Veronika slowly lowered her cup of cooling coffee. Her fingers—adorned with rings, gifts from her husband over twenty years of marriage—trembled slightly. Through the vast panoramic window of the “Bellagio” restaurant, an evening view of the city unfolded, yet she noticed neither the twinkling lights nor the bustling waiters.
Her entire world had narrowed down to a single table at the far end of the room.
“How coincidental!” she whispered, watching as Igor tenderly caressed the arm of a young brunette. “What an amazing coincidence…”
How many times had she asked her husband to take her to this very restaurant? Ten? Twenty? “Honey, I’m tired,” “Sweetie, maybe another time,” “Verochka, I have an important meeting” – the excuses piled up year after year until she finally stopped asking.
And now, she sees him leaning back in his chair, laughing sincerely—as if he had become fifteen years younger.
A waiter approached her table:
“Would you like anything else?”
“Yes,” Veronika raised her eyes, in which something resembling amusement danced. “Please, bring the check from that table over there. I’d like to give a gift.”
“Pardon?”
“That man in the burgundy blazer – he’s my husband. And I want to pay for their dinner. Just, please, don’t mention who did it.”
The young man looked at the strange customer in surprise but nodded. Veronika took out her credit card – the very one Igor had given her for her last birthday. “Spend on yourself, darling,” he had said then. Well, technically, that is exactly what she was doing – spending on herself. On her future.
After settling the bill, she rose and, passing by her husband’s table, slowed her pace for a moment. Igor was so absorbed in his companion that he didn’t even notice the familiar silhouette. Or perhaps he simply didn’t want to notice? Veronika smirked: how many times had she been blind when she refused to see the obvious?
Stepping outside, she took a deep breath of the cool evening air. One thought whirled in her mind: “Well, Igor, you chose this path. Now it’s my turn.”
At home, Veronika first kicked off her shoes and went into the study.
Strangely, her hands no longer trembled. Inside, an amazing calm reigned – as if after a long illness her fever had finally subsided.
“So, where shall we begin?” she asked her reflection in the mirror.
Opening her laptop, Veronika methodically created a new folder titled “New Life.” Something told her the next few weeks were going to be very eventful. She retrieved an old box of documents from the closet – the very one that Igor had never bothered to open.
“It’s really good to be meticulous,” she mumbled, sorting through the papers.
The documents for the house lay exactly where she had left them five years ago. The house… her little fortress, bought with the money from selling her grandmother’s apartment. Back then, Igor was just starting his business and constantly repeated:
“Veronichka, you understand, we need all the funds for growing the business right now. I’ll make it up to you later.”
She understood. She always understood everything. That’s why she had put the house in her name – just in case. Igor never even asked about the details of the deal, completely trusting her with “this paperwork hassle.”
The next items were the bank accounts. Veronika logged into her online banking and began methodically checking the transactions. Thanks to her habit of keeping track of all finances, she knew exactly which amounts belonged solely to her.
Her phone vibrated—a message from Igor:
“Running late at an important meeting. Don’t expect dinner.”
Veronika smiled:
“An important meeting… Yes, dear, I saw how important it was.”
She opened her contacts and found the number for Mikhail Stepanovich – their family lawyer. More precisely, now her personal lawyer.
“Good evening, Mikhail Stepanovich. I’m sorry for calling so late, but I need a consultation. Will 10 a.m. tomorrow work for you? Excellent. And one more thing… Let’s meet not at your office but at the café ‘Lastochka.’ Yes, exactly – it’s a delicate matter.”
After ending the call, Veronika stretched and walked to the window. In the darkness, the city lights twinkled – just like in the restaurant. But now they seemed to her not romantic, but harbingers of change. Big changes.
The morning began with the aroma of freshly brewed coffee. Igor, who had returned past midnight, was still asleep, while Veronika was already at the kitchen table, reviewing her notes.
For the first time in twenty years of marriage, she was delighted by her habit of noting down every detail.
“Good morning, dear,” she said upon hearing her husband’s steps. “How did yesterday’s meeting go?”
Igor froze for a second, then quickly composed himself:
“Productive. We discussed a new contract.”
“Really? And what’s the name of this… contract?” Veronika raised her eyes from her cup, carefully observing her husband’s reaction.
“What do you mean?” His voice sounded almost natural, but his right eyebrow twitched ever so slightly—a sure sign of agitation.
“Nothing special. I’m just curious about your work,” she smiled and got up from the table. “I have to go now; I have a meeting.”
“A meeting? With whom?” now his voice showed hints of concern.
“With the future,” she replied enigmatically and left the kitchen.
The café “Lastochka” greeted her with its cozy half-light and the aroma of freshly baked goods. Mikhail Stepanovich was already waiting at a table in the far corner.
“Veronika Alexandrovna, I must admit, your call surprised me,” began the lawyer as they placed their order.
“Lately, I myself am surprised by many things,” she said, pulling out a folder of documents. “Tell me, Mikhail Stepanovich, how quickly can a divorce be finalized if one party owns the majority of the jointly acquired assets?”
