“Where are you going, Inna?” her husband asked, eyeing how carefully she folded her clothes into the travel bag — each item lined up perfectly, as if for display rather than packing. Precision was second nature to Inna. She had been the perfect wife: Leonid always left for work neat, clean, and wearing the same expensive cologne she faithfully gifted him every February 23rd, year after year.
They had been married for over twenty years. Their home was orderly, not just in their closets, but in every corner of their lives.
Once a year, they took a vacation to the same seaside resort. Twice a month, they visited the mothers-in-law. Every morning began with coffee sweetened with exactly one spoon of sugar and a cheese sandwich. The cheese and sausage were always sliced so precisely that Leonid joked she must have a secret ruler measuring every piece.
Evenings followed the same script: a detective series after work, dinner prep for the next day, and lights out by 10 p.m. The menu was never changed — Tuesdays were chicken nights, Wednesdays were for fish. Leonid had resisted at first but had long since accepted it. Still, he secretly craved something new.
“Why so quiet, Inna?”
“Huh?” She jumped, turning to him.
“I said — where are you going?”
“To vacation,” she replied, looking at him as if he were a child. “Did you forget? Our tickets are for tomorrow.”
“I thought you weren’t going! You said work wouldn’t let you off…”
“I sorted it out,” Inna shrugged. “Can I break tradition? We’ve been going to our ‘Vasilki’ resort for years. And now I’m supposed to stay home because of some newcomer? She planned her vacation for the same dates — not my fault!”
“Well…” Leonid muttered, “But you’re the accountant. We need you.”
“Exactly. I’m the chief accountant, she’s just an assistant. Besides, I submitted my vacation request a year ago. It’s signed and filed under ‘Vacations.’ The whole department knows I take this trip every year! The new girl only handed in her request last month and it wasn’t even approved. First come, first served,” Inna ranted as she packed, frustrated by the month-long saga.
“So they let you go?” Leonid asked gloomily.
“Yes.”
“And you’re coming with me?”
“Leonid, it’s not me going with you — it’s us going together. Like always. Don’t worry, I’m not leaving you. Are you alright, dear? You look stressed.” Inna’s eyes softened.
“Yeah, a little nervous. But now that you’re coming too, pack my bag…” he said, leaving the room.
“What a curse!” Leonid’s mind raced as he pictured the upcoming vacation. He was sure she wouldn’t go this time. For a month, Inna complained that the boss refused to approve her leave, and since the tickets were non-refundable, Leonid convinced her to go — alone.
“Don’t want to waste the tickets. I’ll go. I’ll miss her, but what can I do,” he’d said, hiding his excitement. Then, surprise — his wife appeared with a packed suitcase.
“How do I get out of this now?!”
He stepped onto the balcony and quickly dialed a number. Inna didn’t hear the conversation, but his odd behavior aroused her suspicion.
“Coffee or tea?” For the first time in twenty years of marriage, Leonid decided to set the table for breakfast himself — and on the day of their trip, no less. It seemed strange.
“Coffee, of course. One spoon of sugar…” Inna hesitated. “I’ll pour it myself.”
“Better if you do. I might mess it up and then you’ll blame me for ruining your light sandals,” Leonid said, snatching the kettle and cup from her hands.
“Fine…” she replied.
Inna left the kitchen but kept watching. She thought he slipped something into her coffee — and it wasn’t sugar.
“Oh, I forgot to buy water and napkins for the trip. I’ll be right back. Drink your coffee while it’s hot!” He handed her the cup, waiting for her to take a sip.
“Go,” she said, but he lingered, waiting to see if she’d drink it. She finally did.
“Mmm… delicious! You learned to make coffee after twenty years?” she teased, barely touching the rim.
Leonid lost interest immediately and left. But instead of the store, he went to the trash bin by the balcony and dumped the “evidence.” No shopping trip — he needed an excuse to get away.
“Hello? Yes, I did it like you said. Put the powder in her coffee. Waiting for it to work so I can leave. What? You can’t put that in coffee? How was I to know? I’m no chemist or doctor! She’s tough — won’t get sick. Just sit longer on the toilet. The main thing is she misses the flight and I get to go alone,” he reassured himself. Then, after waiting, he returned home.
The door opened with difficulty. Inna lay nearly unconscious on the floor of the hallway. Luckily, a neighbor, Zina, happened to pass by and witnessed the scene.
“Oh my God! So young and like this!” she cried.
“She’s alive… probably,” Leonid mumbled nervously.
“Call an ambulance right now!”
“Maybe it’ll pass?” he said, worried about himself.
But Zina ignored him and dialed emergency services.
Meanwhile, Leonid desperately tried to cover his tracks — poured out the leftover coffee, wiped his fingerprints, grabbed his suitcase, and quietly fled.
A day later, lying happily in his resort room and listening to Zhanna’s steady breathing — his new lover, for whom this had all been planned — his phone rang.
By reflex, Leonid answered.
