— Sixty-eight percent growth for the quarter, — Olga handed over the folder without looking up from the screen. — Your model works.
Andrey snatched the documents from her hands and quickly flipped through the pages. His eyes sparkled like a child receiving a long-awaited gift. — I told you! — he turned the monitor toward her. — Look, if we apply this algorithm to the other directions, we’ll surpass the annual plan.
Their eyes met over the monitor. The office had long since emptied, only the fluorescent lights buzzed overhead.
Andrey held his gaze a second longer than necessary, and Olga felt her cheeks warm.
— At least have some coffee? — he asked, closing the file. — Four hours on the project, and you haven’t taken a break.
Olga saved the document and closed her laptop. Outside, advertising signs shone, reflecting in puddles after the rain. — Okay, fifteen minutes.
They got stuck for two hours in the café on the first floor of the business center. Andrey spoke about analytical systems with such enthusiasm that the coffee cup in his hands trembled.
Olga listened, occasionally correcting or adding, and was surprised to realize it was easy being near this loud person.
— You’re quiet, — he suddenly said, pausing. — But when you speak, you’re always spot on.
— You have energy for two, — she smiled. — It’s pleasant to just listen.
That evening they exchanged numbers and sent each other project files. A week later, Andrey called with an unexpected proposal. — An exhibition of rare paintings. Tickets for two. Will you come with me?
The exhibition turned into dinner, dinner into a walk until dawn. Olga discovered that this assertive colleague knew how to listen, ask questions, and care.
Also — that he had a dream to buy an apartment downtown, where they could have panoramic windows with a view of the city.
— Will you build a budget model? — he joked. — When can we buy it?
— We? — she repeated.
He took her hand.
— I’d like… with you.
A year later they were already looking for that apartment together. Andrey climbed the career ladder, sometimes receiving small raises.
Olga worked steadily, without fuss — her analytics were always impeccable, and project execution was on time. The management valued both, but differently.
— You’re like a rock wall behind us, — the director told her at the annual meeting. — I always know you won’t let us down.
On the wedding day, Olga suddenly felt lost. Doubts overwhelmed her just before going out.
— What if we’re rushing? — she asked her mother as she adjusted the veil. — We’re so alike at work, but so different…
Her mother smiled, smoothing the folds of the dress.
— That’s exactly why you’ll make it. You balance him. He ignites you.
The wedding was intimate. Colleagues, parents, a few friends. They danced until morning, then Andrey took her to the mountains for a week — far from tables and charts. — We’ll build a real family, — he said, hugging her on the viewing platform. — Career, kids, a home. We’ll manage everything.
Life spun quickly as always. They bought an apartment — not downtown, but with a good view.
They decorated it in light tones, as Olga dreamed. They worked in the same department, occasionally crossing paths on projects.
Andrey remained in the spotlight — presentations, speeches, conferences. Olga preferred working with data.
— I think it’s time to think about a child, — Andrey said one evening as they sat on the balcony with glasses of wine. — We’ve been together for three years. Stable jobs. A big apartment.
Olga looked at the city outlined by lights. Something stirred inside — fear and joy at the same time. — I’ve been thinking about it too.
— You’ll manage, — he kissed her temple. — We’ll manage together. As always — a team.
They started planning everything as they were used to — with tables, charts, and calculations. Counting days, tracking cycles, changing diets.
And when the test showed two lines, Olga saw for the first time how Andrey — always her confident husband — got flustered.
— Is this real? — he took the test, examining it like a rare artifact. — We’re going to be parents?
She nodded, and Andrey pulled her close — suddenly, awkwardly, as if afraid to miss the moment. Her breath caught in his embrace. — We’re doing it, — he exhaled, burying his face in her hair. — Just like we wanted. No one will handle it better than us together.
Matvey was born at three in the morning — loud, impatient, like his father. Andrey paced the ward, filming everything, whispering promises, kissing Olga’s sweat-damp forehead. It seemed his joy overflowed to the brim.
— He’s beautiful, — Andrey exhaled when the nurse placed the bundle wrapped in a blanket on Olga’s chest. — You’re beautiful.
The first days blurred into an endless string of cries, sleeplessness, and attempts to understand what the little person needed. Olga lost all sense of time and structure for the first time in her life. The world shrank to the crib and the nursery. Andrey returned to work after a week.
— I have to be there, — he said, buttoning his shirt. — It’s the most important project of the year. I have to lead it.
Olga nodded, rocking Matvey asleep after a long cry. Dark circles lay under her eyes, her hair hadn’t seen a comb in days.
— Of course, go. We’ll manage.
