“Vadimka, I have amazing news for you!” Svetlana exclaimed, standing in front of the mirror carefully applying mascara to her eyelashes. Her eyes sparkled with anticipation, and her lips stretched into a satisfied smile. She glanced at her reflection as if confirming to herself that she looked like a queen about to announce an important royal decree.
“Tomorrow evening my mom is coming over. Your task is to get the apartment into perfect order! Not even a cobweb should remain in any corner! Imagine that Queen Elizabeth herself is coming to visit — then you’ll understand how to clean up!”
Svetlana paused, clearly enjoying the effect of her words, and continued like a true general before battle:
“I’m going to my manicurist now, and then maybe I’ll go to the spa with my friend Lyuska or just hang out at her place. We haven’t seen each other in a long time; we have a lot to talk about, especially women’s stuff. So, the cleaning is on you. I’ll be back in about six hours. Try to do everything perfectly — my mom notices everything! Once she spotted a speck of dust on the fridge, even though I had wiped it with a damp cloth just a week ago! So, dear, please don’t let me down. Better to be safe and do everything perfectly than to listen to her lectures later.”
Hearing this, Vadim frowned. His eyebrows crept up, and his voice turned into a quiet but grumbling murmur:
“Svet, do you even realize what you just said? It’s your mom coming, not mine. Maybe then you should be the one cleaning? Or am I supposed to be the housekeeper in your family duo now?”
He fell silent, digesting the situation. On one hand — mother-in-law; on the other — cleaning; on the third — his own plans for the evening, which, of course, didn’t exist, but at that moment he just wanted to run away. He hadn’t signed up for cleaning duties when he got married. It definitely wasn’t part of the man’s responsibilities, as he saw it.
He knew perfectly well that his mother-in-law was a woman with eagle eyes and the heart of an inquisitor. If she noticed even the slightest speck of dust or an unclosed bottle cap of cleaning detergent — she would start grumbling loud enough for the neighbors to hear. And ironically, while she couldn’t read the font on medicine packaging at the store, she found dust in the most hidden corners of the house, where even the vacuum cleaner hadn’t been.
Vadim was already starting to make plans to slip away. Maybe take a taxi? He used to do that when his mother-in-law showed up unexpectedly. But now — new times, new rules. You can’t leave anywhere without permission. So, cleaning was inevitable.
He sighed heavily and glanced at his wife. Svetlana looked at him as if ready to give him an oral exam on the ethics of male behavior in marriage. If looks could kill, Vadim would already be lying under a white sheet.
“If you refuse to clean now,” she began, gripping her makeup brushes like weapons, “then I can, of course, cancel my meeting with Lyuska. Just imagine — I’ll be angry, my mood will be ruined, and then, dear, you will clean under my personal supervision. You’ll dust every speck, wipe every shelf. And don’t you dare argue.”
Svetlana knew how to pressure so that even the most stubborn man would surrender without a fight. Vadim felt a chill run down his spine. He knew that if he started an argument, he would regret it for days. His wife was a master of philosophical attacks. She could prove the sun revolved around the Earth if she wanted.
“Well, come on, honey? Don’t deny yourself the pleasure!” he said, forcing a smile that looked more like a grimace. “And don’t worry about the apartment. I’ll do everything. I promise, by the time you get back, it will be sparkling clean. Even your mom will be satisfied.”
Svetlana beamed as if she had just won a long-awaited victory and continued applying makeup without saying a word. She knew not to praise a man prematurely — it would spoil him. Besides, why thank him for something that was already his duty? He was her husband now, not a guest in the house.
Meanwhile, Vadim was already thinking of a cleverer plan. He had savings Svetlana didn’t know about. And now, it seemed, the time had come to use them. He had no intention of cleaning himself. No way! He would happily pay someone else to do it for him.
The idea of a cleaning service seemed brilliant. He called the first company he found:
“I need an urgent cleaning! A girl to come as soon as possible!” he almost begged.
After a short conversation, the operator said:
“The earliest time is seven in the evening. Does that work?”
“Seven?! I need it right now! It’s a matter of life and death!” Vadim pleaded. “Do you have a man cleaner?”
“No men clean for us. They work on heavy-duty sites. All busy.”
Disappointed, Vadim started calling other companies, but the prices for urgent calls made his hair stand on end. Everything he planned to save would go toward paying for cleaning. The idea collapsed like a house of cards.
He sighed deeply and began imagining himself scrubbing floors and wiping windows. No, life was definitely playing a cruel joke on him.
Then the phone rang. It was that first company again:
“Young man, a specialist has become available. We can send a girl right now.”
“Of course! Come quickly!” Vadim rejoiced like a child who just got an ice cream.
He poured himself some coffee, sat down on the couch, and prepared to relax. Let others work while he rested a little. No, social media was a bad idea — Svetlana might check his browsing history. But a movie — why not?
And then, half an hour later, there was a knock at the door. Vadim hurried to open it… and froze. Standing on the doorstep was Marina — the very girl he had cruelly rejected back in university. The one who gave him cards, knitted scarves, while he mocked her in front of the whole course. Now she stood before him with a cleaning bag, smiling as if she knew this would be an interesting evening.
In Marina’s hands was a cleaning vacuum — powerful, shiny like a new tank — and in the other, a bag of cleaning supplies, neatly arranged like a surgeon’s tools before an operation. Her movements were precise and confident, as if she wasn’t just a cleaner but a true queen of comfort. Over the years, she had become even more beautiful than before. But strangely, some things remained unchanged — toilets were still her faithful allies.
“What kind of people are these without security!” Vadim exclaimed ironically, trying to hide his embarrassment. “Well, don’t just stand in the doorway, come in like an honored guest!”
