Meanwhile, Luke’s spouse went on the offensive. Luke said a few words to Ellen in his mellow baritone (Ellen was the girl’s name; surprisingly, nobody even thought of asking for her name). The girl quickly ran away and jumped into the first taxi that appeared. Having put some money in her hands, he murmured “Merci,” quickly kissed her cheek (in front of his furious wife!) and, closing her by his back, let her go.

As soon as Luke didn’t have to keep his wife at outstretched arms’ distance anymore, he obediently threw them down. A hail of reproaches, shouts, slaps in the face and so on fell upon him with a double rage. We felt ill at ease, being at the epicenter of events but not being able to do anything.

We could only watch as Luke, our cheerful, good-natured and surprisingly softhearted person, grew darker by the second. He then said in a quiet and harsh voice that he didn’t wish to see his wife anymore. He took his coat, which was hanging on a back of the armchair next to the exit, and went forth into the night.

The doorbell softly tinkled. Against it, the bang of a door sounded like a shot into the heart of a family, which was breaking up in front of our eyes.

For a few seconds, there was a stark silence in the hall by the fireplace. Then “a spiteful Fury” fell into the nearest chair. Her shoulders drooped, and an aggressive break of eyebrows absolutely got another outline. Here before us was a simple woman: beautiful with a very exquisite appearance. She was sitting and hid her face in her palms. It appeared that she didn’t care about the others who became witnesses to this scene, her emotional state and the rest.

She did not even cry. She was just wearily hiding from it all. Such a childish eccentricity when a kid closes his eyes with his palms, and he is sure that nobody will see him. I, and all who were nearby, had a desire to console and help her somehow, taking into account that we had been discussing only love stories for the last few days. Couldn’t we find a solution to this problem together?

The bar glass slightly tinkled. I turned and saw Annette, a red-haired bar girl who had a day off today. As a bartender, she knew what was important for such moments; she filled one-third of a glass with Scotch whisky and gave it to Luke’s wife.

The latter didn’t realize at first that the bar girl came up to her. She stared at the glass with surprise, carefully took a sip, and suddenly had a coughing fit… Yes, of course, all of us understood that those tears were only because of that burning drink.

We knew that today would be an evening of a remarkable love story and treachery. And despite quite a late hour, nobody was hurrying to their rooms. Everyone was looking forward to her story.

It was a very terrific story, indeed. The story of their whole life, filled with very touching and invaluable moments, began from their very first meeting up to the firstborn’s birth, and then the second son’s. Their common plans, objectives, which they achieved, attention and keenness day by day. Millions of small stories acted as mosaic pieces on which was built a perfect picture of life. But there was a slight problem. Luke’s wife, Katharine, was hopelessly jealous. Her precious husband was not a saint at all. And if he was having an affair, she began to feel it by instinct.

“You must love him very much,” said Annette, imperceptibly refilling Katherine’s glass again, “if you forgive him for a minute’s weakness.”

Katharine slightly shrugged her shoulders. “He is my life,” she said. “I can’t even imagine my life without him.” Her voice trembled, and she brushed away the next teardrop with a slight movement of her hand. And right there was a new flash of indignation, which changed her so much she went on. “But it is unbearable! All his unfaithfulness! Did you see this girl?! She is twice younger than he is, the same age as his granddaughter! Why does he carry on like that with me? We had lived together all our lives; we have common happiness and grief; and he can give a lark to catch a kite, a minute’s weakness!”

She exhaled; looked around for the first time; and saw our hall with a fireplace, saw all of us. There was a slight bewilderment on her face that formed a very nice wrinkle in the middle of a very aristocratic forehead.

“Hostel?” she asked. “How surprising! I’ve lived with Luke for many years, but I would never think that he could stay here. Sometimes, it seems to me that I do not know him at all.”

We sat up until four o’clock in the morning and were about to go to bed when the doorbell tinkled, and there was a guest. It was Luke, our Luke who came in with a huge bouquet of freesias – Katherine’s favorite flowers. We expected anything: the next scene or scandal; Luke falling on his knees, without paying any attention to us, and pleading with his incomparable half for forgiveness.

But everything turned out much quicker and more unpredictable. Coming to his wife with a vigorous, elastic step, Luke handed her the bouquet, strongly kissed her and, picking her up by the waist, left the hostel with her. However, Katharine was too tired to resist because of fatigue, the Scotch whisky, and her nervous breakdown.

It goes without saying that our dream vanished as if by magic. We began to discuss what would happen next: whether they would make up or not, whether Katharine would be able to forgive Luke, what sweet people they were and how perfectly they were matched.

It’s a story in a story, a real drama that happened in our presence and excited our minds and hearts. We wanted Luke and Katharine to be together! They really deserved happiness and peace, and the love of each other.

The next evening, Luke dropped by our living room. Slyly smiling, he said that everything was just wonderful: he came here for his belongings, and they were heading for Barcelona for the next honey week with Katherine.

As for our questions on whether Katherine forgave him or not and what happened after they left the hostel, he smiled and said: “I’ve always loved and will love the only woman in my life: my incomparable Katharine. She is my ideal. But after the first ten years of happy marriage, our relations became not as vivid, a bit quiet. And she began to lose her inner fire. It was still warm and quiet with her, but she turned from a desired woman into a sister, friend, the mother of my children…” Luke told us that he stopped feeling himself a man; but with her, he felt madly attractive and sexual. Now he became such a family man, or rather a father of a family, than a beloved and desired husband.

Then he thought of a unique plan. He decided to “betray” Katharine. Within twenty years, he invents various stories and situations that allow his wife to suspect him of infidelity. As soon as she “calms down”, he thinks of more complicated schemes, never repeating them or making a mistake. He calculates everything down to the smallest details, and leaves “hints” so that his spouse could “suspect” and “catch” him.

Ellen, the beautiful blonde, perfectly played her part. From the very beginning, she was ready to escape as soon as Luke’s wife appeared at the hostel. He did not doubt that she would come. Katharine had such a quick temper.

And here, the fading flame of passion flared with the doubled force. Luke and Katharine are again captured by their feelings, flavored with affection and experience from their lived years. They spent an unforgettable night together, and are now going to Barcelona to enjoy the moment of pure happiness with and love for each other!

Luke has become a devoted and loving husband again. That is, until the next time he has to awaken a real tigress ready to fight for love, to overcome distances and make the real rows in a Spanish style.

Having turned back from a threshold, Luke softly laughed and said: “Honestly, sometimes I am tormented by doubts on whether my wife is so naïve to believe in such stories. The main thing is that these stories do the necessary thing. But sometimes, after all that, it seems she knows what game I started, and accepts these rules because she needs it as well as I do.”