— “What do you mean ‘Elena Vladimirovna’? You’re only twenty-nine!” her friends would remark, chuckling.
— “It stuck,” Lena would wave it off. “For clients I’m Elena Vladimirovna; for suppliers—especially. And for colleagues.”
Lena was building her business and meant it seriously. So at work the tone was businesslike, with no chumminess.
— “Come on, Elena Vladimirovna! Move it, Elena Vladimirovna!” Lena urged herself on as she pushed through the crowd in the mall. “What a cheerful nation we are,” she grumbled inwardly. “One holiday after another! All you do is buy gifts!”
She’d popped in briefly to pick up small souvenirs for friends, colleagues, acquaintances—so that when crunch time came she wouldn’t be tearing around in a panic. The workload never shrank, and at the very moment you needed time most, it was never there.
An old gypsy woman clamped onto her sleeve, yanking her out of the stream of people exiting the mall. Lena was even spun around on the spot.
— “What a pretty girl!” the gypsy flashed her gold teeth sweetly. “And there’s money rustling in your pockets, but your love life’s a mess! You’ve picked a man, but he hasn’t picked you yet!”
Lena had success in business because she could size things up fast in any situation. She looked the gypsy up and down with a mocking glance:
— “Quite the opposite—he’s about to propose. Hypnosis didn’t work? Don’t be upset. Keep practicing and you’ll get there!”
And she easily freed her sleeve from the woman’s fingers.
— “Ooh, look at you!” the gypsy exclaimed, her smile widening. “So confident! Strong and brave! He’s lying to you! He sticks with you because you’re useful. I see cheating. Only he’s not cheating on you—he’s cheating toward you, to you! Remember my words when you find out for yourself! And don’t buy him a car! He can do without!”
That she’d spun a yarn tall enough to reach the sky—well, obviously. She’d flattered the girl, trashed the guy, and there’s self-interest in any relationship, even the ideal ones.
She’d spooked her, of course, with talk going every which way. “Not on you, but with you”—that’s a classic line to completely throw you off.
But the part about the car—there was no way the gypsy could have known that!
For a year Lena had been putting money aside for a car for Maxim. His dream was that someday he’d definitely buy a good model.
Not insanely expensive, but not for pennies either. And Lena had nearly saved the full amount and even found a dealership. In a couple of months she planned to go have a look.
— “I’ll decide that myself,” Lena said without malice, slipped a bill into the gypsy’s hand, and hurried to her own car.
Soon the city center would be gridlocked, and Lena wanted to slip home before it happened. Why else had she arranged herself a short day?
Lena was hurrying home for one simple reason: her beloved was due back from a business trip. He’d been gone two weeks. And Lena wanted to cook him something tasty.
But as soon as she stepped through the door, she smelled frying cutlets.
— “Beat me home?” she called from the entryway.
— “Uh-huh,” Maxim poked his head out of the kitchen, wiping his hands on a towel. “I missed home-cooked food so much I’m frying cutlets for dinner!”
Maxim wasn’t a cook—he wasn’t even close to a basic one. But the household setup made a difference.
Once a month Lena made her own semi-prepared foods and packed the freezer with them: cutlets, chebureki, dumplings, varenyky, vegetable mixes, even broths.
So to make borscht, all you had to do was drop a cube of broth into a pot, add the sliced meat and a bag of vegetables. Minimal time, and a great lunch was ready.
And in the few years Lena and Maxim had lived together, he’d mastered the simple steps for bringing those semi-prepared foods to the finish line.
— “I wanted to cook something too, only you got back earlier,” she said with a smile, changing into home clothes.
— “Then you can make a farewell dinner,” he said simply. “Imagine—I’ve been chosen for an internship in the capital! Three weeks under masters and luminaries!”
— “You’re going again?” Lena said, a little crestfallen.
— “Are you kidding?! This is such a chance!” he burst out happily, and then, seeing Lena’s face fall, hugged her and whispered in her ear: “Sweetheart, this is really important. For me and for us. I’m this close to a promotion! So many courses, trips, seminars. You understand.”
Lena understood. And she understood only because there was nowhere to go.
Maxim believed a man should support and provide for his family.
On the one hand, that’s right. On the other…
Lena earned more than Maxim.
In principle, if people are good together and there’s no financial strain, what difference does it make who earns how much?
But Maxim just couldn’t accept that.
He was clawing his way up the career ladder, taking courses in upskilling, training, retraining. He completed personal and professional growth trainings with distinction.
Certificates and commendations rained down like gold.
— “Lenka, after this internship they’ll definitely promote me! And then the salary! Woo-hoo! And right away we’ll set a wedding date! We’ll pick a beautiful one!”
