Шрифт:
Prologue
A quiet evening suddenly turned into a nightmare that turned my whole life upside down. And all thanks to social media, or rather, my classmates. A letter sent by a strange woman made me forget how to breathe. No, she didn't write anything horrible. She didn't even threaten or insult me, she just threw down some wedding photos. But what pictures! My Dimitri in a light suit hugged a girl in a wedding dress and was completely happy.
My head was buzzing, my heart was beating and freezing. I can't believe his betrayal. We had called yesterday morning to discuss the future renovation of our apartment in Moscow. The house had just been recently completed, and the mortgage was really hard on our pockets. But it's our little nest!
And now it has another mistress!
Shaken and angry, she angrily stammered into the message:
"What's the joke? Go have fun with other fools!"
I was about to send the interlocutor to the ban, as she sent me an upside-down laughing emoticon and a link to VK.
Instead of blocking the messages, I clicked on the link and found myself on the page of a certain Diana Serebryakova (!!!) in maiden name Akhmadulina.
Feeling as if I was made of absorbent cotton, I clicked a few times with my naughty hands and looked through a dozen photos. Here is my Dimitri posing with relatives at the registry office, here he puts a ring on the finger of another, and here he is with her by the pool with a cocktail in his hands.
I couldn't believe it! I wanted to get the message that it was a joke and Photoshopped. But the further I leafed through the album, the more my hopes melted. Dimitri and Diana had been in a relationship for several years, as evidenced by the photo report. Yes, they even had joint photo shoots!
There was only one thought in my head: "How could he?!" He and I have been together for almost five years now. We bought an apartment, paid the mortgage together. For the last year we haven't even had money for tickets to see each other!
A new message from my classmates coincided with the doorbell. I didn't pay attention to the last one, but I went to the messages.
"Don't interfere with the lives of young people's lives. You haven't left them alone for two years. "You lost! Leave the guy alone!"
I swayed in my chair and, unable to hold on, fell to the floor. So all this has been going on for two years? That's when Dimitri started talking about the mortgage. He even managed to convince me to sell the three-room apartment, inherited from my grandmother. Instead of a luxury apartment in a “Stalinka”, I moved into a one-room “Khrushchevka”, and the difference was put down as a deposit.
“Rina, open up!!!” came Ramila's voice.
The best friend pounded her feet on the door. Slowly I stood up, opened the door and, turning around silently, wandered into the room. My friend followed me like a hurricane. She threw a cake on the table and a jingling bag on the sofa and announced:
"The fortress has fallen!”
“А?” I asked indifferently.
“ I say…” she stammered: “What is it with you?”
I didn't have the strength to answer. Instead, she waved toward the computer and, wrapping her arms around herself, swayed from side to side.
“ Here…! …!” Ramilya swore figuratively and lucidly.
I sobbed and cried in response. My brain was feverishly trying to find an explanation for his behavior. We loved each other, we wanted children....
“ Don't cry!”
Ramila shoved a glass of wine under my nose and made me drink it in one gulp. I almost choked a couple of times, but at least I came to my senses.
“ Good!” The torturer was pleased when she caught my angry look.”The cat's tears will be poured back to the cat, the mouse's tears!”
I immediately cried again. The girl in the photo was well-groomed, with a precise figure. But I was really a mouse. Last year I couldn't afford a hairdresser. My hair was still hanging in ugly bundles. Blondes need to touch up the roots almost every three weeks.
“ Don't cry Rina! You've got no one to cry for. Let him cry.”
“ The apartment,” I sobbed.
“ Great loss. My father has a good lawyer. He'll sue him for half of his living space. Let's go right now! Where are your documents?”
Ramila's words and deeds were never at odds, and she burrowed into the drawer where I kept everything important.
“ What documents?” I howled.
“ For an apartment in Moscow. You took a mortgage, and you transferred the down payment to the bank.”
I clapped my eyes, only now realizing that I had never actually seen them. Or rather, Dimitri had sent me a picture of the contract on WhatsApp. I quickly pulled out my phone and, finding the saved pictures, showed them to my friend.
Ramila flipped through the photos in a daze and, sitting down next to me, drained her glass.
“ What a bitch! “she exhaled.
For the next hour we drank wine in silence. Ramila frowned and bit her lips. I wiped the tears running down my cheeks.
“ That's what! We'll get revenge on him! “ said her friend, putting a new bottle on the table.
“With the help of a lawyer?”
“ Eh, Rina, you are not in the contract. Dimitri only took a two-bedroom on himself.”
“ It's more profitable, the interest is lower.”
“ You have less brains, as well as any other fool in love, “ she categorically cut off:
“You must have transferred the money to his card?”
I nodded, causing my friend to groan.
“ You didn't transfer money to the mortgage account. You didn't sign the contract.”
You didn't get him a loan through a lawyer. You could go to the police, but they'd probably tell you to fuck off. The man got married, and the ex-girl showed up to file a complaint.
I gurgled in agreement. Indeed, I'd have to convince the investigator to accept the application first. And then I'd have to go through the circles of hell to get the case prosecuted. All that would require money, and I didn't have any.