Maxim stood in the entryway holding two grocery bags. The small one-bedroom apartment on the ninth floor was modest but cozy, with a view of an old park. Once, it had seemed like a quiet refuge. Now Elena’s voice was drifting in from the kitchen, and her tone promised anything but a peaceful evening.
He loved this woman. He loved her so much that when she had proposed to him herself—saying it was modern, that it was the twenty-first century—he had agreed without a second thought. A week later, Elena moved in with one suitcase, three boxes, and the firm belief that life was supposed to be beautiful.
“Maxim, did you buy those sausages again?” Elena called from the kitchen as though he had brought home a live snake. “I told you I need proper food. Trout, avocados. Do you even listen to what I ask for?”
“I listen,” Maxim said, setting the bags on the floor. “They didn’t have any trout left in the price range I could afford after yesterday’s visit to your nail technician.”
“Oh, here we go again!” Elena came into the hallway and planted her hands on her hips. “You count every penny like some miserly old man. I’m embarrassed to meet my friends with chipped nails.”
“You’re embarrassed in front of your friends, but not in front of me,” Maxim said calmly as he took off his jacket. “That’s an interesting set of priorities. So your friends matter more than your fiancé.”
Elena snorted and turned away.
Three weeks earlier, her sister Alina had come to stay “for a couple of days.” A couple of days had turned into five, and Maxim, trying to be a gracious host, had taken his future sister-in-law shopping. Not buying her anything would have felt awkward. Buying something meant another blow to his bank account.
“And what about dinner?” Elena snapped her fingers. “I’m tired. I’m not cooking.”
“I’ll cook,” Maxim replied.
“Just don’t make your pasta with canned meat,” she said with a grimace. “It gives me heartburn.”
Maxim nodded without answering.
Every day brought a new demand. Nails, hair appointments, new tights, a new top, a blanket in the wrong color, the wrong flowers—she wanted peonies, not chrysanthemums. A movie every Friday, but only in the premium auditorium with the largest screen, which naturally cost more. Money drained from his account like water from a leaking tap.
The doorbell rang at seven that evening.
Maxim opened the door and found Nina Pavlovna, his future mother-in-law, standing on the landing. She stepped inside, looked around the apartment, and pursed her lips as though she had been invited into a basement.
“Mom!” Elena rushed toward her. “I’m so glad you came. I can’t take this anymore.”
“What happened?” Nina Pavlovna asked, placing her handbag on the cabinet.
“He doesn’t love me,” Elena said, pointing at Maxim as though he were on trial. “He’s greedy. He counts every ruble. I’m embarrassed to leave the house. I don’t have decent clothes or shoes.”
Maxim leaned against the doorframe and watched in silence.
Elena listed all her “suffering,” and every single complaint came down to money.
“I asked him to buy decent bed linen, and he refused!” Elena sniffed. “I asked him to book me a massage, and he said it was too expensive. Am I his fiancée or not?”
“Lena, sweetheart, calm down,” Nina Pavlovna said, stroking her daughter’s hair before turning to Maxim. “Young man, you are planning to marry my daughter. You must live up to your responsibilities. A man is supposed to provide. My late husband, may he rest in peace, never counted how much I spent.”
“That’s a very convenient argument,” Maxim said with a nod. “Dead men don’t argue.”
“How dare you!”
“Please calm down, Nina Pavlovna. I wasn’t insulting your husband. I was talking about the logic. You’re using as an example a man who can neither confirm nor deny what you’re saying. You have to admit, that makes him a very convenient witness.”
Elena jumped to her feet.
“Don’t you dare speak to my mother like that!”
“I’m being perfectly polite,” Maxim said, raising his hands. “But since we’ve started talking about money, let’s really talk about it. Specifically. In numbers.”
“Not your numbers again!” Elena rolled her eyes.
“Yes, numbers,” he said. “Because emotions are your currency, while rubles are mine.”
Maxim took out his phone.
“Let’s look at the last two months. Four nail appointments—twelve thousand. Two visits to the hair salon, including coloring—nineteen thousand. Tights, tops, sweaters—thirty-one thousand in total. The blanket you didn’t like—three thousand eight hundred. The replacement blanket you did like—seven thousand two hundred. Movies every Friday, including popcorn and taxis—about sixteen thousand. The flowers that were ‘wrong’—five thousand. The flowers that were ‘right’—nine thousand. Shopping for your sister Alina—fourteen thousand. Groceries bought strictly according to your list—forty-eight thousand. The massage you claim I refused to pay for—I paid for three sessions, eleven thousand. Total: one hundred and seventy-six thousand rubles. In two months.”
