“Dasha? What are you doing here?” Svetlana was so shocked she could barely speak.
Her mind spun out of control, and inside her, jealousy and hurt boiled over. Why would they do this to her? Hadn’t she loved her husband? Had she really been a bad wife—and a bad mother to their son?
But what happened next was beyond anything she could have imagined.
Svetlana had always been sure that fate had paired her with her husband. And the fact that she and Kostya had lived happily in marriage for more than ten years felt natural, almost inevitable.
Today she was coming back home from a work trip she’d left for two days earlier. A few days ago, her boss had called her into his office and announced that no one but her could deal with the problems at one of their branches.
“There’s work for three days, tops,” he told the slightly upset woman. “Pack your things, Svetlana, and don’t even think about coming up with excuses. You leave tomorrow.”
Sveta already had plans for the next few days, and traveling to another city wasn’t part of them. But arguing with the boss was pointless. She couldn’t even bring up the fact that in their company only younger employees usually traveled—and that it was the boss himself who had set that rule. She had already spent more than enough time on the road. Now, after turning thirty-five, she was hoping for a calmer, steadier schedule.
“Kost, I have to go away for work. Probably three days,” she told her husband. “Make sure Dima actually studies with the tutor—lately he’s been dodging lessons. And I’m paying a lot for that. And make sure he eats properly. Not chips and crackers—soup and cutlets. I’ll leave everything in the fridge.”
“Okay, I’ll keep an eye on it. Don’t worry,” her husband muttered indifferently, never taking his eyes off his phone.
“And that’s all?” Sveta stared at him. “So you’re not upset at all that I’m leaving? Come on, at least put your phone down for a second!”
“You’re not leaving for a month,” Konstantin said, finally looking up, and he even smiled. “You’ll be back in three days—you said so yourself. Me and our son will manage somehow.”
Then he added, surprised, “Why are they sending you again? I thought you’d already done your share.”
“They need an experienced specialist,” Svetlana said proudly. “That’s exactly what the boss told me—experienced and strict, with a backbone.” She knew she was valued at work.
While she was away, she pushed herself to finish faster and return from the unfriendly city a little earlier—if only for one day. That day she could spend at home, giving it to herself.
The train was already approaching the outskirts of her hometown. She was in a bright, almost giddy mood, happily imagining how she’d come back to an empty apartment. A kind of freedom. Her husband would be at work, ten-year-old Dima still at school—and Sveta would finally have time just for herself.
First she’d run a bath with fragrant bubbles. Then face masks—hands, too. Maybe she’d even take a short nap, a luxury she hadn’t allowed herself in ages. Later Dima would burst in from school, and she’d feed him, help with homework. With work the way it was, she could barely remember the last time she truly spent time with her child. She hadn’t even stayed on maternity leave properly—she ran back to work and left ten-month-old Dima in the care of her retired aunt.
She didn’t warn her husband she was coming back—either she forgot or she did it on purpose. At that point it didn’t matter. Let it be a surprise. He’d come home in the evening, and there would be his wife, a hot dinner, and their son’s homework already finished. Paradise.
Feeling sentimental, remembering how she and Kostya had met and married so suddenly, Svetlana stopped by a store on the way home and bought a bottle of dry wine and Kostya’s favorite cake. Let tonight be romantic—she wanted that. Lately they’d drifted apart: she was buried in work, then home chores, while Kostya lived in his phone. They barely talked anymore. Like strangers, honestly.
When she opened the apartment door, Svetlana didn’t immediately realize someone was inside. Only when she switched on the hallway light and saw a pair of women’s boots that weren’t hers did she go cold. Then her gaze fell on a light-colored fur coat hanging in the closet. It reeked of a cloying, sharp, sugary perfume—so strong it made her nauseous.
Maybe it wasn’t even the perfume that made her feel sick, but the sudden understanding that something awful was waiting for her. Instead of a bath, masks, and a cozy family evening with white wine and dinner.
