Veronica fastened her bracelet in front of the mirror and smiled at her reflection.
“Artyom, are you almost ready?” she called to her husband. “The car will be here in twenty minutes.”
“I’m just tying my tie,” came his voice from the bedroom. “You seem more nervous about this than I am.”
“How could I not be?” She adjusted her hair. “You only turn forty once. I want you to remember this evening with a warm smile.”
Artyom came out, adjusting his cuff links, and stopped in the doorway.
“Listen, you really didn’t have to organize an entire banquet,” he said gently. “We could have stayed home and celebrated with a few close friends.”
“We could have,” Veronica agreed. “But I wanted to do something different. I wanted to give you the celebration you deserve.”
“You spent half your savings on it.”
“They’re my savings.” She shrugged with a faint smile. “I have the right to spend them on the man I love.”
He walked over and put an arm around her shoulders.
“You know, sometimes I feel like I don’t deserve you.”
“Sometimes I feel that way too,” she laughed. “But I’m generous, so I forgive you.”
They stepped into the hallway, and Veronica mentally went through her checklist one more time: the banquet hall, the music, the menu and flowers for her mother-in-law.
“I invited everyone from your side,” she said. “Your parents, your friends. I called Snezhana three times. She promised she’d be there by seven.”
“Snezhana and punctuality are mutually exclusive,” her husband said with a smirk.
“That’s all right. We’ll wait. The important thing is that she comes. Family is family.”
“That’s what I appreciate about you.” He kissed her temple. “You always know how to keep everything under control.”
“It’s called having character, darling,” Veronica replied softly. “I have enough of it for both of us.”
The hall welcomed them with warm lighting and subdued music.
“Wow!” Artyom looked around at the beautifully set tables. “You really organized an entire banquet.”
“Nothing extravagant, but tasteful.” His wife winked at him. “Go on. Everyone’s already waiting for you.”
The guests rose from their seats, congratulations rang out, and champagne corks popped. Artyom’s father shook his son’s hand, while one of his friends began giving a humorous toast.
“To the birthday boy!” shouted Denis, an old friend of Artyom’s. “Forty isn’t an age—it’s a diagnosis!”
“Thanks. That’s very reassuring,” Artyom laughed.
Veronica moved from table to table, checking whether everyone had a drink and whether anyone felt cold.
“Galina Petrovna, are you comfortable?” she asked, bending toward her mother-in-law. “Would you like to move closer to the window?”
“I’m fine here,” the woman replied coldly, without looking at her daughter-in-law. “Stop fussing. I’m not a child.”
“As you wish,” Veronica answered calmly and walked away.
The celebration gathered momentum. There was laughter, music and a radiant birthday boy seated at the center of the table. Everything was going exactly as she had planned.
“Where’s Snezhana?” she asked her husband.
“Late, as usual.” Artyom waved dismissively. “She’ll arrive after all the salads are gone.”
“I’ll save her a seat next to you. She is your sister, after all.”
“You really are an angel in human form.” He raised his glass. “To you.”
“To us,” she corrected him.
At that very moment, the doors of the hall swung open.
Snezhana did not come alone. Standing beside her, adjusting a lock of hair, was a woman carrying an enormous bouquet and wearing a broad smile.
“Surprise!” Artyom’s sister sang out. “Lilya and I were having coffee nearby, and I thought we should drop in and give the birthday boy a hug.”
The music seemed to grow quieter all by itself. Veronica slowly placed her glass on the table.
“Lilia,” Artyom said quietly, and something like confusion flickered in his voice.
“Hello.” The guest smiled as she handed him the flowers. “Happy birthday. It’s been ages.”
His mother was the first to come alive.
“Lilechka, sweetheart, you haven’t changed at all!” Galina Petrovna exclaimed, throwing up her hands. “Come here. Sit closer.”
Veronica looked at her husband and waited.
She was waiting for only one thing—a short, clear statement.
“Artyom,” she said softly. “Are you going to say anything?”
“What is there to say?” He looked away. “They came to congratulate me. There’s enough room for everyone.”
“Of course there is,” Snezhana cut in, already moving a chair. “Lilya, sit across from my brother, just like old times.”
“What old times?” Veronica’s voice was even, but there was a cold note in it. “Those times ended about ten years ago.”
“Oh, why do you immediately have to react like that?” Her sister-in-law twisted her lips. “Why do you always create drama? We came here politely.”
Lilia sat down, elegantly resting her elbows on the table, and surveyed the hall.
“This place isn’t bad,” she drawled. “Artyom, you always liked doing things on a grand scale. Remember that little restaurant we went to in Prague?”
“I remember,” he said with a smile.
“And remember when Galina Petrovna taught you to make vareniki?” Snezhana added. “Lilechka spent half the day in the kitchen with us.”
