That night—or rather, that dawn—three men were struggling to push Viktoria out of their thoughts. The German woman was dancing a vulgar little dance in the minds of Adrian, Rob, and Günter all at once. While the first two were aroused by the intrusive images, the latter was furious. All the while, the beautiful yet usually reserved school director had no idea. Her drunkenness quickly gave way to heavy fatigue, followed by a brutal hangover. She couldn’t focus on anything else.
But Günter could. He couldn’t understand what had happened, what had changed in just a matter of seconds. His educated, poised, always polite, elegant wife had, in the blink of an eye, turned into a shameless tramp—seemingly without reason or warning. A woman who wasn’t even deterred from absurdly gyrating with another family man, despite the fact that her children were staring at her, cheeks flushed with shame and jaws dropped in disbelief.
He had no idea how to talk about it with her. How should he even start? Should he pour out his disappointment? Should he point at their two confused teenagers? Or should he ask questions? Should he attack her, or should he offer his hand? What’s better? Günter had no experience with such extreme behavior. Not in their marriage. Not in his previous relationships. He had never witnessed anyone losing themselves like this. If it hadn’t been Viktoria, he would’ve simply shrugged it off. Well, she’s lost her mind too.
But this was Viktoria. The love of his life. His partner, his wife, the mother of his children. The woman he knew—or at least he thought he did. Because the woman who had catapulted herself into the spotlight that New Year’s Eve with her scandalous outfit and outrageous behavior was a complete stranger to him. Other than the stench of ridiculously expensive liquor, there was nothing he recognized about her. Even that would’ve been better off poured down the sink than sitting in the stomach and clouding the mind of this unfamiliar woman.
And yet, the day had started off so well. Just like always, they had enjoyed a generous breakfast, lovingly prepared and served by Günter out on the terrace. After that, he and Viktoria had shared a long coffee together. Uwe had asked for some too, but he quickly dunked a few cookies into his mug and finished the coffee in no time. Heidi, on the other hand, longingly watched the machine into which she was only allowed to put decaf capsules. And well, that wasn’t the real thing. She only drank that if she had plenty of time to stroll to school. On those days, she would pour it into a thick porcelain to-go cup, just so everyone could see her strolling to school, smoking, sipping coffee, looking effortlessly cool.
The rest of the day passed peacefully in their German home, just like always. They marinated meat and prepared side dishes, joined later by Dajana and Pauline. Not even Günter’s disapproval of Viktoria’s ever-growing circle of friends managed to ruin the mood. But then something happened during the outfit selection. The father of the family later admitted to himself that he shouldn’t have meddled with what his wife wanted to wear—after all, she had never embarrassed him before. Was the dress a bit short? So what? Viktoria was attractive, had a great figure, there was nothing she needed to hide. Besides, they were celebrating in a small, private group. Among people who regularly saw each other in swimsuits. He felt she had grossly overreacted to his comment about her dress.
“And yet, the day had started off so well. Just like always, I enjoyed a generous breakfast, lovingly prepared and served by my husband out on the terrace. After that, Günter and I had a long coffee together. My son asked for some too, but he quickly dunked a few cookies into his mug and finished his coffee in no time. My daughter watched the machine longingly, though she was only allowed to use decaf capsules. And well, that wasn’t the real thing. She only drank that when she had plenty of time to stroll to school. On those days, she’d pour it into a thick porcelain to-go cup, so everyone could see her strolling to school, smoking, sipping coffee, looking effortlessly cool. The girls and I prepared a generous batch of side dishes while gossiping about the other residents. Later in the afternoon, I took a shower and laid out my favorite short, polka-dot dress—the one I hadn’t worn in ages because of its length. But as I bent down to smooth the outfit across the bed, a small note with the sweet scent of honeyed perfume slipped into my hand.
‘You can’t hide anything from me, you hypocritical slut!’”