None of that would happen now. Maybe she wouldn’t even have a family anymore. She wasn’t the kind of woman who could forgive betrayal—not because she didn’t want to, but because she simply couldn’t.
She forced herself to breathe. She needed to get a grip, not look ridiculous or pathetic in the eyes of her cheating husband and the stranger bold enough to come into her home to entertain herself with someone else’s man—and shatter Svetlana’s happiness.
From the marital bedroom she heard laughter and a quiet conversation. And she was already scanning the room for something she could grab—something to strike both “lovebirds” at once.
“God… how did my life get to this?” she whispered to herself. “How did I not see it, not feel Kostya pulling away so much he took a mistress? And that wasn’t enough for him—he dragged her into our bed!”
She spoke under her breath, trying to calm herself down. She knew her temper. She was genuinely afraid she might seriously hurt one of them. And that meant prison. So she had to hold herself together.
Finally, unable to contain her emotions any longer, she headed toward the bedroom door, which was tightly closed.
On the way, she caught her foot on the cord of a tall standing lamp that had been pulled out almost to the middle of the living room, near the coffee table. Apparently, before moving on to the “more interesting” part of the meeting, the lovers had been drinking and snacking. On the table stood a bottle of champagne and fruit.
The crash of the fallen lamp in the apartment’s silence alerted whoever was in the bedroom.
The door flew open, and wrapped in a bedsheet, someone appeared in front of Sveta…
“Dasha?” Svetlana stared. “You? My God! So that’s why that horrible perfume smelled familiar!” She burst into hysterical laughter, recognizing the “rival” as a woman she had once been very close to. “How could you? You snake. That’s what you are!”
“Svet…?” Darya blinked, just as stunned. “What are you doing here… I’m sorry, I really thought you were still on your trip.”
“And he didn’t expect me back this early either, did he?” Sveta said, meaning her husband hiding in the bedroom. “Come on out, darling! Don’t hide. We’re all friends here—apparently.”
“Svetochka, you’re making a terrible mistake. Please, calm down. You misunderstood everything,” Dasha began to mumble, standing guiltily in the doorway.
“Oh no,” Svetlana snapped. “Those words are not yours to say. That’s what my husband is supposed to tell me—how I ‘misunderstood.’ Come out, Kostya! Time to get what you deserve. I caught you. And thank God it’ll be a divorce, not a murder. Come out!”
“Svet, please, listen to me,” Darya pleaded.
“Move away from the door! I want to look that bastard in the eyes!” Sveta shouted, desperate to get to her husband. “Move, or I can’t promise what I’ll do. Step aside. You won’t save him.”
“Svet, Svet, forgive us—please calm down!” Dasha begged.
“Are you moving or not? Let Konstantin come out already! Stop hiding. It won’t help you, Kostya! Come out and show me your shameless eyes!”
“It’s not Kostya in there!” Dasha suddenly blurted.
“What?” Svetlana froze. “Don’t play games with me. Let him come out! Hear me? Be a man and come out here!”
Then she faltered, staring into Darya’s eyes.
“Not Kostya… you say. Then who?” Sveta asked quietly.
For one trembling moment she believed it wasn’t her husband. That everything could go back to normal. That he hadn’t cheated. That her family would stay whole, and Dima wouldn’t cry after a divorce.
God… what was happening?
“Who is it?” Svetlana barked, her patience at the breaking point. “Answer me!”
“It’s Roman,” Dasha said, dropping her eyes.
“Roman?” Svetlana repeated, stunned.
But then she shoved her former friend aside and rushed into the bedroom.
It was Roman—her husband’s brother. He was already dressed, sitting on the bed. He turned away from Svetlana, staring out the window with a guilty expression.
“Roman, what is going on? Have you lost your mind? What kind of circus is this? Dima will be home from school soon, and you’ve turned our apartment into a brothel!”
Svetlana couldn’t contain herself. How could this happen? She’d always known Roman as a serious man, and she’d considered his marriage with Marina practically perfect.
