Hermann was lying on the living-room sofa, wrapped in a blanket. For the third day his temperature had stayed above thirty-eight, and the doctor had strictly forbidden him to go to work. He worked as a sales manager in elite real estate and was proud of his achievements—over the past year he had closed several major deals that allowed the family to move into a new apartment in a prestigious neighborhood.
Alexandra had left for work that morning—she ran a small advertising agency. Usually she got back after seven in the evening, but today an important client meeting was canceled, and she decided to come home early to cook something tasty for her sick husband.
The front door opened silently. Alexandra deliberately tried not to make a sound—what if Hermann was asleep? In the entryway she took off her shoes and, on tiptoe, headed toward the living room, but stopped when she heard her husband’s voice. He was talking on the phone.
“OF COURSE, Mom, I understand everything,” his voice sounded completely healthy, without the slightest hint of a cold. “Yeah, Sasha’s at work, we can talk спокойно.”
Alexandra froze. “Sashka”? He had NEVER called her that. And why did he sound so energetic?
“You know, Mom, I’m already tired of this whole performance,” Hermann went on. “It’s been three years since we got married—so what? Her agency is barely making ends meet, and she just keeps pouring money into it and pouring money into it. I thought she’d turn out to be smarter.”
Alexandra leaned against the wall. Her heart started pounding faster.
“NO, Mom, you don’t understand!” Hermann’s voice grew louder. “I married her because I thought—promising girl, ambitious, she’d make money. And what does she do? She buries everything in that agency of hers! Profit—zero! Nothing but expenses!”
A pause. Apparently Emilia Arkadyevna, his mother, was saying something.
“What difference does it make—love-schmuv!” Hermann snapped irritably. “I’m thirty-five, Mom! It’s time to live normally! Look at Maxim, my buddy—he married the daughter of a construction company owner and now he’s a deputy director there. And me? Still the same old sales manager!”
Alexandra slowly slid down the wall and sat прямо on the hallway floor.
“Listen, Mom, let’s be honest,” Hermann’s voice turned businesslike. “I’ve got someone in mind… Her name’s Zlata. Twenty-six. Her dad owns a chain of fitness clubs. She’s already hinted she likes me. If I start something with her…”
“WAIT—don’t interrupt!” he raised his voice. “I’ve thought it all through. I’ll divorce Sasha quietly. I’ll say I fell out of love, that we’re different people, all that. The apartment is in my name—I made the down payment from my savings. I’ll leave her some small amount so she doesn’t make a scene. And I’m free!”
Alexandra clapped a hand over her mouth so she wouldn’t scream. The apartment… Yes, Hermann had put down the first payment, but she had been paying the rest! All her bonuses, all the agency’s profit!
“Mom, will you stop with ‘it’s wrong, it’s wrong’!” Hermann continued. “What’s good about this? Sasha’s always at work, doesn’t want kids yet—says it’s too early. She cooks every other time, feeds me nothing but convenience food. Zlata—that’s different! A домашняя girl, well brought up. And her dad’s a gold mine!”
“I’m not even sick, Mom!” Hermann suddenly laughed. “I just needed time to think everything through спокойно. I said I had a fever, so I’m sitting at home. Tomorrow I’m meeting Zlata, I’ll take her to a restaurant. By the way, I’ll need money—Sasha hides all hers, says it’s for business development. IDIOT! What development, if she’s got like two clients!”
Alexandra stood up. Tears filled her eyes, but inside her a wave of cold determination rose. Quietly she walked to the living-room door and pushed it open.
Hermann was lying on the sofa, but at the sight of his wife he резко sat up, dropping his phone.
“Sasha! You… you’re early…”
“Go on,” Alexandra walked into the room and sat in the armchair opposite him. “Don’t be shy. The part about the idiot was especially interesting.”
Hermann went pale.
“It’s not what you—”
“SHUT UP,” Alexandra cut him off. “Just shut up. I heard everything. EVERYTHING.”
“Sasha, sweetheart, let’s talk…”
“About what? About you pretending for three years? About marrying me for money? Or about the fact you’ve already found my replacement?”
Hermann got up from the sofa, trying to look indignant.
“You were eavesdropping! How could you!”
“I came home to my sick husband,” Alexandra said calmly, though her hands were trembling. “I wanted to make soup, take care of you. And I heard the truth.”
