“Take it off—this is a mistake!” — my husband went pale when he saw me wearing the gift meant for his mistress
“Do you honestly think I’m going to buy the ‘emergency meeting’ story on a Saturday night, Vadim?” Lena stood in the doorway with her arms folded, watching her husband nervously cram a phone charger and a clean shirt into a leather briefcase.
“Lenusya, please, don’t start,” Vadim muttered without turning around, still rummaging through the dresser drawer. “Our contract with the Chinese is burning. You know how it is—time zones, logistics, all that. If we don’t approve the shipments now, the company will lose millions. You want us to miss our bonus right before New Year’s?”
“Chinese partners, huh?” Lena let out a short, dry laugh, but it didn’t sound amused—just tired. “Then why do negotiations with ‘the Chinese’ require a brand-new cologne you just dumped all over yourself five minutes ago? Can they smell you through Zoom?”
Vadim froze for a heartbeat. His shoulders tightened—but in the next second he pasted on an expression of wounded decency and turned to face her.
“That’s basic hygiene, Lena. And respect for partners. We’re meeting at a restaurant, in a private room. I need to look—and smell—presentable.”
“At a restaurant…” she repeated slowly. “Interesting. Because I thought you said it was a meeting at the office.”
“We start at the office and then we go for dinner. That’s it—stop interrogating me!” He snapped the briefcase shut with a sharp click. “I’m doing this for us. For the family. Oh—and I ordered a courier for you. They’ll bring you something. Nothing huge, but nice. So you won’t sulk.”
Lena lifted an eyebrow. Spontaneous gifts hadn’t been Vadim’s thing for at least five years. Usually it was standard tulips on March 8th and a beauty-store gift card on her birthday.
“What did you order?”
“A surprise,” he grunted, checking his phone. “A bath set, your favorite shower gel—something like that. Relax tonight while I work. Alright, I’m off.”
He pecked her on the cheek—quick, dry, like he’d burned his lips—and darted out into the stairwell.
Lena remained in the hallway, listening to his footsteps fade down the stairs. She knew. Women’s intuition was terrifying—faultless, even when you begged it to be wrong. “Chinese,” “meeting,” new cologne, shifty eyes. The puzzle assembled itself far too easily. But she didn’t have the energy for a scene.
She went to the kitchen, poured herself cold leftover coffee, and sat by the window. Down below, near the entrance, Vadim’s figure flashed into view. He didn’t walk to his car. He climbed into a taxi labeled “Comfort Plus.” Lena smiled bitterly. You don’t take a taxi to “the Chinese,” do you? Or maybe he just didn’t want his car seen outside someone else’s building.
Two hours later, the doorbell rang.
“Delivery!” a young voice shouted from behind the door.
Lena opened it. A breathless courier in a yellow jacket stood there with an enormous backpack.
“Apartment forty-eight? Order for Vadim Nikolaevich?”
“Yes. That’s my husband.”
“Here you go. There were two bags in the order, but the app glitched—addresses got mixed up. I went by the last name. You wanted the gift wrapping, right?”
He handed her a thick, heavy bag made of expensive designer paper with gold embossing. Lena blinked. For “shower gel,” the packaging looked absurdly luxurious.
“Uh… I guess,” she said. “He told me it was a surprise.”
“Have a nice evening!” The courier was already racing downstairs, skipping steps.
Lena shut the door and carried the bag into the living room. It pulled pleasantly at her wrist—solid weight, like something important. Strange. Vadim never paid for fancy wrapping; he usually brought everything home in supermarket plastic bags. Maybe she really was being unfair. Maybe he’d decided to do something sweet because he felt guilty about always working.
She sat on the couch and carefully untied the silk ribbon.
Inside was not shower gel.
Not a bath set.
Inside was a velvet jewelry box in deep midnight blue.
Lena’s heart stumbled. A ring? Earrings? A belated anniversary gift—after he forgot their fifteenth anniversary just a month ago?
With trembling fingers, she lifted the lid.
On a white satin cushion lay a necklace—no costume jewelry. Lena wasn’t an expert, but she could tell instantly: white gold and diamonds. Delicate, refined workmanship. At the center, a large teardrop sapphire flashed like a cold star. It was outrageously expensive—definitely worth more than the three monthly salaries Vadim constantly complained about.
“Oh my God…” she breathed.
Beneath the box, the edge of a card peeked out. Lena pulled it free. A small, stiff card. In Vadim’s familiar, sweeping handwriting, it read:
“To my beloved, my passionate little Fish. Let this stone remind you of the color of your eyes when you look at me. Waiting for tonight. Yours, V.”
Lena read it three times.
