“Do you seriously think I believed that fairy tale about a ‘business project’?!” Lika snapped, flinging her phone onto the sofa so hard the screen flashed and went dark, leaving a bright imprint in her vision.
Maxim had just walked into the apartment carrying a bouquet of white roses and a small jewelry-store box. He froze in the doorway. His usually open, charming face tightened into a mask of controlled irritation.
“What are you talking about?” he asked, carefully placing the flowers on the coffee table without looking at her. His fingers trembled slightly as he adjusted the cuff of his expensive Italian shirt — a birthday gift from his mother.
“Your ex, Max. The one you supposedly have a ‘purely business relationship’ with.” Lika folded her arms across her chest, feeling her nails dig into her palms. “She just called me. Can you imagine the nerve? Calling a stranger to tell her how you lied to her.”
Only then did Maxim raise his eyes. His gaze was firm, almost wounded.
“Lika, you’re a smart woman. Are you really going to believe some hysterical woman who can’t accept that I chose you?”
“She’s not hysterical.” Lika stepped closer. Her voice shook, but she clenched her jaw. “She knew your name. Your mother’s name. Even the address of the clinic where you ‘accidentally’ met me. She knew I work in accounting. She knew I own an apartment downtown. How, Max? How could she know all that if you hadn’t discussed me?”
Maxim sighed and walked to the window, pulling the curtain aside. Outside, November snow swept across the city, turning the suburban houses into blurred gray shapes.
“Lika, I don’t know what she told you, but it’s all lies. Yes, my mother helps me with my business. Yes, I sometimes stay in touch with former partners. But none of that has anything to do with us. You know how I feel about you.”
“Oh, I know,” Lika said with a bitter smile. “You’re so caring. You always know what to say, when to take me to a restaurant, how to impress my parents. You’re perfect, Max. Too perfect.”
His face softened with a flicker of hope.
“Then why are you doubting me? We’re planning a wedding. You chose your dress. We already paid the deposit for the reception hall.”
“Because she said your mother calls it a ‘project.’” Lika paused and watched the color drain from his face. “She said you weren’t the first to be used in this trap. After the wedding, the pressure starts. I’m a bad housekeeper. I don’t know how to handle money. I’m too independent. Then comes the divorce, and the property gets split. Or worse — I’m pushed into signing everything over to your ‘beloved’ mother.”
Maxim suddenly stepped toward her and grabbed her shoulders.
“Have you lost your mind?! My mother would never do anything like that! She adores you!”
“She adores my apartment,” Lika replied coldly. “And my stable income. She adores the fact that I’m a trusting fool who almost believed in a fairy tale about a prince in a white Mercedes.”
Maxim let go of her and stepped back. His hands were shaking.
“You made all this up. That woman poisoned your mind. You know who I really am.”
“No, Max,” Lika said, shaking her head. “I don’t. I only know what you chose to tell me. And as it turns out, that isn’t much.”
He stood there with his fists clenched, and suddenly Lika realized she was afraid. Not because she thought he would hit her or insult her. No. She was afraid he would start crying. That he would say exactly the right words — the kind that could break her will.
Because he knew how to do that. He knew how to find weak spots and press on them with surgical precision.
“All right,” he said at last, his voice low and almost gentle. “Let’s sit down. Let’s talk like adults. You don’t want to destroy everything because of someone’s gossip, do you?”
Lika sat on the edge of the sofa and watched as Maxim poured two glasses of wine. His movements were smooth, confident. He always knew what to do. He always knew how to calm her down.
“I don’t want to destroy anything,” she said. “I want the truth.”
“The truth is that I love you.” He handed her a glass. Their fingers brushed, and Lika felt that familiar warmth. “And no matter what that woman says, she simply couldn’t accept that I found happiness.”
Lika stared into the wine, its dark burgundy surface catching the light. She thought about how easy it would be to believe him again. How easy it would be to close her eyes and pretend the phone call had been a misunderstanding. That the ex was unstable. That everything would be fine.
But the stranger’s calm, hard voice echoed in her mind.
“They’re professionals, Lika. They know how to play with your emotions. Don’t give them a chance.”
“All right,” Lika said, setting the glass down untouched. “Then let’s talk to your mother. Tomorrow. Together.”
Maxim went still. His smile tightened.
“Why? She doesn’t know anything.”
“She knows enough,” Lika answered. “And I want to hear it from her.”
Maxim took a sip of wine. His gaze went distant, as if he were calculating his options.
“Fine,” he finally agreed. “Tomorrow. But don’t make a scene.”
Lika nodded, though everything inside her clenched.
She knew tomorrow would decide everything.
Either she would lose herself completely in this game, or she would find the strength to escape it.
Outside the window, the snow kept falling, wrapping the city in a white veil as if trying to cover every trace of deception.
The next day, Lika arrived at Maxim’s parents’ building half an hour early. She stood outside the entrance, wrapped tightly in her scarf, watching shadows move behind the third-floor window — either reflections in the glass or people moving in the dim light.
“They already know,” she thought. “They’ve already planned everything.”