The room fell silent.
“Now here’s my question,” Maxim said, putting his phone away. “How much did you earn during those two months, Elena?”
“That has nothing to do with this!” Elena’s face flushed.
“It has everything to do with this. The answer is zero. You quit your job three days after moving in with me. You said you wanted to rest before the wedding. Two months of rest, paid for by me.”
“I was looking for another job!” Elena whined.
“Looking?” Maxim tilted his head. “From the sofa? While watching television? You finished four seasons of some Turkish series in two months. That’s about one hundred and twenty episodes. If you had searched for a job with the same dedication, three companies would have hired you by now.”
Nina Pavlovna stood up.
“Listen to me, Maxim—”
“Nina Pavlovna, I respect you,” he said, looking directly at her. “But you came into my apartment, and instead of telling your daughter, ‘Lena, stop, you’re going too far,’ you encouraged her. You poured fuel onto a fire she had already started. That isn’t help. It’s arson.”
“He’s insulting me!” Elena cried, turning to her mother.
“Where?” Maxim spread his hands. “Quote one insult. Just one. I’m waiting.”
Elena said nothing.
“You see?” Maxim gave a faint smile. “There wasn’t one. I didn’t insult you. I listed facts. And facts are stubborn things, Lena. They don’t get offended. They don’t scream. They simply exist.”
Nina Pavlovna grabbed her handbag.
“Lena, pack your things.”
“Wait,” Maxim said, raising one finger. “Don’t rush. I love your daughter. I proposed to her. Technically, she proposed to me, but I agreed because I loved her. I still love her. But love is not an ATM. You can’t insert a card and keep withdrawing forever.”
“Pretty words,” Nina Pavlovna said with a sneer.
“And the ugly numbers didn’t impress you? One hundred and seventy-six thousand rubles. That’s three of my salaries. Three. Your daughter spent three months of my income in two months on nonsense.”
“It isn’t nonsense!” Elena shouted. “Those are my needs! A woman is supposed to look well cared for.”
“I agree,” Maxim said. “But at whose expense? At your own expense, you can do whatever you want. At mine, you need to discuss it with me. You don’t simply present me with the bill and then accuse me of being cheap.”
Elena trembled with anger.
“You’re a miser! You’re just a miser! All my friends get much more from their men.”
“Wonderful,” Maxim said with a smile. “Give your friends my regards and ask whether their men are willing to support you too. Because I’m not.”
Nina Pavlovna gasped. Elena stamped her foot like a spoiled child.
“You’re supposed to want to spoil me! You’re a man!”
“I did spoil you. For two months. One hundred and seventy-six thousand rubles’ worth of spoiling. And what did it achieve? You’re unhappy, your mother is unhappy, and I’m broke. Do you know the difference between a gift and tribute? A gift is given willingly. Tribute is taken by force. You crossed that line somewhere around the third week.”
Elena covered her face with her hands.
“You’re horrible! You’re a monster!”
“A monster who fed you, dressed you, bought you shoes, and entertained you for two months,” Maxim said without raising his voice. “A strange kind of monster, wouldn’t you say?”
He walked into the bedroom.
A minute later, he returned carrying Elena’s suitcase. He placed it carefully in the hallway. Then he brought out a shopping bag filled with the clothes and other things he had bought for her during the past two months.
“What are you doing?” Elena asked, her voice suddenly unsteady.
“The engagement is over,” Maxim said. “The wedding is canceled. The celebration is finished. The circus is leaving town, and the clown is tired.”
“You can’t do this!” Nina Pavlovna rushed forward. “My daughter is not some toy!”
“Exactly. She isn’t a toy. But I’m not a wallet either.” Maxim opened the front door. “Nina Pavlovna, please leave.”
Nina Pavlovna’s nostrils flared. Her face turned pale. She drew in a breath, preparing to unleash something devastating.
But Elena suddenly pushed her mother toward the door.
“Go!” she shouted. “Leave! I’ll deal with this myself!”
Nina Pavlovna stared at her.
“Lena?”
“Go! You’re only making things worse!”
Elena shoved her mother over the threshold and slammed the door.
Then she turned to Maxim. Her eyes were shining, and her lips trembled.
“Maxim, please,” she said, stepping toward him. “I understand now. I understand everything. Forgive me. I was an idiot. I behaved like a spoiled little girl. I love you. I always thought a man was supposed to spoil a woman, and I forgot that everything costs money. I forgot that you’re a real person, not a bank. Please forgive me.”