Olga’s mother arrived two weeks later. She quickly took charge, established routines, showed how to hold the baby during colic. The apartment smelled of compote and freshly baked bread. — Rest, — she told her daughter. — Sleep. I’ll take Matvey for a walk.
Olga gratefully pressed to her mother’s shoulder. For the first time in a month, she slept six hours straight.
Time passed. Matvey grew, became more predictable. He started smiling, trying to roll over. Olga’s mother came every day to help. Andrey stayed late at work more and more. Came home late when Matvey was already asleep. He kissed his son on the cheek, asked about the day’s achievements, but conversations more often turned to office news.
— Can you imagine, we implemented a new system, — he said while reheating dinner. — Productivity grew by forty percent. The director personally shook my hand.
Olga listened, nodded, asked about colleagues. A strange anxiety grew inside. Something important was slipping away from her while she changed diapers and sang lullabies. When Matvey turned one, she made a decision. At dinner, when Andrey was again telling about his successes, she interrupted him:
— I want to go back to work.
Andrey froze with a fork in the air.
— Now? Matvey is only one.
— Mom agreed to help. She loves her grandson, you know. And I… I need to get back to myself. At least half a day.
Andrey frowned but didn’t argue.
— If you’re sure… But don’t overwork yourself. The child is still more important.
Returning was harder than she imagined. Algorithms changed, projects moved ahead. The first week she just caught up, staying late to understand the new systems. But after a month, she slipped back into the usual rhythm. Her analytics remained impeccable, and her ideas fresh and precise. Management noticed.
— We missed your approach, — the director told her after a meeting. — The team lacked your thoroughness.
Andrey watched her return with surprise. Something changed in his wife over the year. She became… more confident. Quieter but more decisive. When she spoke at meetings, people fell silent and listened. In the evenings, while they both leaned over Matvey’s crib, Olga’s phone burst into melody. The director.
She hurried to the corridor, closing the door. Andrey stayed with their son but caught fragments of the conversation through the wall — not words, but intonations. Something in his wife’s voice changed, notes he hadn’t heard before.
— Everything okay? — he asked when she returned. Unusual paleness showed on her face, and her gaze wandered somewhere beyond his shoulder.
— Yes, — she shook her head. — Just… work stuff.
He didn’t believe it but didn’t press. Only hugged her tighter when they went to bed. The next day the director called Andrey.
— Andrey, changes are coming, — he said, looking out the window. — Department restructuring. I don’t want to get ahead, but prepare for shifts.
On the way home, Andrey pondered. Restructuring could mean only one thing — a promotion. He had long waited for it, worked at full capacity. Now, with family and responsibilities, this promotion was necessary. Olga met him holding Matvey. The baby reached out to his father. Andrey lifted his son, tossed him up to the ceiling. Matvey laughed heartily.
— You know, I have news, — Andrey started as they sat down to dinner. — Seems like big changes are coming in the department.
— Really? — Olga looked at him strangely, putting down her fork. — What kind?
— Not officially announced yet, but… — he leaned forward, lowered his voice even though it was just the three of them. — I think I’ll be promoted to department head. The director hinted.
Olga exhaled slowly, as if holding her breath too long.
— I see.
— This is a big step for us, — Andrey continued, not noticing her reaction. — Salary will increase. We can save for a new apartment. Maybe even afford a vacation in Europe.
She silently cleared the plates. Matvey in his chair threw carrot pieces on the floor, delighted with every accurate toss. — I was thinking… — Andrey lowered his voice. — Maybe you shouldn’t strain yourself so much. Work and a child is too much. Maybe you should… stay home?
Olga froze, gripping the wet sponge. Drops fell to the floor, breaking into tiny splashes. — What do you mean?
— You’ll have to quit your job, — Andrey said matter-of-factly, as if announcing the weather forecast. — Think about it. Matvey needs his mother. Not grandmother. That’s normal.
Olga turned to him. Her face was frozen.
— Normal? — her voice was unusually quiet. — What exactly is normal, Andrey?
— Well, a man works, provides, — he shrugged, surprised by her reaction. — And a woman creates comfort, raises children. It’s logical.
— Logical, — she echoed. — And my career?
— Honestly? — he sighed. — Let’s be realistic. I’m soon to be department head. I have prospects, connections, projects. You… well, you’re a good analyst. But you won’t climb higher. And why bother?
Olga’s gaze sharpened like a shard of glass. — Do you really think that? That I…
— I’m not saying you’re a bad specialist, — Andrey interrupted, raising his hands in a conciliatory gesture. — You just have different talents. You’re a wonderful mother, a caring wife. Why scatter your energy?
