Is six months a lot?
Lidia stood by the stove, gripping the wooden spatula as though she was about to use it as a weapon. Shrimp with garlic and pepper sizzled in the pan, but she was trying not to think about how much that pan had cost and how much the shrimp had cost. Six months of their relationship. Damn those six months.
Aleksei was supposed to arrive any minute. Lidia had time to wash her hair, put on the very dress he «accidentally» noticed in the closet a week ago, hinting that she should wear it when he came over. Well, here she was. Meeting him. But her mood felt like after a visit from the tax authorities.
“Mum, seriously, are you cooking everything by yourself again?” Inna, her daughter, burst through the door. “You should have polished the silverware and laid out the red carpet. Is the president of the love front coming over?”
Lidia gave her daughter a tired look.
“Inna, don’t start. This is an important evening. I want everything to be nice. Is that so hard to understand?”
“Nice is when they don’t ask you to transfer the apartment to them three months after meeting,” Inna muttered, taking off her jacket and throwing it onto the chair. “I’m not interfering, but Mum, can’t you see how he’s manipulating you?”
“He didn’t ask. He just said, if we’re going to be together, why should I be afraid to make him a co-owner? He said it would build trust.” Lidia tried to sound confident, but it came out flat.
“Uh-huh. And if he says that donating one of your kidneys will build trust, will you run to give him one?”
“Inna!” Lidia blushed. “That’s… that’s different. We’re together. And I feel good with him. I don’t want to keep thinking that someone is trying to deceive me.”
Inna scoffed.
“Maybe you just don’t want to be alone. He flatters you, carries your bags from the store, and that’s it. Your brain shuts off.”
“That… that’s low,” Lidia turned away from the stove. “And he does more than just that. He cares. We talk. We laugh. He knows how to listen to me.”
“He knows how to convince you, Mum. That’s the magic.”
The doorbell rang.
Lidia jumped and almost dropped the spatula. Automatically, she smoothed her hair, adjusted her dress, and went to open the door as if she was taking a sobriety test.
Aleksei stood at the door with white roses and a cake from the “Azbuka Vkusa” store. He smiled—confidently, widely, as if he had already won without starting the game.
“Hey, beautiful. You look… breathtaking.”
“Come in,” Lidia smiled gently. “We’ve almost finished everything.”
Inna silently retreated to her room, slamming the door behind her.
Aleksei, as if nothing had happened, put the flowers in a vase, the cake in the fridge, and within ten minutes, was sitting at the table, pouring wine, complimenting the salad, garlic, and Lidia’s new earrings.
“You know, I was thinking,” he said casually. “We’ve been spending more and more time together. Maybe it makes sense to formalize things? I’m talking about registering together. Then maybe we can think about the next step.”
Lidia nervously smirked.
“Again?”
“Well, why not? You live in a great apartment, you have a business that’s doing well, you’re beautiful, smart—what more could you want? Safety? Well, I’m giving you that. I’m here. I’m not running around, lying, or drinking.”
“And not working,” she couldn’t help herself.
Aleksei smiled.
“Well, I’m working on it. My own projects, my own schemes. I’m not the type to work for someone else.”
Exactly, you won’t work for someone else, but you’ll gladly work for a woman, even with pleasure, Lidia thought, but kept silent.
Later, when he went to the shower, and she was cleaning up, Inna came out of her room again.
“Has he started fixing your bathroom yet? Or will he ask for the keys to the safe right away?”
“Inna, I’m fifty-seven. I’m not a girl. I understand everything. I just… I want to try. One last time.”
Inna looked at her mother and suddenly said:
“If he loves you, he’ll sign everything over to you. If he respects you, he won’t ask.”
And she went to bed, leaving Lidia with a sink full of dishes, an empty glass, and the feeling that something inside her had just cracked.
Love on the Second-Hand Market
A week later, they went to Tver. Aleksei said he had an old friend there and they needed to go for a couple of days to unwind. Lidia had her doubts but gave in. It was clear he wanted her to go—so she went.
The drive was dreary. Aleksei didn’t listen to music, only checked his phone and texted someone. Lidia looked out the window, remembering when she used to come here—twenty years ago. With her husband. Also for a vacation. But back then—there was love. Or it seemed that way.
In Tver, they stayed at the «Volga» hotel. The room was ordinary, even a bit stuffy. But Aleksei was lively, like a student on vacation. He went out, talking about business meetings. He left Lidia alone. In the evening, he returned with pastries and a tired smile.
On the third day, she went to look for him.
She found him quickly. He was sitting in a café near the train station with some guy in a leather jacket, loudly boasting about how «this woman is ready to sign everything over to him, all he has to do is say he loves her.» Aleksei’s smile was like that of a cat who had just shredded a canary.
Lidia’s heart stopped. It was loud and empty, like a tin can.
She stood behind a column, listening, not believing. Or maybe she believed. She just didn’t want to. But the voice was his. The words—his. The manner—his. Everything—his.
She left, not listening to the rest.
She returned to the hotel. Packed her things. Left him a note: “Don’t come back. I know everything. The key’s with the administrator.”