The lawyer nearly choked on his coffee:
“Pardon… what?”
“You do know the house is in my name? And the majority of the funds in the accounts are my personal savings. I want to know my rights.”
For the next two hours, they methodically went over every document, every bank statement. Mikhail Stepanovich was more and more astonished at his client’s foresight.
“You know,” he said near the end of the meeting, “I’ve never seen such a well-prepared woman. Usually, in such situations, everyone acts on emotion.”
“I don’t want to act on emotions,” Veronika replied as she neatly placed the papers back into the folder. “I want to present a special gift.”
Leaving the café, she headed directly to the bank. It was time to turn the plan into action.
At the bank, Veronika spent nearly three hours. The young manager looked at her with undisguised admiration – rarely had a client been so clear about what she wanted.
“So, here’s the plan,” she summarized, “we close the main account, transfer the funds to a new one registered solely in my name, and block the cards.”
“But what about your husband?” the manager asked cautiously.
“He can keep his payroll card. I think thirty thousand a month is enough for… important meetings.”
Upon leaving the bank, Veronika felt a slight dizziness—not from fear, but from the sensation of freedom. Her phone vibrated again—this time it was their joint accountant calling.
“Veronika Alexandrovna, there’s been an offer to buy your share in the company. The price is more than attractive.”
“Excellent, Anna Sergeyevna. Prepare the documents. And… let’s not notify Igor Pavlovich just yet. I have a surprise for him.”
Next on her list was the travel agency. Veronika pushed open the glass door and smiled at the consultant:
“Good afternoon. I need a tour to Italy. The Tuscan countryside, two weeks, the most picturesque spots.”
“For two?” the young woman inquired as usual.
“No,” Veronika shook her head. “For me only. And the sooner, the better.”
That evening, upon returning home, she found Igor in an unusually agitated state.
“Veronika, do you know why our joint cards have been blocked?”
“Really?” she feigned surprise. “Maybe it’s just a system glitch. We can sort it out tomorrow.”
“But I needed to make a payment…” he started.
“What payment, dear?” a touch of honeyed tone crept into her voice. “Perhaps for dinner? By the way, how did you like ‘Bellagio’? They say the cuisine there is exquisite.”
Igor paled:
“You… you were there?”
“Oh, don’t worry,” Veronika patted his shoulder. “I even paid your bill. Consider it… an advance on your future gift.”
Their twentieth wedding anniversary day turned out to be surprisingly sunny.
Veronika woke early, donned her favorite black dress, and neatly styled her hair. On the kitchen table, a set breakfast was already waiting along with a beautifully wrapped folder tied with a golden ribbon.
Igor came downstairs holding a bouquet of roses:
“Happy anniversary, darling! I booked a table at…”
“At Bellagio?” Veronika interrupted. “No need. I have a very special gift for you.”
She handed him the folder:
“Open it. I’m sure you’ll like it.”
Igor untied the ribbon and began pulling out the documents. With every new piece of paper, his face grew increasingly pale.
“What is this?” his voice trembled with anger. “Are you out of your mind?”
“No, dear. For the first time in twenty years, I’m thinking completely clearly,” Veronika replied calmly as she sipped her coffee. “The documents for divorce, proof of my sole ownership of the house, and… oh yes, the restaurant bill. I thought it would be fair for me to pay for our last dinner together.”
“You can’t do this!” Igor leaped up, knocking over a chair. “This is my business! My home!”
“Yours?” she raised an eyebrow. “Look over the documents more carefully. And by the way, I’ve already sold my share in the company. Very lucratively, by the way.”
“You… you’re just taking revenge on me!” he clutched his head. “Over some innocent flirtation…”
“No, dear. I’m giving you a gift – I’m granting you freedom. Now you can officially be with Natalya. By the way, tell her those earrings look great on her. I remember how I picked them out last Christmas.”
Veronika rose from the table and picked up a suitcase she had prepared in advance:
“You always said that women are too emotional. Well, I decided not to make a scene. I’m simply thanking you for opening my eyes.”
“Where are you going?” Igor asked, bewildered.
“To Tuscany. Remember, I always dreamed of visiting there? Now I can afford that little indulgence.”
At the doorway, she turned:
“Do you know what’s most amazing? I’m actually grateful to you. If it weren’t for your… meeting, I’d never have dared to change my life.”
A taxi was already waiting outside. As she got into the car, Veronika looked back at the mansion where she had lived for so many years. Strangely, she felt neither sadness nor regret. Only lightness and anticipation for a new life.
“Airport?” the driver asked.
“Yes,” Veronika smiled. “To a new life.”
The airplane took off precisely on schedule. Gazing out the window at the shrinking city, she picked up her phone and read Igor’s message: “We can discuss everything! Come back!”
“No, dear,” she whispered, deleting the message. “Now my life belongs to me alone. And this is the best gift I could ever give myself.”