It happened just six months after his own wedding. How could he have rushed like that! Wouldn’t it have been better to wait a little? But no—he fell in love and decided to get married right away!
When Sasha Danilov saw his brother’s wife, he was stunned—he had never encountered such breathtaking beauty, as if she had come to life right before him. It was an explosion of emotions and feelings.
And it happened just six months after his own wedding. How could he have rushed like that! Wouldn’t it have been better to wait a little? But no—he fell in love and decided to get married right away!
His mother had warned him: “Why are you in such a hurry, son? Take your time, you’re still young—think it over, look around!”
But Sasha, in his view, was head over heels in love with Ninochka, his best friend’s sister—a sweet, chubby girl far from the standard 90-60-90 ideals of beauty.
Everything about Ninochka was harmonious: light curls framing a pretty round face with not a trace of makeup. A trim, full figure.
As witty doctors say, her first degree of plumpness could even inspire envy. And at the sight of Ninochka, that very envy would indeed arise in everyone.
Besides, the girl always looked as if she had just stepped out of the bath—thanks to her pure, sincere thoughts.
Nina had a light, cheerful disposition and an exceptional positivity which, in our hard times, could be considered a true gift of fate.
And Sasha fell in love. At first the girl reacted coolly to his courtship. Then, as they say, she got into it—the process turned out to be engaging, and she liked it.
So when her suitor suggested they seal their fate officially, she agreed. And everything, just like in the rhyme, turned into wedding fuss: limousines, rings, and a veil.
Married life did not disappoint Sasha: his wife turned out to be a skilled homemaker—thrifty and tidy. And, mind you, no cleaning services and no takeout orders: breakfast meant fluffy omelets, syrniki, and tasty porridges like they serve at elite resorts.
All that came as a pleasant bonus to love. So the skinny Sanya soon put on some weight, gained even more confidence—which had been fine to begin with—and carried himself a bit taller. That’s how husbands with a reliable rear guard usually look—serene and at peace.
And then his older brother Pavel returned to the city from a long trip abroad together with that very Veronika who completely upended the consciousness of the young, faithful husband Alexander: his brother’s wife turned out to be a very beautiful woman. They hadn’t been at Sasha’s wedding.
Back then, Nina had still been just a girl! But Veronika—a luxurious woman, seasoned by experience and aware of her worth.
She was a couple of years older than his brother and very beautiful. She also looked impeccably groomed and pampered.
“I wonder how she washes the toilet with claws like that?” Nina asked naively as they walked home after a get-together at his mother’s.
“She doesn’t!” her husband answered curtly, completely under his sister-in-law’s spell: women like that didn’t wash toilets—an entirely different fate was reserved for them.
And of course, that’s how it was: Vera’s lovely hands sported a flawless manicure. Only the nails were overly long and sharp. And that was considered a sign of hidden aggression.
No, no, don’t think Nina’s hands were neglected—not at all! The girl, of course, had a manicure too. But most of the time she did it herself.
So it was ordinary—subtle nude polish. They also call it a short-nail manicure—Nina worked at a music school as a piano teacher.
Besides, such nails made it convenient to knead dough—otherwise it would have been a bit uncomfortable.
And the girl adored both baking and eating pies: in that sense, Sasha and his parents-in-law were lucky, too!
Yes, her baking was simply bomb-level: tiny, bite-sized yeast-dough pies fried in a pan with sizzling oil were the young wife’s signature dish—her special “calling card.”
Industrious Ninochka would make them with different fillings and pile them into a small basin: they brought them whenever they visited.
And this time was no exception: Pasha and his wife hosted a dinner to celebrate their return home. But the beautiful Veronika refused the pastries:
“I don’t eat that!”
“What do you mean—‘that’?” Nina asked guilelessly. The pies were a family favorite on her husband’s side, especially with his father, whom his wife didn’t spoil with culinary delights.
“Baked goods made of dough!” the brother’s wife replied proudly.
“But baked goods are always made of dough! There aren’t any other kind!” the naïve girl was surprised. “What else would you make them from, if not dough?”
And she suggested: “Just try one—they’re delicious! And one pie won’t do you any harm!”
“No—I need to watch my figure!” the beauty answered proudly.
And it became clear to everyone that she meant plump little Ninochka, who, in Veronika’s opinion, had nothing to “watch.” Because, as Veronika saw it, there was no figure to watch in the first place.
Silly Nina noticed nothing and popped another pie into her mouth, while an unexpected vexation seized Sasha—that he had such an ungainly, uncomprehending wife. Even though, no later than yesterday, everything had suited the young man just fine.
