Towards the end of the workday, Denis’s phone rang with the familiar tune Lika had set as his ringtone. He answered and heard her voice:
“Den, I’m at the beauty salon. Come pick me up—you know the place.”
“I know. I’ll be there,” he replied before hanging up.
Denis knew Lika’s salon visits took at least two hours, so he took his time after work. Waiting outside, he decided to pop into the café next door.
“She’ll call when she’s done,” he thought, settling at a table. A waiter appeared instantly, and Denis placed a small order.
He finished his meal, scrolled through the news on his phone, watched a few videos—still no sign of Lika.
“I wonder how much she’s spending today,” he mused, though she paid for her own beauty treatments—or rather, her father did. A wealthy businessman, he spoiled his only daughter rotten.
They’d been together seven months, sometimes staying in Denis’s modest two-bedroom flat. But when the cramped space bored her, she retreated to her parents’ sprawling three-storey mansion in the countryside. Lika had introduced Denis to her parents, and while her mother had barely concealed her disapproval—what could a simple twenty-seven-year-old IT bloke offer?—she’d held her tongue. Likely after a stern talk from her daughter.
Denis had begun to realise Lika wasn’t the wife he’d dreamed of, yet he hadn’t refused the idea of marriage. Her father had made his stance clear: “Whoever makes my daughter happy, I’ll make happy too. But if she’s unhappy—God forbid—well…” The threat needed no explanation.
Lika was beautiful but spoiled. Why she spent hours at the salon when she was already stunning baffled him. She was witty, clever, but haughty—no doubt from the fortune she flung about. Just yesterday, she’d announced, “Den, we’re off to the Maldives in ten days. Daddy’s paying. I need a break.”
“But I have work, Lika!”
“Daddy will sort it.”
The whole thing left him uneasy. Her father’s words had twisted his desire into obligation, and it grated on him. Lika’s constant talk of her father’s money wore thin. Their relationship grew strained; Denis sensed they were from different worlds, yet he still planned to marry her.
Lost in thought over his coffee, a voice snapped him back to reality.
“Denis? That you?” A stranger grinned at him like an old friend. “It’s me—Tommy.”
Recognition hit. “Tommy!” He leapt up, embracing his childhood mate. “Blimey, it’s been—what, twelve years?”
“You’ve filled out,” Tommy said, clapping his shoulder. “Proper gent now.”
“Same to you. What brings you here?”
“Meeting my little sister, Veronica. She’s at the conservatoire—final year, concert tonight. I popped in for a bite. Classical music’s not my thing.”
“Veronica! How’s she doing?”
“Brilliant. Talented lass. No fancy connections, just raw talent.”
“I’d love to see her.”
“No bother. She’ll ring in forty. Fancy joining us? Unless you’re tied up.”
“Just waiting for Lika—my fiancée. She’s at the salon.”
“Right. We’ll swing by, then.”
Memories flooded Denis—summers spent at his gran’s, next door to Tommy and Veronica’s family. Their sprawling yard, the lake, the forest. Ten summers of fishing, campfires, guitar songs, and dreams. And Veronica—his first crush. That shy, dark-haired girl.
“Smiling at nothing? How daft,” Lika’s voice cut in.
“Finally. Just good thoughts.” He eyed her, hunting for changes after hours in the salon.
“Well? How do I look?”
“Lovely.”
“‘Lovely’? This ‘lovely’ cost a fortune! Manicure, facials—see how flawless I am?”
“Stunning as ever,” he obliged.
“Good. We’re expected at mine tonight. Guests are coming.”
“Can’t. Meeting old friends—they’re on their way.”
She pouted, ready to argue, but Tommy and Veronica walked in.
“Denis!” Veronica threw her arms around him, kissing his cheek. “Look at you—all grown up!”
He was struck by her beauty, her warmth—until Lika’s icy tone sliced through.
“Hello.”
“Ah—Lika, my fiancée.”
“Charmed,” Tommy said with a grin.
The trio chatted eagerly while Lika sat in pointed silence, her disdain palpable.
“Remember lazing under the apple tree? Or swimming in the lake?” Denis said.
“Ugh. I’d rather be under a parasol in the Maldives. Daddy’s pool’s bigger than your grubby pond,” Lika sneered.
“The Maldives? Any fish there?” Tommy joked.
“Only in restaurants, where I eat mine,” she shot back.
Later, as they parted, Veronica asked, “Denis, will you visit?”
“Absolutely. This weekend.”
When he told Lika, she huffed, “Fine. I’ll come to this backwater.”
“You’ll be bored stiff. Mosquitoes, wilderness—”
“Bring mineral water. The local stuff’s foul.”
“Pack a portable loo while you’re at it,” he muttered.
At the countryside, Tommy’s parents welcomed them warmly. They dined under the apple tree, grilled meat over fire—Denis was blissful. Lika, however, whined endlessly.
“Den, the grass is prickly. Den, the meat smells funny. Den, a mosquito bit me. The sun’s in my eyes!”
“Enough,” Denis snapped. “Go inside if it’s so awful.”
Fishing by the lake, Denis asked, “Veronica, seeing anyone?”
“Not now. Why?”
“You’re so… radiant.”
“She knits, sews, even makes dumplings,” Tommy added.
“Your fiancée’s beautiful, but—”
“Oh, she’s great at spinning tales,” Denis blurted.
“Cheer up, mate,” Tommy said. “Learn to make dumplings—won’t go hungry.”
Denis grimaced. With Lika, it’d be restaurants forever.
On the drive back, Lika sulked. “Never dragging me here again. Maldives next week—can’t wait.”
“Lika… I’m not going.”
“You’ll lose me if you don’t.”
“No. I’m not.”
Silence. Denis’s mind was clear: he preferred apple trees and fishing. He didn’t want to marry her, and her father’s threats meant nothing.
Dropping her off, she snapped, “Last chance. Coming?”
“No. I’d rather go back to the countryside. We’re not right for each other.”
“Fine. Forget me.” She stormed off.
Relieved, Denis dialled Veronica. “I’ll be back in two days. We’ll figure things out.”
“Alone?” Her quiet question felt like hope.
“Yes. Just me.”
“Good. I’ll be waiting.”
Humming, Denis turned away—then his phone rang. Lika’s father. He ignored it. No need to ruin the moment.
