Anton tapped his fingers impatiently on the steering wheel, irritation rising as he watched the seemingly endless stream of pedestrians clogging the crosswalk.

Stuck in the traffic jam, he let his gaze wander. To his left, a gleaming SUV pulled up to the light—flawless, polished to a mirror shine, like something straight out of an advertisement.

A woman was behind the wheel.

“Well, look at that—a woman driver,” Anton scoffed. “Where’d she get the money for a car like that?”

The woman casually removed her sunglasses, adjusted her hair, and checked her reflection in the rearview mirror.

In that moment, Anton’s breath caught—he knew that face. It was Lera. His ex-wife.

“It can’t be…” he muttered, stunned. His jaw dropped. “How is this even possible?”

A flood of memories surged back. He had gone out of his way to leave her with nothing during their divorce.

She didn’t even have a driver’s license back then. And now, here she was behind the wheel of a brand-new SUV, while he sat sweating in his aging car that barely passed for functional.

“Was she hiding money from me?” he wondered, scrambling for an explanation.

Their story had started out almost playfully. Lera had been spray-painting a mural on the wall of his property—vivid colors, wild hair, covered in paint. He’d pretended to be intrigued, though he actually found it all pointless.

“Just vandalism,” he’d thought at the time. “What’s the use of all those bright squiggles?”

But he said something else entirely. He was attracted to her looks, and the rest didn’t matter. Their brief fling turned into something more. She was clever, had her own ideas, but also seemed gentle and easy to mold.

For over a year, Anton lied to both of them—pretending to support her art. Eventually, he decided she’d make a good wife. He proposed with full theatrics: on an office rooftop, with flowers, fairy lights, a down-on-one-knee moment, and a sparkling diamond ring.

They held the wedding at a luxury hotel, but just a few hours into the celebration, Anton was already regretting it. Lera’s friends were loud, free-spirited, and dressed like they’d stumbled in from a street fair. Their presence clashed painfully with the “respectable” crowd he had invited—and made him want to disappear from his own event.

“First of all, I’ll forbid her to meet with them,” he decided then. “Now she’s my wife. I won’t let just any people come into the house.

To Lera’s surprise, she meekly accepted his conditions, agreeing only to see her friends outside the house.

“Anton, I can’t just stop communicating with people you don’t like,” — she timidly objected. “That’s stupid. I don’t like everyone in your circle either, but you don’t demand that of me.

” Ler, don’t compare”, he snapped. “My friends are real people, the real elite.

Lera understood perfectly well what true sophistication looked like—and Anton’s friends didn’t come close. Still, she stayed quiet. If it made him feel important, she let him believe whatever he wanted.

But his control didn’t stop at her social circle. Soon, her appearance started to bother him—the scent of paint on her skin, the messiness of her clothes, the untamed creativity he once found amusing. What he had once called charm now felt like chaos to him.

Using subtle pressure and not-so-subtle ultimatums, Anton pushed her to abandon painting altogether.

“If you like art, go to museums like normal people,” he said. “Why wander around back alleys? My colleagues are tired of explaining your quirk to their wives.”

“But this isn’t just a hobby, this is my income,” Lera tried to object. “You work in an office, and you don’t have any education!”

“Lera, you’re not an artist. You’re just a scribbler,” he said coldly.

These words clearly hurt the woman – for many days she didn’t talk to her husband at all. And then Anton noticed that her albums, brushes, and paint cans had disappeared. She no longer stayed out late and began using scented lotion instead of the smell of oil paints.

“Thank you, darling,” he said, pleased with the changes, and for the sake of reconciliation, he invited her to a restaurant.

She looked gorgeous in a burgundy dress with a new haircut.

“Look what a beautiful couple we are!” he hugged her, turning her face to the huge mirror. “That’s what I was talking about. Now you look like my real wife. Much better! You can do something more suitable – for example, needlework or cooking.”

Lera remained quiet. The reflection staring back at her in the mirror felt like a stranger. Yet one thing had become clear—she needed to rediscover who she truly was.

