“You do realize we’re going to have to live like roommates now?” Lena threw the words over her shoulder without even looking at Igor.
He stood by the window, fidgeting with a pack of cigarettes even though he’d quit a year ago. The cigarettes were old and crumpled, like they’d been saved “for a rainy day.”
“Don’t turn it into a tragedy,” he said quietly. “We’re just going through a hard time.”
“A hard time?” Lena whirled around. “You lying to my face and me pretending I believe you — that’s what you call a hard time?”
Igor exhaled and tossed the pack onto the windowsill.
“I didn’t lie. I just… didn’t want to stir things up.”
“Didn’t want to stir things up?!” Lena’s voice broke. “Igor, you’ve been staying late for months, you don’t take your phone with you, and then you come home like nothing happened and you sit there in silence. You think I don’t see it?”
He looked away, sat down on the couch, rubbed his palms together.
“Lena, I’m tired. Work, loans, my mom and her aches and pains… everything came down at once.”
“Your mom again,” she said softly. “Always your mom. Like I’m just the woman who shares your address.”
The kitchen smelled of yesterday’s coffee and something burnt. It was a nasty November morning — gray, wet, miserable. Outside, a thin rain tapped against the sill and buses rumbled in the street. Their two-bedroom in a new building in Podolsk had once felt like happiness. Now it felt like a tight box with no air.
Five years of marriage. Three of them under a mortgage. A year of nonstop fighting. Six months of feeling like everything was sliding downhill.
“I don’t understand,” Lena went on, quieter now. “We’re not strangers. We built all of this together.”
“Lena, not now.”
“When then, Igor? When you finally ‘feel like’ having a conversation?”
He stood up and put on his jacket.
“I have to go. There’s an inspection at the site.”
“At the site… or to her?” Lena blurted.
Igor froze at the door.
“What did you just say?”
“I asked if you’re going to her. To Irina. Or whatever her name is.”
“Have you lost your mind?”
“Have I?” Lena pressed her lips together and stepped closer. “Then explain why your mother called me yesterday and casually said, ‘If only you’d let Igor go, Lenochka — he’s already decided.’ Decided with whom, Igor? Who did you decide on?”
Family Relationship Counseling
He let out a loud breath, as if the air had been punched out of him.
“She… wasn’t supposed to tell you anything.”
“So,” Lena narrowed her eyes, “there is something to tell.”
Silence. Heavy as a concrete slab. Lena watched her husband, searching his face for anything at all — but she saw only exhaustion.
“Yes,” he finally forced out. “There is.”
Lena felt everything inside her sink.
“Who is she?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“Her name, Igor. I want to know who you’re wrecking our family with.”
He lowered his head.
“Ira. From procurement. We… we just worked a lot together.”
Lena gave a dry, humorless smirk.
“Work. The classic excuse.”
“It’s not what you think,” he began.
“And what do I think, Igor? That you stayed late counting invoices and accidentally mixed up a report with a bed?”
He closed his eyes.
“I didn’t want it. It just… happened.”
“‘Just happened’?” Lena sat on the edge of the table. “You’re a grown man, not a teenager. Nothing ‘just happens.’”
He stepped closer.
“Lena, I didn’t come here to fight. I wanted to talk calmly.”
“Calmly?” She laughed. “After I find out you have a mistress, you want to talk calmly?”
“Things have been wrong for a long time. You know that.”
“And that’s supposed to justify it?”
“It’s a fact. We live like roommates. You’re in your world, I’m in mine. We don’t even talk about anything except bills and Masha.”
Lena clenched her fists.
“Masha is six. She feels everything. Every day she asks why Dad is angry.”
“Don’t drag the child into this.”
“Who dragged her into it, Igor? You did — when you started running around God knows where and lying.”
He fell silent, eyes down.
“I didn’t plan to destroy everything,” he said quietly. “I just couldn’t stop.”
“Beautiful,” Lena scoffed. “Right out of a TV drama. And your mother knows, doesn’t she?”
“Yes.”
“And she approves?”
“She… said you should live in a way that keeps your soul at peace.”
Lena slammed her palm on the table.
“Of course she did! She’s always thought I wasn’t right for you — that I’m too ‘plain,’ not from the ‘right’ kind of family. And now she’s finally satisfied, isn’t she?”
Igor said nothing.
Lena turned to the window. Raindrops crawled down the glass, catching the dim kitchen light.
“So that’s it.”
“I didn’t say it’s over.”
“But that’s where it’s going.”
He stepped closer and tried to touch her shoulder, but she pulled away.
“Lena, I don’t want a war. Let’s handle this calmly.”
“You want calm? Then don’t touch me.”
She turned and looked him straight in the eye.
“You thought I wouldn’t find out? That I’d sit here and wait until you decided when to leave me? No, Igor. That’s not happening.”
