Tomorrow morning I’m flying home and filing for divorce. And you can stay here with your Olya,” I told my husband on the very first day of our vacation.
I was standing in front of the bedroom mirror, trying on a new dress, when Nikita came in and sat on the edge of the bed. We’d been married only a week, and I still couldn’t get used to the idea that this was my new life.
“Sash, I need to talk to you,” he said—and there was something off in his voice.
I turned and looked at him. Handsome face. Confident eyes. My mother called him the perfect match. My father called him a profitable alliance for business.
“I’m listening.”
Nikita rubbed his hands and gave me that same smile that used to make my heart race. But now it felt wrong—like it didn’t belong to the man in front of me.
“Do you remember when we discussed the terms of our marriage? You said you wanted something modern.”
I frowned. I didn’t remember any conversation like that. We hardly talked before the wedding at all—two or three restaurant meetings, one trip to his parents’ country house. Everything had been rushed and formal.
“I mean… we’re both free people,” he continued. “Adults.”
I set the dress aside and sat down across from him, feeling a cold shiver creep along my spine.
“Nikita. Say it plainly. What happened?”
He stood up and walked to the window, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans.
“I have a girlfriend. We’ve been seeing each other for three months, and I’m not going to break up with her.”
Silence. I could hear the clock ticking on the wall, cars hissing past outside. I could hear my own breathing turning uneven.
“You… what?”
He turned to me, and there wasn’t a trace of shame or guilt on his face.
“I’m dating Olya. She knows about our marriage. We talked it all through, and she agreed we’d keep seeing each other.”
I stood up slowly. My legs felt like cotton. My head spun.
“Wait… are you telling me that while we were planning the wedding—during the wedding itself—you were with someone else?”
“Sasha, don’t turn this into a tragedy,” he said. “Our marriage is just a deal between our fathers. You understand that perfectly well.”
I laughed—sharp, nervous, almost hysterical.
“A deal? Maybe. But I thought… I hoped we’d at least try to build something normal.”
Nikita shrugged, walked back to the bed, and sat down.
“Listen, I’m not trying to hurt you. But I’m not going to pretend. I have a woman I love, and I want to keep being with her.”
“And you’re telling me this in our bedroom?” I whispered. “A week after the wedding?”
The room wavered in front of my eyes. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.
“So you want to take your mistress on our honeymoon?”
“Don’t call her that. Olya is my girlfriend. And this isn’t a honeymoon—it’s just a vacation.”
“Nikita, are you out of your mind?”
He sighed like I was a spoiled child refusing to accept something obvious.
“Sash, be realistic. We got married for our fathers’ business. Nobody promised love. You live your life, I’ll live mine. In public we’ll look like a happy couple—that’s all.”
“And how exactly do you imagine this trip?” I shot back. “The three of us tanning on the beach together?”
“I got Olya a separate room. She’ll fly in two days after us. You can entertain yourself however you want—excursions, spa. I won’t restrict you.”
I stared at him and realized I didn’t know this man at all. Or maybe I never had.
“You really think that’s normal?”
“I think it’s honest,” he replied. “I could’ve lied. I could’ve cheated in secret. But I chose to be upfront.”
“How noble of you,” I said, dripping with sarcasm.
Nikita got up and headed for the door.
“Think about my offer. We have three days before the flight.”
He left. I stayed in the bedroom, staring at nothing.
That night I called my friend Katya. We’d been close since university, and she was the only person I trusted enough to say it out loud.
“Hi! How’s the life of a newlywed?” she asked brightly.
“Katya… it’s a nightmare,” I said, barely holding back tears.
“What happened?”
I told her everything—the conversation, the girlfriend, the planned trip.
She went quiet for a few seconds, then let out a breath.
“Are you serious? He just… told you all that to your face?”
“Yes. Like it was the most normal thing in the world.”
“Sash, this is insane. What are you going to do?”
I shrugged, though she couldn’t see me.
“I don’t know. Divorce? But how do I explain it to my dad? He invested so much money into this alliance with Nikita’s family.”
