Valeria burst into the apartment with such a crash that Ruslan peeked out of the bedroom with a frightened look on his face.
“What happened?!”
“Something happened!” the girl snapped, throwing her bag onto the sofa and yanking off her coat in one sharp motion. “I got promoted! Can you imagine? Head of the marketing department! Starting March first!”
Ruslan froze for a second, then broke into a wide smile, picked his fiancée up in his arms, and spun her around the room.
“Seriously?! Lerka, you’re amazing! I always knew it!”
“And the salary! You won’t believe it! One hundred thirty thousand instead of eighty! I thought I was going to faint when I heard the number!”
Her fiancé set her down, took her face in both hands, and kissed her.
“We have to celebrate. I’m calling that Italian restaurant you love right now. Is a table for eight tonight good?”
Valeria nodded, smiling happily. Ruslan took out his phone and booked a table. She went to the bathroom, washed off her makeup, and changed clothes. Standing in front of the mirror, she stared at her reflection and still couldn’t believe it.
A promotion.
At twenty-seven.
A department head in a major company.
At the restaurant, they ordered wine, pasta, and tiramisu for dessert. Ruslan raised his glass.
“To you, the future Mrs. Gromova. To your success and career growth.”
“To us,” Valeria corrected him, clinking her glass against his.
Her fiancé took a sip of wine and looked at her seriously.
“Lera, why don’t we finally set a wedding date? We’ve been together for two years. It’s time.”
Valeria smiled. They really had been postponing the wedding, saving money for a proper celebration. They wanted everything to be beautiful — the restaurant, the dress, the rings, the honeymoon.
“Let’s do it. July? Or August?”
“July. The fifteenth. It’s the anniversary of the day we met.”
She nodded and squeezed his hand across the table. July. There was enough time to prepare. It was completely realistic.
“Then we start organizing tomorrow.”
The following weeks flew by in a blur. Valeria chose a dress, looked for a decorator, called restaurants. Ruslan helped too — driving her to venue viewings, giving advice, approving or rejecting options.
A month after her promotion, her fiancé called her during the day.
“Lerka, I’ve got a problem. They didn’t give me my bonus. They said the project wasn’t finished on time. And I need to pay the restaurant deposit today, or we’ll lose the booking.”
“How much do you need?”
“Fifty thousand. I’ll pay you back next month, I promise.”
Valeria transferred the money without hesitation. These were shared expenses, she thought. The wedding was for both of them, so what difference did it make whose money went first?
A week later, Ruslan asked her to pay for the rings — the jeweler needed an advance payment. Another twenty thousand. Valeria transferred it.
Then the decorator. Forty thousand in advance. Again, the bride paid.
Wedding car rental. Fifteen thousand. Again, Valeria.
She began to notice a pattern. Every time payment came up, Ruslan had a reason why he couldn’t contribute right now. Either he had repaired his car and spent too much, or he had helped his mother with medical bills, or he had repaid an old debt.
Valeria opened her banking app and looked at her balance. Three months had passed since the promotion. Nothing remained from her salary increase. Everything had gone toward the wedding.
She frowned and opened her chat with Ruslan. She found their old agreement about a shared wedding fund where each of them was supposed to contribute money. Ruslan was supposed to put in twenty thousand a month. Over three months, that made sixty thousand. Valeria had been putting in the same amount.
But now there was only her sixty thousand in the fund.
From her fiancé — zero.
That evening, when Ruslan came home from work, Valeria met him in the kitchen with a serious expression.
“We need to talk about money.”
“What money?”
“The wedding money. I counted the expenses. Over the past three months, I’ve put in two hundred thirty thousand. You haven’t put in anything.”
Ruslan took off his jacket, hung it over the back of a chair, and opened the fridge.
“Valeria, what difference does it make whose money it is? We’re getting married soon. Everything will be shared.”
“It does make a difference. We agreed to save together.”
“I am saving. I just have expenses right now. I fixed the car, remember? Then I helped my mom with medicine. I lent my brother some money.”
“Ruslan, you earn eighty thousand. Where does it all go?”
Her fiancé took a yogurt from the fridge, opened it, and scooped some with a spoon.
“Life, Lerka. Gas, food, all sorts of things. Don’t worry. After the wedding, everything will settle down.”
Valeria looked at him, feeling a growing sense of unease. Something was wrong. But she decided to blame it on pre-wedding stress. Maybe Ruslan really was going through a difficult period.
