“Do you really expect me to believe in an ‘urgent meeting’ on a Saturday night, Vadim?” Lena stood in the doorway with her arms crossed, watching her husband nervously shove a phone charger and a spare shirt into his leather briefcase.
“Lenusya, please don’t start,” Vadim said without even turning around, still rummaging through the dresser drawer. “We have a contract with the Chinese on the line. You know how it is — time zones and all that. If we don’t finalize the shipment now, the company could lose millions.
Do you want us to be left without a bonus before New Year’s?”
“The Chinese, huh?” Lena gave a dry smile, but there was more exhaustion than sarcasm in her voice. “Then why exactly do negotiations with the Chinese require you to pour half a bottle of new cologne all over yourself five minutes before leaving? Can they smell you through Zoom?”
Vadim froze for a second. His shoulders tightened, but then he quickly put on the face of an offended saint and turned toward her.
“It’s called basic hygiene, Lena. And respect for business partners. We’re meeting at a restaurant, in a private room. I need to look and smell presentable.”
“At a restaurant…” she repeated like an echo. “Right. And here I thought you said the meeting was at the office.”
“We start at the office and then go to dinner. That’s enough questioning!” he snapped, clicking the lock on his briefcase. “I’m doing this for us. For the family. By the way, I ordered a courier. They’ll bring you something. Just a little gift. Something nice, so you won’t sit here sulking.”
Lena raised an eyebrow in surprise.
Vadim hadn’t given her spontaneous gifts in at least five years. Usually, it was a tired bouquet of tulips on Women’s Day and a gift certificate to a cosmetics store for her birthday.
“What did you order?”
“A surprise,” he muttered, checking notifications on his phone. “A bath set. Your favorite shower gel or something like that. Relax tonight while I’m working. All right, I’m off.”
He pecked her on the cheek — quickly, dryly, as if he had burned himself — and hurried out into the stairwell.
Lena remained standing in the hallway, listening to his footsteps fade down the stairs.
She knew.
A woman’s intuition is a terrifying thing. It works perfectly, even when you’re begging it to be wrong.
“The Chinese.” “A meeting.” New cologne. Eyes that couldn’t stay still.
The puzzle was coming together far too easily.
But she didn’t have the strength for a scandal.
She went to the kitchen, poured herself some cold coffee, and sat by the window. Down below, near the entrance, Vadim’s figure appeared. He didn’t go to his car. Instead, he got into a Comfort Plus taxi that had just pulled up.
Lena smiled sadly.
So he wasn’t taking his own car to meet the Chinese? Or did he simply not want his car seen outside someone else’s apartment?
Two hours later, the doorbell rang.
“Delivery!” a young male voice shouted from behind the door.
Lena opened it.
A breathless courier in a yellow jacket stood on the doorstep with a huge backpack over his shoulders.
“Apartment forty-eight? Order for Vadim Nikolaevich?”
“Yes. That’s my husband.”
“Here you go. There were two packages in the order, but the app glitched or something and mixed up the addresses. I figured it out by the last name. This is the gift-wrapped one, right?”
He handed her a thick, heavy bag made of expensive designer paper with gold embossing.
Lena frowned slightly.
For a “shower gel,” the packaging looked a little too luxurious.
“Um… probably. He said it was a surprise.”
“Have a good evening!” the courier said, already running down the stairs, skipping steps as he went.
Lena closed the door and walked into the living room.
The bag pulled pleasantly at her hand.
Strange.
Vadim never spent money on fancy packaging. He usually brought things home in plastic supermarket bags.
Maybe she was being unfair to him. Maybe he really had decided to do something kind because he felt guilty about working all the time.
She sat down on the sofa and carefully untied the silk ribbon.
Inside, there was no shower gel.
No bath set either.
There was a deep blue velvet box.
Lena’s heart skipped a beat.
Could it be?
A ring? Earrings?
For their fifteenth anniversary — the one he had forgotten a month ago?
With trembling fingers, she opened the lid.
Inside, resting on a white silk cushion, was a necklace.
It was not costume jewelry. Lena was no expert, but even she understood at once: white gold and diamonds. Fine, delicate craftsmanship. At the center of it gleamed a large teardrop-shaped sapphire.
The piece cost a fortune.
Certainly more than three months of Vadim’s salary — the same salary he constantly complained about.
“My God…” she breathed.
Under the box, the edge of a card peeked out. Lena pulled it free.
A small card made of thick paper. On it, in Vadim’s familiar, sweeping handwriting, were the words:
“To my beloved, passionate Little Fish. May this stone remind you of the color of your eyes when you look at me. Waiting for tonight. Yours, V.”
Lena read the message three times.
“Little Fish.”
Not Lena.
Not his wife.
Not “Lenusya,” the name he used whenever he wanted something from her.