He nodded faintly.
“Fine. I’ll stay at my mom’s tonight.”
“Good. She’s happier to see you than I am.”
When the door slammed, Lena stood still for a long time. Then she slid down onto the floor and burst into tears — not from hurt, but from helplessness. How long could she hold everything up alone — a home, a child, a family, a man slipping through her fingers?
Her phone buzzed on the table. A message from her friend:
“How are you? Don’t disappear.”
Lena typed back: “Later. My house is on fire.”
Outside, it grew dark. Inside, the apartment went quiet except for the refrigerator’s hum. She went into her daughter’s room. Masha was already asleep, hugging her teddy bear. Lena sat beside her and stroked the child’s hair.
“Everything will be okay,” she whispered, not believing a single word.
But in the morning she had no tears left — only cold determination.
First: call a lawyer she knew. Then: talk to a realtor. The apartment was owned fifty-fifty, and if Igor decided to sell, she had to be ready.
Two days later Lena learned that Igor really had consulted the bank — asking whether it was possible to sell a shared-ownership apartment without the other owner’s consent.
She sat at the kitchen table and wrote an application to block any real-estate transactions. She took it to the MFC. Her hands trembled, but inside she felt steady.
That evening Igor came home, saw the papers on the table, and went pale.
“What’s this?”
“My precautions.”
“Lena, what, are you going to sue me?”
“And you — were you going to throw us out?”
He clenched his fists but said nothing.
For the first time in a long while she looked at him calmly — without tears, without a tremor in her voice.
“I’m not the woman who waits to be betrayed anymore.”
Igor walked into the bedroom in silence.
“Lena, have you completely lost it?” Igor’s voice shook, but not from fear — from rage. “I go to the bank this morning and find out you’ve put a ban on any transactions with the apartment! Do you even understand what you’ve done?”
Lena stood at the window holding a cup of cold coffee. Outside — wet November, a gray sky, leaves stuck to the asphalt, a janitor grumbling under his hood. The air smelled of chill and metal.
“I understand,” she replied evenly. “I’m protecting myself and my daughter.”
“From who? From me?!”
“Yes.”
He froze for a moment, then let out a nervous laugh.
“You’re insane. We could’ve settled everything peacefully.”
“You already settled it. Without me. First you cheated, then you planned to sell the apartment, and then, I suppose, start over with a clean slate. Only I didn’t agree to be treated like trash you toss out.”
“Stop talking nonsense,” he muttered, looking down. “I wasn’t going to kick you out. I wanted to do it like a decent person.”
“Like a decent person — after a year of lies, and then trying to pull a housing scheme behind my back?”
He blew out a hard breath.
“I don’t want to fight. My head’s already spinning.”
“And my life is spinning, Igor. Do you get that?”
He dropped into a chair, elbows on his knees.
“I didn’t cope. Everything hit at once. Work, debts, my mom, you and your constant complaints… and Ira just showed up at the right time.”
“Yes,” Lena nodded. “Very convenient — blame it all on circumstances.”
Silence again. Long. Only the drip on the sill and the tick of an old clock.
A week passed, and they lived like neighbors. They ate at different times, spoke dryly, only about practical things. Masha understood everything — she asked why Dad slept on the couch. Lena told her Dad was tired and needed rest.
Sometimes Lena wanted to scream. But she held herself together.
She went to work, checked her daughter’s homework in the evening, ironed, washed dishes. Everything looked the same, except inside there was a hollow space — as if her life had stayed on the other side of the line where you can still trust people.
One evening the doorbell rang. On the doorstep stood her mother-in-law, Valentina Andreevna: a fur hat, a severe look, a handbag in her hand.
“May I come in?” she asked sharply.
Lena stepped aside.
“Of course.”
Her mother-in-law walked into the kitchen and sat at the table.
“I wasn’t going to interfere,” she began. “But the two of you are behaving like children.”
“Am I right to guess you’ve already interfered,” Lena said, folding her arms, “just unofficially?”
“I was trying to help my son.”
“Help?” Lena’s voice was flat. “By finishing off our marriage? What a wonderful kind of help.”
Valentina Andreevna pressed her lips together.
“Lena, you don’t know how to be a wife. Constant claims, constant reproaches. A man shouldn’t feel guilty in his own home.”
“A man who cheats should feel something at least — besides pity for himself.”
“Igor got confused. Ira loves him, supports him.”
“I used to support him too. You just never noticed.”
“You know,” her mother-in-law sighed, “maybe you really don’t suit each other. But dragging a child through it — that’s the lowest thing.”
“I agree,” Lena said. “That’s why I want Masha to live in a calm environment. Without your advice and your meddling.”
“You’re ungrateful, Lena.”
“Maybe. But at least I’m honest.”
