for divorce. I realize married life isn’t for me. I suffocate in marriage.”
“What are you talking about?” Elena couldn’t believe it. “Viktor, you were the one who begged to come back. You swore you’d changed.”
“I thought I had. But no. Family is a cage. I’m an artist; I need space to create.”
“What artist, for heaven’s sake? You’re a manager at a construction company!”
“You don’t understand. My soul needs to fly. With you I turn into an ordinary conformist.”
Elena took the second divorce much harder than the first. Back then she was young and naïve. Now she had believed in the possibility of happiness and got a knife in the back. When Viktor came to collect his things, Elena hurled his suitcase onto the landing.
“Get out and don’t come back!” she shouted, not recognizing her own voice.
“Lena, don’t make a scene! The neighbors will hear!” Viktor hissed, gathering his scattered belongings.
“Let the whole building know what a bastard you are! Twice you abandoned your children! Twice!”
“I didn’t abandon anyone! I’ll pay child support, I’ll see the kids…”
“Like you ‘saw’ them for two years after the first divorce? Not once did you call!”
Viktor tried to get compensation in court for the renovations and family vacation, but lost. The children were once again left without a father, and this time Elena didn’t hide how she felt.
“Mom, isn’t Dad going to live with us anymore?” nine-year-old Konstantin asked.
“No, son. Dad decided that his freedom is more important than us.”
“Is he bad?” seven-year-old Irina wanted to know.
“Not bad, sweetie. He just… doesn’t know how to keep his word.”
Six months later Mikhail came with another proposal.
“Lena, stop suffering over that guy. Marry me. I’ve loved you for more than ten years.”
“Misha, not now,” Elena was angry at the whole world. “I don’t trust any man anymore. You’re all the same.”
“Lena, that’s not fair. I’ve never let you down.”
“So far you haven’t. What about tomorrow? Will you want ‘creative freedom’ too?”
Then Mikhail decided to be blunt:
“Lena, you should know the truth. When Viktor left you the first time, he was living with his lover, Valentina. She threw him out after two years, and only then did he come back to you. And now he’s gone to a new one—Margarita.”
“How do you know that?” Elena went cold.
“We’re friends. He told me. He even bragged. Lena, to him your apartment and family are just a temporary refuge between mistresses. He’ll definitely come back again.”
“You’re lying!” Elena didn’t want to believe it. “You’re smearing him on purpose to get me!”
“Think about it yourself, Lena. Does a normal man abandon his family twice with the same speeches about freedom? Isn’t it odd he shows up exactly when you start getting back on your feet?”
“Enough! Get out! I don’t want to hear you!”
“When he comes the third time—and he will—remember my words.”
Elena threw Mikhail out. But his words stuck like a splinter. Her friend Galina, to whom she recounted the conversation, unexpectedly took Mikhail’s side:
“Lena, what if he’s right? You said yourself Viktor came back at suspiciously convenient times—right when you’d closed your debts and life was calming down. Don’t be a fool; don’t step on the same rake a third time.”
“Galya, you know Mikhail. He’s always been in love with me. Of course he’ll badmouth Viktor.”
“But facts are facts. Left twice, came back twice. Isn’t that a bit much for ‘true love’?”
“I don’t know. I don’t know anything about men anymore.”
Viktor’s third appearance didn’t catch Elena off guard. In four years of being on her own, she’d rethought a lot and learned about herself. Mikhail’s words—that her ex would definitely return—proved prophetic.
“What changed?” Viktor repeated, clearly expecting a different reaction. “Lena, I realized that life without you has no meaning. You’re the only woman I’ve ever truly loved.”
“Interesting version,” Elena finished her coffee and set the cup in the sink. “And here I thought you’d gone to Margarita. Or did she kick you out like Valentina once did?”
Viktor froze. He hadn’t expected Elena to know the details of his life after the divorces.
“How did you—” he began, but Elena cut him off:
“It doesn’t matter how. What matters is that I now know the truth about your ‘searches for yourself.’ Vitya, the kids are twelve and ten now. Konstantin and Irina do just fine without a father who shows up every few years with a bouquet.”
“I’m ready to do anything!” Viktor pulled out his phone and started tapping. “Any terms you want. Look!”
A minute later, Elena’s phone pinged with a transfer of five hundred thousand rubles.
“This is proof of how serious I am,” Viktor declared solemnly. “I want to rebuild the family, provide for the kids, make you happy.”
“How generous of you,” Elena looked at the amount and laughed. “Do you really think you can buy me? That I’m sitting here waiting for you to deign to return, wallet at the ready?”
“But you’re alone!” Viktor exclaimed. “That means you still love me. It means you’re afraid to trust another man!”