At the beginning of May, during dinner, he announced:
“Lera, the guys and I decided to go to the seaside before the wedding. Arthur and Egor want to send me off into married life properly. We’ll have one last week of fun.”
Valeria looked up from her plate.
“The seaside? We agreed to save money for the honeymoon.”
“That’s different. It’s a bachelor trip, you know? You should go somewhere with Alisa too, relax a little. Let’s both unwind.”
“Ruslan, a vacation costs money. Tickets, hotel…”
“It’s all taken care of. Arthur found a last-minute tour, practically for pennies. And you should go too. You’ve worn yourself out with all this planning.”
Valeria wanted to object, but he had already turned his attention to his phone, scrolling through something and smiling. She went back to her food, feeling a vague sense of worry.
Two days later, Valeria came home earlier than usual — her evening meeting had been canceled. She entered the apartment quietly and kicked off her shoes in the hallway. From the living room came the sound of keyboard tapping.
She walked to the doorway and looked inside.
Ruslan was sitting at her laptop — his own was being repaired. On the screen was a hotel booking page. Valeria narrowed her eyes, studying the details.
A five-star hotel in Sochi.
A suite with a sea view.
Price: eighty thousand for a week for three people.
Ruslan was entering bank card details. Valeria recognized the numbers.
It was her card.
The one that had been in her bag.
Apparently, he had taken it while she was in the shower that morning. And now he was calmly booking himself a vacation with her money.
Valeria silently walked up behind him, reached out, and pulled the card from his hand.
Ruslan jumped in his seat and turned around. His face turned red.
“Lerka! You scared me!”
“What are you doing?”
“Booking the hotel. For the trip with the guys.”
“On my card?”
“Well… I thought you wouldn’t mind. My card is blocked, and I don’t have time to go to the bank.”
Valeria looked at the screen.
Eighty thousand.
For his bachelor trip.
With her money.
“You were seriously about to spend eighty thousand on a week-long vacation? Two months before the wedding?”
“Lera, don’t get worked up. It’s not just a vacation, it’s an event! My farewell to bachelor life! Arthur and Egor are waiting!”
“With my money.”
“What difference does it make? We’re a couple!”
“Ruslan, you took my card without permission.”
“I thought you wouldn’t be against it! You knew we were going!”
Valeria closed the laptop, took the card, and walked into the kitchen. Ruslan followed her, indignant.
“What, are you spying on me now?! Listening to what I’m doing?!”
“Spying? Ruslan, this is my laptop, in my apartment! And you are spending my money!”
“Oh, come on! It’s only eighty thousand! You earn one hundred thirty. What’s the problem?”
Valeria slowly turned around and looked at him.
“Did you decide to turn me into your cash cow? You miscalculated!” Her voice came out cold and clear.
Ruslan was stunned. He had never heard that tone from his fiancée before.
“Lera, what are you saying? You can consider it my wedding gift! One last vacation as a bachelor!”
She went into the bedroom, opened the desk drawer, and took out a folder of documents. Then she returned to the kitchen and laid bank statements in front of him.
“Look. January. Restaurant deposit — fifty thousand. Me. February. Rings — twenty thousand. Me. March. Decorator — forty. Me. Car rental — fifteen. Me. Dress — sixty. Me. Photographer — thirty. Me. Your new sneakers — twenty-five. Me. Café and restaurant bills — me, me, me.”
Ruslan stared at the papers and said nothing.
“In four months, I’ve spent three hundred thousand rubles on our wedding. You’ve spent zero. And now you want another eighty thousand for your bachelor trip. From my card.”
“I’ll pay it back,” he muttered.
“When? After the wedding? When we have a shared budget and you keep spending my money?”
“Lerka, I just… I have expenses right now…”
“On what?! Your salary is eighty thousand! Where does it go?!”
Ruslan looked away and shrugged.
“Life. Different things.”
Valeria laughed. Bitterly, angrily.
“Different things. I see. And I’m supposed to carry everything? Pay for the wedding? Pay for your vacation?”
“You earn more!” Ruslan suddenly blurted out. “You make one hundred thirty, I make eighty! It’s normal that you contribute more!”
“Normal?”
“Yes! You’re not some greedy witch, are you? You’re not going to count every penny and throw it in your future husband’s face?”
She stared at him, feeling a wave of rage rise inside her.
“I’m not greedy. But I’m not stupid either. You’re just a shameless freeloader who decided to secure a comfortable life at my expense before we even made it to the registry office.”