“I didn’t like her,” the girl said after lunch, right after the question about the nails. “Did you?”
“I liked her a lot!” Sasha wanted to answer, but something held him back. So he again replied briefly:
“Meh.”
But his brother’s wife had really hooked him. And he suddenly realized that comparing his wife to Veronika clearly didn’t favor Ninochka: she lost to her slender sister-in-law with the chiseled features and the luxurious hair gathered into a heavy bun at the nape.
That’s how the grand dames of ballroom dance look: beautiful and graceful—not a single superfluous movement! Everything thought out—even the glances! Especially when it came to the dance of love and passion—tango.
“Now that’s a real woman!” Sasha thought. “Lucky Pasha! If only I could change Nina a little so she’d resemble my sister-in-law at least a bit.”
Look how Grigory Alexandrov transformed his Lyubov Orlova! She ended up looking as much as possible like the woman who once enchanted him—Marlene Dietrich!
Only Marlene was much more delicate. And Lyuba, of course, was sturdier and more substantial—a normal socialist matron, you might say!
And why should he be any worse? Especially since the conditions were all there now. If they could do something back then, all the more so now!
But Nina didn’t want to change: she accepted herself as she was. And if earlier that had suited Sasha, now it began to irritate him. It turned out he was starting to love the girl less.
“How about signing up for a gym?” he asked his wife over yet another tasty dinner.
It came out like, “Shall we take a swing at our good William Shakespeare?”
“What do you mean, a gym?” Nina was surprised.
“Literally—a place to build some muscle and lose some weight.”
“Don’t you need to build muscle?” the usually meek wife suddenly shot back at Sasha, who had put on weight lately. “Maybe start with yourself, and only then start making demands of me?
“You think I don’t see where this is coming from and how you ogle that doll?”
She dropped her fork and left the room: yes, clever little Nina had noticed everything. And so she started getting jealous.
Sasha didn’t go after her and, for the first time, slept on the couch. But of course they made up the next day: let’s not forget, they were young and had married for love.
But already the very next day her husband harped on Nina about her hairstyle.
“Can’t you brush it out somehow? Or smooth it down?”
“I could—but why?” his wife was surprised. “You’ve always liked it!”
That was true: Sasha had adored the cloud of his wife’s hair—light, like she was herself.
“Well—just for a change!”
“For a change, I’ll roast you a chicken for dinner today!” And his wife ran off to her morning lesson.
He sat for a couple of minutes, sunk in dreams of Veronika and her sleek hairdo: yes, that image probably was the lot of true beauties!
Then it turned out that the length of Nina’s skirts didn’t suit her either and even made her look worse: because of her fullness, she rarely wore pants.
Ninochka gathered her thoughts for a couple of seconds, then said:
“Well, as I see it, the only thing making me look worse now is your presence next to me.”
After those words he’d been sleeping on the couch for a week: they barely spoke. Though the food was still tasty and as varied as ever—cooking relieved his wife’s stress.
But then, of course, they made up again.
Only Ninochka grew noticeably sadder and somehow more serious. And she no longer laughed as brightly as before, throwing back her curly head and revealing an unbroken row of snow-white teeth.
“Good!” Sasha rejoiced. “Real women don’t laugh like that. They only smile with the corners of their lips—contemptuously and haughtily, like Veronika!”
Yes, his brother’s wife had settled firmly in the man’s thoughts. But those thoughts had no end goal—to possess the beauty: Sasha simply enjoyed the thinking process itself.
Besides, stealing his brother’s wife would be immoral. And she wouldn’t give him a glance anyway—Pasha was far more interesting than his plain brother; and a beautiful Veronika needed a matching partner.
In principle, Nina wasn’t bad either: he had married for love!
Home grew cheerless—they spent their evenings mostly in silence. And they no longer sought to spend time together: there was nothing to talk about.
One such gloomy Sunday they were eating lunch in silence: the air was thick with tension.
And then her husband suddenly noticed the absence of pies on the table—Nina baked them twice a week, on Thursdays and Sundays; today was Sunday, but the usual tasty pastries were nowhere to be seen.
Hoping to lighten the mood a bit, Sasha asked in a cheerful tone:
“So where are the pies?”
“I’m dieting,” his usually friendly wife replied coldly.
“But I’m not!” the husband chuckled.
“I just had a manicure, so bake them yourself. And in general, it looks like you need a different wife. So I’m leaving you: be well—don’t cough, Sancho Panza!” Nina said matter-of-factly and walked out of the kitchen.
Sancho Panza? That fat fellow on a donkey? Who loved nothing but eating and sleeping? So that’s how she saw him!
