Late evening. The streets were almost empty—just the right time for the work Zamira usually did. Slowly, without rushing, she emptied the trash cans and placed the rubbish into a large black bag.
A young Uzbek woman with no education beyond school struggled for every ruble to make ends meet. In the morning, she swept the sidewalks, and in the evening, she cleaned the trash bins in her area.
She didn’t like people. The neighborhood was busy—there were shops, cafes, and restaurants, so staying unnoticed was almost impossible. The only option was to work deep into the night… but of course, that wasn’t part of her job duties.
Zamira tried to dress modestly, always covering her head with a scarf to attract less attention. But there were different kinds of passersby, and today was no exception.
As she approached the trash can near a restaurant, someone called out to her. She turned around, mentally bracing herself for another joke from a drunken passerby.
— “You! I’m calling you!” — a voice rang out. Two young men were standing near the restaurant. One of them, of Caucasian descent, gestured for her to come closer. He didn’t look drunk but seemed nervous, which made Zamira uneasy.
— “Come here!”
Instinctively, she took a step back, scanning the surroundings to figure out what to do.
— “If you do as we ask, you can eat something delicious for free,” he added, his tone softer.
This only frightened Zamira more. She gripped the trash bag tighter and stepped even further away.
— “Don’t be afraid,” the guy sighed. “That’s not what I meant!”
— “You’re scaring her,” his friend interrupted. “Let me explain. We’re not going to bite. Don’t be afraid.”
They explained that there was an important man in the restaurant—a potential investor. The guys were having crucial talks with him about their startup. They had invested a lot, but something had gone wrong, and they were at risk of losing everything.
— “We put everything we had into this, trying to present the project in the best way,” the Caucasian guy said. “If this person rejects us, it’s over. We need to fix the situation. Do you understand?”
— “I understand,” Zamira replied quietly. “But I don’t understand how I can help you…”
— “He’s Uzbek,” the guy blurted out and looked closely at her.
Zamira froze, not immediately understanding where he was going with this. “Maybe it’s true that Caucasian guys can win people over with their looks,” she thought. Meanwhile, she stood there, blinking, while he stared at her pleadingly.
— “Honestly, I don’t understand,” she finally said.
His friend snorted nervously and began to explain in more detail. According to him, it wasn’t about her intelligence—it was just that they had poorly formulated the idea.
The conversation with the investor had hit a dead end. They stepped outside for some fresh air, hoping that new ideas would come… and that’s when they saw her. They immediately decided: this was their chance!
— “This is Denny,” he pointed to his friend, who turned out to be Chechen. “And I’m Stas. If our investor finds out Denny’s wife is Uzbek, it’ll work in our favor. We’ll dress you up, and you won’t need to do anything—just sit and smile. If he asks, answer cautiously. The main thing is—don’t blow it!”
— “Stas, call Diana and have her get something ready for her,” Denny urged.
— “Wait!” Zamira suddenly spoke up. “What kind of startup is this? I don’t want to be involved in something bad…”
— “What are you talking about?” Denny exclaimed enthusiastically, even grabbing her shoulder briefly. “This is a real hit! We’re creating an amazing collaboration for creative people!”
— “Don’t tire her with the details,” Stas interrupted his friend. “She doesn’t need to know everything. She’s not an investor.”
Zamira reluctantly agreed to help. Not with enthusiasm, but with hope that the guys truly wanted to create something good. They put her in a taxi and sent her to their stylist friend. Even without makeup, Zamira looked fresh, her skin flawless, and her eyes lively.
The stylist quickly explained the essentials to Zamira: who Denny was, how to behave, what to say. Everything had to seem natural. And the main thing—don’t scare the investor off.
The “fake wife” headed to the restaurant. Denny and Stas were already sitting at a table, visibly nervous. Across from them was a middle-aged man, Tahir, who was once again looking at a tablet. His face clearly showed disappointment.
Suddenly, the phone rang. After a brief conversation, Denny apologized:
— “Sorry, this is my wife. She was at a bachelorette party and lost her keys. If you don’t mind, she’ll join us.”
Tahir gave a weak smile. His disappointment deepened. He clearly expected to meet serious people, but instead, he got… a wife who couldn’t even find her keys after a party.
Denny rushed to meet Zamira. She hesitantly looked at her dress, feeling awkward. He silently took her hand and led her to the table.
Zamira had never been in such a place before. She wanted to look around, but she couldn’t give herself away—now she was the “wife of a wealthy Chechen.” She had to keep her composure.
When the investor heard that she was Uzbek, his demeanor instantly changed. He was glad to be mistaken in his initial assumptions. It seemed like only Zamira and Tahir felt truly comfortable. Meanwhile, the young entrepreneurs were still on the verge of a nervous breakdown.
— “We’ve been together for two years,” Denny answered when Tahir asked. “But everything is ahead of us! Even though we come from different cultures, we found a common language. Zamira is a wonderful wife.”
— “Love doesn’t choose borders,” said Tahir. “It’s good when there’s understanding between people. Where there’s family, there’s success.”
