Do whatever you want,” said Buchin. “Cook them, don’t cook them. I’m leaving. I’m going to another woman.”

Most wives would go after their husbands with a frying pan after hearing something like that. Or start a furious argument. But Vera was not like most wives.

“Oh please, what a big deal,” she said. “Did you pick up my boots from the cobbler?”

“No,” Buchin said, flustered. “If it’s that important, I’ll go get them right now!”

“Of course…” Vera muttered. “That’s you all over, Buchin. Send you for new boots, and you’ll bring back the old ones.”

Buchin felt offended. The break-up wasn’t going the way he imagined. No drama, no passion, no angry accusations. But what could he expect from a wife nicknamed “Vera Coldheart”?

“Vera, I don’t think you’re hearing me!” he said. “I’m officially telling you I’m leaving you for another woman. I’m leaving this house—and you’re talking about boots!”

“Exactly,” Vera said. “Unlike me, your boots aren’t at the cobbler. You’re free to go wherever you want.”

They’d lived together for years, yet Buchin still couldn’t tell when his wife was being sarcastic and when she was serious. He had originally fallen for Vera because of her calm, conflict-free nature—and, admittedly, her figure and practicality.

Vera was reliable, faithful, and cool-headed—like a thirty-ton ship anchor. But now Buchin loved someone else. Deeply, sinfully, sweetly. He had to dot the i’s and get moving toward his new life.

“So, Vera,” he said with a touch of drama, sorrow, and regret. “I’m grateful for everything, but I’m leaving because I love another woman. And I don’t love you.”

“Wow,” Vera said. “You don’t love me, you half-wit sneaker. My mom loved the neighbor. And my dad loved vodka and dominoes. So what? Look how wonderfully I turned out.”

Buchin knew arguing with Vera was nearly impossible. Every word of hers landed like a cannonball. His initial fire had fizzled out. He no longer felt like arguing.

“Vera, you really are wonderful,” he said glumly. “But I love someone else. Deeply, sinfully, and sweetly. I’m going to her. Understand?”

“This other woman—is it Natasha Krapivina?” Vera asked.

Buchin backed away. He’d had a secret affair with Krapivina a year ago but never imagined Vera knew her.

How do you…?” he started, then cut himself off. “Never mind. No, Vera, it’s not Krapivina.”

Vera yawned.

“Then maybe it’s Svetlana Burbulskaya? Is that where you’re off to?”

Buchin’s spine went cold. Burbulskaya had also been his lover—but that was in the past. And if Vera knew… why hadn’t she said anything? Ah yes, because she was a vault.

“Wrong again,” said Buchin. “It’s not Burbulskaya or Krapivina. It’s someone else entirely—a stunning woman, the woman of my dreams. I can’t live without her. I’m leaving. Don’t try to stop me!”

Then it must be Maika,” Vera said. “Oh, Buchin… you fragile piece of organic matter. So much for your big secret. The woman of your dreams is Maya Valentinovna Gusyaeva. Thirty-five years old, one kid, two abortions… am I right?”

Buchin clutched his head. A direct hit. He really was having an affair with Maya Gusyaeva.

“But how?!” he gasped. “Who ratted us out? Were you spying on me?”

“It’s simple, Buchin,” said Vera. “I’m a seasoned gynecologist. I’ve examined every woman in this damn city, while you’ve only been with a few. One look is enough for me to tell you’ve been there, you pea-brained scarecrow.”

Buchin tried to collect himself.

“Let’s say you guessed right,” he said with fake bravado. “Even if it’s Gusyaeva, I’m still leaving for her.”

“You’re a fool, Buchin,” Vera said. “You could’ve at least asked me. Honestly, there’s nothing special about Gusyaeva. Just another average woman—doctor’s word. Have you even seen the medical history of your dream girl?”

“N-no…” Buchin admitted.

“Exactly. First of all, go take a shower. Tomorrow I’ll call Semyonych to get you into the clinic without waiting in line,” said Vera. “Then we’ll talk. What a disgrace—husband of a gynecologist can’t even pick a healthy woman!”

“So what should I do?” Buchin whined.

“I’m off to fry scallops,” Vera replied. “You shower and do whatever you want. And if you really need a dream woman with no health issues—come to me. I’ll refer you.”