Yulia stood by the window, watching Oleg load the suitcases into the car trunk. His movements were fussy, hurried—as if he were afraid she might change her mind and refuse to let him go.
“Are you sure you can handle it?” he threw over his shoulder, not even looking in her direction.
“Do I have a choice?” Yulia replied quietly.
Oleg spun around sharply, and that same condescending smile she hated so much appeared on his face.
“Yulia, why are you being so dramatic? It’s just two weeks. Mom’s not that hard to look after, she just needs help with her injections and pills. I left you the schedule.”
“Two weeks,” she repeated. “And the conference really lasts that long?”
“It’s NOT a conference!” Oleg snapped irritably. “How many times do I have to say it—it’s an important business meeting. Partners from Sochi. You only get an opportunity like this once in a lifetime! New contracts, connections… You understand, it’s for our future.”
Yulia nodded silently. After eight years of marriage, she had learned to recognize when her husband was lying. And right now he was looking away, nervously tapping the keys against his palm.
“By the way,” Oleg added, heading for the door, “Mom mustn’t get upset. The doctor said she needs complete rest. So no talking about money, work… nothing serious at all. Got it?”
“Got it,” Yulia answered mechanically.
“And another thing,” he stopped in the doorway, “don’t you dare call me over nothing. I’ll have important negotiations, I won’t be able to get distracted.”
The door slammed shut. Yulia went back to the window and followed the car with her eyes as it drove away. In the next room, Antonina Petrovna coughed—the mother-in-law who had moved in with them a month ago after heart surgery.
“Yulenka!” came a demanding voice. “Yulenka, come here!”
Yulia took a deep breath and walked into her mother-in-law’s room. Antonina Petrovna was half-lying in bed, propped up by pillows. Despite her illness, her gaze was still sharp, penetrating.
“Has Olezhek left?” she asked.
“Yes, just now.”
“Good thing the boy is busy with his career. Otherwise, with a wife like you…” Antonina Petrovna broke off meaningfully.
“What do you mean?” Yulia asked calmly.
“Oh, nothing, dear. I’m just surprised my son has put up with this for so many years… Anyway, never mind. Bring me some water. And my pills. Yellow ones at nine, white ones at eleven. Remembered?”
“Remembered, Antonina Petrovna.”
“And make some soup. Chicken. But not like last time—too salty. And don’t put in carrots, I don’t like them. Or onions either. And…”
Yulia listened to the endless list of demands, mentally doing her own calculations. Two weeks—that was three hundred thirty-six hours. Twenty thousand one hundred sixty minutes. She always calmed down when she counted. Math was her refuge, her fortress. In numbers there was no lie, no contempt, no humiliation.
Three days passed. Yulia was rushing between the kitchen and her mother-in-law’s room like a wound-up toy. Antonina Petrovna demanded attention every half hour—water, adjust the pillow, read the newspaper, just sit next to her and listen to yet another stream of reproaches.
“You know, Yulenka,” her mother-in-law said while Yulia was changing the bed linen, “I always told Oleg: he should have married Marina Sergeyeva. Now that’s a girl! Beautiful, a perfect homemaker, from a good family. And you… What are you? A school math teacher. Earn pennies. Still no children. Can’t even cook properly.”
Yulia silently fluffed the pillows. Over these days she had memorized all of her mother-in-law’s complaints. There were exactly twenty-seven of them. She’d made a list and even assigned each complaint a frequency coefficient.
On the fourth day, something strange happened. Yulia was making lunch when she heard the phone ringing in her mother-in-law’s room. Antonina Petrovna talked for a long time with someone, laughing. Then she called:
“Yulenka! Come here, quickly!”
Yulia walked into the room. Her mother-in-law was sitting up in bed, her eyes shining with triumph.
“My friend called, Valentina Ivanovna. From Sochi. Imagine, she saw Oleg on the promenade yesterday. With some young woman. A blonde, she said, long-legged. They went into a restaurant.”
Yulia froze. In her mind, a chain formed instantly: Sochi — resort — not a business conference — lies — betrayal.
“Are… are you sure it was Oleg?”
“Valentina knows him well. She went right up to say hello. And he was so embarrassed! Introduced that… one as Svetlana. Said she was a colleague from work. But Valentina is an experienced woman, she understood everything right away. She said that Svetlana was looking at him… with such loving eyes.”
