The evening began deceptively normally. The ticking of the clock in the kitchen, the muffled hum of the city outside the window, and my husband, Yegor, intently tapping on his laptop keyboard. He was supposedly finishing a presentation for investors.
I brought him his favorite Earl Grey tea. He looked up from the screen, gave me a perfunctory smile, and kissed my cheek. He smelled of expensive cologne — the one I had given him for our anniversary.
— Thanks, Lera, you’re a gem. Just one more hour, and I’m all yours.
I nodded and started towards the kitchen, but stopped halfway. Something in his glance, too fleeting, too fake, made me freeze. He thought I had left. And I saw his fingers start flying across the keyboard at a completely different speed, a self-satisfied smirk appearing on his face.
I quietly returned to the hallway, pretending I had forgotten my phone. He had just stood up and gone to the bathroom, leaving his laptop open. My heart was pounding like a caged bird.
I knew I shouldn’t, that it was low, but I approached. The screen wasn’t displaying a presentation, but an airline’s webpage. Two business-class tickets to Dubai. For tomorrow. The passenger names: Yegor Petrov and Snezhana Titova.
Snezhana. A twenty-four-year-old fitness model with thousands of followers and empty eyes, whom he had introduced to me a couple of times as a business partner’s wife. Below that was a hotel reservation. Burj Al Arab. Seven nights.
The blood drained from my face, and a ringing started in my ears. I closed the tab and stepped away from the desk a second before he returned, whistling some tune.
That evening, as we were lying in bed, I turned to him.
— Yegor, what are your plans for next week? I was thinking maybe we could visit my parents over the weekend.
He was lying on his back, staring at the ceiling.
— Oh, Lera, no can do. I have a very important trip tomorrow — to the airport.
— To the airport? — I tried to make my voice sound as innocent as possible. — So sudden. You didn’t say anything.
— That’s just how it is, sweetie. — He turned to me, and I forced myself to look into his lying eyes. — They called this afternoon. The deal of the century is in the works. If it all pans out, we can forget about the mortgage and all our debts. I’ll be there for four, maybe five days. The phone signal might be bad, it’s a secure facility, so don’t worry if you can’t reach me.
— Of course, I won’t. — I smiled. The smile turned out surprisingly natural. — It’s for our future, after all. What kind of project is it?
He began to lie with inspiration. About innovative technologies, foreign investors, a breakthrough in IT. I listened and nodded, feeling something inside me turn to glass, to ice. He talked and talked, reveling in his own lies, his impunity. He was already there, in Dubai, with his Snezhana. And I was just an annoying obstacle that needed to be lulled with a beautiful fairy tale for a while.
— I’m so proud of you, — I whispered when he finished his monologue.
— I know, baby. — He pulled me closer. — I do it all for you….
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