Rodion stood by the window of the cardiology ward, watching the nurses hurry down the corridor. His wife, Zlata, lay in the room—third day after heart surgery. The doctors said everything had gone well, but recovery would take at least a month.
“Rodya, are you listening to me?”—his mother-in-law, Evelina Markovna, tugged at his sleeve. “I’m saying the vouchers are already paid for. Two weeks in Sochi, five-star hotel. Zlata will be lying here anyway, and the money will go to waste.”
Rodion turned. His mother-in-law stood there in her favorite turquoise suit, hair perfectly styled. There was a sparkle in her eyes—the same one that appeared whenever she was hatching something behind her daughter’s back.
“Evelina Markovna, but what about Zlata? She’ll be here alone…”
“What could happen to her? The doctors will keep an eye on her, the nurses too. I already spoke with the department head, Timofey Igorevich. He said the first two weeks are the calmest—just recovery. And we’ll come back tanned and rested, and Zlatochka will be pleased.”
Rodion glanced at his wife. Zlata was asleep—or pretending. After the operation she was weak and very quiet. Yesterday she’d asked only for some water and to put on a TV channel with soap operas.
“I don’t know, it somehow feels wrong…”
“Rodion, don’t be a pushover!”—his mother-in-law lowered her voice. “You can see how she’s been lately. Always dissatisfied, nitpicking over trifles. And before the surgery? Remember the scenes she made? Maybe it’s even for the best—we’ll take a break from each other.”
“Mom, what are you whispering about?”—Zlata opened her eyes and looked at them. Something strange flickered in her gaze, then vanished.
“Oh, just discussing your treatment, dear,”—Evelina Markovna replied quickly. “How are you feeling?”
“Fine. Rodion, hand me my phone, please.”
He passed her the smartphone, and Zlata buried herself in the screen. Evelina Markovna gave her son-in-law a meaningful look and nodded toward the corridor.
Out in the corridor she resumed her offensive:
“Rodja, think about it yourself. When will we ever have such a chance again? I’m not getting any younger, and you work yourself to the bone. Zlata will recover; she won’t even notice we were gone for a couple of weeks. We’ll say we went on a business trip.”
“Lie to her?”
“Not lie—just not upset her unnecessarily. You know how suspicious she’s become since her heart problems started. She’s always winding herself up, thinks everyone’s against her. Let her recover in peace.”
Rodion thought it over. The last year really had been hard. Zlata often snapped, accused him of neglect, and accused his mother of meddling in their life. Though, in his view, Evelina Markovna only wanted to help—with the renovation, with buying the car, with choosing the clinic for the operation.
“All right,” he said at last. “But we have to call her every day to check on her health.”
“Of course, my boy!”—Evelina Markovna beamed. “We’ll video call so she can see we’re at home. We’ll just change the background.”
“Change the background? You want to trick her on a video call?”
“Rodion, it’s for her own good! Imagine how upset she’ll get if she finds out we’re at the seaside. And the doctor said she absolutely mustn’t get nervous.”
At that moment a nurse stepped out of the room.
“May I see Zlata Aleksandrovna?” she asked. “Her friend has arrived—Varvara.”
“Yes, of course,” Rodion nodded.
Varvara walked past them, nodded to Evelina Markovna, and disappeared into the room. His mother-in-law grimaced:
“I can’t stand that Varka. She’s always turning Zlata against me.”
“Evelina Markovna, they’ve been friends since childhood.”
“So what? I’m her mother! But Zlatka listens to that… that Varvara more than to me.”
Rodion sighed. That conflict had dragged on for years—his mother-in-law was jealous of her daughter’s friend and thought she was a bad influence.
“All right, I need to get to work,” he said. “Will you stay with Zlata?”
“No, I’ll go too. With Varvara there, they’ll have plenty to chat about without me. I’ll drop by tomorrow morning. And you think about the trip, Rodja. I’ve already bought the tickets—for the day after tomorrow.”
“What? You already bought the tickets?”
“Why wait? The sooner we fly out, the calmer it’ll be. The first week she’ll still be getting over the anesthesia, sleeping a lot. She won’t even notice.”
Evelina Markovna turned and headed for the exit, heels clacking on the hospital linoleum. Rodion stood a moment longer, collecting his thoughts, then peeked into the room. Zlata and Varvara were talking quietly. When they saw him, they fell silent.
“I’m off to work,” he said. “I’ll come by this evening.”
“All right,” Zlata nodded. “Don’t stay late.”
As he left the hospital, Rodion didn’t notice Varvara take out her phone and start typing quickly.
The next morning Zlata awoke to the chime of a message. Varvara had sent a screenshot of a social-media chat—Evelina Markovna bragging to her girlfriends about the upcoming trip to Sochi “with my beloved son-in-law.”
