— Is that you?
Vera recognized the voice before she even looked up. Maxim was standing in the middle of the room, and she felt everything inside her tighten into a knot.
He looked good. A tailored suit, a shining watch, next to him a girl in a deeply low-cut dress — young, laughing at something on her phone. Vera sat against the wall, wearing an old beige coat, a cheap bag in her lap.
Two weeks ago, she had left the laboratory, after seven hundred days of work. She slept on the pull-out bed… Eating the food she had brought from the nearby store.
— Vera, are you seriously here? — Maxim stepped closer. — At a private terminal?
She nodded without looking up from the floor.
— I’m waiting for my flight.
Maxim laughed. Loud, sharp laughter. The girl lifted her head from her phone, appraising Vera from head to toe.
— Max, is this your ex-girlfriend? — she covered her mouth with her hand. — The girl who was digging in the dirt?
— That’s her — Maxim replied. — Sit here — he said, crouching in front of Vera, looking at her face. — Look, Verunka, you came through the wrong door. This is VIP only. Got it? You don’t belong here.
Something inside her broke. Vera gripped the strap of her bag.
— I know where I am.
— Alright, don’t be stubborn. Need help? I heard they’re hiring cleaners. Not a bad salary, you know. Perfect for you.
Vera looked up. Looked at his face. He smiled. Sincerely, without anger. He just considered it completely normal.
— You were always good at making people feel like shit — she said quietly.
The smile trembled.
— What?
— Nothing. Forget it.
Maxim sat in the chair in front of her, crossing his legs. The girl — Alice, Vera remembered her from social media — sat beside him, scrolling through her phone.
— Look, don’t take this the wrong way — Maxim leaned forward. — But it’s your fault that you got nothing. The court put everything in order. You were the technical expert. I built the business.
You wanted everything for yourself. That was greed, Vera. The usual greed.
She stayed silent. She remembered that day in court when the lawyer read the papers. “Assistant. Aide. Executor.” Her name was there, but in small print. Everything she had created over five years went to him.
The company, the developments, the house — everything was taken. They left her only one patent. An experimental variety, which Maxim had called worthless nonsense.
— I didn’t want to take it — Vera looked at him. — I just wanted you to acknowledge that it was also my work. But you couldn’t. I didn’t exist for you.
— That’s right — Maxim shrugged. — Without me, you’d still be sitting in a lab for pennies. I gave you a chance.
— You took my development and presented it as your own.
— I turned it into business! — Maxim’s voice rose. — You would have just wasted time with your experiments. I created a holding. Sold the seeds, built connections, signed contracts.
I’m flying right now to sign a big deal. Loads of money, Verunka. And where are you? Sitting in a worn-out coat.
He stood up, adjusting his suit.
— I have to go. Good luck. Seriously. I hope you find something that’s yours. Something small, but yours.
Alice stood, throwing one last glance at Vera — a mixture of pity and superiority.
— Come on, Max. We have ten minutes to board.
Vera sat, watching them leave. Inside, emptiness. Not anger. Fatigue. The feeling that he still didn’t understand. Not even now.
— Vera Nikolajevna?
She trembled. A man stood next to her, in a strict suit, gray temples, calm face. She had seen him in video calls — Grigori Sergeyevich, Sokolov’s assistant.
— Your flight has landed. Are you ready?
The room fell completely silent. Maxim turned around. He froze, stunned. Alice froze with her phone in her hand.
— Yes, ready — Vera stood and picked up her bag.
Maxim stepped back.
— Wait. What flight?
Grigori Sergeyevich gave him an indifferent glance.
— Private flight. Vera Nikolajevna is flying to Moscow at Mr. Sokolov’s invitation.
Maxim’s expression changed. First confusion, then something resembling fear.
— Sokolov? Oleg Sokolov?
— Yes.
— This… — Maxim swallowed. — This is a mistake.
Vera looked at him. Calmly, for the first time during the conversation. Almost curiously.
— No mistake. I’m working for him now. Chief advisor in agricultural technologies.
Maxim wanted to say something, but nothing came out. Alice stepped back as if she wanted to distance herself from what was happening.
— But how… you… — Maxim faltered. — You’ve been in some hole for two years!
— I worked. On exactly that “useless” patent you left me. Remember? Experimental variety. You said it was a waste of time.
She took a step toward him.
— I developed a new technology. The yield is three times higher than any variety on the market. Sokolov bought the development six months ago. Since then, I’ve prepared its rollout.
— Six months? — Maxim turned pale. — You… you already back then…
— I already knew it would succeed. Yes.
He grabbed her hand. Vera flinched, but he didn’t let go.
— Wait. Wait, Vera. And my holding? The seeds I cultivate — those were yours too! You created them!
She freed her hand. Slowly, but firmly.
— No. I protected them.
— What?
— I added a biological limitation. This variety dies after two seasons without special fertilization. I alone possessed the feeding formula. And I didn’t give it to you.
Maxim stepped back. Vera saw realization sweep across his face.
— You… on purpose?
— I prepared for my work to be stolen. And it worked.
— But my lands… — Maxim’s voice broke. — But those…
— They’re dying. For three months now. Have you noticed the yield declining? The seeds shrinking? Investors are asking questions already.
He grabbed his phone, flipping through it desperately. Vera saw his hands trembling.
— The contract you were going to sign — Vera continued — no longer exists. The investors pulled out yesterday. They knew your land would produce nothing. Flying won’t help.
Maxim looked at her. Panic in his eyes.
— Vera, wait. We can make a deal. I didn’t know it would succeed… I thought…
— You thought I would break. That without you I was nothing. That I would spend my life regretting leaving.
She leaned toward him. Spoke quietly, but every word was a blow.
— I just worked. Two years. In the cold, without money, without sleep. I believed in what I created. And you laughed. And now I’m here. And you — with your ruined business and other people’s money that you won’t get back.
— Vera, please…
— I warned you in court. I said you wouldn’t manage alone. Development is not just paperwork, it’s a living process. But you didn’t listen. You thought me hysterical.
She straightened.
— Goodbye, Maxim.
Grigori Sergeyevich held the door. Vera stepped onto the runway. The wind was cold and strong. The white plane stood twenty meters away, with a small blue stripe on the side.
She didn’t look back. Climbed the stairs, entered. The cabin was bright, quiet. The flight attendant nodded, offering a window seat.
Vera sat. Her hands shook. She clenched them, then opened them. Took a deep breath.
Two years ago, she had sat in the empty lab on the outskirts, wondering if she could endure it. If it was worth it. If she could do it alone.
She could.
The plane started moving. Slowly, smoothly. Vera looked out the window. The terminal building stayed behind. Somewhere there, Maxim stood with his phone, realizing it was over.
And she flew on.
Only into her own life. The one she built. Without permission. Without signatures.
The plane took off. Vera closed her eyes. Inside, silence. For the first time in a long while — just silence.
She thought that two years ago, she could have broken. Could have believed that without him nothing would succeed. Could have given up.
But she didn’t.
And that was more important than any contract.
More important than money.
She opened her eyes and looked at the clouds.
