Nastya placed a plane ticket in front of her husband.
“What’s this?” Boris asked in surprise.
“I’m flying out tomorrow. Departure at 8 a.m. You’ll drive me to the airport.”
“Wait… Is this a business-class ticket? You bought an insanely expensive ticket… How dare you! Where did you get the money?!”
“I asked your secretary to buy me a ticket.”
“Arina didn’t tell me! I… I’ll fire her!” Boris flushed crimson. He had no intention of throwing that kind of money down the drain.
He himself flew economy to save money. But not this time. His wife and his secretary had conspired behind his back, which meant both had to be punished for their actions. Boris still didn’t know why his wife was flying out… and these expenses definitely weren’t part of his plans.
A few weeks earlier
“You have to wear this dress. Actually… no. It’ll make you look heavier.” With the air of a connoisseur of women’s fashion, Boris dug into his wife’s wardrobe. “Here, try this on.”
“I don’t like it,” Nastya objected.
“Like it, don’t like it…”
“No. I’ll decide what to wear.”
“Don’t you get it?! I haven’t seen Nikolai in 10 years! In that time we’ve both achieved things. I can’t show him a wife who looks her age! Then I’ll look like a shriveled old mushroom next to you. You need to do something about yourself.”
“Excuse me?” Nastya widened her eyes, fixing her husband with a stern look.
“I’m just asking you to be beautiful…” he dialed it back, “you know—makeup, a more modern dress, maybe some shapewear, a corset… Maybe a few beauty injections, rejuvenating stuff… Details matter at an important meeting. You understand?”
“Uh-huh. I understand,” Nastya answered dryly. This “important” meeting was nothing more than a bout of bragging between long-time “buddies” and business rivals.
Anastasia could have taken offense and thrown a scene, but she was wise—twenty years of marriage had taught her a thing or two.
In principle, Boris suited her—if not for the constant talk about age. They say: when gray shows in the beard, the devil gets in the ribs. And while Nastya, as a beautiful woman, very much disliked the idea of aging, Boris seemed obsessed with it and did everything he could to dodge anything related to age. He wanted to be forever young—or at least to look as if he were. But desire was all Boris had; he didn’t have the willpower for anything else. He didn’t go to the gym, didn’t get any rejuvenating treatments, didn’t live a healthy lifestyle. Yet with every year he piled on new demands for his wife. And when it came to “presenting” wives, Boris’s sense of tact evaporated entirely.
After thinking it over, Anastasia decided she wouldn’t throw a tantrum—she’d simply do as her husband said.
“I’ll buy a new dress. And get professional makeup done. I’ll try to match you,” she replied, hiding the irony in her voice.
“Excellent. I knew you were a smart woman.”
The “smart woman” kept her word.
She put on a corseted dress that was horribly uncomfortable, got ultra-expensive lifting makeup, splurged on a fancy salon… and went to the meeting.
Nastya sat in the restaurant like a statuette: she could barely breathe, enduring certain inconveniences because of the dress. Naturally, she ate almost nothing. She smiled silently, listened to Boris brag about deals, chimed in to flatter Nikolai, while he wolfed down a steak without the slightest thought for how his wife felt at that moment. His gaze kept darting between Kolya and his wife, Svetlana—the very same “well-groomed, young beauty.”
Svetlana, by the way, turned out not just young, but downright youthful. A picture-perfect model. Even if Nastya injected every product in the world, at forty-seven she could never look like that. And Sveta looked younger than Nastya and Boris’s daughter.
“How long have you been married?” Nastya asked Nikolai and Svetlana.
“Six months,” Nikolai replied with a satisfied smile. “We didn’t have a wedding—happiness loves silence.”
“And…”
“With Sveta I feel like I’ve breathed fresh air. She inspires me; I feel young, alive, energetic,” Nikolai boasted.
Boris had nothing to say to that.
“Fresh air is indeed very important. The main thing is to calculate the dosage and not catch a chill,” Nastya smiled politely.
Boris kicked her under the table, blushing at her words, but Nastya didn’t care.
Her words reached Nikolai, and he quickly changed the subject.
On the way home, Nastya was silent. Only once at home, when she finally freed herself from the treacherous corset, did she sit and breathe for a long time, as if released from a cage.
Boris paced around her the whole time. He was gearing up for a talk, convinced his wife had behaved badly. And in general… next to little Svetočka, Nastya looked far too old.
“Listen, Nastya… I’m willing to overlook your behavior today, but you have to know this: aesthetics are important to men—me included. I want my wife to look young, beautiful, and to fit modern beauty standards.”
“You want a wife like Kolya’s?” Nastya asked. “An 18-year-old girl who’s already had implants put in every possible place and pumped her face full of filler like a balloon?”
“Well… I just want you to look better. To be, you know… more modern. Maybe you should think about implants too?!”
“What for? I’ve never been a ‘board’!” Nastya shot back, glancing at her C-cup.
“Size isn’t the point! With age, everything on you has sagged! It hangs like a cocker spaniel’s ears. But you can tighten everything. And freshen up your face. I’d even say—you need to. And anyway, your hair color ages you. Young women choose light, not dark shades…” Boris blurted out. Where he got this information was anybody’s guess.
Nastya was silent, digesting what she’d heard. She could have yelled at her husband, called him names, pointed out that he was no Apollo himself. That he could use some lipo for his beer belly, and maybe transplant something onto that bald spot to look younger.
But she didn’t waste air. She simply said:
“Fine. I hear you.”