Matvey suddenly cried, demanding attention. Olga silently wiped her hands and went to her son. They said no more that evening. In the morning she got ready longer than usual. Chose a strict suit that had long hung in the closet, styled her hair, even applied light makeup.
— A real business lady, — Andrey whistled, noticing the change. — Something important today?
— Meeting, — she replied shortly. — About restructuring.
— Oh! — he brightened. — Maybe they’ll announce the promotion.
She faintly smiled, kissing Matvey.
— See you at work.
The office buzzed unusually. Employees talked, discussing rumors of upcoming changes. Olga went to her desk, avoiding conversations. Answered some emails, reviewed reports. At ten, everyone gathered in the conference hall. Andrey took a seat in the front row, confidently straightening his shoulders. He glanced back, nodded to Olga, who sat in the far corner.
The director entered, cleared his throat, scanned the attendees.
— Good morning, colleagues. As you know, our department faces changes. For the past six months, we’ve been searching for someone to lead the analytics direction and elevate it.
Andrey subtly adjusted his jacket, squared his shoulders.
— We needed a specialist with deep understanding of processes, but also with vision for the company’s future, — the director continued. — Someone trusted and respected.
Andrey barely nodded, agreeing with every word.
— So, starting today, the head of the analytics department is… — the director paused, and at that moment Andrey almost stood up, — Olga Viktorovna.
Silence spread across the room. Andrey froze, caught by an invisible icy wave. Slowly turned. Olga rose from her seat, calmly walking to the director. — Thank you for the trust, — her voice was confident, without a tremor. — I promise to justify it.
The director shook her hand, handed over a folder with documents. Started talking about prospects, new projects.
But Andrey didn’t hear. His gaze froze on his wife as if she had turned into a complete stranger.
The contours of her figure in the dark blue suit, the subtle change in posture, that direct, unwavering gaze — when did this metamorphosis happen, and how did he miss it?
The meeting ended in predictable chaos — applause, handshakes, congratulatory exclamations.
A dense circle of colleagues instantly formed around Olga — some shaking her hand, others interrupting each other with proposals for joint projects.
Andrey sat frozen in his chair, as if frozen, not moving until the last employee left the hall.
They were left alone — two people on opposite sides of the polished negotiation table. Between them hung a special, almost tangible silence that pressed on the eardrums. — You knew, — he finally said. — All this time.
— Yes, — she met his gaze. — The director offered me this position two weeks ago.
— And you didn’t tell me? — his voice cut with hurt. — Why?
— Why? — she shrugged. — To listen to how I’m supposed to stay home and raise Matvey because “you won’t climb higher”?
Andrey lowered his head, ran a hand through his hair.
— That’s not what I meant.
— No, that’s exactly what it was, — she stepped closer. — You know what’s the most hurtful? We started together. As a team. And then you decided my place was to support you. Not be a partner.
— I just wanted to protect you, — his voice trembled. — Take care of the family.
— I know, — she softened for the first time that day. — But I don’t need protection. I need respect. As a professional. As an equal.
He stood up, walked to the window. Outside, the huge city lived its own life. Below, people flowed along sidewalks, cars merged into a single pulsating stream, and ragged clouds slowly drifted over glass towers. — Did you really want this? — he asked, not taking his eyes off the panorama outside. — All those meetings, endless decisions, the burden of everyone on the team?
— Exactly, — there was no challenge or excuse in her voice, only calm confidence. — Just like you once wanted.
He turned. His face was a battle of conflicting emotions — pride, hurt, admiration, confusion. — What now? You’re my boss.
— Now we decide, — she leaned on the table. — Can we be a team again? A real one.
— And Matvey?
— I’m not going to be a bad mother, — her gaze hardened. — But I won’t give up my career either.
We’ll manage. Mom will help. And you… you can spend more time with our son too.
He was silent for a long time. Then slowly nodded.
— You’re right. I was wrong, — the words came with difficulty. — Sorry. You deserved this promotion. I… I will be there. With you. And with our son. I’ll pick him up from kindergarten, take him to classes.
She stepped closer, took his hand.
— So, together again?
— Together, — he nodded. — Only now for real. As equals.
There was a knock at the door. The director peeked in.
— Olga Viktorovna, we have a meeting in ten minutes. Are you ready?
She straightened up, nodded.
— Yes, I’m coming.
Andrey squeezed her hand one last time.
— Shine there, boss, — he whispered, gripping her fingers. — Let them understand what kind of mold we’re both made from.
That evening they picked up Matvey from Olga’s mother together. For the first time, Andrey dressed him — confidently handling the jacket, hat, and tiny boots. Olga watched from the side, smiling. — Now, — she said as they stepped outside holding Matvey, — we’re a team again.