“To hell with the money,” Katya snapped. “This is your life. You can’t live with someone who humiliates you like that.”
“Maybe he’s right,” I murmured. “Maybe I took it too romantically. This marriage really was a deal.”
“Sasha, listen to me. A marriage of convenience is one thing. What he’s offering is cruelty. He wants you to accept that he’ll sleep with another woman on your vacation.”
Tears spilled over. I sniffed hard.
“I don’t know what to do.”
“You know what?” Katya’s voice turned firm. “Go on the trip. And bring a man with you.”
“What? Katya, I don’t have anyone.”
“So what? Find someone. Show that jerk you’re not a doormat. Let him understand you can play that game too.”
I sat there, thinking. The idea was crazy… but it also made a brutal kind of sense.
“I can’t just find a guy in three days.”
“Yes, you can. Remember Igor from our group? He’s a photographer now, always traveling. I’m sure he’d agree.”
Igor. Tall, good-looking, funny. We’d crossed paths a few times at alumni meetups.
“It’s too weird,” I said. “Asking someone I barely know…”
“Sasha, you either swallow the humiliation—or you fight back. There’s no third option.”
I wiped my cheeks and drew a long breath.
“Let me think.”
The next morning at breakfast, Nikita acted like nothing had happened. Coffee. News on his tablet. Occasional glances at his phone.
I watched him and realized how little I knew—his favorite color, what he read, what movies he loved. Strangers tied together by a stamp in a passport.
“So?” he asked without looking up. “Have you thought about it?”
“About what?”
“About the trip. About Olya.”
I took a sip of coffee and looked him straight in the eyes.
“Yes. I thought about it.”
He finally set the tablet down and studied me.
“And?”
“Fine,” I said. “Bring your Olya. I don’t care.”
A faint smile slid across his face.
“Good. I’m glad you’re taking this calmly.”
“But there’s one condition,” I added after a pause. “I’m bringing a man too.”
His smile stopped as if it hit a wall.
“What?”
“You heard me. You bring a girl, I bring a guy. Fair.”
Nikita placed his cup down slowly.
“Sasha, that’s not the same—”
“Why not? You said we’re free people. That I can live my life.”
“Yes, but… I have something serious with Olya. And you—who do you even have?”
“And why is that your business?” I snapped. “You didn’t ask my opinion about your mistress.”
His face darkened.
“Listen, Sasha—”
“No, you listen,” I cut in. “Either we both go with our companions, or nobody goes with anyone. Choose.”
We stared at each other for a long moment. I watched emotions flicker in his eyes—shock, anger, confusion.
“You’re serious?” he said at last.
“Completely. And I already invited my friend. He agreed.”
It was a lie. I hadn’t even spoken to Igor yet. But Nikita didn’t need to know that.
He shoved his chair back.
“Perfect,” he said sharply. “Then we’ll vacation as four.”
And he walked out, slamming the kitchen door.
My hands trembled slightly as I sat there. My heart was pounding hard enough to hurt.
What had I done?
That evening I called Igor. My fingers shook as I pressed the buttons.
“Hello?” he answered on the third ring.
“Igor? Hi, it’s Sasha. Sasha Vinogradova—we studied together.”
“Oh—Sasha! Of course I remember. How are you? Katya said you got married recently. Congratulations!”
“Thanks,” I said. “Listen… I have a strange request.”
“Go on.”
I took a deep breath and explained everything. The marriage of convenience. Olya. The ultimatum. I spoke fast, messy, afraid that if I stopped, I’d lose my nerve.
Igor listened without interrupting.
“So you want me to pretend to be your boyfriend on this trip?” he asked when I finished.
“Yes. I know how it sounds. I know it’s crazy. But I need help.”
He paused for a few seconds.
“When’s your flight?”
“The day after tomorrow. Morning.”
“Sasha… you realize this is a very strange plan,” he said carefully.
“I do. But I don’t know what else to do. I can’t just accept my husband bringing his girlfriend on our vacation.”
