Today she had especially chosen her outfit carefully: a dark blue dress that Victor loved so much, and pearl earrings — a gift from her sister for her fortieth birthday.
Thoughts of her husband made her frown. In recent months, something had changed between them. Victor began staying late at work, there were sudden business trips, and most importantly — he seemed to have withdrawn, erecting an invisible barrier between them.
Vera tried to push away her anxious thoughts, attributing everything to the usual relationship crisis. After all, twenty-five years of marriage is no small amount of time.
Taking the box with the pie and her purse, she headed to the house. Natalia had moved here just a month ago, after her divorce. “New life — new place,” she had said over the phone.
Vera remembered how her sister had enthusiastically described the spacious living room with panoramic windows and the cozy kitchen. Now, at last, she could see it all with her own eyes.
Climbing onto the porch, Vera took out the key that Natalia had given her “just in case” through a mutual friend. The front door opened easily. The house was cloaked in semi-darkness — the curtains drawn, creating a mysterious atmosphere. Soft music drifted from somewhere — it sounded like jazz.
“Natasha?” Vera called softly as she stepped into the hall. There was no answer, but muffled voices came from the living room. Smiling, Vera followed the sound, anticipating her sister’s delight at the unexpected visit.
She had just opened her mouth to announce her presence when she froze at the doorway to the living room.
The box with the pie slipped from her trembling fingers and thudded dully onto the floor.
For a brief moment, Vera thought her eyes were deceiving her. On the sofa, in the romantic half-light illuminated only by the flicker of candles, sat two people. Natalia, her younger sister, was cozily nestled in the embrace of a man, resting her head on his shoulder. That man was Victor — her husband.
On the coffee table stood an almost empty bottle of expensive red wine — the very one that Victor always bought for special occasions. Two glasses, remnants of dessert, the subdued lighting — everything spoke of an intimate moment. Vera felt nausea rising in her throat.
“Surprise… right?” her voice came out unnaturally calm, almost mechanically. Natalia jerked away from Victor, her face blanching so much that the freckles on her nose looked like ink spots.
“Vera, I…” Natalia began, but the words caught in her throat. Victor slowly got up from the sofa, his usually confident face distorted with guilt and fear.