Antonina Petrovna leaned back against the pillows, pleased with the effect she’d produced.
“Well, dear, now you understand? You drove your husband to this. It’s all your own fault. What the woman is like, so is the husband. I always said…”
But Yulia was no longer listening. She walked out of the room and headed to the kitchen. She sat down at the table, took a sheet of paper and began to write. Numbers, formulas, calculations. Jointly acquired property. The apartment—market value twelve million. The car—two million. Bank accounts—she knew the exact amounts because she managed the family finances herself. Oleg trusted her with the money, considering it a boring task.
In the evening, she called her husband. He didn’t answer right away, and in the background she could hear music and laughter.
“Yulia? What happened? I told you not to bother me!”
“Everything’s fine. I just wanted to ask how things are going.”
“EVERYTHING’S FINE! The negotiations are in progress. Listen, I don’t have time. How’s Mom?”
“She’s feeling good. Very lively, actually.”
“That’s great then. Okay, I’ve got to run.”
He hung up. Yulia looked at the phone. The screen showed the call duration—thirty-two seconds. Eight years of marriage—for thirty-two seconds of attention.
On the seventh day, Yulia made a discovery. She walked into her mother-in-law’s room with her medicine and found Antonina Petrovna standing by the window. She was energetically watering the plants with a watering can.
“Antonina Petrovna?” Yulia said in surprise. “You’re not supposed to get up! The doctor said…”
Her mother-in-law turned sharply. Fear flashed across her face, but was quickly replaced by her usual arrogance.
“I was just… I just needed some air. It’s very stuffy.”
“But you’re watering the plants. The watering can is heavy.”
“IT’S NOT heavy at all!” snapped Antonina Petrovna and quickly lay back down in bed. “I just got a little dizzy. Give me my pills and go. I’m tired.”
Yulia silently handed her the medicine and walked out. But the seed of doubt had been planted. She began to watch more closely. And she noticed: when her mother-in-law thought she wasn’t being watched, she moved perfectly freely. She got up, walked around the room, even did light exercises.
On the eighth day, Yulia found a mobile phone in her mother-in-law’s room—a second one she had never mentioned. In the call history was Oleg’s number and plenty of messages. Yulia read their correspondence, and everything fell into place.
“Mom, everything’s going according to plan. Yulka doesn’t suspect a thing.”
“Good boy, son. Let her serve you. She’s gotten way too full of herself. I won’t let you file for divorce until we’ve thought everything through. We need to keep the property.”
“Yeah, Mom. Svetlana is willing to wait. We’re sorting out some papers here. I’ll transfer the company to her name, and then I’ll divorce Yulia.”
“Right. And that fool can look after me for now. I’ll make her life fun.”
Yulia carefully put the phone back. She went to her own room, sat down at the desk and began to count. Eight years of life—two thousand nine hundred twenty days. Of those, maybe a hundred were happy. The rest—endless patience, and the hope that things would get better. Foolishness.
She opened her laptop and logged into their online banking. All the accounts were joint, but she managed them—Oleg had given her full access so he wouldn’t have to bother with paying bills. Yulia began to act. Transfers, operations, rearranging the accounts—everything strictly within the law, but done with mathematical precision. In an hour she had restructured all their family assets so that formally they remained joint, but in practice Oleg couldn’t dispose of them without her signature.
Then she called her friend, a lawyer.
“Alla? It’s Yulia. Remember you mentioned that notary? I need a consultation. Urgently.”
On the ninth day, Yulia received all the necessary documents. Copies of her husband’s correspondence with his lover—it turned out Svetlana was very active on social media and didn’t hide their “romantic getaway.” Bank statements—large sums spent on gifts that were not for his wife. Her mother-in-law’s medical paperwork—Yulia contacted the clinic and found out that Antonina Petrovna had been discharged two weeks ago with a clean bill of health.
On the tenth day, Yulia decided to act. In the morning, she walked into her mother-in-law’s room with breakfast.
“Antonina Petrovna, I know that you’re healthy.”
Her mother-in-law choked on her tea.
“What NONSENSE are you talking about?”
“I saw your messages with Oleg. And I got your medical report. You were declared fully recovered two weeks ago.”
Antonina Petrovna turned crimson.
“How DARE you snoop through my things! GET OUT of here!”
“You can get out yourself,” Yulia replied calmly. “This is my apartment too. And I have a right to know what’s going on in my own home.”