Maxim looked at her.
Two feelings were fighting inside him: love and doubt.
Part of him already regretted making such a dramatic gesture. Perhaps he had gone too far. Perhaps they should have spoken more calmly.
“Lena,” he said quietly. “I love you. But I’m not convinced you truly understand.”
“I do! I swear!”
“All right.” Maxim leaned against the wall. “Then we’ll test it. The wedding can still happen. But not in a restaurant. We’ll have it in a small café. Something modest. The budget will be reduced by exactly the amount you spent. One hundred and seventy-six thousand rubles.”
Elena froze.
Her expression changed like the sky before a storm. First came surprise. Then confusion. Then the familiar spark appeared in her eyes.
That same old spark.
“In a café?” she whispered.
“In a café,” Maxim confirmed. “Twenty guests. No limousine. No live music. No white doves. Modest and honest.”
Three seconds of silence passed.
Maxim counted every one of them.
“You miser!” Elena exploded. “You impossible, petty, pathetic miser! All my friends will laugh at me! A café! Like poor people! That isn’t what I agreed to!”
“Agreed to?” Maxim raised an eyebrow. “Interesting choice of words. You didn’t say you dreamed of being with me. You didn’t say you loved me. You said you agreed. As though this marriage were a business deal.”
“You’re twisting my words!”
“No. I’m listening to them. Maybe that’s the real problem. You’re used to people not paying attention. But I do. I hear every word.”
Elena was almost gasping with rage. Her cheeks burned.
“You know what?” she snapped. “Artyom wanted to date me! So did Dima! They have cars, and their apartments are bigger!”
“Excellent,” Maxim said with a faint smile. “Then let another lucky man claim this prize. I’m withdrawing my entry.”
He picked up the suitcase, opened the door, and placed it on the landing. Then he set the bag of clothes beside it.
“Maxim, wait!” Elena stopped herself. “That isn’t what I meant.”
“Lena,” he said, looking into her eyes, “I gave you a real chance. Not one for appearances. I offered you something simple—a modest wedding. A test of love. If you loved me, it wouldn’t matter whether we celebrated in a café, a restaurant, or on a park bench. You failed that test in three seconds. I counted.”
“But I apologized!”
“With words, yes. Not with your heart. An apology followed a minute later by the word ‘miser’ is not an apology. It’s only a pause while you reload.”
Elena stood in the doorway, torn between anger and fear.
She knew she had lost. But her pride—the pride built on compliments and other people’s money—would not let her retreat.
“You’ll regret this.”
“Maybe,” Maxim said with a shrug. “But being alone isn’t the same as being lonely. Being next to someone who doesn’t value you—that is real loneliness.”
Elena grabbed the suitcase and dragged it toward the elevator. She pressed the button. The machinery hummed as the elevator rose toward their floor.
“Maxim!” she called, turning around. For a moment, something genuine entered her voice. “We were happy once, weren’t we?”
“We were,” he said with a nod. “For the first two weeks. While you were still yourself. Then you became someone else. Or maybe it was the opposite. Maybe you finally became yourself.”
The elevator doors opened. Elena rolled the suitcase inside.
The doors closed.
Maxim remained standing in the empty hallway.
The apartment was silent. Only the refrigerator hummed softly in the kitchen. He looked at the coat hook where Elena’s jacket had been hanging that morning.
Now it was empty.
He walked to the living-room window.
Down below, Elena was getting into a taxi. Nina Pavlovna stood beside her, waving her arms furiously. The driver loaded the suitcase into the trunk.
Maxim closed the blinds and sat down on the sofa—the same sofa where Elena had spent hours watching her shows. The remote control lay beside him. On the coffee table was a hair clip she had forgotten.
He picked it up and turned it between his fingers.
It was small and silver-colored, decorated with a fake stone.
“Fake,” he said aloud. “Just like everything else.”
But his hands trembled slightly.
Because love, even love that has been betrayed, cannot be switched off with the press of a button. It fades slowly, like water draining from a bathtub after the plug has been pulled. At first, it seems as though nothing has changed.
Then you look again, and there is nothing left.
His phone chimed.
A message from Elena appeared on the screen.
“You’ll remember me.”
Maxim gave a bitter smile and typed a reply.
“I already do. One hundred and seventy-six thousand rubles. The memory gets clearer every time.”
He blocked her number, placed the phone on the table, and stared at the ceiling.
The apartment was small.
But it was his.
And for the first time in two months, it was quiet.
Truly quiet.
And that silence was worth more than any restaurant.