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MidReal Story
Infidelity of Love
Scenario:Измена любви. Это роман в жанре подростковой драмы, пошлятина и романтики.
Короткий пересказ сюжета:
17- летняя Лина, переезжает с Украины в Германию. Она была вынуждена уехать и за того что в ее стране началась война. Девушка не простая. У нее шекарная фигура. Длинные, стройные ноги. Худое тело слаженная, длинные темно коричневые волосы. И темно карие глаза. Девушка переехала в Германии со своей мамой. У Лины в Германии есть ее подруга Влада. Они в месте будут учиться на в тором курси в университете на дизайнера интерьера дизайнера ланшафта . У девушки острый язык, и хитры, настойчивый характер.
В университете она встречает Егора. Он популярный парень в университете, учится на 3 курсе на архитектора. Он из очень богатый семье. Занимается футболом, любит тачки, вечеринки. И он очень большой бабник. Все девушки хотели бы побывать с ним хотя бы один день. Но он таких и выбирает. Егор высокий парень, ему 20. У него светло зеленые глаза, он блондин. Их встреча произошла в университете случайно. Лина стояла на втором этаже университета и с Владой смотрели на двор, где собрались куча народа возле крутой тачки, марка машины Порш. У Егора с Лина с первого дня не заладились отношения. Вечно как кошка собакой. Егору она нравилась всем, понравилась с первого взгляда. Но он боялся признаться себе и ей. По этому продолжал вести гуляший образ жизни. А вот Лине он не сразу понравился. Она его считала самим влюблены нарциссом, которого интересовало только тело девушки. Но когда он ее спас от насилия. Она поняла что ошибалась так говорить про него. Вскоре у них с Егор завязались отношения. Но увы были они не легкими. Лина пыталалась все свои чувства показать Егору. А он показывал свою любовь ей, но при этом поехал в командировку в которую отправил его папа. Он изменил Лине.
Линыны подруга Влада.
Ей 17 лет. Девушка блондинка, веселая. Любит новые знакомства и тусовки. Полная противо положнисть Лины.
Лучший друг Егора, Коля. Такой же как и Егор. Любить тусить и гулять. Но только он не бабник. Он веселый парень, любит новые знакомства, как и Влада. После их знакомства, Влада и Коля будут встречаться
Мама Лины Наталья. Она любит свою дочку, но иногда строгая. Ей 40 лет, будет роботать в компании Егора отца.
Егора отец Женя. У него своя крупная компания в Германии. Свой бизнес. Ему 45. Он строгий, по этому Егор для Жени показывает только лучшую сторону. Женя не знает что Егор, бабник, гуляший, тусовки любит. А когда узнает отправит его на три месяца в Лос Анжелис.
В конечном итоге Лина и Егор будут вместе. Лина сможет простить измену Егору
Create my version of this story
Lina
She is a 20yearold university student majoring in interior and landscape design, alongside her friend Vlada. She is witty, sarcastic, and resilient. Forced to leave Ukraine due to war, she moved to Germany with her mother, Natalia. Lina has a complicated relationship with Egor, her classmate and Zhenya's son, whom she finds arrogant yet attractive. Their relationship faces challenges, including Lina's difficulty expressing her feelings and Egor's infidelity. Despite this, she ultimately forgives him.
Egor
He is a 20yearold university student majoring in architecture, the son of Zhenya—a wealthy businessman. He is charming, arrogant, and complex. Known for his womanizing ways and partying lifestyle, Egor initially treats Lina as an object but comes to respect her boundaries later. He experiences a transformative experience in Los Angeles after being sent there by his father following an altercation with Natalia. Upon returning, he reconciles with Lina and begins a serious relationship with her.
Kolya
He is Egor's best friend and dates Vlada. He is funloving, loyal, and carefree. Kolya enjoys parties and socializing just like Egor but doesn’t have the same level of influence or wealth. His relationship with Vlada starts shortly after their initial meeting at university. Kolya is content with his life as a student in Germany and appreciates his friendship with Egor despite their vastly different lifestyles.
Hello!
My name is Lina.
I am seventeen years old.
I moved from Ukraine to Germany with my mother because of the war.
I have a friend, Vlada, also from Russia.
Together we will go to university for the second year, studying interior and landscape design.
I have a sharp tongue and I am always ready with a few words.
If someone attacks me, I won’t keep my thoughts to myself.
I won’t let anyone walk over me.