The door was opened by Maxim’s mother, Natalya Petrovna. She wore a cozy sweater with reindeer on it, her hair styled perfectly. Her smile was wide, but her eyes were cold, like a winter sky.
“Lika, darling, come in!” She embraced her, smelling of expensive perfume and something chemical — probably floor cleaner. “Maxim said you wanted to talk. I hope it’s nothing serious?”
Lika entered the living room. Cups of tea were already on the table, along with cookies in a crystal bowl and an open box of chocolates — the exact kind Lika had once casually mentioned she liked.
“Details,” she thought. “They always remember the details.”
Maxim sat on the sofa, his face calm, almost peaceful. He gestured to the seat beside him.
“Sit down, sweetheart. Mom, Lika wanted to talk about… some doubts.”
Natalya Petrovna lowered herself into the armchair opposite them. Her fingers tapped lightly on the armrest.
“Doubts? About what, dear?”
Lika took a deep breath.
“Now,” she told herself. “Now or never.”
“About your ‘project,’ Natalya Petrovna.”
The room went silent. Even the wall clock seemed to stop ticking.
“What project, little girl?” Natalya Petrovna’s voice turned icy.
“The one where you and Maxim look for women with property or a good income. The one where you gain their trust. Play with their emotions. Then, after the wedding, you start pressuring them. You try to take control of their assets or push them into signing documents.”
Natalya Petrovna laughed — short and sharp.
“My God, who filled your head with this nonsense? Some bitter fool who wasn’t clever enough to keep my son?”
“She isn’t a fool,” Lika said calmly. “She got away. She told me how you humiliated her. How Maxim said she was incapable of doing anything right. How the two of you tried to convince her to sign a power of attorney in your name. She said you were professionals.”
Maxim shot to his feet, the chair scraping against the floor.
“Lika, stop it! You’re acting insane!”
“Sit down,” Natalya Petrovna said, never taking her eyes off Lika. “I’m curious to hear what else she’s imagined.”
Lika took out her phone and played the recording of her conversation with the ex. The voice from the speaker was clear and steady.
“They start with small cuts. ‘You don’t cook well.’ ‘You don’t know how to save money.’ ‘You’re selfish.’ Then they move on to finances. ‘Let’s open a joint account.’ ‘Let me manage the budget.’ And then comes, ‘Sign here, it’s just a formality.’ And that’s it. You’re trapped.”
Natalya Petrovna listened without the slightest change in expression. When the recording ended, she smiled.
“And so what? Where is the proof? Or are these just the words of some failed woman?”
“Proof?” Lika gave a dry laugh. “How about the fact that you knew about my apartment before Maxim ever told me he loved me? How about the way both of you started hinting that it would be ‘more convenient’ to live together? How about Maxim suddenly becoming interested in my savings?”
Maxim grabbed her hand.
“Lika, you’re twisting everything! You were the one who suggested moving in together!”
“After you spent six months convincing me we were the perfect couple. After you told me your mother adored me. After you kept saying we were ‘one family.’ After you started saying my apartment was too small for the two of us, even though it’s five meters bigger than your studio.”
Natalya Petrovna stood and adjusted her sweater.
“That’s enough, Lika. Either you’re paranoid, or you’re simply a foolish girl who doesn’t know how to appreciate what she’s been given.”
“What have you given me?” Lika looked straight into her eyes. “Love? Where is it? In your words? In your gifts? Or in the way both of you get angry whenever I don’t follow your ‘advice’?”
Suddenly Maxim slammed his fist onto the table. The cups jumped, and tea spilled across the tablecloth.
“You ruined everything! We could have been happy!”
“Happy?” Lika shook her head. “You don’t even know what that means. You only know how to lie. How to manipulate. How to find someone’s weak places and press until they break.”
Natalya Petrovna walked over to her son and placed a hand on his shoulder.
“Maxim, don’t bother. She isn’t worth our nerves.”
“Yes,” Lika said. “I’m not. I’m leaving.”
Maxim grabbed her by the elbow, his fingers digging into her skin.
“You’re not leaving. You can’t. You’re too weak.”
Lika looked at his hand, then at him.
“Let go.”
He didn’t.
She yanked her arm away so sharply that he lost his balance and nearly fell. Natalya Petrovna snorted.
“Look at that. See what your paranoia has done to you?”
Lika headed for the door. Her hands were trembling, but her voice was firm.
“I’m not weak. I was just trusting. But now I see everything clearly. You are not a family. You are predators.”
Maxim rushed after her, but she had already opened the door. Cold air hit her face, carrying the smell of snow and gasoline.
“Lika!” he shouted. “You’ll regret this!”
She turned around one last time.
Natalya Petrovna stood by the window, watching her. Maxim clenched his fists, his face twisted with rage.
“No,” Lika said. “You’re the ones who will regret it. Because you won’t fool anyone else.”
She stepped out and slammed the door behind her.
The snow was still falling, filling the street with silence. Lika pulled out her phone and dialed the realtor’s number.
“I’m not selling the apartment,” she thought. “But I do know exactly who to call to check all your little ‘business projects,’ Natalya Petrovna.”
And then she smiled.
For the first time in a very long time, it was real.