“At last we’ll get a break from the bore,” the mother-in-law wrote. “Rodion agreed right away, didn’t even hesitate. You can tell he’s tired of her tantrums too.”
Zlata slowly set the phone down on the nightstand. Her chest—where they had just operated—began to ache, not from physical pain, but from hurt. Betrayal by the closest people burned hotter than any scalpel.
“So that’s how it is,” she whispered. “You want a break from the bore? You’ll get one.”
She picked up the phone and dialed her cousin Arseny—a talented programmer and, on the side, a hacker.
“Arsyusha, hi. I need your help. Yes, I’m in the hospital, but that doesn’t matter. Listen carefully…”
The morning of the flight was a scramble. Rodion dashed around the apartment, packing a suitcase. Evelina Markovna called every five minutes:
“Rodja, you didn’t forget your swim trunks? And sunscreen? And a sunhat?”
“I’ve got everything, Evelina Markovna.”
“Excellent! We meet at the airport two hours before departure. And don’t you dare change your mind!”
He hung up and looked at a photo of Zlata on the dresser. She was smiling—it had been taken two years ago, before all their problems.
“Forgive me,” he thought. “But your mother’s right—we all need a breather.”
He stopped by the hospital briefly—said he was going on a business trip to Novosibirsk. Zlata nodded without even lifting her eyes from her phone.
“Good luck,” she said. “Call if you have time.”
“I will.”
He kissed her forehead and left. If he had turned around, he would have seen the strange smile on his wife’s lips.
At the airport, Evelina Markovna gleamed like a polished samovar. She wore a light summer dress, a straw hat, and enormous sunglasses.
“Rodja! Finally! I thought you’d changed your mind.”
“No, just got stuck in traffic.”
They checked in and dropped their bags. In the waiting area, Evelina Markovna took out her phone:
“We need to call Zlata and say that we’re… I mean, that I’m at home making her broth.”
“Maybe don’t? She’s probably resting.”
“No, no, we must! Otherwise she’ll suspect something.”
She started a video call to her daughter. Zlata picked up almost immediately.
“Mom? Did something happen?”
“No, sweetie, I just wanted to see how you are. I’m at home making broth. I’ll bring it by this evening.”
“Thanks, Mom. Where’s Rodion?”
“At work, I suppose. Why?”
“Oh, just asking. Mom, what’s that noise? It sounds like announcements…”
Startled, Evelina Markovna switched off the camera:
“Oh, bad connection! I’ll call you back later!”
She hung up and exhaled:
“Phew, we almost got caught. We’ll have to be more careful.”
Rodion nodded, though guilt twisted inside him. But it was too late to back out—boarding had already been announced.
The hotel in Sochi turned out to be luxurious—right on the seashore, with its own beach and several pools. Evelina Markovna immediately set off to explore the spa center, while Rodion went up to the room.
He had barely unpacked when the phone rang. An unfamiliar number.
“Hello?”
“Rodion Sergeyevich?”—a man’s voice sounded official. “This is Kirill Antonov, attorney for your wife, Zlata Aleksandrovna.”
“An attorney? What attorney? Zlata doesn’t have an attorney.”
“She does now. I’m calling to inform you that Zlata Aleksandrovna has filed for divorce. The documents will be sent to you by email. I also inform you that she is seeking division of property, including the apartment registered to both of you.”
Rodion sat down on the bed. His head buzzed.
“This must be a mistake… Zlata is in the hospital, she couldn’t have…”
“She could, and she has. All documents have been properly executed. I must also inform you that Zlata Aleksandrovna has revoked the power of attorney for management of your joint business—the ‘Blesk’ chain of dry cleaners. As of today you are removed from management.”
“But… but that’s our family business! I invested all my money in it!”
“According to the documents, 51% belongs to Zlata Aleksandrovna, since the initial capital came from her inheritance from her grandmother. She has the right to make unilateral decisions. Good day.”
The lawyer hung up. Rodion stared dumbly at the phone, unable to believe what was happening. A bank notification arrived immediately—the joint account had been frozen at the request of the second owner.
He dialed Zlata’s number. Long rings, then her calm voice:
“Yes, Rodion?”
“Zlata, what’s going on? What divorce? What lawyer?”
“Oh, you know already. Good. I figured, since you’re in Novosibirsk, it’s the perfect time to start the divorce proceedings. So we don’t get in each other’s way.”
“I’m not in Novosibirsk…”
“I know. You’re in Sochi. At the Imperial Hotel, room 412. With my mother in the next room. By the way, tell her I canceled all her cards that were linked to my accounts. And one more thing—the apartment she rents out in Moscow, I’m selling it. It’s my apartment, inherited from my grandmother; I merely allowed her to use the income. I no longer allow it.”