Today we are going to the university for the first time.
We are standing on the second floor looking out at the courtyard, where a crowd has gathered around a flashy Porsche.
Next to the Porsche stands a guy who is looking at the car with such love in his eyes, as if he hasn’t seen anything more beautiful in his life.
"Wow," says Vlada, "look at that guy. He is so in love with that car."
I glance at the guy quickly and turn my gaze back to the conversation with my friend.
"Yes, he sure is."
I don’t have any interest in cars, so I don’t know what kind of car it is or how expensive it might be.
I lean my elbows on the railing, looking at the guy as he strokes the hood of his car like it is made of gold.
Then he pulls out a cloth and starts polishing the hood, which is already so clean that it shines.
His friends nod their heads in approval.
A group of girls walks by, giggling and waving at him, but he doesn’t even look up from his precious car.
"Look at him," says Vlada, poking me in the side.
"He is wearing designer clothes. His shoes are from Gucci, and his pants are from Armani. And his hair! It looks like he has just come out of the hair salon."
I glance at him again and see that he keeps looking into the car windows to check his reflection.
He pulls his collar straight with practiced movements.
Then he speaks to someone for the first time since we started watching him.
As Vlada and I continue watching from above, our interior design professor, Dr. Weber, walks up to us with quick steps.
She is holding a folder to her chest and seems to be in a hurry.
"Hello, Lina! Hello, Vlada! I am so glad that I found you," she says.
She looks over the railing at the people below us.
"What are you doing here?"
"Hello, Dr. Weber," I say.
"We are just people-watching."
"Oh," she says.
"I see. Well, I don’t have much time for people-watching right now. I have a class in a few minutes."
She puts her folder on a nearby table and opens it.
"I saw your project yesterday," she says.
"It was really good."
I smile at her and lean against the railing again.
"Thank you," I say.
"We worked really hard on it."
The project was about a sustainable dormitory renovation concept, and we had spent a lot of time researching and designing it.
Dr. Weber smiles back at me and points to the blueprints on the table.
"You did a great job with the layout," she says.
"And your choice of materials was excellent."
She points to different parts of the blueprints as she speaks.
"The way you used natural light was very creative. And the way you incorporated green spaces into the design was brilliant." I nod my head and smile again.
"Thank you," I say.
"We tried to think outside the box and come up with something unique."
Dr. Weber nods her head in agreement.
"Well, you definitely succeeded," she says.
"This project caught the attention of the scholarship committee. They want to meet with you both next week."
Vlada and I look at each other in surprise, then back at Dr. Weber.
"Really?" asks Vlada.
"Yes," says Dr. Weber.
"They were very impressed with your work. They want to talk to you about a scholarship opportunity."
"That’s amazing news!" says Vlada excitedly.
Dr. Weber smiles at us again and gathers up her folder.
"I know," she says.
"I am so happy for both of you. You deserve this opportunity."
She turns to leave, then stops and looks back at us over her shoulder.
"Oh, and one more thing," she says.
"The guy with the Porsche? He's on the scholarship committee too," Dr. Weber reveals with a knowing smile.
Vlada's eyes widen, and she whispers, "You mean Mr. Gucci over there decides our fate?"
Dr. Weber nods, "Yes, and he's particularly interested in sustainable designs."
After Dr. Weber leaves, I pull Vlada into an empty classroom to process this news.
Through the window, I can still see the Porsche guy now heading toward the building.
Dr. Weber catches up with him, and they engage in an animated discussion while pointing at some papers.
My stomach tightens as I realize he's probably reviewing our project right now.
Vlada nudges me, "Do you think we should go down and introduce ourselves?"
I shake my head, "Not yet."
Instead, I take out my laptop and pull up our presentation slides.
"We need to make sure our sustainability metrics are rock-solid before that committee meeting," I say determinedly.
When Dr. Weber pokes her head in a few minutes later, she offers to review our work during her office hours.
Vlada looks at me, her eyes wide with excitement.
"Do you think he’ll be impressed by our ideas?" she asks, a hint of nervousness in her voice.
I nod, trying to reassure both of us, "If he’s really into sustainable designs like Dr. Weber said, then we’ve got this."
Sitting at my desk in the empty classroom, I pull up our sustainability presentation on my laptop.
Vlada leans over my shoulder, peering at the screen.
The metrics page needs some work - our carbon footprint calculations seem off, and the water usage estimates are too optimistic.
