Elena woke up first, as always. Maxim lay beside her, arms sprawled over the blanket, breathing evenly in sleep. The morning sun pierced through the thick curtains, casting warm light across the familiar outlines of their bedroom. Three years ago, Elena had brought Maxim into her home, eager to start a life together. Now, it often felt as if she were the guest in her own life — a visitor in a marriage that belonged more to him than to her.

Quietly, she slipped out of bed and made her way to the kitchen. She turned on the coffee machine, selecting her favorite cup from the shelf. Outside, the city avenue buzzed with the hurried footsteps of commuters rushing to work. Elena braced herself for another demanding day at the office — a place where every hour she worked translated into money, but not always peace.

“Len, did you forget about Mom’s request?” Maxim’s voice called from the bedroom.

Elena stopped by the refrigerator, the question hitting her like a sudden chill. Yesterday, Zinaida Petrovna had called again, asking for twenty thousand rubles for medical treatment — the third such request in six months. The debts from previous loans still hung over them like a shadow.

“What request?” Elena replied, feigning innocence as she carried her coffee back to the bedroom.

Maxim stretched and yawned lazily.

“Well, you promised to think about it. Mom really needs the money for her procedures.”

“I promised to think,” Elena said, sitting on the edge of the bed. “Maxim, your family has borrowed nearly a hundred thousand rubles from us over the past year. Not a single kopek has been returned.”

“Oh, come on, we’re family!” Maxim propped himself on one elbow, grinning. “You earn plenty. You make way more than I do.”

That phrase cut through her sharply. Elena set her cup down on the nightstand.

“I’m the one earning,” she said calmly. “And yet, it’s my money we’re spending — mostly on your relatives.”

“Here we go again,” Maxim reclined back onto the pillows. “I never forced you. You agreed to combine our finances. And I don’t transfer money without your consent.”

Combine. Such a pretty word, full of promises and unity. But in reality, there was nothing to combine — his salary barely covered his own expenses. Yet somehow, they were spending Elena’s earnings like joint money.

“All right,” Elena stood up firmly. “But this time, let Mom borrow the money officially. We’ll draw up an IOU.”

“You’re serious?” Maxim frowned. “Demand an IOU from your own mother?”

“Very serious. No IOU — no money.”

Maxim said nothing, but a shadow passed over his face. Elena noticed but held her ground. She had already given in too many times.

The office day dragged on with tedious negotiations, calls, and endless reports. By lunchtime, fatigue settled deep in her bones, not from work itself, but from the looming thought of another money dispute awaiting her at home.

Around three o’clock, Elena prepared for a meeting with a client. Leaving the office, she decided to stop by a nearby café — craving a proper coffee in a peaceful environment to collect her thoughts.

The café was half empty. Elena ordered a cappuccino and settled into a quiet corner, shielded by a large leafy plant that offered a fragile sense of privacy. As she scrolled through her phone, a movement caught her eye.

Maxim sat at a nearby table — with a woman.

Elena’s breath caught. He was supposed to be at work, at least for the morning hours. She didn’t recognize the woman — a stylish blonde, about thirty-five, with an effortless elegance.

Her heart pounded. Elena pressed herself further into the chair’s backrest, hoping they wouldn’t notice her watching.

“Everything’s going according to plan,” Maxim said with a smirk. “Just the last stage remains.”

“And she has no idea?” the woman leaned in.

“Lena? She’s too busy with work. The main thing is not to scare her off now.”

Elena’s body tensed. What plan? Why was Maxim talking about her like a secret project?

“Are the documents ready?” the blonde asked.

“Almost. I just need to slip her a couple of papers to sign — something about the tax office or other routine stuff. She won’t read them; she trusts me.”

Elena’s chest tightened. What documents? What was he plotting?

“And then?” the woman sipped her cocktail.

“Then it’s simple — a mutual consent divorce. The apartment will be mine entirely. Plus the savings. Altogether — about seven million rubles.”

“Not bad for three years of work,” the blonde laughed lightly.

“Three years of patience,” Maxim corrected. “You have no idea how hard it is to pretend to be a loving husband. But the result is worth it.”

Elena gripped the edge of her chair. The room blurred around her. All this time… every tender word, every plan for the future, every promise of family — it was all a lie.

“What about love?” the woman sneered.

“Love for money — that’s all that was between us,” Maxim said, casually draping his arm around the blonde’s shoulders.

Elena closed her eyes, fighting the rising storm inside her. She wanted to leap up, confront them, scream out the betrayal — but her legs felt rooted to the floor. Memories flashed through her mind: how Maxim had convinced her to combine accounts, preaching that everything in a family should be shared. She had believed him — because they were family.