“The best vareniki I’ve ever eaten,” her mother-in-law said with a nod. “Unlike certain people whose dough is as tough as shoe leather.”
Veronica slowly turned her gaze toward her.
“Galina Petrovna, whom exactly are you talking about?”
“No one,” her mother-in-law replied, pursing her lips. “It just came to mind.”
Denis, who was sitting nearby, coughed awkwardly and tried to defuse the tension.
“Maybe we should dance? The music is good.”
“Wait, Denis.” Snezhana waved him away. “We’ve only just started talking. Lilya, tell us about your trip to the islands.”
“Oh, girls, that’s an entire story,” Lilia cooed. “Artyom, you would have loved it. Remember how we dreamed of going there together?”
“We did,” her husband muttered, his cheeks turning pink with pleasure.
Veronica leaned toward him.
“Artyom,” she whispered. “This is your birthday celebration, not their evening of nostalgia.”
“Why are you getting worked up?” he said with a grimace. “Sit quietly and stop ruining my mood.”
She remembered those words exactly.
“I’m not ruining anything,” Veronica said, straightening. “God forbid.”
“Exactly,” Snezhana interjected. “She arranged a few tables and flowers and now thinks she’s a queen. Relax. Everyone here is family.”
“Everyone is family,” Veronica repeated with a faint smirk. “Except for one small detail.”
“And what detail would that be?” her sister-in-law asked, narrowing her eyes.
“I paid for all of this.”
“Oh, here we go,” Snezhana said, rolling her eyes. “Are we going to start counting money? Is this going to be another lecture about the budget? Everyone knows what a miser you are.”
“I don’t count other people’s money,” Veronica replied calmly. “Only my own. Do you know what the difference between us is? I earn mine instead of begging for it.”
Snezhana’s face twitched.
“What are you implying?”
“I’m not implying anything.” Veronica shrugged. “I’m simply stating a fact. Artyom used to keep his wallet open, and you came to him as though he were a vending machine. Then, unfortunately for you, the machine stopped dispensing money. So you brought a ghost from his past here. Elegant. I’m almost impressed.”
“How dare you!” her sister-in-law raised her voice. “I’m his sister! I care about him!”
“You care about his money,” Veronica said with a nod. “Very touching.”
“Artyom, can you hear what she’s saying about me?” Snezhana turned toward her brother, her voice becoming shrill. “She’s insulting the entire family!”
Artyom shifted uncomfortably in his seat.
“Veronica, that’s enough,” he muttered. “Why are you doing this in front of everyone?”
“And in front of whom should I do it?” She looked directly at him. “When we’re alone? You haven’t even noticed me tonight.”
“Don’t make things up.”
“I’m not making anything up,” she replied, her voice still level. “I’m sitting at a table I paid for, listening to your sister and your ex treat me as though I’m nobody. Meanwhile, you smile at them and ask me not to interfere.”
“Who’s treating you like anything?” Lilia scoffed. “Don’t sit here if you don’t like it.”
“Oh, the ex has finally spoken.” Veronica turned toward her with a cold smile. “I was beginning to think you were only part of the decoration. Tell me, Lilia, don’t you feel uncomfortable wearing someone else’s dress?”
“What dress?”
“The role of being ‘almost family.’ Ten years have passed, yet you’re still clinging to that bouquet as though it were a life preserver. It’s almost pitiful.”
“How dare you—” Lilia began to rise.
“Sit down,” Veronica said softly. “You’re not onstage. Although all of you are performing remarkably well together. You must have rehearsed.”
Her mother-in-law struck the table with her palm.
“I will not allow you to insult that girl in my presence!” Galina Petrovna shouted. “Lilya is a respectable person, unlike you!”
“Galina Petrovna,” Veronica replied without raising her voice. “How many years have you been searching for an excuse to say that to my face? Congratulations. You finally found one. Do you feel better now?”
“You insolent woman!” her mother-in-law gasped.
“But an honest one.” Veronica shrugged.
Snezhana turned toward the guests, putting on a performance of wounded feelings and tears.
“You saw that, didn’t you? All of you saw it! We came here to celebrate, and this is what we get! It’s all her fault. She doesn’t respect us!”
“Snezhana,” Denis said, “maybe you should stop.”
“You keep quiet!” she snapped at him. “Who asked you to defend her?”
Veronica stood up.
She did not raise her voice. She simply pushed her chair back and carefully straightened the tablecloth.
“I’m leaving,” she said calmly.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Artyom frowned. “Sit down and stop humiliating me.”
“You’re perfectly capable of humiliating yourself, darling,” she said with an almost affectionate smile. “There’s nothing more for me to do here.”
She went over to the manager, quietly said something to him and handed him her card. Then she returned, picked up a beautiful box tied with a ribbon from her chair, and placed it in front of her husband.