I adjust the numbers, double-checking my math against industry standards.
Vlada suggests adding more photos of green roofs, but I shake my head and point to the data tables.
"We need hard facts, not just pretty pictures," I say firmly.
Through the window, I catch a glimpse of the Porsche guy walking back to his car.
A reminder of what's at stake.
I close the laptop with a decisive click, knowing that our future hinges on more than just numbers.
I open my laptop again and pull up the spreadsheet with our sustainability metrics.
The numbers blur together as I double-check every calculation, from energy consumption to waste reduction percentages.
Vlada suggests taking a break, but I wave her off.
My fingers tap rapidly on the keyboard as I adjust formulas and cross-reference industry standards.
When the maintenance staff starts turning off hallway lights, I realize we're the last ones in the building.
I look at Vlada, determination in my eyes, and say, "Let's make this count."
I lean closer to my laptop screen, squinting at the rows of sustainability data.
Vlada yawns beside me, her eyes drooping.
"Come on, let's just go home," she mumbles.
I shake my head, opening our reference documents and cross-checking every figure.
From the projected energy savings to the estimated construction costs, I re-calculate each metric.
When the numbers for water recycling don't match our initial calculations, I pull up the building codes to verify the requirements.
Vlada rubs her eyes, "We already did this. Our original numbers were fine."
I frown, "But what if we missed something?"
She sighs, "We didn't. We're overthinking this."
I ignore her and continue typing furiously on my laptop.
My fingers tap out a rhythm on the keyboard as I adjust the formulas in our spreadsheet.
Vlada leans back in her chair, exasperated.
"Okay, but what if the Porsche guy is just a distraction?" she says, her voice tinged with frustration.
I pause, considering her words, "You mean, like Dr. Weber's way of testing our confidence in our own work?"
I stare at my laptop screen, my eyes burning from hours of number-crunching.
The spreadsheet's white background blurs as exhaustion sets in.
Vlada places a gentle hand on my shoulder, "We've already triple-checked everything. It's fine."
I scroll through the data one final time - energy efficiency ratings, water conservation projections, cost analyses.
Each number matches our original calculations perfectly.
The maintenance worker's vacuum cleaner hums in the distance, and the fluorescent lights flicker overhead.
Vlada's voice softens, "Maybe it's time to trust ourselves a little more."
I nod slowly, feeling the weight of her words, "You're right. We know this project inside out."
She smiles reassuringly, "And if Dr. Weber wanted us to doubt, we just proved him wrong."
I shut my laptop with a decisive click and start gathering my papers, organizing them into neat stacks.
The maintenance worker's vacuum cleaner grows louder in the hallway as he approaches our room.
Vlada helps me sort through the scattered sticky notes and printouts covering the desk, shoving them into my bag.
My hands shake slightly from too much coffee and too little sleep.
Through the window, I notice the parking lot is empty except for our two cars, a stark reminder of how late we've stayed.
Vlada glances out the window, then back at me, "You know, I overheard Dr. Weber mentioning something about a surprise audit next week."
I stop mid-motion, my heart skipping a beat, "An audit? Why didn't you tell me sooner?"
She shrugs, a mischievous glint in her eyes, "I wanted to see if you'd figure it out on your own."
I drag my tired feet down the dimly lit hallway, following Vlada to the campus coffee shop.
She insists we deserve a treat after our marathon work session.
The shop's bright fluorescent lights make me squint after hours of staring at spreadsheets.
While waiting in line, I glance out the window and spot familiar designer clothes through the glass - the Porsche guy is still here too, hunched over papers at an outdoor table.
Vlada nudges me, following my gaze, "Hey, why don't we grab our drinks and sit outside? Accidentally show him how dedicated we are."
I approach the counter with Vlada, ordering my usual double espresso.
The barista, Anna, greets us with a friendly smile, "The usual for you too, Vlada?"
Vlada nods, and Anna starts steaming milk.
While she works, we whisper our debate about whether to sit outside.
I mention the sustainability audit, and Anna's ears perk up.
"Oh, I remember those from my design program," she says, wiping down the counter.
"The inspectors always checked the recycling bins first - weird, right?"
She continues preparing our drinks while sharing stories about her own experience with sustainability audits in her design program.
She explains how they'd present their projects to a panel of judges, answering questions about materials and waste management.
I grip my coffee cup tightly as Vlada leads us outside, weaving between the tables.