“Your apartment?” her mother-in-law screeched, jumping out of bed. “You’re a penniless teacher! Oleg paid for everything! You’re nobody here!”
Yulia pulled out a folder with documents.
“Actually, to be precise, my contribution to the family budget over eight years is three million seven hundred thousand rubles. That’s thirty-one percent of our total income. Plus I ran the household, which in monetary terms—if we count by the market rate for housekeeper services—is another two million or so. In total, five million seven hundred thousand. That’s forty-eight percent of the value of our property.”
“What nonsense…” began Antonina Petrovna, but Yulia went on:
“And I also know about Svetlana. And about Oleg planning to transfer the company to her. Only there’s a little problem—the company is registered in both our names. And without my signature he can’t do ANYTHING.”
Her mother-in-law collapsed back down on the bed.
“You… you’re blackmailing us?”
“NO,” Yulia cut her off. “I’m simply putting the dots over the i’s. Oleg betrayed me. You helped him. Now you can both deal with the consequences.”
She turned and walked out of the room, leaving her stunned mother-in-law alone. An hour later, Antonina Petrovna had packed her things and left to stay with her sister, throwing over her shoulder as she left:
“Oleg will NEVER forgive you!”
“Same here,” Yulia replied.
That evening, Oleg called. His voice was furious.
“What have you done?! Mom called me in tears! How dare you throw a sick woman out?!”
“Your mother is as healthy as an ox,” Yulia replied calmly. “I have her medical records. And I have your messages too. All of them. Including the ones where you discuss how to take me for a ride.”
Silence.
“Oleg? Do you hear me?”
“How did you…”
“I’m not an idiot, no matter what you and your mommy think. And yes, I blocked all our accounts. Now you won’t withdraw a single kopek without my signature.”
“YOU HAVE NO RIGHT!”
“Yes, I do. It’s jointly acquired property. And by the way, say hello to your Svetlana from me. I hope she has money for a ticket home. Because there’s no one left to pay for your ‘vacation.’”
“Yulia, let’s talk this over calmly…”
“NO,” she said sharply. “There’s nothing left to talk about. Come back and you’ll get the divorce papers. We split the property fifty-fifty. Or we go through the courts—in which case, given your cheating, you’ll get even less.”
“You’ll regret this!” Oleg roared. “I’ll destroy you! You’ll be left with nothing!”
Yulia gave a short laugh.
“Try it. I have proof of your infidelity, of your mother’s fake illness, of the attempted fraud with the company. Want it all made public? Your partners will be thrilled to learn you were planning to screw over your own wife, and maybe others as well.”
She hung up. Her hands were trembling slightly, but inside she felt an astonishing lightness. As if she’d shrugged a hundred-kilo weight off her shoulders.
The next two days, Yulia methodically prepared for her husband’s return. She packed his things. Prepared the documents. Changed the locks—just in case. And most importantly, she transferred all the money from their joint accounts to her personal one, opened before the marriage. Formally, it wasn’t entirely legal, but she knew Oleg wouldn’t go to the police. Too much dirty laundry would have to be aired.
Oleg returned three days later. He knocked on the door—his keys no longer worked.
Yulia opened. Standing in front of her was not the well-groomed, self-confident man who had left a week and a half ago. Oleg now looked confused, angry, and at the same time pathetic.
“What’s with the circus and the locks?”
“Precautions. Your things are in the hallway. The papers are on the table. Sign and leave.”
Oleg walked into the apartment and looked around. Everything was as before, but something had subtly changed. His things were gone, the photos were gone, even the smell of his cologne had dissipated.
“Yulia, let’s talk like normal people. I admit I did the wrong thing. But you’re no angel either—you blocked the accounts, left Svetlana without money…”
“That’s your problem,” Yulia shrugged. “Sign the papers.”
“And if I refuse?”
“Then we’ll see each other in court. My lawyer says with this level of proof of infidelity, I’ll get two-thirds of the property. Your call.”
Oleg grabbed the documents and skimmed through them.
“You want HALF of everything? The apartment, the company, the car?”
“That’s fair. I put no less into all of this than you did. And not just money—my time, my energy, my health.”
“You just sat at home!”
That was the last straw.
“SAT AT HOME?!” her voice broke into a scream. “I WORKED! I ran the household, washed your shirts, cooked, cleaned! I put up with your mother and her endless nitpicking! I gave up my career because you said a wife should be the keeper of the hearth! I buried my ambitions, my dreams, my plans—all for you! And you… you traded me in for the first long-legged idiot who walked by!”