“Little Fish.”
Lena’s eyes were brown.
Ordinary, dark brown eyes.
A sapphire could not possibly remind anyone of their color.
The world tilted.
The sounds of the street outside disappeared. All that remained was a roaring in her ears.
So she hadn’t imagined it.
It wasn’t paranoia.
Vadim had bought a necklace.
An expensive, luxurious necklace.
For his mistress.
And for his wife — the woman he had lived with for fifteen years, who washed his shirts and saved money on tights to pay for their son’s tutors — he had ordered “shower gel.”
And that idiot courier had mixed up the packages.
Lena imagined what was happening somewhere across town at that very moment. Some “Little Fish” — probably young, blue-eyed, and long-legged — was receiving a package with a three-hundred-ruble bottle of shower gel inside.
A laugh burst out of Lena’s throat on its own.
At first it was quiet, almost like a sob. Then it grew louder, more hysterical.
She laughed while clutching a necklace worth two hundred thousand rubles — maybe even more — as tears streamed down her cheeks.
“Shower gel…” she gasped through her laughter. “A basic Wild Berry bath set, right, Vadim? So I could soak in the tub and stop asking questions?”
Then she suddenly went silent.
She stood up and walked to the mirror.
She placed the necklace against her throat.
The sapphire shone coldly, almost mockingly.
It suited her.
Damn it, it suited her perfectly.
At that moment, her phone buzzed on the table.
A text from her mother:
“Lenochka, hello. The doctor said the sanatorium voucher has gone up in price. I probably won’t be able to go this year after all. My pension won’t cover it. It’s all right, I’ll get some fresh air at the dacha.”
Lena looked at the screen.
Then at the necklace.
Something clicked inside her.
The self-pity that had first washed over her suddenly evaporated, replaced by icy, calculated rage.
She remembered how Vadim had shouted the previous week that they had no money for new winter boots for her. How he demanded an explanation for every kopeck spent at the grocery store.
“We have to save, Lenusya. Times are hard.”
Hard times, were they?
Sapphires for Little Fish?
Lena wiped away her tears.
Carefully, she placed the necklace back into the box.
Then she picked up her phone and called an old school friend who worked as an appraiser at a large pawnshop.
“Tanya, hi. Are you working today?”
“Hi, Lena. Yes, until eight. What happened? Your voice sounds strange.”
“Tanya, I urgently need to appraise and sell something. Something very expensive. With tags, with a receipt — it’s probably inside the box, under the lining. Vadim always hides things there.”
“Vadim? You’re selling his gift? Lena, is everything all right with you two?”
“Everything is wonderful, Tanya. Better than ever. I’ll be there in half an hour. Get the cash ready.”
Vadim burst into the apartment closer to midnight.
He looked as if he had been run over by a road roller. His tie was crooked, one button was missing from his shirt, and his hair was disheveled. In his hand, he clutched the very package with the cheap shower gel that had been meant for Lena.
The apartment was quiet.
Only the living room light was on.
Lena sat in an armchair, reading a book. She was wearing her nicest house robe, her hair was styled, and a faint smile rested on her lips.
Vadim froze in the hallway, breathing heavily.
The events of the evening played through his mind like a horror film.
Arriving at Veronika’s apartment — the very same “Little Fish.”
The anticipation of a passionate night.
The grand presentation of the gift bag.
Her delighted shriek…
Which one second later turned into a scream of rage when she pulled out a bottle of Chistaya Liniya nettle-scented shower gel.
“Are you mocking me?!” Veronika screamed, throwing the bottle at him. “You promised me jewelry! You said it was going to be a special night! And you show up with soap from some underground kiosk? Get out! Go back to your wife, you miserable cheapskate!”
He tried to explain.
He tried calling the delivery service, but no one answered.
Then he realized the packages had been switched.
And that was when true terror hit him.
If Veronika had the shower gel, then the necklace…
was with Lena.
And the note.
Oh God, the note.
On the way home, he rehearsed excuses.
He would say it was a joke.
Or that it was for a coworker and he was just checking the quality.
No, nonsense.
He would say it was meant for Lena, and the note…
What kind of idiocy could he invent about the note?
“Little Fish” was Lena’s pet name?
He had never called her that in his life.
He entered the room ready for a scandal, shouting, broken dishes.
“L-Lena?” His voice betrayed him.
Lena lifted her eyes from the book.
Her gaze was bright and clear.
“Oh, you’re back? How were the negotiations with the Chinese? Successful?”
Vadim swallowed.
Why wasn’t she screaming?
Maybe she hadn’t opened the package?
“Yes… difficult. Very difficult. Lena, listen… the courier came, right?”
“He did!” Lena beamed and set her book aside.
She stood and walked toward him.
