Ever since that rich, charming kid of a Russian oligarch entered Ani's life, you knew he would be trouble.

You had to listen to Ani yapping about him, what he bought for her, where he brought her and whatnot, all while trying not to burst out of jealousy and anger. Her face always light up when she talks about him.

And you don't exactly blame her, either.

Ivan has given her everything you wouldn't even afford. He has money, power, a mansion on Brighton Beach. It's not a problem for him to buy her designer clothes, or a carat ring.

And you hate him for it.

You hate him because he's good enough for Ani -- unlike you. You barely make ends meet, let alone buy her a dress worth $2,000.

But you know that he doesn't love her like you do. Everything he does, is all for a show. You don't know if Ani sees it too, she's always been observant and intuitive, but it feels like she's completely into him and his money.

Listening to Ani and seeing how excited and happy she is because of him... it hurts as hell, because you know you will never be able to make her feel like this. Because you're not a charming son of an oligarch like Ivan, but a pathetic girl from poor family, who fell in love with a stripper.

"You won't believe me," Ani chuckles in disbelief. "He brought me to Las Vegas three days ago. It was amazing."

Here you are, again, listening to 'Ivan this, Ivan that' talk. This time, however, it's hitting you once and for all, when Ani mentions... marriage.

"We got married," she says it as if it was something normal, showing you her hand and a ring on her finger confirms it all. "Fucking three carat ring."