Andrey had never been good at lying. As he packed his suitcase in the bedroom, he carefully avoided looking at Marina—the woman he had shared nearly ten years of his life with.
“So, a conference. A whole week,” Marina said, leaning against the doorframe. “And of course, in Sochi, while everyone else is relaxing.”
“Yeah,” Andrey muttered, awkwardly shoving his beach shorts beneath a pile of shirts. “The company’s covering all expenses. It’d be strange to refuse.”
“And Vika, your colleague—is she going too?” Marina’s voice held no question, only a weary statement.
Andrey froze for a moment but then continued packing as if nothing had happened.
“Yes. She’s handling the presentation. Work is work.”
“Of course,” Marina crossed her arms. “Just like last year’s company party, when you were ‘working’ until four in the morning?”
“Here we go again,” Andrey snapped, slamming the suitcase shut. “I already explained. We had an important project.”
“The one where you deleted all her messages from your phone?”
Finally, Andrey lifted the suitcase and looked Marina in the eyes.
“I’m not discussing this. The plane leaves in three hours.”
“Say hello to your ‘colleague’ for me,” Marina said, stepping aside. “Enjoy your vacation.”
Andrey mumbled something and hurried out.
Alone in the bedroom, Marina stood staring at a family photo on the bedside table. Then, with resolve, she grabbed her phone and started searching for someone who could help her make sense of it all.
Mid-June in Sochi brought perfect weather—the water warm but gentle, with soft waves. Andrey lounged under an umbrella, watching Vika bask in the sea. Her sun-kissed skin shimmered, attracting curious glances.
“Come here!” she called, waving. “The water’s amazing!”
Andrey slowly rose and walked toward the shore. Despite three carefree days free from work, household duties, and Marina’s constant complaints, a knot of tension still lingered inside him.
“What are you thinking about?” Vika asked, swimming closer and wrapping her arms around his neck. “Don’t tell me it’s work.”
“No, just…” Andrey hesitated. “I forgot to send the report before leaving.”
“Liar,” Vika smiled, kissing his cheek lightly. “You’re thinking about your wife, aren’t you?”
Andrey frowned.
“We agreed not to bring that up here.”
“Okay, okay,” Vika soothed. “Maybe we should swim out to the buoys?”
That evening, they dined at the hotel restaurant overlooking the sea. Vika wore a new dress she’d bought that afternoon at a boutique along the promenade. Andrey watched the sunset paint her skin golden and thought she truly looked stunning. Yet something gnawed at him.
“Want to go to the mountains tomorrow?” Vika asked, sipping wine. “I want to get some great photos for social media.”
“Sure,” Andrey nodded. “We can also buy souvenirs.”
“Does Marina like souvenirs?” Vika asked innocently.
Andrey grimaced.
“I told you, don’t start this conversation.”
“Sorry,” Vika covered his hand with hers. “But sooner or later, you have to face this. We can’t hide forever.”
“I know,” Andrey replied grimly. “I’ll talk to her after the trip.”
“Really?” Hope sparkled in Vika’s eyes. “Promise?”
“I promise.”
The week flew by. They swam, sunbathed, toured, savored seafood in cozy restaurants, and spent warm nights in the hotel room. Andrey almost forgot about home and what awaited him. Almost.
On departure day, Vika hugged him at the airport.
“Don’t forget your promise,” she whispered, kissing him. “I’m waiting for your call.”
“I remember,” Andrey said, reluctantly pulling away. “I’ll call after I talk to her.”
They flew on separate planes—such precautions felt necessary. Onboard, Andrey ordered whiskey and tried to figure out how to explain things to his wife. After ten years, their marriage felt like a distant memory. Marina was absorbed in her career, and he… had met Vika and rediscovered a spark of life. Divorce seemed inevitable, but it didn’t ease the pain.
Late that night, the taxi pulled up to his apartment. After paying, Andrey paused, staring at the glowing windows. Marina was still awake. Taking a deep breath, he headed inside.
The door opened quietly. He set his suitcase down and listened. Soft music and voices drifted from the living room. TV, he thought, slipping off his shoes and moving toward the sound.
What he saw stopped him cold. The room had transformed beyond recognition. Gone was the usual minimalism—now twinkling garlands, flowers, and balloons filled the space. Photos hung on the walls: wedding day, honeymoon, first trip to Europe… A festive table stood in the middle with champagne and a cake topped by a candle shaped like the number “10.”
Marina sat on the couch—not alone. Beside her was a tall, blond man Andrey had never met. They laughed together, the stranger’s hand resting on her shoulder.
“What… what’s going on?” Andrey croaked, stepping inside.
Marina jumped and turned, eyes wide.
“Andrey? You’re back already?” She glanced at the clock. “We weren’t expecting you for another two hours.”
“We?” Andrey’s eyes flicked between Marina and the stranger. “Who is he?”
The blond man stood and smiled, extending a hand.
“Alexei. Nice to meet you.”
Andrey ignored the handshake.
“Marina, what’s this? What’s the celebration?”
“You forgot?” Marina looked genuinely surprised. “Today’s our tenth wedding anniversary.”
Andrey felt the floor drop beneath him. The anniversary. He’d completely forgotten. Worse, he’d spent the week with another woman, planning how to ask for a divorce.
“And you decided to celebrate with… him?” He nodded toward Alexei, who remained calm and smiling.