“Another postponement,” Lena thought, and the gypsy’s words resurfaced at the edge of her mind.
“A person who works this hard to build a family can’t be off looking for adventures on the side!”
Dinner was weighed down by a heavy atmosphere. Lena decided to lighten it by telling him about the gypsy who had so insistently missed the mark:
— “Either they don’t have the gift or their hypnosis didn’t work on me, but what a whopper! She said you’re… either not faithful to me or not faithful with me—anyway, not faithful,” the girl smiled to herself, “I gave her some change for the imagination.”
Maxim tensed, even scraped his fork across the plate.
— “Maxim?” Lena asked, alert.
Maxim was sweating from how fast his mind was racing.
He came up with something:
— “Check the rest of your cash in your bag—and your documents!” he rattled off. “You gave her money, so something must’ve worked!”
Lena jumped up and ran to the entryway where she’d left her purse.
— “Everything’s here,” she called, coming back into the kitchen with the bag in her hands.
She only noticed how Maxim hid a napkin in his fist. And on his forehead—a tiny scrap of white paper…
— “Sveta, tell me honestly: am I just winding myself up, or did she tell the truth?” Lena asked, turning to practically her only close friend.
— “Let’s put it this way,” Sveta answered after hearing the whole story—about the gypsy and Maxim’s reaction. “You should never stop thinking at all! That’s what we women are for—to constantly think about everything and keep it all under control.”
— “If that was your elegant way of sending me to the woods, you could’ve saved the effort,” Lena snorted. “I came to you, as a person, for advice, and you’re giving me a lecture!”
— “Lena, your naiveté is off the charts,” Sveta said sharply. “Check his phone and computer. Go through his pockets. Men don’t know how to hide evidence.”
— “First, that’s wrong; second, I decided long ago I wouldn’t do any of that. A person has a right to personal space!”
— “A person, sure—but as for your Maxim, I’ve had doubts for a long time. He’s sitting on your neck, all those endless business trips. I could’ve told you without any gypsies that all isn’t well here.”
— “We’ve been together so many years,” Lena objected. “I would’ve noticed something by now!”
— “Well maybe your Maxim is the exception—maybe he does know how to hide the evidence…” Sveta sneered.
After a “comforter” like that, Lena felt even worse. The old doubts didn’t dissipate—and new ones appeared.
To distract herself from the obsessive thoughts, Lena decided to drive around the city for a while. She got home late in the evening.
At her door stood a woman with two children. She held the older one by the hand; the younger was in a sling on her chest.
— “Are you looking for someone?” Lena asked, worried.
— “I’m looking for my husband,” the woman answered, “and his rat of a mistress!”
Lena shrugged and slid the key into the lock.
— “So it’s you!” the woman screeched and swung with her free hand.
Lena dodged.
— “What do you think you’re doing?”
— “You’ve got an apartment in a fancy building, driving around in your car, and you decided to steal my husband too!” the woman hissed, eyes spitting hate.
— “Wait! I don’t know you—and I certainly don’t know who your husband is. Maybe we should figure things out? And stop waving your fists at me, there are children here!” Lena tried to keep her voice calm, but inside everything clenched tight.
The woman put her hand on the door handle. Lena had pulled the key out, she’d only had time to turn it until it clicked.
— “And where do you think you’re going?” Lena asked, unceremoniously tugging the woman back from the door by the back of her coat.
— “My husband’s in there!” the woman squealed.
— “And it’s my apartment! And I didn’t invite you in!” Lena slipped inside and slammed the door, leaving the lady on the landing.
Maxim came out of the room white as a sheet, his hands shaking. He had not only heard everything—he also knew details Lena didn’t. The pieces of the mosaic clicked into place.
— “Well. done.” Lena said, syllable by syllable, her voice cold as ice. “Now grab your things and get out.”
From the other side of the door came:
— “Open up! I know he’s in there!”
— “You’re going to take your…” Lena hesitated between “husband” and “father,” and in the end didn’t choose—she just repeated, “your man.”
— “Lena, forgive me, please,” Maxim pleaded. “At first I didn’t think it would go that far. And then I was trying to make sure we were okay. I was going to divorce her there and marry you here. And I didn’t even live there, really. I just visited sometimes. You know, for the kids.”
— “Maxim, don’t lie. We’ve been together more than three years—almost four. And that baby in the sling is a year old. A year and a half at most. You weren’t just cheating on her—you were cheating on me too.”
— “Lenochka!” Maxim fell to his knees.
— “Enough. Pack your things. They’re waiting for you—with great impatience. Your children are there. Have some decency!”
When he finally left the apartment, Lena sat down on the couch and let herself cry.
The bitterness of hurt and the weight of injustice tormented her until morning, when sleep finally brought oblivion.
