When I first rented my apartment to Ivan and Galina, a sweet older couple with warm smiles and charming accents, I was sure I had found the perfect tenants. But when they moved out, it all turned into a mystery that destroyed my trust and led to an incredible ending.
Ivan and Galina seemed like the kindest couple I had ever met. They were in their late seventies, with reserved manners and smiles that could melt even the coldest heart.
Ivan had a neat gray moustache that trembled when he laughed, and Galina had a kind, motherly appearance. They spoke with some strange, slightly European accent that I couldn’t quite place.
“I hope this apartment suits you,” I said, showing them around.
“It’s perfect,” Galina replied with a smile. “Just like home.” They moved in without a problem, and for the entire year that they lived there, there was not a single complaint. They paid their rent on time, kept the apartment spotlessly clean, and even left me sweet thank-you notes every time they checked it out.
They often invited me for tea and told me amazing stories about their adventures in their youth. It seemed like some kind of ideal.
“Thank you, Mark, for letting us in,” Ivan once said. “You were a wonderful host.”
“You are the best tenants,” I replied, sipping from a cup of chamomile tea that Galina had brewed. “If only everyone were like you…”
“Remember how we got lost in the Black Forest?” Galina asked, her eyes sparkling with mischief.
“Oh, yes! It was a real adventure,” Ivan laughed. “We were young and stupid, we thought we could navigate without a map.” — In the end, we spent the night in the shepherd’s hut, — Galina added, shaking her head.
However, towards the end of the lease, something changed. Usually calm Ivan and Galina began to behave nervously, as if they were in a hurry to leave.
They rushed around the apartment, packing things in a hurry. I asked if everything was okay — the same warm smiles and assurances that yes, just family matters.
— Everything is fine, Mark, — Ivan said, patting me on the shoulder. — My granddaughter has urgent matters, we need help.
On the day of departure, they handed me the keys with an especially firm handshake and apologized for the rush. I wished them luck and felt a little sad.
— Thanks for everything, Mark. We hope to see you again, — Galina said, hugging me one last time.
The next day, I went to check the apartment, expecting to see the same impeccable cleanliness. But when I opened the door, I gasped in surprise.
The floor was gone. The wooden planks that were in the apartment were completely gone. All that was left was bare concrete.
“Where the hell is the floor?” I whispered, looking around.
I took a photo and sent them a message:
“What happened to the floor?”
A few minutes later, a reply came. It was Ivan.
“Oh, dear Mark, sorry for the misunderstanding! In the Netherlands, it is customary to take the floor with you when you move. We thought that it was the same for you. We were in a hurry – our granddaughter had a baby, we needed to help urgently, and there was no time to explain. We hope that this did not cause you too much trouble. We want to make it up to you – come visit us in the Netherlands, we will show you our beautiful country. With love, Ivan and Galina.”
I reread the message twice. Disbelief was replaced by an amazed smile. A strange tradition, but it explains everything. They didn’t mean any harm — they were just following their customs.
But something was bothering me. A tradition of taking the floor? I decided to find out more. I turned to a private detective I knew and told him the whole story. He agreed to help.
A week later, he called:
“Mark, you won’t believe it. Ivan and Galina are not who they claimed to be. They are scammers, part of a group that deceives homeowners. Those boards? They cost a fortune.”
“What? I checked everything! They had real documents, visas, credit history…”
“They are professionals. They move from city to city, choose kind owners, gain their trust. And then they take away valuables.”
I was shocked.
“It can’t be… They were so sincere.”
“That’s exactly how they work.”
The detective continued:
“We found them. They are going to sell the boards at an antique market.” We can catch them red-handed.
“Go ahead,” I answered decisively.
The plan was simple. My friend, posing as a buyer, approached Ivan and Galina, who had put the boards in the display case.
“A beautiful floor,” he said. “How much is it?”
“Real Dutch wood,” Ivan said with a smile. “Very rare and valuable. For you, at a special price.”
As soon as the deal was about to take place, the police intervened.
“Hands up! You are under arrest for theft and fraud.”
Ivan and Galina looked shocked, but did not resist. I watched from afar, feeling both satisfaction and pain. How could I have been so wrong about people?
The floor was returned. It really was expensive imported wood. I replaced the covering, and life went on. But I often remembered that fictitious tradition… and their kind eyes.
A month later, a letter arrived. From the real Ivan and Galina. From the Netherlands.
They wrote that their identities had been stolen. Interpol informed them of the crime. They invited me to visit.