On the train back, she trembled. It felt disgusting, physically. She wanted to throw everything away—the dress, the perfume, even the phone. Wipe everything clean.
But at home, Inna was already waiting. When she saw her mother, she didn’t say a word—just hugged her.
“I’m such a fool, aren’t I?” Lidia asked hoarsely.
“No, Mum. You’re alive. And that’s a lot scarier.”
Not You Made Me Weak—You Chose the Wrong Woman
The next morning, Lidia woke up early. No hysterics. No exhausted face in the mirror. No familiar lump in her chest. She made coffee, stronger than usual, with cinnamon—and for the first time in months, she tasted it. Real taste. Bitter, rich. Just like her. The woman she used to be. Warm, naive, with an open heart. That’s it. The end.
Her phone lay on the table, and there was one number in her contacts that she hadn’t dialed in five years. It read: Tanya “NTK.” The journalist she once worked with on a beauty segment for local TV in the early 2000s. They weren’t friends for long, but they were close until some man intervened. Then a falling out, resentments. But the number stayed.
Lidia pressed call.
“Hello?” A sleepy, but still confident voice answered. It sounded like life had only scratched her.
“Tanya, hi. It’s Lidia. Lidia Goncharova. Remember me?”
“Holy crap… Lidia! You’re alive?” There was cheerful surprise in her voice, but also a touch of concern. “Why are you calling? Something serious?”
“I’ve got a scoop for you. There’s a character. Name—Aleksei Vinokurov. A con artist, a repeat offender of the heart. But he does everything with white gloves. Want a juicy story?”
“Go on!” Tanya perked up. “You won’t believe it, I’m looking for a real villain for a story. Not about old people with firewood, but something alive, nasty, slippery. Let’s go!”
“Come over. Do you still have the old address?”
“Yeah. I’ll be there in an hour. With a camera.”
With a camera. Lidia smiled.
When Tanya walked in, everything was ready. On the table—no cozy pie, no coffee with foam. No. A folder with documents. A list of Aleksei’s scams, supported by screenshots of transfers, texts, photos with other women—everything Lidia had gathered over two weeks. And one flash drive—with a recording of his conversation with Viktor. A clear, sharp voice saying:
“Come on, Lidka—she’s no girl, she’ll get it. The important thing is for her to write me into the will by fall. After that, let the grass grow.”
Tanya listened, not interrupting. She gripped the pen, nodded.
“Loud. Very loud.” Finally, she spoke. “I can frame this as a ‘strong woman’s story,’ but the main thing is to expose him. There’s a way to do it through the YouTube platform. We have a project called ‘Anatomy of Lies.’ We tear these things apart.”
“I don’t want money. I want justice.” Lidia said calmly. “He didn’t just want to deceive me. He was trying to destroy everything I’ve built my whole life. My salon. My home. My family. He even started to drive wedges between me and my daughter. He needs to know—women know how to strike back. Just not with fists. But through careers, self-esteem. Through life.”
Tanya shut the laptop.
“He’ll regret ever approaching you.”
The video went viral in four days. The title was simple: “Love for Square Meters. The Story of One Scam.” It showed Lidia, speaking without tears or hysteria, composed, clear, like a protocol. There were audio clips. A psychologist’s comments. And it was all set to tense music with the voice of a hoarse narrator.
The internet exploded. In the first 24 hours—one million views. As it turned out, Aleksei wasn’t a newcomer: women started commenting, listing how much they owed him and how “Aleksei P. from Perm” suspiciously resembled “Aleksei V. from Mytishchi.”
A week later, Aleksei lost his job at the real estate agency—they watched the video and quietly escorted him out. Two former lovers filed claims for refunds. Viktor, the friend, ratted him out to save himself.
And Lidia? Lidia returned to her normal life.
But now, not with an open heart. But with protection. Warm, but firm, like a bulletproof vest. Now she wasn’t just a woman. She was a woman who had survived betrayal and hadn’t broken.
On her birthday, Inna came with flowers and a cake.
“Mum, are you wearing black again?” She raised an eyebrow mockingly.
“This isn’t mourning, it’s style,” Lidia smiled, uncorking the wine. “And it’s not for you to explain, Inna. You wore grey for three years until you divorced your accountant from hell.”
“Oh, don’t remind me. The important thing is that everything’s good now. You’re amazing. You stood strong.”
Lidia looked at her daughter, then out the window. Spring. Sun. The noise of the street. Cars honking.
“I didn’t stand strong. I realized that yielding isn’t weakness. But forgiving when someone tries to rob you—that’s not magnanimity, that’s stupidity.”
“Mum, you’re a philosopher now. Maybe you should start a blog?”
“Yeah. I’ll call it ‘How Not to Die from Love After Fifty.’ Subscribe while it’s free.”
Inna laughed and hugged her mother.
And Lidia thought: if it all happened again, she would believe again. Let him in again. Because life doesn’t make women strong. Betrayal does. It’s like an icy shower—shock at first, then energy.
And not every man survives such a shower.