“Sasha, it’s not how you think…”
“How is it not, Hermann? You laid it all out clearly for your mother. Divorce, the apartment for you, a new wife with a rich dad. Great plan!”
Hermann stepped closer, tried to take her hand.
“GET AWAY!” Alexandra jumped up from the chair. “Don’t touch me!”
“This is my home!” Hermann suddenly snapped. “I paid the down payment!”
“Your home?” Alexandra gave a bitter little laugh. “Fine. Then I’m leaving.”
She headed for the exit, but stopped in the doorway.
“You know what, Hermann? Thank you. For showing your true face. For saving me from living with you for another ten years in illusions.”
“Where are you going?” Hermann shouted after her. “Running to your mommy to complain?”
“And weren’t you the one calling your mommy? Besides, it’s none of your business,” Alexandra said, pulling on her shoes. “And by the way—about my ‘unprofitable’ agency… Yesterday I signed a contract with an international corporation for an advertising campaign. One and a half million dollars. But you won’t be hearing about that anymore.”
She left, slamming the door.
Hermann stayed standing in the entryway. Then he бросился to the window—Alexandra was getting into her car. He grabbed his phone and dialed her number—long rings.
The next call was to his mother.
“Mom, we’ve got a problem. Sasha heard everything… No, don’t scream! What do I do now?”
The next day Hermann called Alexandra’s office. The secretary, Inessa, told him that Alexandra Pavlovna had flown to Milan on a week-long business trip.
“To Milan?” Hermann blurted out. “Why?”
“Company business,” Inessa answered dryly and hung up.
Hermann dialed Zlata.
“Hi, beautiful! How about dinner tonight?”
“Oh, Gera, sorry, I can’t,” Zlata chirped. “Dad found out yesterday that you’re married. He said I shouldn’t talk to you. He’s принципиальный like that. Bye!”
Short beeps.
Furious, Hermann threw the phone onto the sofa. How did her father find out? From where?
That evening his mother called.
“Hermann, what have you done!” Emilia Arkadyevna screamed into the phone. “Valentina—Alexandra’s mother—just called! She knows everything! She said you’re a scoundrel and a freeloader! A dowry hunter! I’m ashamed to even leave the house now!”
“Mom, calm down…”
“How can I calm down! Valentina has already told all her friends! Everyone in our building is giving me looks! Mironova from the third floor said she’s not surprised—like father, like son!”
“What does that mean?”
“It means everyone remembers how your father left us for a rich widow! History is repeating itself!”
Hermann hung up. His father… Yes, his father really had left when Hermann was fifteen—for the owner of a jewelry store. His mother hadn’t been able to recover for a long time.
A week passed. Alexandra didn’t come back. She didn’t answer calls. Hermann was already starting to worry—what if something happened?
On the eighth day someone rang the doorbell. A courier stood on the threshold with a packet of documents.
“Sign here, please.”
Hermann signed and tore open the packet. A divorce petition. And another document—a lawsuit for division of property.
“What the hell is this?!” Hermann dialed his lawyer friend Boris. “Borya, listen, this is serious…”
“Gera, hi! Listen, I’ll call you back, it’s not a good time…”
“Wait! I need advice urgently! My wife filed for divorce and division of property!”
“Ah… well… Go to another lawyer. I can’t.”
“Why?”
“Because I represent Alexandra Pavlovna. She’s my client now. Sorry.”
Hermann sank onto the sofa. Boris—his friend since college—was now working for Sasha?
The phone rang. An unknown number.
“Hermann Igorevich?” a male voice said. “This is Pyotr Maksimovich Kuleshov, director of Elite-Estate. I’m forced to inform you that as of tomorrow you are dismissed.”
“WHAT? For what?!”
“For systematic violations of work discipline. You were absent from work for three days without a valid reason.”
“I was sick!”
“We do not have your sick leave. The medical certificate you sent turned out to be forged. We checked—Doctor Semyonov did not see you and did not issue any certificate.”
“But—”
“The decision is final. A courier can collect your belongings. Goodbye.”
Hermann sat with the phone in his hand, unable to believe what was happening. How did they find out about the certificate? He had bought it from an acquaintance for three thousand—everything was supposed to be clean!
The next call was from the bank.