“Lenya! Lenochka! Where are you? It’s terrible! Inna died! They couldn’t save her!” sobbed the neighbor, Zina. “You need to organize the funeral! Where have you disappeared? So many things to arrange!”
“What did she die from?” Leonid asked cautiously.
“Heart failure. Not 18 anymore,” Zina sniffled.
“So it was just an accident?”
“Yes… What else could it be?” Zina stopped crying.
“No, no! I was at the store! I’m not guilty…”
“And where are you now?”
“I’m at my sister’s,” Leonid lied. In reality, he’d fled and flown off on vacation, everything going as planned — almost.
“Why did you run away in shock?”
“Yes. Exactly. Listen, Zina, can we postpone the funeral? Maybe a week… or two? I have paid vacation… Inna won’t recover anyway. I need to calm down, or I’ll die of grief myself.”
Zina was silent in disbelief.
“What vacation? Lenya? Your wife died! And you’re going on vacation?”
“Well, no one else can handle things. I’ll come when I can. It can wait,” Leonid shrugged. After the initial panic, he relaxed, feeling safe.
“Who called, Lenya?” Zhanna stirred, lifting her head.
“Nothing, just nonsense. Go back to sleep. Or maybe something else,” he laughed nervously. Everything had turned out better than expected. Twenty years of putting up with his wife — and now, a gift: she was gone. Ha! She was really gone. And it didn’t matter that he sent her to the grave; it was just a cruel accident — no proof, no consequences.
He smiled, proud of his cunning.
He imagined a honeymoon with Zhanna and then moving her into his wife’s apartment. He was the first heir, after all. Marriage? No. But living together with all the perks? Exactly what he wanted.
Early in the morning, Lenya snored contentedly. Waking and turning to admire his beauty, he screamed:
“Oh God! Stay away!” and dashed to the balcony, forgetting he was on the second floor.
And what he saw was enough to scare him: instead of Zhanna, lying beside him was Inna — pale, disheveled, like a horror movie zombie come to life.
Leonid didn’t care that the jump would be high. Shocked, he jumped down.
Inna’s sinister laughter was the last thing he remembered.
Luckily — or not — the second floor wasn’t high enough to kill him. He survived with a broken spine and lifelong disability.
When he came to, he saw a doctor nearby. But it seemed to him that Inna — the “deceased” wife — was standing by, haunting him.
“Go away! I didn’t mean to kill you! I didn’t know coffee and that powder were incompatible!” he whispered in delirium, trying to wave his arms, but they barely moved. Instead of screams, only weak moans came out. Yet both Inna and the doctor managed to understand him.
“So your husband tried to poison you. Will you press charges?” the doctor asked.
“No.” Inna turned and left the room.
Of course, she didn’t die. Inna simply refused to drink the coffee after noticing something suspicious. But the show had to go on. She overheard the conversation near the dumpster, realized she had to “die,” and asked the neighbor to help while her grief-stricken husband paced outside.
He took care of everything — he left, cheated, and effectively confessed to his crime. The box of powder was found near the trash. She had the evidence but wanted to understand why he acted that way. She guessed he was at the resort but called to check. The manager confirmed he was settled and enjoying himself.
Inna learned about Zhanna while at the resort. She went there to confront her “faithful” husband and give him a scare.
As it turned out, Zhanna and Lenya met online about a month earlier. He invited her on vacation. Thrilled to get away from his wife, he planned the trip and fun without her. Nothing predicted trouble — until Inna suddenly packed and declared she was going on the trip. That’s when Lenya tried to “disable” her with poison, hoping she’d stay home sick, missing the flight, and giving him freedom. A week alone was all he wanted. He craved change and excitement… and got more than he bargained for.
When Zhanna went for a morning jog, intending not to wake Lenya, she encountered a terrifying woman in the hallway. It took her a moment to realize it was a disguise.
“Stop! I’m Lenya’s wife. Believe it or not, while you had fun with him, they were ‘burying’ me,” Inna quickly explained, watching Zhanna’s eyes widen in disbelief. Zhanna fled the room and never returned. Inna quietly took her place, snuggled under her husband’s arm, waiting for him to wake and be surprised.
From there, things didn’t go according to plan.
When Lenya awoke and saw Inna instead of Zhanna — and with makeup — he leapt out the window, embracing the wind, convinced his dead wife had come back for revenge. The makeup was so convincing it took an hour to wash off while Lenya was “rescued.”
“Now what? Divorce?” Zina asked, shaking her head.
“Of course! Do you think I’ll care for him after this? No way… Let his sister take care of her ‘obedient’ brother. She was the one who told him to poison my coffee,” Inna said, packing up what was left of her things. She decided to sell the apartment — premarital property — no consent needed.
“And where now?”
“I’m heading north to my daughter’s. To see the country while I’m still alive.”
Zina just shook her head. They never met again. Lenya remained bedridden, spending his remaining days in a special facility, haunted by visions of Inna everywhere, watched over by a skilled doctor.