The only free one is right beside the Porsche guy.
His papers are spread across the table - architectural drawings and sustainability reports similar to ours.
He glances up briefly as we sit down, then returns to marking something with a red pen.
Vlada kicks my foot under the table, nodding toward his work.
I try to focus on my own notes, but curiosity gets the better of me.
I sneak another glance at his work.
He's methodically reviewing each page, making notes in the margins.
When he reaches for his coffee, I catch a glimpse of detailed annotations about energy efficiency standards.
Vlada leans over, whispering, "Do you think he's working on the same project as us?"
I nod slowly, "It looks like it, but why would he be doing it here and not at the office?"
The Porsche guy suddenly looks up, a hint of amusement in his eyes, "Maybe because I'm not supposed to be working on it at all."
I lean forward in my chair, pretending to reach for my coffee while getting a better look at his papers.
The architectural drawings show familiar sustainability elements - green roofs, solar panels, water recycling systems.
My heart races as I notice committee letterhead on one document.
Gathering my courage, I clear my throat and ask if he's also participating in the contest.
He looks up, his green eyes meeting mine for the first time.
Instead of answering, he starts gathering his papers with deliberate slowness, a slight smirk playing at the corners of his mouth.
Vlada raises an eyebrow, her voice low but insistent, "You're not really supposed to be working on it, or you're not supposed to let anyone know you are?"
He chuckles softly, tucking the last of his papers into a sleek leather folder, "Let's just say some projects require a bit of... discretion."
I exchange a glance with Vlada, feeling the weight of his words settle between us, "So, are we competitors or allies in this little secret mission?"
I lean forward to ask the Porsche guy another question when a potted plant on our table starts shaking.
A pigeon lands on its thin branches, making the ceramic pot wobble precariously.
Before I can react, the bird lunges for a leaf, yanking it free.
The sudden movement tips the pot, sending it crashing across our table.
Coffee splashes over my notes and his architectural drawings.
He jumps up, cursing and trying to save his papers.
Vlada grabs napkins from the next table.
I freeze, watching brown liquid seep into his committee documents, destroying hours of work.
He looks at me, a mix of frustration and resignation in his eyes, "Well, I guess discretion just got a little more complicated."
I frantically grab napkins from the counter, returning to dab at the coffee-soaked papers.
"I'm so sorry," I repeat, apologizing as I try to salvage what I can.
The Porsche guy's initial anger slowly fades as he watches me attempt to save his work.
Some of the ink runs, creating messy smudges across his detailed sustainability notes.
When I try to separate two stuck pages, they tear slightly.
He reaches out, his hand brushing mine, "You're making it worse."
His tone is gentler now, but I step back, my face burning with embarrassment.
I pull out my laptop, suggesting we could recreate his calculations while they're fresh in his memory.
He hesitates, glancing at the ruined papers before sliding into the seat beside me.
The coffee shop's harsh lighting illuminates every detail as we work - his fingers brushing mine when pointing at the screen, his cologne mixing with the bitter coffee smell, the way he leans closer to explain complex formulas.
Vlada watches us with a knowing smile, pretending to study her own books.
When he mentions a calculation error in my own project, I realize he's been reviewing our submission all along.
I lean closer to the screen as he points out where our water recycling metrics went wrong.
His finger traces along the spreadsheet cells, explaining how we mixed up the conversion rates.
As he shifts in his seat, his cologne mingles with the coffee shop's strong espresso aroma.
He types in the correct formula, his fingers brushing mine again as he reaches for the mouse.
My cheeks flush, but I focus on the screen, determined not to make the same mistake twice.
Vlada pretends to study her own books but keeps glancing at us with a knowing smile.
The Porsche guy demonstrates the proper way to calculate greywater reuse efficiency, walking me through each step carefully.
I lean closer to the screen, watching his fingers tap methodically through our spreadsheet cells.
He points out where we mixed up liters and gallons in the greywater formulas, showing me the proper conversion factors.
My hand brushes against his as I reach to type in the corrections, making my skin tingle.
The coffee shop's evening crowd thins around us while he walks me through each sustainability metric.
Though I try to focus solely on the numbers, his proximity and gentle teaching manner keep distracting me.
"You're surprisingly good at this," I admit, glancing sideways at him.
He chuckles softly, his eyes still on the screen, "I used to teach environmental engineering before switching careers."
I pause, processing this new information, "So that's why you were so invested in our project."