“When do you plan to finish this?” the blonde asked.

“Soon. She’ll sign the papers this week. After that, it’s just a matter of formalities.”

Maxim glanced at his watch.

“I need to leave now. Dear wife will be back from work soon. Time to play the perfect husband.”

They stood and walked toward the exit. Elena watched them leave, her heart breaking silently. Three years of her life — and to Maxim, it had all been nothing more than a job.

The waitress approached with the bill. Elena paid mechanically, then stepped outside. The world bustled around her: people laughing, chatting, rushing through their day. An ordinary city morning — but her world had shattered.

The following days passed in a haze. Elena worked on autopilot, smiling at coworkers, answering questions. At home, she played the devoted wife — cooking dinners, asking about Maxim’s day, listening to his stories. But every word felt false. Every smile seemed a mask. Elena was watching a stranger posing as her husband.

Slowly, a plan formed in her mind — clear, calculated, and merciless.

By week’s end, everything was ready.

She transferred the money to a personal account Maxim couldn’t access. She took the apartment documents to her mother for safekeeping. All the pieces were in place.

One rainy Saturday morning, Elena sat sipping tea at the kitchen table. Outside, raindrops traced paths down the windowpane. Maxim had gone “to meet friends,” as he had said the day before.

Around noon, the key turned in the lock. The front door slammed open.

“Where’s the money?!” Maxim stormed into the kitchen, his face twisted with anger. “Elena, where’s the money? All the savings are gone from the account!”

Elena looked up calmly. Maxim stood there, disheveled and furious.

“What’s this? You wanted to take my apartment and money?” she asked evenly. “Too bad I turned out to be smarter, huh, Maxim?”

He froze, surprise and fear flickering across his face.

“What are you talking about?” he stammered.

“Your plans. The documents you intended to trick me into signing. The divorce you planned after taking half my property,” Elena said, sipping her tea. “And your pretty blonde.”

Maxim paled.

“You… you were spying on me?”

“I overheard everything. Your entire conversation about ‘three years of work’ and ‘naive Lena.’”

“Elena, I can explain…”

“Explain?” She laughed coldly. “You married me for money. You pretended to be a loving husband for three years. You plotted to steal half the apartment and savings. Then leave me for your mistress.”

“That’s not true!” Maxim stepped forward. “I really loved you… I love you!”

“Enough,” Elena said, shaking her head. “At the café, you said something else: ‘Love for money is all that was between us.’ Remember?”

Maxim sank into a chair, defeated.

“Lena, give me a chance to fix this. That woman means nothing. I don’t need the money. Let’s start over.”

“Start over?” Elena stood tall. “I have a better idea. Let’s end this — for good.”

“What do you mean?”

“Divorce. And you leave today.”

“But the apartment, the savings — by law, I’m entitled to half!”

“What half?” Elena went to the window. “The apartment was bought before marriage and registered only to me. The savings? Gone.”

“Gone? What do you mean?”

“Transferred to another account. Only I have access. It’ll be easy to prove in court that you didn’t contribute a single ruble.”

Maxim jumped up.

“You have no right! That’s our money!”

“Our?” Elena laughed bitterly. “You earned peanuts. I supported your family. Where was your money then? Why didn’t you spend it on your parents?”

“Elena, what are you doing? We’re family!”

“Family?” Steel entered her voice. “Family doesn’t plan to rob each other. Family doesn’t count years of marriage as ‘work.’”

Maxim paced the kitchen, desperation rising.

“Fine, I admit I had bad thoughts. But I changed my mind! I truly love you!”

“Sure. Especially now that you know you’ll get neither apartment nor savings.”

“Elena, please…”

“Pack your things,” she interrupted. “You must leave by evening.”

“Where will I go?”

“To the blonde. Or your mother. I don’t care.”

Maxim tried to protest, but Elena turned and walked to the bedroom. An hour later, he left with two suitcases.

The divorce was swift. Maxim tried to claim property, but all documents were airtight. The apartment was premarital property. The savings were personal. There was almost no shared property.

Zinaida Petrovna called daily, demanding answers. Elena responded politely:

“Your son deceived me. Look for the money with his new girlfriend.”

A month later, it was over. Elena sat in a travel agency, flipping through brochures.

“Italy? Spain?” the manager suggested.

“Bora Bora,” Elena said, pointing to a photo of a turquoise lagoon. “Three weeks. The most expensive suite.”

For the first time in years, she was spending money on herself alone — and the feeling was unexpectedly liberating and sweet.