“Lera…”
“I am not going to support a kept man! Do you hear me? I’m not going to!”
Ruslan turned crimson. He grabbed his jacket from the chair.
“That’s it. I’m leaving to cool off! We’ll talk when you calm down!”
The door slammed.
Valeria remained standing in the kitchen, staring at the bank statements spread out on the table. Her hands were shaking. Her breathing was fast and shallow.
She sat down on a chair and covered her face with her hands.
If this was happening now, what would happen after the wedding? Ruslan didn’t see her as a partner. He saw her as a financial resource. A source of money for a comfortable life.
Valeria lifted her head and looked at the engagement ring on her finger.
She took it off.
Placed it on the table.
Then she stood up and went into the bedroom. From under the bed, she pulled out a large suitcase and began packing Ruslan’s things.
T-shirts, jeans, socks.
His toiletries from the bathroom.
Chargers, headphones, books.
Everything her fiancé had managed to move into her apartment.
Valeria worked silently and methodically. She didn’t cry. She didn’t hesitate. She simply packed suitcase after suitcase.
Two hours later, Ruslan returned.
He stepped inside and saw three bags of his belongings in the hallway. He froze.
“What is this?”
“Your things. Take them.”
“Lera, what are you doing? I told you I was going to cool off…”
“I cooled off. And I made a decision. There will be no wedding.”
Ruslan blinked in disbelief.
“What do you mean, no wedding?”
“Tomorrow morning I’m going to the registry office to cancel the application.”
“Because of this argument?! Lerka, come on, I lost my temper. I’m sorry! I’ll pay everything back. I’ll return it all!”
“It’s not about the money. It’s about you. About who you turned out to be.”
He tried to hug her, but she stepped away.
“Lerka, please, let’s talk! I’ll be the head of the family. I’ll provide for us, I swear!”
“You? Provide? Ruslan, you haven’t contributed a single penny to the wedding in four months. You spent three hundred thousand of my money and wanted to spend another eighty. On what grounds are you going to be the head of the family?”
“I’m a man!”
“A man pays for himself. You live off a woman.”
Ruslan stood there with his mouth open. He searched for words and found none.
Valeria took out her phone and opened a taxi app.
“I’m calling a car. Take your things and leave.”
“But where am I supposed to go?!”
“To your parents. To your friends. I don’t care. Just not here.”
He tried to argue, beg, promise. Valeria remained silent, looking out the window. Ten minutes later, the taxi arrived.
“Your car is here.”
Ruslan picked up the bags and slowly walked out into the hallway. At the doorstep, he turned back.
“You’ll regret this.”
“I don’t think so.”
The door closed.
Valeria leaned her back against it and took a deep breath.
Silence.
No more requests for money. No more excuses. No more manipulation.
She picked up her phone and opened her contacts list. She started calling the guests. She apologized and explained that the wedding was canceled. The reactions varied — surprise, sympathy, questions. Valeria answered briefly without going into details.
Then came the contractors. The restaurant, decorator, photographer, car rental. She canceled the bookings everywhere and asked about refunding the deposits. Some promised to return everything, others only part of it. She wrote everything down and counted.
With every call, she felt lighter.
As if she were dropping a burden she had been carrying for months.
By midnight, all the calls were done. Valeria sat on the sofa and leaned back. She looked around the empty apartment.
Quiet.
Peaceful.
No stranger’s belongings, no compromises.
She opened the calendar on her phone. July fifteenth was marked with a little heart — the wedding day.
Valeria deleted the note.
Instead, she wrote:
“Vacation. Alone.”
The following weeks passed in a whirl of chores and work. Ruslan called, wrote messages, begged for forgiveness, promised to change. Valeria did not answer. She blocked him everywhere.
The deposits were partially refunded. Out of the three hundred thousand, she managed to get two hundred thousand back. One hundred thousand was lost forever.
But she didn’t regret it.
That was the price of the lesson.
Arthur and Egor, Ruslan’s friends, tried to call her too. They asked her to meet, to talk. Valeria refused. What was the point? Her decision had already been made.
At work, people asked what had happened to the wedding. She answered briefly:
“We weren’t compatible.”
No one pushed for details.
A month passed. Then another. Valeria threw herself into work, took on extra projects, and stayed late at the office. Her colleagues joked that the department head was trying to become director.
Maybe she was.
But most importantly, work kept her distracted.