“Zlata, listen…”
“No, you listen. You two decided to take a break from the bore? Enjoy. Just note—your return tickets have been canceled. I blocked your credit card—it’s linked to our joint account, and I revoked your authorization. Mom’s too. So enjoy your vacation. With cash.”
“Zlata, this is madness! You can’t do this!”
“I can, and I am. By the way, Rodion, remember Alevtina from the tax office? My friend from university? She told me interesting things about your ‘gray’ schemes at the dry cleaners. I haven’t reported anything yet, but if you resist the divorce…”
Rodion turned pale. The gray schemes were real—he’d been skimming part of the revenue off the books to pay less tax. If that came out, he could face criminal charges.
“Zlata, why are you doing this?”
“Because I’m tired. Tired of your lies, of my opinion never counting. Mom decides where we vacation, which furniture we buy, where I get treated. You nod along and follow her lead. And me? I’m just the bore you need a break from.”
A scream sounded in the corridor. The door burst open—disheveled Evelina Markovna flew in:
“Rodion! My card’s been blocked! I can’t pay for the spa! What’s going on?!”
“Has Mom arrived?”—Zlata asked. “Put it on speaker.”
Rodion tapped the button.
“Hi, Mom,”—Zlata’s voice was icy-calm. “How’s the vacation?”
“Zlata! What have you done?! Why isn’t my card working?!”
“Because it was my card; I just let you use it. I no longer do. And I’m selling my Moscow apartment—the buyer is already lined up, Arseny will handle the paperwork.”
“You have no right! I’m your mother!”
“So what? Does that give you the right to lie to me? To betray me? To call me a bore behind my back to your friends?”
Evelina Markovna faltered:
“How do you even…”
“Doesn’t matter how. What matters is that now you’re both free of the bore. Enjoy your holiday. Just note—you have exactly as much money as you’re carrying in cash. I blocked all the cards. The hotel is paid for only three days; you’ll have to extend the booking at your own expense.”
“Zlata, come to your senses!”—Evelina Markovna cried. “You’re ill, you mustn’t get upset!”
“I’m not upset. I’m perfectly calm. By the way, I’ve already been discharged. Early, for a lot of money. The very money that used to be in our accounts. They’re in my personal accounts now. And another thing—Mom, remember your friend Nina Pavlovna? The one you lent three hundred thousand to against a promissory note? I found that note and handed it to collectors. They bought the debt at a discount and will be collecting from Nina Pavlovna. She happens to be in Sochi too. In the hotel next door. I think she’ll be dropping by for a heart-to-heart soon.”
“You’re a monster!”—Evelina Markovna clutched at her heart. “After everything I’ve done for you!”
“What exactly have you done? Controlled my every step? Turned my husband against me? Called me hysterical and a bore behind my back?”
“I only wanted what was best!”
“No, you wanted what was convenient for you. But you know what? I’m even grateful. This trip opened my eyes. I realized I can live without you. And I will.”
Rodion tried to take control:
“Zlata, let’s talk calmly. We’ll come back…”
“With what money will you come back? Mom, how much cash do you have?”
His mother-in-law sniffled:
“Only five thousand…”
“And you, Rodion?”
“About ten thousand…”
“Fifteen thousand for two people in Sochi in peak season. Good luck. You can get jobs as beach entertainers—Mom’s well preserved for her age; the tourists will appreciate it.”
“Zlata, stop mocking us!”
“I’m not mocking you. I’m freeing you from a burden. By the way, Rodion, your boss already knows you’re in Sochi, not Novosibirsk. I sent him screenshots—your selfies on the plane that you posted in your stories. He was very surprised, considering you took sick leave to care for your wife.”
Rodion dropped the phone. His boss, Viktor Stepanovich, couldn’t stand lying. For that, he could be fired for cause.
“And one last thing,” Zlata went on. “Rodion, your mistress, Karina from the neighboring department, also received our photos from Sochi. Or rather, your photos with my mother. I wrote that you two are vacationing as a couple. She believed it—after all, the age difference between you and Mom isn’t that big, only fifteen years. Karina promised to come sort things out. She’s on vacation right now.”
“What mistress?!”—Evelina Markovna screeched. “Rodion, what is she talking about?!”
Rodion was silent. The affair with Karina had been going on for half a year; he thought Zlata knew nothing.
“Oh, Mom didn’t know yet?”—Zlata asked with a sneer. “Rodion, tell Mom about Karina. Twenty-three, blonde, part-time fitness trainer. Dreams of marrying a promising man. Now she thinks you dumped her for my mother. I can only imagine that conversation.”
His mother-in-law stared at her son-in-law as if seeing him for the first time:
“Is it true? You have a mistress?”
“Evelina Markovna, I…”
“Don’t you dare touch me!”—she recoiled. “Scoundrel! My daughter’s in the hospital and you…”
“Mom, spare us the righteous fury,”—Zlata cut in. “You yourself said I was a bore and a hysteric. That Rodion needed a break from me. Well, he took one. With Karina.”