“Oh, so that’s your logic,” Elena leaned back in her chair. “Hate to disappoint you. Mikhail proposed to me. Several times. A good, decent man.”
“And what did you tell him?” Viktor’s voice turned sharp.
“Is that any of your business?” Elena smiled acidly. “You’re not my husband anymore, dear. You can save the fatherly concern about my personal life.”
Viktor’s face twisted with rage.
“Mikhail?! That pathetic worm has always been in love with you! So you’ve been having an affair with him all this time? While I was suffering and seeking my way back to you, you were having fun with my friend!”
“Be quiet,” Elena said calmly. “Strange for you to talk about morals—three marriages behind you. And Valentina and Margarita—what were they, quests for spiritual enlightenment?”
“You don’t understand!” Viktor shouted. “I was looking for you in them! I tried to forget, but I couldn’t!”
“How romantic,” Elena’s voice was icy with irony. “Especially moving that you sought me in other women’s beds. Just like Saint Anthony in the desert.”
Viktor realized he was trapped. Elena knew about his lovers, knew the truth about the divorces. He needed to act decisively.
“All right, you’re right,” he grabbed his phone again. “I was a scoundrel. But now I’m ready to fix it all. Look!”
Another transfer—four hundred thousand rubles.
“That’s everything I have. Even borrowed money. I’m giving you every last kopeck because I believe we can start over.”
Elena checked the balance and nodded.
“Thank you. This money will go to the children’s education. I just needed funds for tutors.”
“So you agree?!” Viktor brightened.
“I agree to take the money,” Elena smiled. “Now go. And don’t come back.”
“What?!” Viktor couldn’t believe his ears. “Lena, are you kidding me?! I gave you almost a million! I put everything on the line!”
“No one asked you to, darling,” Elena replied coolly. “It was your initiative. Get out of my house.”
“You… you swindler!” Viktor roared. “Greedy woman! You played me like a fool!”
“Vitenka,” Elena said softly, “did you really think love can be bought? At your age, such naivety is almost touching.”
Just then Irina came into the apartment.
“Mom, who’s that?” she asked, studying Viktor.
“That’s your father, honey,” Elena answered.
“Oh, the jerk,” Irina said matter-of-factly. “He showed up again to play Daddy?”
“Ira!” Elena scolded her. “We don’t talk about your father like that.”
“Why pity him?” the girl burst into angry tears. “He left us twice! You worked nights to buy food because of him! And now he comes as if nothing happened!”
“Ira, sweetheart, calm down,” Elena said gently.
“No, Mom! Let him hear the truth!” the girl sobbed. “You think we forgot your tears?”
Footsteps sounded in the hallway, and Konstantin appeared—a twelve-year-old very much like his mother.
“What’s all the yelling?” he asked, but when he saw Viktor his face turned to stone. “Got it. Daddy’s back again.”
“Kostya, don’t be rude,” his mother asked.
“What’s rude about it?” the boy said coldly. “He is ‘Daddy.’ The periodic Daddy. Once every few years.”
“Children, enough,” Elena said firmly.
“No, Mom!” Konstantin shouted. “Let him know what we think of him! You think we forgot how you left? How you promised never to abandon us—and then vanished!”
“We do just fine without him!” Irina added through tears. “Why did he even come?”
“Oh, shut up, both of you!” Viktor exploded. “I’m your father! I have a right to see my children!”
“A right?” Konstantin laughed bitterly. “Where was that right when Mom was in the hospital? Where was it when she had no money for medicine? You’re a jerk!”
“Mom was sick?” Viktor faltered.
“That wasn’t your concern then,” the boy snapped. “You were busy finding yourself in someone’s arms.”
“Kostya!” Elena scolded.
“What, ‘Kostya’?” the teenager seethed. “Let him know we hate him! Hear that? WE HATE YOU! You freak! SCUM!”
There was no stopping them now. Irina sobbed with fury; Konstantin clenched his fists.
“There’s your parental love,” Elena said to Viktor. “See how happy the kids are to see you? How warmly they greet a loving father?”
“They’re turned against me!” Viktor shouted. “You sicced them on me!”
“I didn’t need to,” Elena answered coldly. “They remember everything perfectly well. Now get out of my home. For good.”
“Lena, wait!” Viktor pleaded. “I’ve changed! Give me a chance!”
“A chance?” Elena sneered. “Dear, you’ve used up all your chances. As well as your money, by the way. Thanks for the generosity.”
Humiliated and hollow, Viktor left the apartment in silence. The children hated him, his ex-wife treated him like a pesky freeloader in need of a bed for the night, and he didn’t have a kopeck to his name.
