I count my savings and feel despair. It’s good that I’m in a public place. Though the woman at the next table isn’t shy at all. The girl is crying, smearing her makeup, clutching a paper tissue, and loudly blowing her nose as she looks at me. Whenever you have a big problem, someone always has even bigger troubles—and it helps you feel a little better.
I decide to step in:
— Do you need help? Has something happened?
— No-o-o, — she answers without caring about the looks around her. She scoots closer to me and, sobbing, confesses: — It’s awful! My husband… he… me…
Before she can finish, she starts crying again, and I take a deep breath.
— What about your husband? Does he drink? Does he hit? Doesn’t give you money? — I ask, noticing her expensive outfit.
— He doesn’t lo-ove me!..
You don’t look for good from good. I agreed to play the role of the contractual rival, and my life started falling apart. I can’t back out, but this betrayal could ruin someone close to me.