Valentina Andreevna jumped up, pulled on her gloves.
“You’ll regret this.”
“I already did,” Lena answered calmly.
The door slammed. The silence settled again.
In December, Lena filed for divorce first. The lawyer helped with the paperwork and explained that the apartment was joint property — without Lena’s consent, Igor couldn’t do anything.
At first Igor didn’t believe it. Then he exploded.
“You want to turn this into a circus?” he shouted, flinging the documents onto the floor. “You think the court will help you?”
“I think the law is on my side.”
Legal Advice Service
“The law?” he sneered. “You always hide behind papers! Can’t you do it like a human being?”
“You already did everything ‘like a human being.’”
He yelled something incoherent, stormed out, and slammed the door so hard a cup fell off the shelf.
Lena stood in the middle of the kitchen and suddenly realized: the fear was gone. The tight knot in her chest was gone, the shaking in her hands — gone. There was only exhaustion and that same cold determination.
The court case lasted almost four months. Igor hired an attorney who tried to prove Lena hadn’t contributed to the mortgage because she’d been home with the child.
Lena’s lawyer gathered every statement, receipt, and record: expenses for the child, utilities, groceries, pharmacy receipts. Every little thing mattered.
At the final hearing, Igor sat slumped, not looking at his ex-wife. When the judge read the decision — the apartment would be sold, the proceeds split equally, and child support set at 25% — he only nodded. No expression.
Lena left the courthouse and inhaled the cold air. Snow fell in big, soft flakes and landed on her hair. Her chest felt light, like after a long swim when you finally reach shore.
Selling the apartment took a month. The money hit the account, and Lena moved with Masha to her mother’s place — temporarily, while she looked for new housing. Her mother helped however she could, even though she worked as a nurse and came home late.
Family Relationship Counseling
“Hold on, sweetheart,” her mother told her in the evenings. “It’ll work out. Just don’t go back to him.”
“I won’t, Mom. I can’t.”
Masha started kindergarten and adjusted quickly. Sometimes she asked about her dad.
“He loves you,” Lena would say. “He just lives separately now.”
“And does he have another lady now?” Masha asked.
“Yes.”
“And will I go to her?”
“No, honey. You’re home.”
Sometimes Igor came by. He brought toys, sweets. He sat with Masha for a couple hours and then left. Lena met him calmly, almost indifferent.
One day he arrived later than usual, eyes red.
“Can we talk?” he asked softly.
“Talk.”
He sat on the edge of a chair, head down.
“Ira left.”
Lena said nothing.
“She says I’m not who she thought I was. She’s got someone else.”
“It happens.”
“I… I’m probably to blame.” He rubbed his forehead. “I lost everything. My family, my home, my respect. Mom won’t speak to me for weeks now.”
Lena sat across from him.
“And what did you expect — that life would wait while you figured yourself out?”
He nodded.
“I’m not asking for forgiveness. I know it’s too late. I just wanted to say… you were right.”
“I didn’t fight for that,” Lena said evenly. “I don’t need your surrender. I needed to get myself back.”
He looked up — lost, unfamiliar.
“You did.”
“Yes.” She stood. “Just don’t lose Masha too. Live like a normal person for her sake. No lies.”
He nodded, stood up, and left quietly.
When the door closed, Lena let out a breath. No pain, no joy — just peace.
Spring came early. In March, Lena rented a small apartment in a new building near the school. White walls, a view of the park, a balcony where she could drink coffee in the mornings.
New dishes in the kitchen. A pot with a ficus on the windowsill.
Masha drew at the table, chattering about kindergarten, about her friend Katya, about the spring holiday coming soon.
Lena watched her daughter and felt that, for the first time in years, she could breathe freely.
Her phone buzzed — a message from Igor: “How’s Masha? Can I take her to the park tomorrow?”
Lena replied briefly: “Yes. Bring her back by seven.”
That was all. No resentment, no discussions. Just the way it should be.
She walked to the window. Sunlight pushed through the clouds; snow melted on the rooftops. Down below someone laughed, children rolled the last scraps of snow into balls.
Lena smiled.
It was over. It was lived through.
She remembered how, a year earlier, she’d stood in that same kitchen, afraid to exhale because the world was collapsing. And now — a new home, new plans, a new version of herself. No fear. No dependence. No falseness.
Life hadn’t become easier — it had simply become honest.
Late at night, when Masha was asleep, Lena brewed tea and opened her laptop. On the screen were real-estate listings. She calculated and planned how much she could save in a year. She wanted to buy her own place — small, but hers.
Her phone blinked with a message from her friend:
“So… are you living?”
Lena smiled and typed back:
“Yes. Now — I really am.”
She turned off the light and sat in the half-dark, listening to meltwater dripping outside the window.
And for the first time in a long time, she wasn’t afraid of the future.
The end.