“Hello, Vadim,” Marina smiled, stepping into the apartment with the ease of someone confident in herself and her abilities. “So… where shall we start?”
“Well, it feels awkward to tell you,” Vadim mumbled, feeling a strange anxiety boiling in his chest. “Didn’t think we’d meet… familiar face. Want some coffee? Or tea?”
“Sorry, I’m working. No time for tea or coffee. The faster I do it, the faster I’m free,” Marina replied, not lingering on small talk.
“You’ve become a busy lady,” Vadim said with slight envy. “Though I’m not surprised. With such a job, you probably count every minute. You want to rest too, right? You decide where to start. I left a request, said it needed to be done. So, do as you find convenient.”
Marina immediately got to work. She didn’t waste time on memories or asking who lived how. The past was closed for her like an old book no longer worth rereading. She moved through the apartment with the agility of a professional athlete, as if dancing rather than cleaning. Vadim stood aside, unable to take his eyes off her slender figure. She had become even more beautiful, more confident. His Svetlana, despite all her merits, simply faded next to her. And why hadn’t he appreciated her back then, when he could? If only he had known how painful it would be now, he never would have pushed her away.
“Marina, why are you like a stranger?” he tried to warm the conversation. “Tell me, how’s your life? What do you do now? Are you happy?”
Then a wave of shame swept over him. He remembered that day at university when he mocked her in front of the whole course when she gave him a scarf she had knitted with her caring hands. “You clean toilets with those hands, and then knit me a scarf? No, darling. We’re not a match. Look where I am and where you are! Your fate is to clean toilets, mine is to sit in the director’s chair.” Those cruel words, thrown then with such cruelty, now came back like a boomerang with thunder and lightning.
“My life is just fine. I live well and don’t complain about fate,” Marina answered calmly, continuing her work.
“Have you gotten married yet?”
Vadim himself didn’t understand why this question tortured him so much. He wanted to hear that she was free, still waiting for someone, maybe even him. That somewhere in the corner of her soul she still remembered him, those times when she looked at him with admiration.
“Not yet, but soon. How about you? Married?”
Judging by her tone, she wasn’t especially interested in his answer. She asked more out of politeness, so as not to leave him awkward. That stung Vadim. He expected Marina to show at least a bit of interest in his life, but her gaze was calm, cold, even a little indifferent. He understood he couldn’t change his wife — Svetlana would just tear him to pieces. But how he wanted to feel needed, desired, even for a moment.
“Well, I… how can I say…,” he stammered but didn’t finish.
“Oh, there are some panties near the bed. Should I put them in the washer or in the closet?” Marina lifted Svetlana’s underwear with two fingers, and Vadim felt unbearably ashamed.
“I’ll do it!” he grumbled, blushing, grabbed the item, and went to the laundry room where the dirty clothes basket was.
After that, the conversation didn’t resume. Marina fully focused on cleaning, ignoring his presence as if he was just background noise. It hurt, but Vadim couldn’t show it.
Then, to get any kind of reaction from her, he decided to tease her:
“Remember what I said? Your fate is to clean toilets. So you’ve been doing that all this time.”
“You hit the nail on the head. You can’t escape fate,” Marina nodded calmly without raising her eyes.
Vadim felt something inside break. Didn’t his words hurt her? Did he mean nothing to her? He felt a painful hurt, and a lump rose in his throat, squeezing his breath. He just snorted, realizing he couldn’t prove anything to her.
When Marina finished cleaning, she took off her gloves, wiped her hands, and smiled:
“Accept the work, sir. That will be five thousand three hundred fifty rubles.”
Vadim took five and a half thousand from his pocket and handed it to her with a satisfied smile:
“Keep the change for tea. You probably don’t get to eat well with a job like that, so skinny.”
Marina carefully put the money in her jumpsuit pocket and shrugged:
“You’ve become generous, I see.”
Those words sounded like a compliment to Vadim, and he smiled, feeling an old feeling awaken inside. He didn’t want her to leave. He wanted to walk her out, chat, learn something new. Anything.
“Wait, I’ll take out the trash and walk with you, at least to the bus stop.”
“No need, I came by car,” Marina politely declined.
“Still driving that old Zhiguli?” Vadim sneered.
“You could say that,” the girl shrugged.
But Vadim still went outside with her. He wanted to prolong the meeting, even for a few minutes. As soon as Marina pressed the button on the key fob and the headlights of an impressive jeep lit up near the entrance, Vadim gasped in surprise:
“Is that your car?”
“Mine,” Marina nodded, skillfully putting the tools in the trunk. Taking off her work jumpsuit, she was left in short shorts and a light tank top, now looking not like a cleaner but like a model from an ad. Vadim struggled to hold back a sigh. How he wanted to drop everything now, divorce Svetlana, and take her away with him. But now she looked at him like the past that was left behind.
“Is that how you earned your money cleaning toilets?”
“Try cleaning them yourself, then you’ll know,” Marina smiled. “Sorry, my fiancé is already waiting for me at home. Didn’t plan to stay long. Nice to see an old friend. Good luck to you!”
Vadim stood outside until she left. Something inside him turned over. He went back inside, grabbed his phone, and called the cleaning company.
“Hello, I wanted to know who came to my call?”
“That was Marina Arkadyevna, the owner of our agency. She kindly agreed to take an urgent order. Did you want to leave her something?”
“No… thanks.”
He hung up and looked at the trash bag in his hands. So it was — Marina, whom he had once rejected, cleaned toilets and earned a jeep, while he, who dreamed of sitting in a director’s chair, was still cleaning up after his wife. He sighed bitterly and headed to the dumpster, feeling a burning desire inside to go back in time and change everything. But he had no such opportunity.