“Good afternoon, Hermann Igorevich. This is a reminder that tomorrow is the last day to make your monthly mortgage payment. Two hundred thousand rubles.”
“I… I’ll pay…”
“We also inform you that all funds have been withdrawn from the joint account opened in your name and your spouse’s. The transaction was carried out by Alexandra Pavlovna as a co-owner of the account.”
“How much was there?”
“Eight hundred fifty thousand rubles.”
Hermann dropped the phone. That money was their shared savings! How could she?
That evening he sat in the kitchen, trying to figure out what to do. No job, no money, his wife had filed for divorce… And then a message came from Alexandra:
“Hermann, here’s the phone number of a good lawyer: +7-916-XXX-XX-XX. You’ll need it. And yes, the apartment is in my name. I checked the documents—when the mortgage was оформлена, I was listed as the primary borrower because my official income was higher. You’re a co-borrower. The initial down payment of 500,000 was my money; the transfer was made from your card for convenience. I have all documents confirming the source of these funds. Good luck in court.”
Hermann read the message three times. Then he dug into the folder of documents. Alexandra was right—in the contract, she was listed as the primary borrower.
“NO!” he threw the folder on the floor. “NO! This is impossible!”
He called his mother.
“Mom, I need money. Urgently!”
“What money, Gera? My pension is fifteen thousand! You know that!”
“What about savings?”
“What savings? I gave everything to you when you bought the apartment!”
Hermann remembered—she really had given him her last two hundred thousand back then.
The following days blended into a continuous nightmare. The bank started calling three times a day. Former colleagues wouldn’t pick up. Zlata sent a message: “Don’t write to me anymore. Dad says you’re a loser.”
On the fifth day after receiving the divorce papers, Hermann sat in a café across from Alexandra’s office. He had been waiting for her for two hours. Finally she appeared—elegant, in a new suit, with a new hairstyle. Next to her walked a tall man in an expensive coat. They were talking animatedly and laughing.
Hermann bolted out of the café.
“Sasha!”
Alexandra turned. Her взгляд was cold.
“What do you want?”
“We need to talk! Please!”
“There’s nothing to talk about,” she said, turning away.
“Sasha, please! I understand everything, I was wrong! Let’s вернуть it all!”
The man beside Alexandra stepped forward.
“Alexandra Pavlovna, do you need help?”
“NO, Fyodor Arkadyevich, thank you. This is my ex-husband. Hermann, go away. We have an important meeting.”
“Sasha, listen to me!”
“Why? So I can hear again what an idiot I am for burying money in an unprofitable agency?” Alexandra smirked. “By the way, Fyodor Arkadyevich is an investor. He’s investing five million euros into my ‘unprofitable’ agency. We’re opening branches in Europe.”
Hermann stared at her, at a loss for words.
“You know, Hermann,” Alexandra continued, “I forgave you a lot. Your contempt for my work, your jokes about my plans, your refusal to help around the house… But betrayal—NO. That I can’t forgive.”
“But three years… We were happy…”
“You were happy because I gave you comfort. I paid for the apartment, bought groceries, paid for your suits and watches so you could ‘match your status.’ And me? I lived with a man who saw me only as a source of money.”
“That’s not true!”
“It IS true, Hermann. Your mother wouldn’t give you bad advice, right? You said it yourself. You married for расчет. You waited for me to start making millions. Didn’t happen—so you decided to find another one. Well, go искать. Only you’re unlikely to find one.”
She turned and walked toward the office building. Fyodor Arkadyevich—a gray-haired man around fifty—paused for a second.
“Young man,” he told Hermann, “you didn’t just lose a wife. You lost a diamond. Alexandra Pavlovna is a brilliant entrepreneur. In a couple of years her company will be worth millions. And you… you’ve been left with nothing. Deservedly.”
Hermann stood on the street, watching them disappear behind the glass doors of the business center.
Half a year passed. The divorce was finalized quickly—Alexandra didn’t demand compensation, but by court decision the apartment remained hers. Hermann moved in with his mother in her one-room flat.
He couldn’t find work in real estate—the news about the forged medical certificate had spread to every agency. He had to take a job as a manager in an electronics store for thirty thousand a month.
Zlata married the son of an oil-company owner. Hermann, of course, wasn’t invited to the wedding.
Emilia Arkadyevna couldn’t forgive her son the shame.