The atmosphere warmed up. The young people relaxed a little, and Zamira continued to play her role with confidence. The investor found it easy and pleasant to talk with her.
— “You have an amazing voice,” he suddenly said. “You must sing beautifully?”
— “Oh no, not at all…” Zamira shyly waved it off.
— “What a shame,” sighed Tahir, glancing indifferently at his tablet.
Denny tensed up. Things weren’t going as planned. At that moment, he deliberately spilled wine on Zamira’s dress.
— “Sorry, let’s go clean it off,” he said, pulling her toward the restroom.
— “You should sing,” he whispered while she tried to scrub the stain.
— “Are you crazy? I’ve never sung like that!” she exclaimed.
After a brief round of persuasion, Denny promised her a million if she performed. Zamira was confused but agreed.
She didn’t go back to the table, but straight to the stage. Denny had arranged everything in advance. The music started, and Zamira took the microphone, singing an Uzbek song she had known since childhood.
Her “husband” almost fell off his chair. He wasn’t expecting this. Luckily, Stas quickly propped up his seat.
Tahir’s attention was completely drawn to the singer. Not only was he shocked, but the entire room was stunned. People were standing to get a better view of this petite woman with an incredibly warm, touching voice.
The restaurant manager immediately adjusted the lighting, dimming everything except the spotlights on the stage. People began swaying to the rhythm of the slow melody.
When the song ended, the room erupted in applause. The guests, who were well-off and could afford anything, were moved to tears by this simple, almost accidental song.
Zamira returned to the table. Tahir thanked her for the unexpected gift. She modestly responded that she just wanted to make them happy. She also confessed that this was her first time on stage. Before, she only sang when she was alone.
The evening came to a close. The contract between the investor and the startup was signed. The young entrepreneurs were now excitedly discussing their next steps.
Meanwhile, Zamira stayed in the shadows. No one noticed her anymore.
She quietly got up from the table, grabbed her work bag from the administrator, changed, and handed her expensive outfit to Denny. No one even noticed how she left the restaurant, leaving behind neatly folded clothes.
To everyone, she had disappeared. But for herself, she had lived an evening she would never forget.
At home, her mother—sick and bedridden—was waiting for her. Zamira sat beside her, gazing into the distance. Her mother remained silent—she knew her daughter had dropped out of school to work and support the family. She worried about her, but there was nothing she could do. She herself needed treatment, but they couldn’t afford it.
— “Don’t worry, Mom,” Zamira snapped out of her thoughts. “Soon I’ll get paid. We’ll start little by little…”
But just before dawn, a scream from the street interrupted her sleep. Zamira looked out of the ninth-floor window—it was Denny shouting. If he didn’t stop, the whole building would wake up.
— “Come out quickly!” he called, like a schoolboy inviting his classmate on a date.
Zamira rushed out before the neighbors called the police.
— “Are you crazy?!” she asked sternly as she approached him.
— “What else was I supposed to do? You just disappeared!” he sighed. “We searched for you all night!”
It turned out that her disappearance had attracted attention. Not just from Tahir, who had asked where his “wife” had gone. Denny was a man of his word: if he made a promise, he had to keep it. The problem was that he hadn’t even properly gotten to know her, never gathered her contacts. He had only barely found out she might live in the area. Unable to locate her apartment, he decided to wait by her house.
And now, here he was—offering her money.
Zamira looked at him with sadness. She wanted to say, “You’re such a fool,” but instead, she whispered:
— “You’re the fool…”
Tears welled up in her eyes. She hadn’t expected such a reaction from herself.
— “What’s wrong with you?” Denny asked, confused.
They stared at each other for a long time. Then, unexpectedly, he burst out laughing, spun her around in his arms under the early morning dawn. They understood each other without words.
Zamira had left the restaurant that night to avoid crying. She had thought that for Denny, she was just an instrument, temporary help. But for her, that evening had been something more.
Now it was clear: it was more than just a game for him too. He had truly fallen in love.
That same day, Denny called Tahir:
— “Thank you very much for your trust, but I can’t start a project based on lies. Zamira is not my wife. If you decide to cancel the contract, I’ll understand.”
On the other end of the line, there was laughter.
— “I knew everything the moment she walked in. I haven’t believed your story for a while. A husband doesn’t get that surprised when he sees his wife. And when you said you’ve been married for two years, I was sure you were lying.”
A pause.
— “Of course, it’s possible to fall in love with your wife again every day… like in our family, for example. But not like you two.”
He admitted he was impressed by their desperation. If they were willing to go so far for a chance, they would fight just as hard in business. So, he made a decision: the contract stood.
— “But you, son, find this girl. Don’t miss your chance.”
Time passed. Zamira helped her mother get back on her feet—Denny paid for the treatment. She started taking singing seriously. Meanwhile, the startup was growing, and in a few years, it became successful. Denny and Zamira officially registered their relationship.
Their story began with a lie… but ended with the truth.