“Vadik, darling, I don’t even know what to say.”
Vadim tensed, pulling his head into his shoulders.
“I… I wanted a surprise,” she continued, gently smoothing the lapel of his jacket. “But this? You outdid yourself.”
“You… liked it?” he asked cautiously, feeling cold sweat run down his back.
“Liked it? Vadim, it’s magnificent! I opened the box and nearly fainted. A sapphire! My favorite stone. You remember how I always dreamed of something like that, don’t you?”
Vadim’s legs almost gave way.
She thought it was for her.
She found the necklace.
But the note?
Had she not seen it?
Or had she somehow decided “Little Fish” was about her?
“Well… yes, of course,” he said, trying to smile, though it came out as a painful grimace. “I wanted to make you happy. You deserve it. Everything for you, my love.”
His mind raced.
Fine. To hell with Veronika.
The necklace was a pity, of course — two hundred and fifty thousand thrown away — but at least the marriage was saved. Lena was happy. There would be no scandal. He had wriggled out of it.
Phew.
“Where is it?” he asked, glancing at her neck. “Why aren’t you wearing it?”
“Oh, I tried it on,” Lena nodded. “It sits perfectly. As if it were made for me. But then I thought…”
She walked over to the table and picked up an envelope.
“You see, Vadik, you and I have always said that family comes first. That we must support each other and our loved ones.”
“Well, yes…” He had no idea where she was going with this.
“So. You know my mother has lung problems. She urgently needed a good sanatorium. But we never had the money. Your car, your loans, these ‘hard times.’ And when I saw this gift… I realized how much you love us. You won’t be upset, will you?”
Vadim felt the floor disappear beneath him.
“What… what did you do?”
“I sold it,” Lena said lightly and cheerfully. “To Tanya at the pawnshop. Of course, they took it at a discount, but the money was enough for Mother’s trip to Kislovodsk — a luxury room, full treatment course! And to pay off the loan for your last phone. And there’s still some left for us to live on.”
“You… sold… the necklace?” Vadim whispered.
Everything went dark before his eyes.
“You sold the gift?”
“Oh, don’t be angry!” Lena kissed his pale cheek. “I thought: why do I need that trinket if Mother is unwell? You taught me to be practical yourself. This was the best thing you’ve done in all our years together, Vadim. You sacrificed your secret stash for my mother’s health. I’m proud of you!”
Vadim slid down the wall onto the little hallway bench.
He could not say a word.
If he shouted that the necklace had been meant for his mistress, he was a dead man.
If he stayed silent, he was an idiot who had blown a quarter of a million rubles to send his mother-in-law to a resort.
“By the way,” Lena suddenly said, her face changing.
The smile disappeared. Her gaze turned to steel.
“What’s in that bag?”
Vadim instinctively pressed the bag of shower gel to his chest.
“It’s… it’s…”
“That’s the Wild Berry shower gel that was supposed to come to me, isn’t it?” Lena stepped closer.
Now there was coldness radiating from her.
“And the note saying ‘To my beloved Little Fish’ was inside the necklace box.”
Vadim froze.
She knew.
She had known everything from the very beginning.
“Lena, I can explain… it was a joke, a role-playing thing…”
“Shut up,” she said quietly, but very clearly. “The games are over, Vadim.”
She walked to the front door and opened it wide.
“I packed your things. Your suitcases are on the landing. Now you take your shower gel, go to your Little Fish — if she’ll still let you in with that ‘luxurious’ gift — and don’t come back here again.”
“Lena, you can’t! This is my apartment!”
“Yours?” She laughed. “Did you forget that we transferred it to our son when you were hiding from the tax authorities three years ago? I’m his guardian. So technically, you are nobody here. And now — get out.”
“But… the money… the necklace…” he babbled, backing into the hallway.
“There is no money,” Lena cut him off. “Mother flies out tomorrow morning. The tickets are non-refundable. Consider it severance pay for fifteen years of my patience.”
She pushed him out the door.
Vadim stumbled over his own suitcases, lined up neatly by the elevator.
“And one more thing, Vadim,” she said at last, holding the door handle. “As far as fish go, you’re not much of one. You’re more like a little crucian carp. Small and full of bones.”
The door slammed shut with a loud, final click.
Vadim remained standing on the cold landing.
In one hand, he held his briefcase from the “Chinese contract.” In the other, a bag with three-hundred-ruble shower gel.
And somewhere in a pawnshop lay his future, now transformed into a sanatorium trip for the mother-in-law he despised.
From behind the apartment door came the sound of music.
Lena had turned on something upbeat and loud.
Apparently, she was finally going to take a bath.
With foam.
Alone.
Without him.
Vadim kicked a suitcase, howled in pain from his toe, and pressed the elevator button.
The evening had certainly stopped being dull.