Veronika gently set down the cup of cooling coffee. Her fingers, adorned with rings—tokens from her husband over two decades of marriage—quivered slightly. Through the expansive panoramic window of the Bellagio restaurant, the evening cityscape stretched out, but she didn’t notice the sparkling lights or the busy waitstaff.
Her whole attention had shrunk to a single table across the room.
— What a coincidence! — she whispered, watching Igor tenderly stroke the hand of a young brunette. — What an incredible coincidence…
How many times had she pleaded with him to bring her here? Ten? Twenty? “Honey, I’m tired,” “Sweetie, maybe another time,” “Verochka, I have an important meeting”—excuses piled up over the years until she stopped asking altogether.
Now, there he was—lounging casually in his chair, laughing so genuinely as if he had turned back the clock by fifteen years.
A waiter approached her table:
— Would you like anything else?
— Yes, — Veronika lifted her eyes, which sparkled with something like amusement. — Please bring the bill for that table over there. I want to give a gift.
— Excuse me?
— The man in the burgundy blazer is my husband. I want to pay for their dinner. But please, don’t say who it’s from.
The young man looked at her with surprise but nodded. Veronika pulled out her credit card.
“Spend on yourself, my dear,” he had said once.
After paying the bill, she rose and, as she passed Igor’s table, slowed just enough to cast a glance. How many times had she chosen blindness when the truth was clear?
Outside, she inhaled the crisp night air deeply.
“Well then, Igor, you made your choice. Now it’s my turn.”
At home, Veronika slipped off her shoes and went straight to her study.
Oddly, her hands were steady now. Inside her was a serene calm—as if a long fever had finally broken.
— So, where do we begin? — she asked her reflection.
Opening her laptop, she methodically created a folder titled “New Life.” She replaced an old box of papers from the closet—one Igor had never bothered to open.
— It really pays to be cautious, — she murmured.
The house documents were exactly where she had left them five years earlier. The house—her little fortress, bought with the proceeds from selling her grandmother’s apartment. Back then, Igor was just building his business and kept saying:
— Veronichka, you understand all funds need to go into the business right now. I’ll make it up to you later.
She understood. Always did. That’s why she put the house in her name—just in case.
Next came the bank accounts. Veronika logged into online banking and carefully examined the transactions. Thanks to her habit of monitoring finances, she knew exactly which sums belonged to her.
Her phone vibrated—a message from Igor:
— Running late at an important meeting. Don’t wait for dinner.
Veronika smiled:
— An important meeting… Yes, dear, I saw just how important it was.
She contacted Mikhail Stepanovich—the family lawyer. Or rather, now her personal lawyer.
— Good evening, Mikhail Stepanovich. Sorry for the late call, but I need a consultation. Is ten tomorrow good for you? Excellent. Also, let’s meet at the Swallow café, not the office. The matter is delicate.
The next morning smelled of freshly brewed coffee. Igor, who returned after midnight, was still asleep, while Veronika sat in the kitchen reviewing her papers.
For the first time in twenty years of marriage, she felt a thrill from her habit of noting every detail.
— Good morning, dear. How was your meeting yesterday?
— Productive. We planned a new contract.
— Oh? And what’s it called?
— What do you mean?
— Nothing special. Just curious about your affairs.
— I have to go; I have a meeting.
— A meeting? With whom? — his voice now tinged with worry.
— With the future, — she replied.
Mikhail Stepanovich waited at a quiet corner table in the Swallow café.
— Veronika Alexandrovna, your call surprised me.
— Lately, many things surprise me, — she said.
— Tell me, how fast can a divorce finalize if one spouse owns most joint property?
— Pardon?
— You know the house is in my name, right? And most funds in the accounts are mine. I want to know my rights.
— I must say, — he said at the end of their meeting, — I’ve never met such a prepared woman. Usually, these things are handled emotionally.
— I don’t want emotion, — she said. — I want to give a special gift.
After the café, she went to the bank. Time to execute her plan.
At the bank, she spent almost three hours.
— So, we close the main account, transfer funds to a new one solely in my name, and block the cards.
— What about your husband? — the manager asked gently.
— He’ll keep his salary card. Thirty thousand a month should cover… important meetings.
Next, she called the travel agency.
— Hello, I need a trip to Italy. The Tuscan valley, two weeks, the most picturesque spots.
— For two? — the woman asked.
— No. Just me. As soon as possible.
That evening, returning home, she found Igor agitated.
— Veronika, do you know why our joint cards are blocked?
— Really? — she feigned surprise. — Must be a system glitch. We’ll check tomorrow.
— But I needed to pay for… — he hesitated.
— Pay for what, dear?
— Maybe dinner at the restaurant?
Igor paled.
— You… you were there?
— Don’t worry.
Their twentieth anniversary arrived.
Veronika woke early, dressed in her favorite black dress, and styled her hair neatly.
Igor came down with roses:
— Happy anniversary, dear! I reserved a table at—
— At the Bellagio?
— No need. I have a special gift.
She handed him a folder.
— Open it. I think you’ll like it.
— What is this?
— Have you lost your mind?
— No. For the first time in twenty years, I’m thinking clearly.
— Divorce papers, confirmation of my sole ownership of the house, and… oh yes, the restaurant bill. I figured it’s right I paid for our last dinner together.
— You can’t do this!
— This is my business! My house!
— Yours?
— Look closer.
— You’re being harsh.
— No, I’m giving you freedom.
— Where are you going? — Igor asked, stunned.
— To Tuscany. Remember? I always dreamed of visiting.
At the door, she glanced back:
— You know what’s most surprising? I’m genuinely happy for you. Without your… meeting, I never would have dared to change my life.
A taxi waited outside.
— To the airport? — the driver asked.
— Yes, — she smiled. — To a new life.
Leave a Reply