“Little Fish.”
Not Lena. Not “my wife.” Not “Lenusya,” the nickname he used when he wanted something.
“Little Fish.”
Lena’s eyes were brown. Ordinary, dark brown. A sapphire couldn’t possibly “remind” anyone of their color.
The room tilted. The street noise outside dissolved until only a dull roar remained in her ears. So it wasn’t in her head. Not paranoia.
Vadim had bought a necklace—an expensive, luxurious necklace—for his mistress. And for his wife—the woman he’d lived with for fifteen years, the one who ironed his shirts and saved on pantyhose so they could pay for their son’s tutors—he had ordered “shower gel.”
And the courier had mixed up the bags.
Lena pictured what was happening on the other side of the city. Some “Little Fish”—probably young, blue-eyed, with long legs—was opening a bag and finding a cheap three-hundred-ruble shower set.
A laugh burst out of Lena before she could stop it. At first it sounded like a sob, then it grew louder, sharper, hysterical. She was laughing while holding a necklace worth two hundred thousand rubles—maybe more—and tears streamed down her cheeks.
“Shower gel…” she choked out between laughs. “The ‘Wild Berry’ set, right, Vadim? So I’ll soak in the tub and stop asking questions?”
Then she stopped—suddenly, completely.
She stood, walked to the mirror, and held the necklace to her throat. The sapphire gleamed—cold, mocking. It looked stunning on her. Almost unfairly stunning.
At that moment, her phone on the table pinged. A text from her mother:
“Lenochka, hi. The doctor said the sanatorium voucher got more expensive. Probably won’t be able to go this year—my pension won’t cover it. It’s okay, I’ll breathe country air at the dacha.”
Lena stared at the screen, then at the necklace. Something inside her clicked into place. The pity she’d felt for herself evaporated, replaced by a calm, calculating fury.
She remembered how Vadim had shouted last week that there was “no money” for her winter boots. How he demanded receipts for every ruble she spent on groceries. “We need to save, Lenusya—times are tough.”
Tough times, huh? But sapphires for “Little Fish”?
Lena wiped her tears. Carefully placed the necklace back into its box. Then she took her phone and called her old school friend Tanya, who worked as an appraiser at a large pawnshop.
“Tanya, hi. Are you working today?”
“Hi, Len. Yeah, until eight. What’s going on? Your voice sounds weird.”
“Tanya, I need to appraise and sell something urgently. Something very expensive. With tags and a receipt—he probably hid it under the lining like he always does.”
“He? Vadim? You’re selling his gift? Len, are you two okay?”
“We’re perfect, Tanya,” Lena said smoothly. “Better than ever. I’ll be there in half an hour. Have cash ready.”
Vadim crashed into the apartment close to midnight. He looked like he’d been hit by a road roller. His tie sat crooked, a button was missing from his shirt, his hair was a mess. In one hand he clutched the same cheap shower-gel bag that was meant for Lena.
The apartment was silent. Only the living room light was on.
Lena sat in an armchair with a book. She wore her nicest robe, her hair neatly arranged, a faint smile on her lips.
Vadim froze in the entryway, breathing hard. His mind replayed the evening like a horror film.
Arriving at Veronika’s place—the “Little Fish.” The anticipation of a wild night. The grand moment of handing over the gift bag. Her squeal of delight… which turned into a shriek of fury when she pulled out a “Clean Line” set with nettle scent.
“Are you kidding me?!” Veronika screamed, hurling a bottle at him. “You promised jewelry! You said tonight would be special! And you show up with soap from an underpass?! Get out—go back to your wife, you cheap bastard!”
He’d tried to explain. He’d tried calling the delivery service, but no one answered. That’s when he realized the bags had been mixed up. And then real terror hit him.
If the shower gel was with Veronika, then the necklace…
Was with Lena.
And the note. Oh God—the note.
He drove home rehearsing excuses. Say it was a joke? Say it was for a coworker and he was “checking the quality”? Nonsense. Say it was for Lena and the note… what could he possibly invent about the note? “Little Fish” was a pet name for Lena? He’d never called her that once in his life.
He walked into the living room expecting screaming, smashed plates, a full-blown war.
“L-Lena?” His voice cracked.
Lena looked up from her book. Her gaze was bright and clear.
“Oh, you’re back?” she said warmly. “How were the negotiations with the Chinese? Successful?”
Vadim swallowed. Why wasn’t she yelling? Maybe she hadn’t opened the bag?
“Yeah… difficult. Very difficult.” He forced the words out. “Lena, listen… the courier came…”
“He did!” Lena beamed and set the book aside. She stood and walked toward him. “Vadik, sweetheart, I don’t even know what to say.”