Igor exhaled heavily.
“Alright. I’ll help you.”
“Really?”
“Yes. But on one condition—no half-truths. You tell me everything. Fully.”
“I promise.”
“Then send me the flight details. I’ll meet you at the airport.”
“Igor… thank you. You’re saving me.”
“Let’s hope we don’t both regret it,” he said, and hung up.
I lowered the phone and stared at the wedding band on my finger. A week ago I thought a new chapter was beginning. A happy one.
God, how wrong I was.
The day before the flight, Nikita didn’t come home. He texted that work was busy and he’d be back late. I knew it was a lie. He was probably with Olya.
I packed a suitcase—new swimsuits, dresses, makeup—moving like a machine, not really thinking.
That night my mother called.
“Sweetheart, how are you? How’s married life?”
“Everything’s fine, Mom,” I lied.
“I’m so happy for you. Nikita is such a well-mannered young man. From a good family.”
“Yeah, Mom.”
“Your father said you’re flying to Turkey? How romantic!”
“Uh-huh. Romantic.”
She didn’t catch the sarcasm.
“Have a wonderful rest, get some sun. And you know… maybe soon you’ll make me happy with news about grandchildren?”
I closed my eyes. Grandchildren. Children with a man who didn’t love me—and didn’t even hide it.
“Mom, I have to go. We’ll talk later.”
“Okay, darling. I love you.”
“Love you too, Mom.”
I ended the call and cried—quietly, soundlessly.
The morning of the flight, Nikita hummed in the bathroom as he got ready. He was in a great mood.
I sat in the kitchen with a cup of tea, staring out the window. A gray October day. Rain tapping the glass.
“Ready?” Nikita asked, coming out with his suitcase.
“Yes.”
“Taxi’s waiting.”
We rode to the airport in silence. The driver turned on the radio, and cheerful music played the whole way—so wrong against the storm inside me.
The airport was crowded. October vacationers rushing to gates. Families with kids. Elderly couples. Students with backpacks.
“I’m going to check in,” Nikita said. “Meet me by the boarding area.”
He walked away. I stood near the information desk, turning my phone in my hands.
Igor texted that he was already there, waiting by the café on the second floor.
I went up the escalator and spotted him immediately. Small backpack. Jeans and a black T-shirt. Slightly messy hair. Light stubble.
“Hi,” I said, walking up.
“Hey, Sasha. How are you?”
“Honestly? Not great.”
He smiled.
“This is going to be one hell of an adventure.”
“I hope you won’t regret it.”
“We’ll see,” he said. “Do you need me to follow a script? What should I say? How should I act?”
I thought for a moment.
“Just be yourself. And act like we’re together.”
“Got it. Hand-holding included?”
“Probably.”
He nodded.
“Alright. Let’s check in. Where’s your husband?”
“Already at the counter. Come on.”
We went back down, and I saw Nikita on the phone at check-in. The moment he noticed Igor, his gaze snapped onto him.
“Hi,” I said.
Nikita slowly lowered the phone.
“Hi. This is… your friend?”
“Yes. Meet Igor. Igor—this is my husband, Nikita.”
The men shook hands. I saw tension in Nikita’s movements.
“Nice to meet you,” Igor said evenly.
“Likewise,” Nikita replied, clearly unhappy.
That was when a young woman walked up—blonde, slim, big gray eyes. Pink dress, white sneakers.
“Nikit, hi!” she said, hugging my husband and kissing his cheek.
That was her. Olya.
I felt Igor’s grip tighten slightly—he understood immediately.
Olya turned to me with a bright smile.
“You must be Sasha! Nikita’s told me so much about you!”
I couldn’t force a single word out.
But she kept smiling, as if none of this was insane.
“I’m so happy we’re all going to relax together! It’ll be fun!”
I stared at her, stunned by the audacity—standing there beaming like this was perfectly normal.
“Fun?” I repeated. “You really think this will be fun?”
Her smile flickered.
“Well… Nikita said you knew. That you’d agreed.”