“Happy birthday, Artyom,” she said evenly. “This is for you. I spent a long time choosing it because I thought you would like it.”
He stared at the box without speaking.
“The bill has been paid in full,” Veronica added, addressing everyone. “Enjoy yourselves. Have fun. You’re having such a wonderful evening of nostalgia. I wouldn’t want to interrupt it.”
“Veronica, what are you doing?” Artyom began to stammer. “Where are you going? Wait.”
“We are responsible for those we tame,” she said as she put on her coat. “Well, today you chose whom you wanted to tame. I won’t stand in your way.”
“Veronica!” he called after her.
She did not turn around.
The apartment door opened three hours later.
Artyom stormed into the entryway, furious and agitated, his face distorted with rage.
“What the hell was that?” he shouted from the doorway. “You ruined my entire birthday! All of it!”
Veronica was sitting in an armchair with a book. She looked up.
“Good evening,” she said. “Did you enjoy yourselves?”
“Stop pretending!” He stepped toward her, waving his arms. “Do you understand what you did? All the guests witnessed that circus! Snezhana was in tears, and my mother’s blood pressure went through the roof!”
“Poor Snezhana,” Veronica replied evenly. “She tried so hard, and yet she was the one who ended up crying. How unfair.”
“Are you mocking me?” His voice rose to a shriek. “I’ve lived forty years, and I’ve never experienced such humiliation! All because of you!”
“Because of me,” she said with a nod. “Of course. Not because your sister brought your ex-girlfriend to your birthday. Not because you spent three hours grinning at her. It was all because of me.”
“They only came to congratulate me!” he yelled, spraying saliva as he advanced toward her. “You blew everything out of proportion! You’re always looking for an argument! You’re jealous and greedy, always counting your precious money!”
“My money—yes,” Veronica confirmed calmly. “Strangely enough, no one seemed interested in yours tonight. I was the one who paid for dinner.”
“Stop going on about your money!” Artyom clenched his fists. “Why do you keep repeating that? Do you think paying for the party gave you permission to do anything you wanted? To humiliate my family?”
“Who humiliated whom, Artyom?” She put down her book and stood. “Let’s remember what happened. Who treated me like dirt while your sister squealed with delight? Who suggested that my cooking tasted like shoe leather? Who talked about Prague and tropical islands right in front of me?”
“That was nothing!” He waved dismissively. “They were only talking!”
“It wasn’t nothing,” she said, her voice becoming firmer. “It was a performance—a carefully directed one. And you agreed to play a part in it. Do you know what your role was?”
“What role?” he barked.
“A doormat,” she said simply. “The kind everyone wipes their feet on. You chose that role yourself.”
Artyom choked with rage.
“How dare you! I gave you everything! An apartment, status and my name!”
“Your name?” She gave a short laugh. “Artyom, come to your senses. I provided half of everything you have. I also paid for tonight’s dinner. The only thing that truly belonged to you was the right to defend your wife. And you sold it for a cheap smile from a woman who abandoned you ten years ago.”
“Don’t you dare talk about her!” he exploded.
“Oh.” Veronica raised an eyebrow. “Now it’s ‘Don’t you dare talk about her.’ Interesting. Do you see how quickly everything is falling into place?”
“You did this deliberately!” He paced around the room, his voice breaking. “You wanted to make me look like a fool! You’re always lecturing me, always acting as though you’re smarter than everyone else! I’m sick of your moralizing!”
“And you’re the intelligent one, I suppose,” she said with a nod. “You allowed your sister to drain money from you for years, and when I closed down her feeding trough, you hid behind her skirt. Well done. What a hero.”
“Shut up!” Artyom screamed. “This is my home!”
“Our home,” Veronica corrected him. “For now.”
He stopped abruptly.
“What do you mean, ‘for now’?” he asked, and for the first time fear appeared in his voice.
“I mean exactly that,” she said slowly and calmly. “Tonight I sat at a table surrounded by people who despise me. I waited for just one person to stand up and say, ‘That is my wife. Stop it.’ One person. You.”
“I couldn’t do that in front of everyone.”
“You could,” she cut him off. “You chose not to. You preferred basking in their attention to defending me. You made your choice. I simply accepted it.”
Artyom sank onto a chair in confusion.
“All right, I stayed quiet,” he mumbled in a softer voice. “I admit I went too far. Let’s forget it, all right? We’ll make up in the morning. Everything will settle down.”
“In the morning,” Veronica repeated. “You’re frightened now. Not because you hurt me, but because I might leave.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” He tried to smile, but the result was pitiful. “Where would you go?”
“There.” She nodded. “Those three words. Your sister said exactly the same thing tonight. Word for word. It’s remarkable how much the two of you resemble each other.”