The next day she dyed her hair ash-blonde. Then she updated her wardrobe. She bought those very dresses men like. Yes, not too comfortable, but even the “spaniel ears” popped into place. Boris’s face spread into a satisfied grin.
“Now that’s more like it! You can do it, Nastya, when you want to.”
“Of course I can,” she agreed. “Just you wait and see…”
“Careful—you’ve already exceeded the spending limit. Time to pay for your own purchases. Why should only my money go toward your beauty?”
“Because you’re the husband with demands. I wouldn’t spend money on all this frippery. I love myself as I am. But for you, I need fancy wrapping.”
Boris fell silent. His wife had shut him up with a fair point.
Still, he kept checking Nikolai’s social page, looking for new photos of his young wife. But there wasn’t the slightest hint of a relationship with Sveta there.
Meeting again as a foursome didn’t appeal to Boris. He’d have gone to meet Kolya and his little Svetočka alone. Better yet, without Nikolai at all… Sveta was just too good and fresh. And the way she looked at him, Boris, as if she were bored with Nikolai… While Boris fantasized, Nastya wasn’t wasting time.
She found out everything she needed and asked Boris’s secretary, Arina, to book her a plane ticket. She was going to fly for a consultation with a plastic surgeon, for “rejuvenation.” She told Arina her husband knew. Without asking questions, Arina booked the ticket. And not just any ticket—one fitting for a “high-maintenance” wife: business class.
When Borya found out, he flew into a rage. That money was supposed to go not toward his wife’s “whims and fancies.” But it was too late.
“The tickets are non-refundable. And you’re the one who wanted your wife to become a young girl. Your wish will soon come true.”
“Fine, if that’s the case, go. For a consultation. No procedures. You have to agree everything with me first. I don’t want to be embarrassed because of you. And my money is already allocated.” Boris already regretted planting the idea of youth in his wife’s head. It would have been simpler and cheaper just to get himself a young girlfriend and go to events with her while Nastya sat at home, counting herself irresistible and loving herself the way she was.
Nastya left. At the clinic she underwent an exam and chose procedures. A lift, lasers, injections, skincare. And also—a private room, a buffet, rehab and massage.
She lay in a room that looked more like a hotel suite, with a sea view, and thought she’d done the right thing.
Boris called on the fifth day.
“Where the hell are you? You should’ve been back already! Every day in that hotel is costing me like a week’s vacation at a luxury resort!”
“Me? I’m getting younger. Just like you asked.”
“Are you out of your mind?! I said don’t do anything without approval!”
“And you approved everything. You’re the one who pushed me to this step. And you know what? I’m pleased. The doctor is good, experienced. I’ll look better. It’s time for you to do your part and pay the bill.”
Boris was horrified. His secretary had already received the invoice and paid it.
“Why?!” he gasped at Arina. He was tired of scolding. He’d let it slip by.
“You said you’d cover everything.”
“When?”
“When you were rushing past.”
Boris strained his memory. Arina, as always, had brought the bills at the worst moment… and he’d been watching a social media video of Svetlana at the time. She was explaining how to train glutes properly at the gym. Naturally, he hadn’t listened to Arina—he just nodded.
“This is insanity!” he texted his wife, realizing he’d been played.
“Agreed. But you went insane first,” Nastya wrote back.
“I’ll cancel the payment. You have savings—pay for it yourself. It’s your decision.”
“I’ll spend my savings on something else,” Nastya replied curtly. “I’m not a show dog. I’m a person. Since you don’t value what you have, I’ve become what you want. And you’ll pay for it. With interest.”
Nastya returned to their hometown three weeks later. Boris met her at the airport. He wanted to say something, but was too struck by the result.
“You… look amazing, though I spent way too much on it,” he mumbled, forgetting his scolding speech.
“Yes,” she nodded. “I know.”
He moved to hug her, but she stepped aside.
“No, Borya. You’re too old for me now. A woman like this isn’t for you. Find someone to match your status—an old lady with a belly and bald patches. As for me, I think I’ll get married again. To someone younger.”
“Who would want you?!” Boris gasped. He never thought his wife would act so “ugly”—use him and dump him.
“At the very least, I want me. And the rest aren’t authorities to me.”
Nastya ordered a taxi and left the terminal with her head held high.
And Boris… He watched her go and thought that women are ungrateful, money-grubbing little bugs who can only squeeze money out of their husbands.
His thoughts were confirmed—soon Sveta’s page filled with photos with a new man. And later—with another. And another… She looked lovely and sweet with all of them. Boris decided to call Nikolai.
“Yeah?”
“Hey… I just saw your wife… with someone else.”
“Oh, I dumped her. Decided I wanted a more mature woman. What am I supposed to talk about with an 18-year-old? Boring!” Nikolai lied unconvincingly.
In time, Boris learned that Sveta hadn’t been his wife at all. She was simply an e s c o r t. It turned out that for a certain fee she could accompany any man to important meetings or events. She offered the same to Boris—with a discount, for friends.
“So Nikolai didn’t bring a wife at all, just some other guy’s girl… to show off. Well, well… What a fraud! And I thought the guy had gotten lucky,” Boris shook his head, cursing himself for letting his buddy and his companion fog his brain.
In this whole situation, only Nastya came out on top. She’d managed to get rejuvenated at his expense and was at peace.
In fact, women are beautiful at any age. And as for a husband? If he doesn’t appreciate you—well then, to the garden with him!