The three of them ended up in the kitchen. Svetlana demanded an explanation. Her conversation with her husband would come later—and it would be brutal. She’d give him a real headache. But right now she needed to understand how two people close to her could do this. And she was terrified something like this might one day happen in her own family, too.
“I met Dasha a year ago—at Kostya’s birthday,” Roman began. “Remember when you took all of us out to the countryside? It was fun. Then Dasha and I ran into each other in town by chance. That day I’d fought with Marina again. She accused me—like she always does—that I don’t earn enough, that I have no ambition. She really hit where it hurts. So I decided to get back at her. I liked Dasha right away, and then that meeting happened… and I didn’t stop myself.”
“Well, you’re easy to explain,” Svetlana said, staring at Darya with open disapproval. “You’re divorced and you have a kid—you don’t care who you fool around with. But you, Roman—how could you? I always held your family up as an example to Kostya!”
“Turns out I’m not that perfect,” Roman muttered. “So… what now?”
“And why are you meeting here?” Svetlana exploded. “There are hotels. Hourly apartments. Why would you barge into someone else’s home—someone else’s bed?”
“It’s a small town,” Roman answered. “Almost everyone knows me. I work at the administration office. So we decided to hide at your place. Svet, don’t think this is an everyday thing—we’ve only been here once. And honestly… Dasha and I don’t meet that often. Just a few times.”
“Oh no,” Svetlana cut him off. “Spare me the details. What a disgrace… Dasha, I hope you understand we’re not friends anymore. And how I’m supposed to look Marina in the eyes—I have no idea.”
After she threw the uninvited guests out, Svetlana didn’t get any relaxation or spa rituals. Instead, she launched into a full deep-clean of the apartment. And as she cleaned, she thought hard about her marriage with Kostya—about what needed to change so something like this would never happen to them. She needed to take interest in her husband’s life, his problems, talk with him more honestly. And she needed to stop criticizing—however difficult that was.
And she also decided to teach Konstantin a lesson so he’d never again think of giving their apartment keys to anyone—no matter if it was his own brother.
“Sweetheart, I just got back from my trip and you won’t believe what’s going on!” she shouted into the phone when she called him.
“You’re already home?” Kostya panicked; she could hear it in his voice.
“Yes, I came early. And there are burglars in our apartment!” Sveta continued her performance. “But don’t worry. I already called the police. I locked them in from the outside using the second lock—the one that can’t be opened from inside. The thieves are trapped! I’m waiting for the officers in the stairwell.”
“Don’t, Sveta! Cancel the police, please! I’ll come right now and handle it!” her husband yelled into the phone.
“No, what are you talking about? Of course we need the police. They’re criminals—they should answer by law for breaking into someone else’s home,” Svetlana said, smiling to herself.
“Svet, I’m coming! I’m on my way!” Kostya understood he needed to get home immediately and stop a conflict that could ruin his brother’s reputation.
He rushed, afraid to imagine what was happening at home. But when he arrived, he found his wife calm—and smiling.
“So… is it all settled already?” he asked cautiously.
“Kost, your brother says hello,” she replied. “But you never do something like that again. Or you’ll go live with him—or anywhere else. And I really don’t want that, because I love my hopeless husband. Please don’t do stupid things like this again. Remember: our apartment is our fortress. It’s sacred. Understood?”
“Understood,” Konstantin exhaled in relief.
“And tonight,” Svetlana added, “you and I are having a romantic dinner.”
“Seriously?” he looked even more surprised.
“Yes. And after that, you’ll tell me what you dream about. Honestly, okay? And I’ll tell you mine—my plans, my hopes.”
“Svetka… you’re something else,” he said, smiling. “And you’re not going to tell Marina anything?”
“Why would I?” Svetlana shrugged. “Let them sort it out themselves.”
“You’re wise,” he said softly. “And beautiful. Let me kiss you.”
“Are you crazy?” she laughed. “Dima’s home.”
And with relief, she thought how lucky it was that her husband had been at work that day—not at home.