“Veronica.” He stood and stepped toward her, his hands trembling slightly. “Don’t do this. I didn’t mean any harm. I was just… I was confused, do you understand? Lilia appeared out of nowhere.”
“I understand,” she said with a nod. “But I didn’t appear out of nowhere. I was beside you every day for all these years. And tonight, as far as you were concerned, I didn’t exist.”
“That isn’t true!”
“It is true.” She walked to the wardrobe and took out a packed bag. “I started packing an hour ago, while you were still celebrating.”
Artyom stared at the bag, and his face turned white.
“You’re… you’re serious?” His voice cracked. “Because of one evening? Because of one stupid dinner?”
“Because of one evening that revealed everything,” Veronica replied calmly. “Sometimes one evening is enough for a person to remove his mask. I should thank your sister. She did me a favor.”
“Wait.” He blocked her path. “Wait. Let’s talk. I’ll fix everything. Tomorrow I’ll call Snezhana and tell her exactly what I think! I won’t let Lilia through the door again! Do you want my mother to stop visiting us?”
“It’s too late,” Veronica said simply.
“What do you mean, ‘too late’?” he shouted again. “All these years, and you’re going to throw everything away? Because of some women’s quarrel?”
“Because of you,” she corrected him. “They started the quarrel, but you remained silent. That was your contribution. Yours alone.”
“I wouldn’t have stayed silent if I had known you would react like this!” He struggled to catch his breath. “You could have simply put up with it! Just for one evening!”
“I put up with it for years,” Veronica said as she put on her coat. “I put up with your mother’s spiteful remarks. I put up with your sister’s greed. I put up with the way you turned away every time because you didn’t want an argument. Tonight, I simply stopped tolerating it. This isn’t a whim. It’s the final result.”
She picked up her bag and walked toward the door.
“Veronica!” He grabbed her sleeve, panic ringing in his voice. “Don’t leave! I’m begging you! I’m prepared to get down on my knees! I’m guilty, do you hear me? I’m guilty!”
“I hear you.” She gently freed her arm. “But do you know what the problem is? You aren’t saying that because you finally understand. You’re saying it because you’re frightened of being left alone.”
“What difference does it make?” he shouted. “I’ll change!”
“It makes a very big difference.” She opened the door. “An enormous difference. Goodbye, Artyom.”
“Wait!” He rushed after her. “What about the money? What about the apartment? The rent? Who’s going to pay it? Have you thought about that?”
Veronica turned around one last time and laughed quietly.
“Now I can see the real you,” she said. “No mask. Thank you for not pretending, at least at the very end.”
The door closed.
Artyom remained standing in the empty entryway, staring at the closed door. He rushed to the window. Below, a car door slammed, headlights flashed, and then everything disappeared.
“No,” he muttered. “No, she’ll come back.”
He dialed her number. It rang. He called again. More ringing. Then the calls were immediately disconnected.
“What is happening?” He sat down on the floor in the hallway, pressing the phone to his ear. “What have I done? What have I done?”
He called Snezhana.
“This is all your fault!” he screamed into the phone. “You and your Lilia! Why did you bring her there? Veronica left, do you hear me? She left!”
“Oh, stop it,” his sister replied lazily. “Where would she go? She’ll cry for a while and come back.”
“She isn’t coming back!” he screamed. “You don’t understand! She paid for everything! Everything! And I… I just sat there like an idiot!”
“Artyom, why are you falling apart?” Snezhana scoffed. “You’ll find another woman. Lilya is single, after all.”
He ended the call before she had finished.
“Idiot,” he whispered, gripping the phone in both hands. “I’m such an idiot. I just sat there grinning like… One evening. One miserable evening. For what? For stories about expensive trips and restaurants in Prague?”
He tried calling again, but the phone had already been switched off.
“Years,” he muttered, rocking back and forth. “She was beside me for years, and tonight I didn’t even see her. I did it myself. I destroyed everything myself. No one forced me. I chose my sister, my mother and that woman… Why? Why didn’t I stop her when she pushed her chair away?”
He squeezed his eyes shut, remembering her calm face, the gift box and her steady voice.
“She warned me,” he whispered. “She warned me every time. And I dismissed her. ‘Stop ruining my mood.’ That’s what I said to her. To my own wife. At my own birthday celebration—the celebration she gave me.”
The phone slipped from his fingers.
“How did this happen?” Artyom groaned, resting his forehead against his knees. “I had everything. Everything. And I destroyed it with my own hands. In one evening. One stupid, empty evening.”
He sat on the floor in the dark hallway, repeating the same words over and over like a broken record:
“I did it myself. It was all my fault. And now there’s no one beside me. I’m to blame. I lost everything. Idiot. I’m such an idiot.”