Vadim tensed, shoulders creeping up.
“I wanted a surprise,” she continued, gently smoothing the lapel of his jacket. “But not like this. You outdid yourself.”
“You… you liked it?” he asked cautiously, feeling cold sweat run down his back.
“Liked it?” Lena’s smile widened. “Vadim, it’s magnificent. I opened the box and just froze. A sapphire—my favorite stone. You remember how I always dreamed of something like that, don’t you?”
Vadim’s knees nearly buckled. She thought it was for her. She found the necklace. But what about the note? Did she not see it? Or did she decide “Little Fish” somehow meant her?
“Well… yes, of course,” he tried to smile, but it came out as a painful grimace. “I wanted to make you happy. You deserve it. Anything for you, my love.”
His brain raced. Fine—forget Veronika. The necklace was gone, sure—two hundred fifty thousand down the drain. But the marriage was saved. Lena was happy. No scandal. He’d survived.
“Where is it?” he asked, glancing at her neck. “Why aren’t you wearing it?”
“Oh, I tried it on,” Lena nodded. “It fits perfectly. Like it was made for me. But then I thought…”
She stepped to the table and picked up an envelope.
“You know, Vadik… we always said family comes first. That we support each other and our loved ones.”
“Yeah…” he said, not understanding where she was going.
“So here’s the thing.” Lena’s voice stayed gentle. “You know Mom has lung issues. She urgently needed a good sanatorium. And we ‘never had the money’—your car, loans, ‘tough times.’ And when I saw your gift… I realized how much you love us. You won’t be upset, will you?”
Vadim felt the floor drop out from under him.
“What… what did you do?”
“I sold it,” Lena announced lightly, almost cheerfully. “To Tanya at the pawnshop. Sure, they took it with a discount—but the money covered Mom’s voucher to Kislovodsk—luxury room, full treatment—plus we paid off your phone loan from last year, and we still have enough left to live on.”
“You… sold… the necklace?” Vadim whispered. His vision blurred. “You sold the gift?!”
“Don’t be angry,” Lena chirped, kissing his suddenly white cheek. “I thought—why do I need a trinket if Mom is unwell? You taught me to be rational. Honestly, this was the best thing you’ve done in years, Vadim. You sacrificed your secret stash for my mother’s health. I’m proud of you.”
Vadim slid down the wall onto the little hallway ottoman. He couldn’t speak. If he shouted that it had been for his mistress, he was dead. If he stayed silent, he was an idiot who’d just lost a quarter of a million to send his hated mother-in-law to a resort.
“By the way…” Lena’s face changed. Her smile vanished; her eyes turned to steel. “What’s that in your bag?”
Vadim instinctively clutched the cheap gift bag to his chest.
“This… it’s…”
“That’s the ‘Wild Berry’ shower gel set that was supposed to come to me, isn’t it?” Lena stepped closer. Now she felt like winter. “And the note ‘To my beloved Little Fish’ was in the necklace box.”
Vadim froze. She knew. She had known from the start.
“Lena, I can explain… it was a joke, roleplay, I—”
“Shut up,” she said quietly, clearly. “The games are over, Vadim.”
She walked to the front door and flung it open.
“I packed your things. Your suitcases are on the landing. You take your shower gel, go to your Little Fish—if she’ll even let you in after your ‘luxury’ gift—and you don’t come back here.”
“Lena, you can’t! This is my apartment!”
“Yours?” She laughed. “Did you forget we transferred it to our son when you were hiding from the tax office three years ago? I’m the legal guardian. So officially, you are nobody here. Now—out.”
“But… the money… the necklace…” he babbled, backing into the corridor.
“There’s no money,” Lena cut him off. “Mom leaves tomorrow morning. The tickets are nonrefundable. Consider it severance pay for fifteen years of my patience.”
She pushed him past the threshold. Vadim stumbled over his own suitcases lined up by the elevator.
“And one more thing, Vadim,” she said, holding the door handle. “You’re not much of a fish. More like… a carp. Small and bony.”
The door shut with a loud, final click.
Vadim stood on the cold landing. In one hand, his briefcase from the “Chinese contract.” In the other, a bag with three-hundred-ruble shower gel. And somewhere in a pawnshop lay his future—turned into a voucher for the mother-in-law he couldn’t stand.
From behind the door came music—something upbeat, loud. Lena had turned it on. It sounded like she was finally going to take a bath.
With bubbles.
Alone.
Without him.
Vadim kicked a suitcase, yelped as pain shot through his toe, and pressed the elevator button. The evening really had stopped being “mellow.”