“Oh, don’t worry,” Alexei said, returning to the couch. “I’m just here for work.”
“Work?” Andrey clenched his fists. “In my home? At night? With champagne?”
“He’s an interior designer,” Marina explained calmly. “I wanted to renovate while you were away. It’s a surprise for our anniversary.”
“In one week? In one room?” Andrey asked skeptically.
“Not just the living room,” Marina stood and motioned for him to follow. “Come see the rest.”
In a daze, Andrey followed her. Their bedroom was transformed too: new wallpaper, bed, lamps, and paintings.
“This is…” He struggled for words.
“Do you like it?” Marina asked hopefully. “I’ve wanted to change something for a while. Thought this was the perfect time.”
Andrey noticed how she emphasized the word “conference” and winced inside.
“Very… unexpected,” he finally said.
“That’s not all,” Marina opened the door to the adjoining room—his former study.
Andrey froze at the threshold. The room had been completely converted into a nursery—with blue walls, a small crib, and toys.
“What’s this?” he whispered.
Marina wrapped her arms around herself, suddenly vulnerable.
“I wanted to tell you on our anniversary. I’m pregnant, Andrey. Fourteen weeks along.”
Time seemed to stop. Andrey looked at her swollen belly, which he hadn’t noticed before, at the crib, at the teddy bear on the shelf…
“Pregnant?” The word felt foreign. “But how? We…”
“Remember that night before your business trip to Novosibirsk?” Marina smiled weakly. “We were both a little drunk.”
Andrey remembered. Three months ago—a rare moment of closeness in their already fading relationship.
“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”
“I wanted to be sure. Then I waited for the right moment,” Marina shrugged. “Then you announced your ‘conference’ with Vika.”
Andrey went pale.
“You knew?”
“Of course I knew,” Marina met his gaze. “I’m not stupid, Andrey. But I wanted to give you a chance. A chance for all of us.”
She placed her hand on her belly—a simple gesture that made everything suddenly real. They were going to have a child. Their child.
“Marina, I…” He couldn’t find the words.
“Don’t say anything now,” she interrupted softly. “Go back to the living room. Alexei was just leaving. Let’s have some champagne and… talk.”
Andrey nodded absentmindedly and left the nursery. In the living room, Alexei was already gathering his things.
“Happy anniversary,” he said, shaking Andrey’s stunned hand. “And congratulations on the new addition. Your wife is amazing.”
“Yes,” Andrey croaked. “Thank you.”
After Alexei left, Marina returned with two glasses. One filled with champagne, the other with what looked like juice.
“To us?” she offered Andrey the champagne.
He took it but couldn’t raise it for a toast.
“Marina, I need to say something.”
“I know,” she answered calmly. “About Vika, your relationship, and that you want to leave.”
Andrey looked at her, surprised.
“How do you know?”
“Your phone died before the trip, remember? You used my old one to call a taxi. Logged in under your ID and never logged out,” Marina set her glass down. “All your messages came to me. Every single one, Andrey.”
Andrey felt the blood drain from his face. All his talks with Vika, future plans, promises of divorce…
“Marina, I don’t know what to say.”
“Don’t say anything,” Marina stepped close. “Just answer one question. Do you love her?”
Andrey opened his mouth, then closed it. He thought he did. He’d been sure all week. But now, standing here, looking at his wife, their remodeled home, and knowing about the baby…
“I don’t know,” he admitted honestly. “I’m confused.”
Marina nodded as if she expected that answer.
“Okay. Then here’s what we’ll do.” She took his untouched glass and set it beside hers. “I’m giving you a week. Pack your things. Stay with friends, family, or a hotel—wherever you want. Think about everything—us, the baby, your feelings. In a week, you’ll come back and tell me your decision.”
“And if I decide to leave?” Andrey asked quietly.
Marina closed her eyes briefly, revealing the effort it took to stay calm.
“Then you’ll leave. I won’t hold you back. But I want you to be absolutely sure about your choice.”
Andrey looked at his wife and saw her as if for the first time in a long while—her strength, dignity, and love—the things that had drawn him to her but had faded into the background over time.
“I don’t deserve you,” he whispered.
“Maybe not,” Marina smiled faintly. “But the choice is yours. Now go. And don’t call me this week. I want you to think, not look for the easy way out.”
Andrey nodded, slowly grabbed his suitcase by the door.
“See you in a week,” he said.
“See you,” Marina replied.
After the door closed behind him, Marina returned to the living room. She looked at the festive table, the champagne, the photos of happier times. Then she went to the window and watched Andrey leave, suitcase in hand. He paused to look back at their home, then slowly walked away.
Marina rested her hand on her belly as if hoping to feel movement inside. But she was lying about being pregnant. If Andrey had paid closer attention, he would have known she wouldn’t be drinking champagne if she really were. Yet their child existed only in the plans they had once dreamed of. No baby was growing inside her now. But she hoped Andrey would reconsider and come back—and then she would truly become pregnant. Everything depended on him realizing what truly mattered in life.
She had enlisted the help of the interior designer—a longtime school friend—to shock Andrey. Marina knew that lies were a poor foundation for rebuilding their marriage. But sometimes a person has to lose everything to understand the value of what they once had.
Turning off the lights in the living room, Marina headed to the bedroom. “Morning is wiser than evening,” her grandmother used to say. And she had a whole week ahead.