As soon as the door closed behind Viktor, Irina instantly stopped crying and flashed a sly smile.
“Mom, how did I do? I’m a good actress, right?”
Elena was taken aback at first, then burst out laughing. Seeing his mother and sister laughing, Konstantin relaxed too and started to chuckle.
“Ira, you were great,” Elena said, hugging her daughter. “But don’t do that again. Although… it was very convincing.”
“I wasn’t acting,” Konstantin said seriously. “I really do hate him.”
“Kostenka,” his mother said gently, “hate is too heavy a burden for your heart. Better to just forget.”
“Mom, can we buy a cake today?” Irina asked coaxingly. “We have money now!”
“And pizza!” Konstantin chimed in. “And cola! And ice cream!”
“And new books!” Irina added. “I want the whole Harry Potter series!”
“And a game for the console!” her brother wouldn’t let up.
Elena looked at her crafty children and laughed. They had grown up smart and strong despite all the hardships—or perhaps because of them.
“All right,” she agreed. “Only today we’ll have a celebration. The rest of the money goes to your education.”
“Mom, will he come back again?” Konstantin asked seriously.
“I don’t think so,” Elena answered. “The lesson turned out rather expensive.”
“Nine hundred thousand for a lesson—that’s awesome,” Irina marveled. “The most expensive lesson of his life!”
“And the most useful,” Elena added. “For us.”
Meanwhile Viktor trudged down the street, cursing everything and everyone. He had no apartment—he rented a room from strangers. No car either—he used public transport. Nine hundred thousand rubles—his entire savings and borrowed money—were now with Elena. In return he’d gotten only humiliation and the children’s hatred.
“Damn that Elena,” he thought, climbing into a packed bus. “Played me like a complete sucker. Damn Valentina and Margarita who kicked me out. And that bastard Mikhail who’s probably warming himself in my former bed.”
His phone rang. It was a bank credit manager.
“Viktor Anatolyevich? Good afternoon. We’re reminding you to make your monthly loan payment. The amount due is forty-two thousand rubles.”
“To hell with you all!” Viktor barked and hung up.
A text arrived from another bank. Then another. The loans wanted their due. And there was no money at all.
“What do I do?” Viktor panicked. “Maybe go to my mother’s? She won’t refuse her own son.”
But then he remembered how six months ago he’d borrowed fifty thousand from her “for urgent needs” and still hadn’t returned it. Hardly likely the old woman would be thrilled to see him.
Mikhail found out about Viktor’s visit from Elena’s neighbor—women loved to gossip about the ex of the beauty from the fifth floor. He couldn’t resist and called.
“Lena, is it true? He came again?” Mikhail’s voice held hurt.
“It’s true,” Elena said calmly. “But you can relax. I threw him out. For good.”
Mikhail went quiet. Elena waited, but he couldn’t find the words.
“Misha, did you want to say something?” she asked softly.
“I… I thought you’d go back to him again,” he admitted. “Like last time. And then you’d suffer again when he left.”
“I won’t. I’m no longer that naïve girl who believed in fairy tales about great love.”
“Then does that mean there’s a chance… for us?” he asked uncertainly.
Elena was silent for a long time. He had waited ten years. Ten years he’d been there when things were hard. He never demanded, never reproached, never rushed her.
“Misha, you’re a wonderful man. But I don’t want you to waste your life waiting. Find a woman who will love you right away, without looking back at the past.”
“But I love you,” he whispered.
“And I don’t know how to love anymore,” she answered honestly. “Viktor killed my ability to trust men. It wouldn’t be fair to you.”
After that conversation Mikhail disappeared. He didn’t call, didn’t come by, didn’t even congratulate Konstantin on his birthday. Elena realized she had lost a friend, but there was nothing she could do.
Two years passed. Elena was promoted and now headed a department at a consulting firm. Konstantin studied and took programming seriously. Irina got into photography and dreamed of entering an art university.
One day at a shopping center she ran into Mikhail by chance. He was with a young woman and a small child.
“Lena!” he said happily. “What a meeting! This is Anna, my wife. And this is our son, Artyom.”
Anna turned out to be a sweet, open girl, and the little boy was the spitting image of his father.
“Very nice to meet you,” Elena smiled. “Misha has told me so much about you.”
“Thank you for not letting him waste his life,” Anna replied without a trace of jealousy.
After they left, Elena stood for a long time in the middle of the mall, realizing she had made the right choice. Mikhail had found his happiness, and she hadn’t wrecked someone else’s fate with false hopes.
That evening at home, watching the children do their homework, Elena understood—her life had turned out exactly as it was meant to. Without hurting others, without compromises, without sacrifices. Simply and honestly