His wife had called him by a name Sasha hated, and she knew it perfectly well! Which meant Nina was deliberately picking a fight!
The girl went to pack her things. And the astonished husband stayed put: this was unexpected and sent everything in a completely different direction—he didn’t want a divorce.
What did he want, exactly? For his wife to obediently change the way he wanted—only on the outside? And everything else to stay as before?
For the non-confrontational Ninochka to keep cooking delicious pickle soup, frying pies, and ironing his shirts?
The front door slammed—she’d gone to her parents. He drove over to Pasha’s to “talk it out”: Veronika had gone for a manicure, and his brother had invited him to drop by.
“I envy you, bro!” Sasha began—they sat down in the kitchen; the older brother had fried eggs. “You snagged such a gorgeous woman!”
“And I envy you!” Pasha replied unexpectedly.
“Me? Why?” Alexander was amazed.
“Because your Nina is a gem! By the way, why didn’t she come? I invited both of you!”
Yes, his brother had invited the two of them. Sasha didn’t say he’d been dumped.
And Pavel added:
“Although it’s just as well—otherwise I might steal her! You don’t even realize what a treasure you’ve got! She’s a great girl—not like mine: she hasn’t fried me potatoes even once!”
“Not once?” Sasha was surprised: in their family everyone loved fried potatoes. And Nina often made them as a side.
“Have you seen her nails? Well then!”
“Who cares about potatoes!” the younger brother persisted. “Eat something else!”
And really, what potatoes, with such beauty around!
“What ‘something else’? She’s got ‘little paws’—that’s what they all say now. And I’m long tired of frying eggs for myself!”
Sasha clearly hadn’t thought about this side of things: his head was filled with lofty ideas. Not these everyday…
Pasha suddenly sighed and said:
“If only you knew how tired I am!”
“Of what?” Sasha was astonished.
“Of everything!”
“Can you get tired of beauty?”
“Yes,” Pavel agreed sadly, “if there’s too much of it. And nothing else at all!”
“What do you mean, nothing else?”
“I mean exactly that. No warmth, no care, no sympathy. I think there’s no love either—just beauty.”
“Then why don’t you—” Sasha began and broke off: things were taking an unexpected turn.
“Why don’t I get divorced? Because I screwed up, and she had everything put in her mother’s name. So if I divorce, I’m left with nothing—not even a scrap to cover my butt.”
Seeing his brother’s stunned look, he added:
“So hold on tight to your Nina—girls like her are worth their weight in gold now. And pray you ended up with such a wife!”
Sasha drew himself up proudly—and then remembered that Nina had left him! And he’d let it happen! Damn!
He felt like Ostap Bender after carelessly sending the million to the finance minister: Sasha, too, had lost his treasure!
But at least Bender managed to get it all back.
The beautiful Veronika returned with a fresh manicure. But Sasha suddenly felt not joy at her appearance, but irritation and aversion:
“Yeah, really—how do you wash a toilet with claws like that? Nina was right!
Dear God, please let her be at her parents’ and not out somewhere trying to destress! And I won’t ask You for anything else!”
Without even saying goodbye, the husband drove to the wife he had wronged without cause: maybe she’d forgive him?
“Come back, please?” he said from the doorway—Nina wouldn’t let him in.
“But my hair isn’t the right style, and my muscles aren’t pumped,” the girl said without emotion. “Not to mention the ‘ugly’ length of my skirts.”
“I was wrong—there’s nothing wrong with you.”
“But there is with you—and frankly, I’m tired of it. We probably rushed into marriage. You especially!”
Sasha wanted to object, but Nina slammed the door in his face. Then she lay down on her parents’ bed and cried bitterly—for love gone, broken dreams, and hopes that hadn’t come true.
The girl wasn’t completely indifferent yet to the man she had so recently loved dearly.
The unlucky husband, turned away, sat bewildered on the stair step until a vigilant neighbor threatened to call the police:
“Don’t loiter here! Go somewhere else!”
He naïvely thought he’d be forgiven. But never mind—he would win her back!
Skipping ahead, it’s worth noting that Sasha did get his way, though not on the first try—or even the second.
In the end, little Nina forgave him: he begged her for forgiveness, literally on his knees, groveling at her feet. Besides, there was no one left to be jealous of—Pasha got divorced, left with almost nothing.
And soon after he married a very pretty girl, also not skinny and fond of cooking. Now at family celebrations there were always two basins of pies on the table. After all, body positivity hasn’t been canceled—and the daughters-in-law both wanted to please their father-in-law.
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