“I agreed,” I said, nodding. “Yes. That’s why I brought my friend too.”
I gestured to Igor, still holding my hand.
Olya looked at him, then at Nikita. Color rose into her cheeks.
“I… I didn’t know that…”
“Didn’t know I wouldn’t sit alone in a room while my husband entertains himself with you?” I smiled coldly. “Surprise.”
Nikita took her by the elbow.
“Come on,” he said tightly. “Let’s check your bag.”
They stepped away. Igor stayed beside me.
“You okay?” he asked quietly.
“No,” I admitted. “But thank you for being here.”
He squeezed my hand.
“Hold on. We’ve got this.”
On the plane I sat by the window, Igor beside me. Nikita and Olya were a few rows behind.
I felt their eyes on us, heard their muted voices. Olya sounded upset—clearly shaken by the unexpected twist.
“Want to sleep?” Igor asked. “I’ll wake you before we land.”
“I can’t,” I whispered. “My head won’t shut up.”
He nodded and pulled out his tablet.
“Then let’s watch a movie. Something to distract you.”
We put on a comedy, but I couldn’t focus. All I could think about was how my life had flipped in forty-eight hours.
A week ago I’d been a bride—smiling, hopeful. Now I was flying to a resort with a man who wasn’t mine, pretending we were a couple, just so I wouldn’t look pathetic next to my husband and his girlfriend.
“Sash,” Igor said softly after a while. “I want to say something.”
I looked at him.
“What?”
“When we get to the hotel… I’ll understand if you want me in a separate room. I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable.”
A separate room would mean surrender—letting Nikita see I couldn’t play his game.
“No,” I said. “We’ll stay in the same room. Two beds. Nothing more.”
Igor smiled.
“Of course. I’m not a monster.”
The hotel was beautiful. White buildings, palm trees, a bright blue pool. Our room was spacious—two large beds and a balcony overlooking the sea.
Igor stepped out onto the balcony right away. I started unpacking.
I knew Nikita and Olya had asked for one big bed in their room. The thought made my stomach churn.
“Sasha, come here!” Igor called. “You have to see this sunset!”
I joined him. The sun was melting into the sea, coloring the sky in pink and orange. It really was gorgeous.
“Thank you for saying yes to this madness,” I said.
Igor turned to me.
“You know… when Katya told me about your wedding, I thought you were making a mistake.”
“Why didn’t you say something?”
“Who am I to advise you?” he said. “We’ve only seen each other a couple times all these years.”
I nodded, watching the water.
“You were right. It was a mistake. A huge one.”
“But you can fix it,” he said. “You’re still young. Your whole life is ahead of you.”
“A divorce a week after the wedding? My dad will kill me.”
“Better to be alive and free,” Igor said with a small smile.
We stood there, and for the first time in days, I felt something close to calm.
That evening we went down to dinner. The hotel restaurant was packed—tourists laughing, taking photos, piling plates at the buffet.
We took a table by the window. Igor poured me some wine.
“To vacation,” he said, lifting his glass.
“To vacation,” I echoed.
That was when Nikita and Olya walked in. She wore a short white dress. He wore a button-down shirt and trousers. A beautiful couple—if you didn’t know the truth.
They passed our table. Nikita flicked a quick glance at me but said nothing.
“He’s ignoring us,” Igor noted.
“He’s uncomfortable,” I said. “Good.”
We ate, drank, talked—about work, life, our university days. Igor was an easy, interesting conversationalist, and I realized I felt safe around him.
As we left the restaurant, Nikita suddenly stood and stopped me near the doorway.
“Sasha, I need to talk to you.”
“Now?”
“Yes. Alone.”
Igor looked at me, questioning. I nodded.
“It’s fine. Wait in the room.”
He left, and I stayed with Nikita in the corridor.
“What do you want?”
Nikita ran a hand through his hair. He was nervous.
“That Igor… are you really together?”
I crossed my arms.
“And why do you care?”
“I’m just curious. You’re not the type to move that fast…”
“Not the type?” I laughed. “You mean I’m not the type to cheat one week after getting married?”