Someone knocked at the door. More like pounded.
“Rodion!”—a woman’s voice outside rang with fury. “Open up, you bastard! I know you’re in there!”
“Is that Karina?”—Zlata asked. “She got there quickly. Rodion, open the door—don’t be a coward.”
“I’ll call security!”—Evelina Markovna lunged for the room phone.
“I warned hotel security that a young woman would be coming to sort out family matters,”—Zlata informed them. “Told them you’d kidnapped her fiancé. They won’t interfere.”
The door shuddered from a blow:
“Rodion! I know everything! You traded me for this old rat?!”
“Old rat?!”—Evelina Markovna turned purple. “Why, you little—”
She yanked open the door. A young blonde in a tight dress burst into the room and immediately whacked Rodion with her handbag:
“You bastard! You said you loved me! That you’d get a divorce! And here you are with this old hag!”
“I am not an old hag!”—Evelina Markovna grabbed a fistful of Karina’s hair.
A scuffle broke out. Rodion tried to separate them and caught blows from both sides. Zlata’s laughter crackled through the phone.
“Having fun?” she asked. “By the way, I’m recording everything. Perfect footage for the divorce.”
“Zlata, stop it!”—Rodion shouted, dodging Karina’s handbag.
“Just one more minute. Mom, Karina is pregnant. By Rodion. Third month. She told me herself when I called her.”
Evelina Markovna froze:
“What?”
Karina stopped too, panting:
“Yes! Pregnant! And he promised to marry me!”
“Rodion,” his mother-in-law hissed. “Is this true?”
Rodion slid down the wall to the floor. Everything was collapsing—his job, his family, the business, his reputation.
“All right, I won’t interfere with your sorting things out,”—Zlata said. “Enjoy your vacation. And yes—Mom, Nina Pavlovna is already in the hotel lobby. She’s on her way up. With the collectors.”
She hung up. That very second the pounding on the door resumed:
“Evelina! Open up, you snake! You sold my debt! To collectors!”
“Rodion, do something!”—howled Evelina Markovna.
But Rodion sat on the floor staring at nothing. His phone was exploding with calls—his boss, colleagues, friends. Apparently, Zlata had blasted the news to everyone.
Karina sat down on the bed and burst into tears:
“I thought you loved me… And you’re just a liar!”
“What love!”—Evelina Markovna threw up her hands. “He’s married to my daughter!”
“He was married,” Karina corrected. “Zlata said she filed for divorce.”
The door was no longer being knocked on—it was being forced. The voices outside were getting more aggressive.
“We need to call the police,” Rodion muttered.
“With what?”—his mother-in-law showed her phone. “I just got a roaming bill—five thousand! The carrier says if I don’t pay within an hour, they’ll cut me off!”
“That’s Zlata,” Rodion realized. “She did something to our plans.”
The door splintered. Another blow—and it flew open. A heavyset woman in a bright sundress and two men burst into the room.
In the wrecked hotel room, three defeated people sat. Karina was the first to gather her things; as a parting shot she flung at Rodion:
“I’ll be filing for child support tomorrow. A child needs a father—even a useless one.”
She slammed the door, leaving behind only a trail of cheap perfume.
Evelina Markovna sat on the edge of the bed, staring at her shattered phone. Nina Pavlovna and the collectors had taken everything of value—watches, jewelry, even the expensive handbag.
“Happy now?” she asked without raising her head. “I hoped to spend my old age in peace, and now… A curse on both of you. And on me, for agreeing to this trip.”
Rodion silently sifted through the remains of documents scattered across the floor. The business was lost, his job gone, his wife had filed for divorce, the mistress was demanding child support. He had three thousand rubles left in his pocket.
“How are we going to get home now?” he muttered.
“I don’t care,” his mother-in-law turned to the wall. “Let my daughter rejoice. This is what she wanted.”
Meanwhile, in the Moscow apartment
Zlata took a lasagna out of the oven and plated it. Varvara was setting the table in the living room.
“Do you think they’ve realized yet?” her friend asked.
“I think so,” Zlata sat down opposite. “Arseny did an excellent job—he switched all the accounts to my personal numbers even before the operation. And Kirill from the law firm turned out to be very convincing.”
“And how do you feel?”
Zlata thought for a moment, taking a bite of lasagna:
“Light. For the first time in years, truly light. You know, Varya, they’re right about one thing—we are really incompatible. I just realized it before they did.”
Outside, the evening lights of Moscow were coming on. Her phone lay on the side table, switched off. Tomorrow a new life would begin—without lies, without betrayal, without people who considered her a burden.
“To freedom,” Varvara raised her glass.
“To freedom,” Zlata agreed.