Met My Ex-Wife and Almost Turned Green with Envy
Oleg slammed the fridge door shut so hard that the bottles inside rattled, and one of the magnets clattered to the floor.
Lena stood opposite him, pale, her fists clenched tight.
“Well? Feel better now?” she exhaled, sharply raising her chin.
“You’re just driving me crazy,” Oleg’s voice cracked, though he tried to stay calm. “Is this even a life? No emotions, no future.”
“So once again I’m the one to blame?” Lena gave a bitter smile. “Of course. Things aren’t the way you dreamed they would be.”
Oleg wanted to reply but waved it off. He opened a bottle of mineral water, took a swig straight from the neck, and slammed it onto the table.
“Oleg, don’t stay silent,” her voice trembled. “For once, just say directly what the problem is.”
“What’s there to say?” He grimaced. “You wouldn’t even understand. I’m sick of it all. To hell with this!”
They stared at each other in silence. Lena drew a deep breath and went into the bathroom. Oleg sank heavily onto the couch. From behind the door came the sound of running water—she had probably turned on the tap to hide her tears.
But he didn’t care.
A Life That Became Routine
Three years earlier, they had gotten married. They lived in Lena’s apartment, which her parents had given her when they retired and moved out of the city. The apartment was spacious but outdated: Soviet-era furniture, peeling wallpaper, worn linoleum.
At first, Oleg was pleased: the city center, a nice neighborhood, his job nearby. But over time it began to irritate him. Lena felt cozy in her “family fortress,” while Oleg felt suffocated by what he saw as a “frozen era.”
“Lena, be honest,” he often began. “Don’t you ever want to redo this place? New wallpaper, new floors? Something modern, stylish?”
“Of course I do,” she would answer calmly. “But let’s wait for my bonus or save a little first.”
“Wait? That’s your whole philosophy—endure and wait!”
In the beginning, Oleg was proud of choosing Lena. He’d tell his friends: “She’s a bud that will bloom, and everyone will be amazed.” But now he thought that bud had never blossomed—only withered.
Lena, meanwhile, simply lived the way she thought was right. She found joy in little things: a hot cup of tea, an evening with a book, new kitchen towels. Oleg saw only stagnation.
Yet he didn’t rush to leave—moving back in with his parents meant facing their strained relationship. His mother, Tamara Ilyinichna, often took Lena’s side:
“Son, you’re wrong. Lena is a good, smart girl. You’re living in her apartment and still complaining.”
“Mom, you’re stuck in the Stone Age, just like her,” Oleg snapped.
His father, Igor Sergeevich, only waved it off:
“Let him figure it out himself, Tamara.”
But every time he looked at Lena, Oleg thought: “She’s like a shadow… And she’s tied me to this apartment.”
One day, he couldn’t take it anymore.
“Lena, I’m tired,” he said, standing by the window.
“Tired of what?” Her voice was steady, but her eyes glistened with tears.
“Of this life, this routine. You’re buried in pots and dust, and I don’t want to waste my years like this!”
Lena quietly picked up the trash bag and left. The door slammed.
Oleg expected her to return and try to stop him, but she came back calm.
“Maybe you really should live on your own,” she said. “Move out.”
“Oh sure, so you can rule the place alone?” Oleg snapped. “I’m not leaving my own home!”
“Oleg, this isn’t your home,” Lena smirked. “It’s my parents’ apartment.”
A few weeks later, he did move back to his parents’.
And within a few months, they divorced.
A Meeting That Changed Everything
Three years passed.
Oleg was still living with his parents, always telling himself it was “temporary,” that soon he’d rent his own place and get his life together. But it never happened. His job didn’t pay enough, relationships went nowhere, and his parents were hinting more and more that he wasn’t a kid anymore to be living off them.
One spring evening, on his way home, he passed a cozy little café. Warm lights glowed inside, soft music played.
He was about to go in when he froze.
At the café entrance stood Lena.
But not the Lena he used to know.
This was a confident woman with a stylish haircut, an elegant coat, and car keys in her hand. She looked calm, well-groomed, even happy.
“Lena?” he blurted out.
She turned, and after a second, recognized him.
“Hello, Oleg,” she said evenly.
“Hi… You… you look amazing.”
“Thanks,” she smiled. “I’m living the life I always dreamed of now.”
“Still working at the same place?”
“No, I opened my own flower studio. I was scared at first, but… I found someone who supported me.”
“Who?” Oleg asked before he even knew why.
A man walked out of the café. He put his arm around Lena’s shoulders and said:
“Darling, a table just opened up. Shall we?”
Lena introduced him:
“This is Vadim. Vadim, this is Oleg.”
“It was nice to meet you, Oleg. I hope everything’s good with you too,” Vadim said politely.
Oleg only nodded. Words stuck in his throat.
He watched Lena walk away, laughing with Vadim, and inside him twisted with envy.
He had once said: “I live with a bud that never opened.”
But the bud did bloom—
Just not with him.