Ruslan stopped calling after two months. Photos appeared on social media with a new girl — a red-haired, smiling one. Valeria looked at them, shrugged, and closed the page.
Let him.
Maybe that girl would have better luck.
On July fifteenth, Valeria woke up in a hotel in Barcelona. She opened the window. Below, the sea murmured, seagulls cried, and the air smelled of salt and freshness.
She stepped out onto the balcony with a cup of coffee. She put on her sunglasses and sat in a wicker chair. Ahead of her was an entire day with no plans. She could stroll down La Rambla, visit Park Güell, or simply lie on the beach.
Valeria took a sip of coffee and picked up her phone. At this very hour, the ceremony was supposed to begin.
Guests. Flowers. Music.
Ruslan in a suit.
A bride in a white dress.
But instead, she was sitting alone on a balcony, drinking coffee and listening to the sea.
And she felt absolutely happy.
Her phone vibrated — a message from Alisa, her friend.
“How is it? Are you relaxing?”
“Perfectly. Couldn’t be better.”
“Do you miss it?”
Valeria thought for a moment.
Did she miss the wedding that never happened? The fiancé who turned out to be a freeloader?
“No. Not at all.”
“I’m proud of you. You did the right thing by stopping in time.”
Valeria smiled and put the phone away. She finished her coffee, returned to her room, changed into a light dress, and picked up her bag.
Today she would go to the Picasso Museum, then have lunch at that little restaurant near the Gothic Quarter she had noticed the day before.
As she left the room, Valeria caught her reflection in the mirror.
Tanned, rested, with a sparkle in her eyes.
She looked nothing like the exhausted girl who, four months earlier, had packed her former fiancé’s suitcases.
Barcelona greeted her with heat and the noise of tourists. Valeria walked through narrow streets, looking into shop windows and photographing old buildings. She bought ice cream from a small gelato shop and ate it slowly, enjoying every bite.
She spent three hours in the museum, studying the paintings. Then she really did have lunch at that restaurant — paella and sangria. She sat by the window and watched the people passing by.
At a nearby table sat a couple — young, in love, holding hands. Valeria looked at them without envy. Once, she too had sat like that with Ruslan, believing in their shared future.
But the Ruslan she had believed in had turned out to be an illusion.
The real man simply wanted to live comfortably at someone else’s expense.
Thank God she had seen it before the wedding. Before a shared budget, before a joint mortgage, before children.
Just imagining having a child with a man who saw a woman as a source of money made her shudder.
Valeria paid the bill and stepped outside. The sun was leaning toward the horizon, painting the sky pink and orange. She walked to the waterfront and sat on a bench by the sea.
The waves rolled onto the shore, foamed, and retreated. Again and again. Rhythmic. Calming.
Valeria closed her eyes and listened to the sound of the surf.
Her phone vibrated again. An unknown Moscow number. She frowned and answered.
“Hello?”
“Lera? It’s Arthur. Ruslan’s friend.”
“What do you want?”
“Listen, I understand you don’t want to talk. But… Ruslan asked me to tell you something. He wants to return the money. All three hundred thousand.”
Valeria smirked.
“Return it? Where did he get that kind of money?”
“His parents lent it to him. He said he wants to live with a clear conscience.”
“So he found a conscience. Interesting.”
“Lera, he really regrets it. He says he was an idiot.”
“He was. Tell Ruslan to leave me alone.”
“But…”
“Arthur, I don’t want anything from him. Not money, not apologies, not communication. It’s over. Forever.”
“All right. I’ll tell him.”
Valeria hung up and put the phone back in her bag.
Money.
Ruslan still thought it was about money.
He didn’t understand that it was about trust, respect, and equality.
Three hundred thousand could be earned again.
But years of life with the wrong person could never be returned.
She got up from the bench and walked along the promenade. People passed her — couples, families with children, solo travelers. Valeria smiled at strangers, feeling light.
Ahead was an entire life.
Without manipulation.
Without a man who saw his partner as a cash cow.
With the possibility of meeting someone who would stand beside her as an equal.
And for now — the sea, the sunset, freedom.
And the knowledge that she had seen her fiancé’s true face in time.
Before it was too late.
Valeria reached the end of the promenade and turned back. The sun had set beyond the horizon, and the streetlights came on. The city began to glow with evening lights.
There was still another week of travel ahead.
Alone.
Free.
Happy.
And it was better than any wedding.
