A quiet evening turned into a real nightmare when an unexpected guest with impressive luggage appeared on the doorstep.
— Shut your mouth, I’m not talking to you! I’ve come to live with my son! — the mother-in-law declared unequivocally, unceremoniously invading their space.
Not only did the husband fail to defend their family home, but he also showed demonstrative disregard for his wife, rushing to help his mother with her bags.
Evelina adjusted her earrings one last time in front of the mirror. They were small, with tiny diamonds — a gift from her husband for their fifth wedding anniversary. The irony was that she was the one who had helped Timur buy them. By carefully leading him to the right display case and lingering by the earrings for a couple of minutes longer than by the other jewelry… Five years of married life had taught her that her husband’s initiative needed delicate support.
— What do you think, is it too formal? — Evelina turned to Timur, who had been struggling with his tie in front of the same mirror for ten minutes.
— You look amazing! — he replied, not taking his eyes off his own reflection.
— Simply gorgeous! — Evelina smiled.
Her dark blue dress with a deep V-back truly looked spectacular, especially paired with cream-colored high heels. She had been preparing for this evening for a whole week: she had booked a manicure, gotten a new haircut, and even bought the dress — an unthinkable expense for the usually frugal Evelina. But a promotion to head of the marketing department deserved a special celebration. Eight years of work at the “Mediavector” company — first as a simple manager, then senior, lead, and now — head of an entire department.
Her previous boss, Igor Stanislavovich, had retired, recommending her for his position.
“You have grit, Evelina,” he had said at his farewell party. “And systemic thinking. Not everyone can see both the big picture and every detail at the same time.”
She still remembered how her hands trembled when, after the interview with the board of directors, she was informed of her appointment. Her first impulse was to call her parents, but they were vacationing in Turkey, and she decided not to disturb them. Timur was second on the list.
— Honey, you won’t believe this! I got promoted! — she blurted into the phone.
— That’s great, — he replied after a long pause. — So you’ll be earning more now.
Evelina remembered how her excitement momentarily faded. Not “I’m proud of you” or “you deserved it,” but straight to the money. However, she quickly dismissed the thought. Timur was just practical, he always had been.
— Yes, by about 40%, — she had answered then. — Let’s celebrate. Let’s go to ‘Mon Plaisir.’ I’ve walked past it so many times, peered into the windows, but I’ve never been inside.
“Mon Plaisir” was the most expensive French restaurant in their area. Evelina had secretly dreamed of going there ever since they moved to this part of the city. Two years ago, they bought an apartment — a two-bedroom in a new building, on the eleventh floor. The neighborhood was considered prestigious, although it was a half-hour subway ride to the center. They took out a fifteen-year mortgage, and Evelina diligently saved money every month to make early repayments. The new salary could significantly speed up this process.
— Ready? — Evelina asked, casting a final glance at the clock. They had forty minutes until their reservation, just enough time considering the traffic.
Timur, having finally conquered the tie, nodded:
— Almost. Where are my cufflinks? The silver ones?
— In the top drawer of the dresser, on the left, — Evelina answered automatically. She always knew exactly where his things were.
At that moment, the doorbell rang. Loudly, insistently, without lifting a finger from the button.
— Are you expecting someone? — Evelina frowned…
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