“I’m not cheating,” he snapped. “Olya and I were together before our marriage.”
“And that’s supposed to excuse it?”
His jaw tightened.
“I just wanted the truth. Is he real—or are you doing this to get back at me?”
I looked him straight in the eye.
“And if I am? It shouldn’t matter to you. You said it yourself—everyone lives their own life.”
He opened his mouth to answer, but I didn’t let him.
“You know, Nikita… I thought I could handle it. I thought I could live in a marriage without love. But what you did—it crossed every line.”
“Sasha, I—”
“I’m not finished,” I cut in. “Tomorrow morning I’m flying home. Igor’s coming with me. And you can stay here with your Olya and enjoy your vacation. Alone. Because when I get back, I’m filing for divorce.”
Nikita went pale.
“You can’t just divorce me. Our fathers—”
“I don’t give a damn about our fathers!” My voice rose. “I don’t care about business, money, any of it. I’m not spending my life playing the part of the convenient wife while you sleep with whoever you want!”
Nikita grabbed my arm.
“Wait. Let’s talk calmly.”
I pulled free.
“There’s nothing to talk about. I’ve decided.”
Back in the room, Igor was on the balcony with his laptop.
“How did it go?” he asked when I walked in.
“I told him we’re leaving tomorrow morning.”
Igor shut the laptop and looked at me.
“Seriously?”
“Seriously. I can’t stay here. I’m sorry I ruined your vacation.”
He stood and came toward me.
“You didn’t ruin anything. I understand. If you want to leave—we leave.”
Tears rolled down my face, unstoppable.
“I’m such an idiot,” I whispered. “I agreed to this marriage. I thought it would be fine.”
Igor wrapped his arms around me. Just held me—no speeches.
I cried into his shoulder while he stroked my hair and murmured that everything would be okay.
In the morning we packed and checked out. Nikita sent a few messages, but I didn’t reply.
At the airport Igor bought us tickets on the next flight home. We sat in the waiting area, coffee in our hands, mostly silent.
“You know,” Igor said suddenly, “I’m glad you called me.”
“Why?”
“Because I’ve wanted to spend time with you for a long time. Since university.”
I looked at him, startled.
“Really?”
“Really. But you always seemed unavailable. First that guy from the other group, then someone else… and then we graduated, and I figured I’d missed my chance.”
My heart started to beat faster.
“Igor…”
“I’m not saying this to pressure you,” he added quickly. “I just want you to know. When you’re divorced… if you want… I’ll be here.”
I didn’t know what to say. Too much had happened too fast.
So I took his hand and squeezed it.
“Thank you,” I whispered. “For everything.”
He smiled.
“Anytime.”
At home, the hardest conversation was with my father. I told him everything—Olya, the humiliation, my decision.
My father stood by the window in his office for a long time without speaking.
“I thought I was doing what was best for you,” he said finally. “I thought I was securing your future.”
“Dad, I can’t live with someone who doesn’t respect me.”
He turned to me, and I saw pain in his eyes.
“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I was selfish. I only thought about business.”
He walked over and hugged me.
“Get divorced. I’ll support you. And to hell with Nikita and his father.”
Three months later I sat in a café with Katya, laughing at her story about a terrible date.
The divorce was quick. Nikita didn’t fight it. I heard he was still with Olya.
I didn’t care.
I found a new job, rented my own place, started a new life.
And I was seeing Igor. Slowly. No rushing, no grand promises. Just time together—learning each other properly.
“What are you thinking about?” Katya asked.
“About how sometimes mistakes lead you to the right decisions.”
“Getting philosophical?”
I smiled.
“No. Just enjoying life.”
My phone buzzed. A message from Igor: Want to meet tonight? I want to show you a place.
I replied: Of course. I’ll be waiting.
And I thought about how happiness isn’t a beautiful wedding or a rich husband. Happiness is the freedom to be yourself—and people who accept you exactly as you are.
I was free.
And it was the best feeling in the world.