And in the morning, with inexplicable lightness came the realization that it was all for the best. It would have been worse if it had come out after the wedding.
— “How do those gypsies know everything?” Lena asked with a smile, and went to wash her face.
A week later, over a cup of strong coffee in her favorite office, Lena was sorting papers. A knock.
— “Come in.”
Anton walked in—her chief accountant, smart, reliable, long on the job. He held a folder in his hands, but his face was more serious than usual.
— “Elena Vladimirovna, I found something about Maxim. Per your request.”
Lena put down her pen. Anton’s eyes said the news wasn’t good.
— “Go ahead, Anton.”
— “The business trips… were fake. All those ‘seminars’ and ‘internships’—made up. He was listed as a low-level clerk in a tiny firm. The salary… modest. Very. Apparently he was spending most of his time… there. With his family. And the money you gave him ‘for expenses’ on those trips…”
Lena nodded without showing surprise. The bitter truth no longer burned; it left only a cold aftertaste. Anton carefully set a printout on the desk—meager pay stubs from that very firm.
— “Thank you, Anton. Clear. Very clear.”
The accountant left. Lena finished her coffee, looking at the printout. Everything matched. His “career growth” was a façade for a double life. Now he’d lost both her roof and that other home. Left with nothing.
In the evening, as Lena was dining in silence, the doorbell rang sharply. Not guests. A familiar, insistent knock. She went to the peephole. Maxim. Hunted look. A pathetic bag in his hands. Obviously, he’d been kicked out for good.
Lena opened. He tried to push inside, but she blocked the way.
— “Lena! Sunshine!” his voice trembled, mixing bombast with despair. “I divorced her! Officially! I’m free! Now we can… as we planned! Get married! It will all be for real!”
He reached for her, but Lena stepped back, looking him over with cool eyes.
— “Divorced?” her voice was even, with a light, icy irony. “Or did they just throw you out along with your pitiful bag? After it came out that you’re not a ‘promising specialist’ but a simple clerk with fake business trips? And that the apartment you lived in with her is in her parents’ names?”
Maxim paled. His game had been exposed completely.
— “Lena, listen…” he began to babble, panic breaking through the fakery. “I was wrong! But it’s over with her now! I’m here! I’m yours! We’ll start from a clean slate! You won’t leave me on the street, will you?”
— “I will,” Lena answered simply. “Without hesitation. You used me. You used her. Now you have nowhere to live? That’s your problem, Maxim. You created it.”
— “You have no right!” he suddenly shouted, snapping. His face twisted with malice. “It’s all your fault! You pushed me! Your money, your apartment… I tried to be worthy! And you… witch!”
Lena didn’t flinch. His shouting only strengthened her resolve.
— “Worthy?” she smirked. “With lies and a double life? Excellent method. Enough yelling. You’re in the way. I have a guest.”
Deliberately, she turned toward the slightly ajar bathroom door, from behind which the sound of running water could be heard.
— “Darling!” she called warmly, with a note that hadn’t been in her voice a second earlier. “Are you almost done? Maxim dropped by… to say goodbye. He won’t be long.”
The water shut off at once. A second of taut silence. Maxim froze, staring at the bathroom door. Horror flickered across his face. The thought that Lena already had someone new—someone right here, right now, in her home. His last hope collapsed.
— “Who… who’s in there?” he hissed, backing away.
— “Oh, a serious man,” Lena tossed lightly, taking a step aside as if clearing the way for the unseen guest. “But that’s none of your concern. He’ll be out in a moment… and I think you’d better disappear before he appears. Quickly.”
The effect was immediate. The fear of being humiliated in front of a “new” man, the fear of a physical confrontation, outweighed everything.
— “You… you planned this!” he yelled, snatching up his pitiful bag. “Rat! Witch! I curse the day I didn’t divorce her right away! I curse it!”
He lunged for the exit without looking, stumbling. The door slammed behind him with a bang. On the landing his muffled curses and hurried steps down the stairs could still be heard.
Lena leaned against the closed door. A deep breath. Exhale. A huge weight slipped from her shoulders. The air in the apartment felt cleaner. She went to the bathroom door, turned the handle, and opened it.
Empty. Only drops of water softly ticking from the faucet into the sink.
Lena smiled. Widely, genuinely.
— “Thank you,” she said quietly to the spotless, gleaming bathroom. “Excellent work.”
She closed the door and went to the window. Down below by the entrance, she caught a glimpse of a familiar, pathetic figure, nervously glancing around before vanishing into the dark. The chapter of lies and betrayal was closed for good. Ahead lay only her life. Clear. Honest. Free. Elena Vladimirovna turned toward the desk, where papers and a cooling coffee waited. Time to work.