She explored various paths before finding her passion in photography. Her artist’s instincts helped her capture perfect light, composition, and emotion. Her images were vibrant and full of life. Soon, people began hiring her for shoots and inviting her to events. In her spare time, she wandered the city, photographing whatever stirred something in her—people, animals, buildings, trees.

Meanwhile, Anton grew increasingly annoyed by her growing success. To him, Lera was just wasting time, bouncing from one phase to another. He found her constant talk about work and requests for his opinion tiresome—as if he cared. What bothered him most, though, was hearing his own friends speak highly of her.

— What should I praise her for? — he was angry. — For a photo? Nowadays, any fool can take out a phone and take a picture. Where is the talent here?

Gradually, his feelings cooled completely, and he took a mistress. And exactly the kind of woman he dreamed of: well-groomed, self-confident, always impeccably dressed and made up. No stupid hobbies, no strange friends — just stylish, expensive and “correct”.

Lera found out about the divorce unexpectedly — when she was invited to court. Anton watched her confusion with pleasure. He personally made sure that she got nothing — the lawyer worked for every penny.

“You have three days to get ready,” he said coldly.

Lera didn’t even argue. She nodded and simply left.

Anton had no time for her — his new passion occupied all his attention. She took him to galleries, exhibitions, social parties, demanded new things – shoes, a dress, another jar of expensive cosmetics.

“You have to live up to it,” she said.

Every now and then, Anton found himself longing for the past—those quiet evenings when Lera would sit by the window sketching, and he could loosen his tie, sink into the couch in his suit, and unwind with a can of dark beer.

But the woman he saw now seemed like someone else entirely. How had she changed so drastically?

Almost without thinking, Anton began following her car.

He assumed she was heading back to the small one-bedroom apartment she’d moved into after their split. But instead, she drove past it and turned into a neighborhood he only knew by name—home to luxury estates.

When the gates opened automatically and she pulled into the driveway, Anton parked a short distance away. He watched as Lera stepped out and handed her keys to a man in a tailored suit, who then drove the vehicle into the garage. She made her way toward the house.

Anton got out of his car and, driven by something he couldn’t name, followed her inside. No one stopped him.

Inside the grand entryway, Lera was in conversation with two young men. The moment they noticed Anton, they exchanged a quick look and quietly slipped away.

“Thank you, guys. I’ll come by later,” she said after them, and then slowly headed towards her ex-husband. “I didn’t expect to see you here. What brought you here? Curiosity? You recovered quickly after everything. Come on, admit it — were you hiding the money or what?”

Lera grinned and shrugged:

“So that’s what brought you here — envy? Then let’s go, I’ll tell you everything myself.”

She led him into the room, where drinks were immediately brought.

“Have a seat. Do you think I work here? You could say that. I’m the boss here. You see, darling, when they offered to buy my photos, I didn’t miss the chance. You don’t even know that some works are sold for fabulous sums? And believe me, not all rich people can afford it. I was one of those lucky ones.

She waved her hand around the space:

– It turned out that I have not only the talent of an artist and photographer, but also business skills. I decided to try myself in business. Everything here is mine – the house, the studio, the team. The best work and study with me. We organize photo shoots, advertising projects, hold exhibitions and master classes. So you have a share in my success – you made me understand what I do not want to be.

Anton was silent. He was literally bursting with envy.

– You wanted to break me, remake me for yourself, deprive me of individuality. But I chose my path. Although I spent a lot of time on you.

Lera stood up:

– Well, okay, for the sake of old friendship I will not charge you. You will find a way out yourself.

She left, leaving him alone with himself. He stood up and began to walk around the room – her works, signed in neat handwriting, looked at him from the walls. This irritated him even more.

“How can she even talk to me like that?!” he was seething in his mind.

His hand was already reaching for one of the photographs when a strong man in a business suit entered the room:

“It seems you’re lost. Let me walk you to the exit.”

A new disappointment awaited him at home.

“Anton, I’m leaving,” the girl greeted him, standing at the threshold with a suitcase.

“Why?”

“Look at yourself – you’re nice, sweet, but not my level. Goodbye, kitty,” she kissed him on the cheek and left, leaving only a trace of perfume in the air.

“Get lost! I can do without you!” he punched the wall with all his might.

He had never experienced such humiliation.