“Here are clothes and food for a week. I’m flying off on vacation with my mistress, and I’m taking the children with me,” the husband said, throwing the bag of clothes onto the snow-covered porch of the old house. But he couldn’t even imagine what kind of surprise was waiting for them at the airport 
It was minus fifteen degrees. The snow crunched underfoot, the air cut into my lungs. This dacha was fifty kilometers from the city — no neighbors, no transport, no connection. The perfect place to get rid of a wife.
I stood there in an old jacket, clutching a folder of documents in my hands, silently watching my husband hurriedly unload a bundle of damp firewood and a sack of grain from the trunk. He did everything quickly, nervously — as if he were afraid to stay near me even one minute longer.
“I changed the locks in the apartment! You won’t be able to come home anymore!” he shouted from the car.
The children were sitting in the back seat. They didn’t look at me. Everything had already been explained to them — in his own way.
The black SUV lurched forward, the wheels spinning in the loose snow. The car slowly disappeared around the bend between the pines, leaving behind only tire tracks and the smell of exhaust.
I watched him drive away… and smiled. Because my husband and his mistress had no idea what kind of surprise awaited them at the airport. 
Continuation in the first comment 
My husband missed the most important thing. He didn’t notice how, at night while he was asleep, I opened his travel bag. How I carefully rearranged its contents. How I placed an empty folder inside and took everything else with me.
A few hours passed. The snowfall grew heavier. I lit the stove, made some tea, and waited calmly.
The call came late in the evening.
“Where are you?!” my husband’s voice was shaking with rage. “Where are my documents?!”
I could hear the noise of the airport, flight announcements, and the hysterical whisper of the mistress somewhere nearby.
“What are you talking about?” I asked calmly.
“There’s NOTHING in the folder! My passport, money, cards — EVERYTHING IS GONE!”
He was almost screaming. “What did you do?!”
I imagined the scene: the check-in counter, the confused man, the mistress holding her ticket with a cold look in her eyes. She gets through. He doesn’t.
“Has the mistress already passed security?” I asked.
He went silent. That silence was sweet.
“She’s flying alone,” he finally hissed. “And you… you’ll regret this. Where are you anyway?!”
I looked at the dark window, behind which the snow was falling quietly.
“That’s none of your business where I am,” I said. “The documents are right where you left me. Come and get them. Otherwise, they’ve probably been soaking in the snow for a long time already.”
And I hung up.