“Because of you I can’t show my face in public!” she wailed. “Everyone points! ‘There goes the mother of a gigolo!’”
“Mom, ENOUGH!”
“Not enough! Alexandra was the best thing that ever happened to you! And you ruined it! Just like your father!”
Hermann stayed silent. There was nothing to argue about.
One evening, coming home from work, he saw an interview on TV. Alexandra was talking about her agency, about expansion plans, about new contracts. She was glowing.
“I’m grateful to fate for all the испытания,” she said. “They made me stronger. Now I know I can achieve anything on my own, without anyone’s support.”
“And what about your personal life?” the host asked. “Planning to remarry?”
“You know, I’m very cautious now,” Alexandra smiled. “I already made one mistake. I married someone who saw me only as a wallet. I won’t make that mistake again. If I meet someone who loves me, not my money—maybe. But for now I’m happy on my own. I have work I love, a great team, big plans. Isn’t that happiness?”
Hermann turned off the TV. The tiny kitchen in his mother’s apartment was stuffy. Outside, the road шумела—the windows faced the avenue.
He remembered their apartment with Alexandra—spacious, bright, overlooking the park. Remembered how happy she was when they moved in. How she chose the curtains, arranged the furniture…
“Idiot,” he said to himself. “A complete idiot.”
His phone vibrated. An SMS from an unknown number: “Hermann Igorevich, congratulations! You’ve won a million! To claim your prize, follow the link…”
He gave a bitter smile and deleted the message. Even scammers were mocking him.
Behind the wall his mother was watching a soap opera. The hero told the heroine, “I realized money isn’t the главное. The main thing is love!”
“That’s right!” his mother shouted. “And you, son, didn’t understand! That’s why you ended up with nothing!”
Hermann closed his eyes. His mother was right. Completely right. He traded the real thing for a phantom. A loving wife—for a dream of a rich bride. The result was закономерен.
The phone rang. Boris.
“Gera, hi. Listen, it turned out awkward back then… Maybe we meet up, talk?”
“Talk about what, Borya?”
“What do you mean what? We were friends…”
“Were,” Hermann agreed. “But now you’re a successful lawyer at a big company, and I’m selling TVs. What’s there to talk about?”
“Don’t be so dramatic. By the way, Alexandra Pavlovna is looking for managers for the European office. Maybe send your résumé?”
“Are you messing with me?”
“No, I’m serious. She doesn’t hold grudges. Business is business. If the specialist is good—she’ll hire him.”
“Thanks, I’ll pass.”
Hermann hung up. Work for his ex-wife? NO WAY! Though… the salaries there were probably good. And career growth…
No. Pride wouldn’t allow it.
A year later Hermann was still working at the electronics store. Alexandra had opened offices in Paris, London, and Berlin.
On Hermann’s birthday—he turned thirty-seven—he received a card. No signature, but he recognized Alexandra’s handwriting: “Hermann, I wish you find what truly matters. And learn to ценить it.”
He stared at the card for a long time. Then he hid it in a desk drawer.
That evening his mother called.
“Gera, I’ve been thinking… Maybe you should apologize to Alexandra? Maybe she’ll forgive you?”
“Mom, she’s living a different life now. Forget it.”
“But try! What’s it cost you?”
“My dignity, Mom. The last thing I have left.”
“Dignity!” Emilia Arkadyevna snorted. “What dignity? You betrayed a loving wife, ended up with nothing, and now you talk about dignity?”
Hermann didn’t answer. His mother, as always, was right.
That night he couldn’t sleep. He remembered how he and Alexandra met. A corporate event at a hotel—she was the client’s representative, he was a sales manager. She talked about her plans to create the best advertising agency in the country, her eyes shining… And he had thought then: “Energetic, smart, перспективная. Exactly what I need.”
Only he was wrong about the most important thing. He decided he could use her energy and intelligence for his own goals. But she turned out stronger. Smarter. And in the end—more successful.
Hermann had long stopped making plans—every day was like the previous one: work, home, sleep. When, at a company party, a cute salesgirl from a neighboring department tried to talk to him, he hurried away—fear of rejection and loneliness paralyzed him more than the pain of the past. Meanwhile Alexandra was opening her third European office, appearing on the covers of business magazines and giving interviews about the secrets of success—work had become her calling, her passion, and the source of genuine happiness that depended on no one