She grabbed a glass of water from the table and threw it in his face.
“And you know what? I did the math. In eight years of marriage I spent five thousand eight hundred forty hours on you and your whims. That’s two hundred forty-three days of my life! TWO HUNDRED FORTY-THREE DAYS that I threw in the trash! But from now on—not one second more!”
Oleg stood there, wiping his face with his sleeve, stunned by the fury pouring out of her. He had never seen his wife like this—eyes blazing, hair tousled, her whole body radiating anger.
“You… you’ve gone crazy…”
“NO! I finally see clearly! Sign the papers and GET OUT! Otherwise I’ll post your entire correspondence with Mommy online. Let everyone see what a ‘faithful’ husband and ‘successful’ businessman you are!”
“That’s blackmail!”
“That’s ARITHMETIC!” Yulia shouted. “Simple arithmetic! You cheated—minus trust. You lied—minus respect. You betrayed me—minus love. What’s left? ZERO! That’s what you are to me. A zero. An empty space!”
She snatched up a calculator and began jabbing at the buttons.
“Look: the apartment is worth twelve million. Split down the middle—six for you, six for me. The car—two million, one million each. The company—estimated at four million, two each. The accounts—there were three million, but that’s gone. I spent it on lawyers and compensation for moral damages. So you get nine million. I get nine million. PERIOD!”
“You won’t get a single kopek!” Oleg bellowed. “I’ll find a way! I have connections!”
“And I have BRAINS!” Yulia shot back. “And all the documentation! Every receipt, every bill, every transfer for eight years! I’ve tracked everything! And you don’t even know how much a loaf of bread costs!”
She stepped right up to him, looking him straight in the eye.
“You know what your problem is, Oleg? You always thought I was an idiot. A quiet, obedient little teacher-fool. But I was just in love. Now the love is gone, and all that’s left is pure MATHEMATICS. And in mathematics, I’m good. Very good.”
Oleg backed away. This new Yulia scared him. Where was that compliant, gentle woman who silently endured all the criticism?
“Sign,” she repeated in an icy tone. “Or tomorrow morning all your partners will get emails with proof of your lies. I think they’ll find it very interesting that you’re capable of betraying the person closest to you for some random woman.”
Oleg grabbed the pen and started signing the papers. His hand shook with rage.
“You’ll regret this,” he hissed through his teeth.
“I regret having wasted eight years on you. But it was a good school. Now I know the true value of words, promises, and vows. Thanks for the lesson.”
Oleg signed the last page and hurled the documents onto the table.
“I hope you die alone!”
“And I hope your Svetlana turns out to be smarter than me and sees right through you much faster. Though I doubt it—judging by her social media photos, she doesn’t seem to have more brains than a chicken.”
Oleg grabbed his bags and headed for the door. He turned back on the threshold:
“By the way, Mom was right. You were always a nobody. A gray mouse. And you’ll stay that way.”
Yulia laughed—loud, clear, and genuine.
“Better to be a gray mouse than a rat abandoning a sinking ship. Good luck, Oleg. You’re going to need it.”
The door slammed shut.
A month passed. Yulia was sitting in a cozy café, checking her students’ notebooks. A cup of fragrant cappuccino stood beside her, soft music was playing. She lifted her head and caught her reflection in the window—a woman with a straight back, a calm face and a faint smile. Not a beauty, but there was a certain inner strength about her that drew the eye.
Her phone vibrated—a message from her lawyer: “Division of property completed. All documents are ready. Congratulations!”
Yulia smiled wider. Nine million was not a bad starting capital for a new life. She had already picked out a small apartment in a nice neighborhood and was even thinking about opening her own learning center.
Someone at the next table coughed. Yulia looked up—and froze. Oleg was sitting there. But what a sight he was! Unshaven, in a wrinkled T-shirt, his eyes dull.
“Yulia… can we talk?”
“What is there for us to talk about?”
“Svetlana left me. As soon as she found out there was no more money. The company is on the verge of bankruptcy—the partners turned their backs on me after they found out the whole story. Mom… Mom won’t talk to me. She says I’m a disgrace to the family.”
“And what do you want from me? Sympathy?”
“I want… I want to ask your forgiveness. I was wrong. Horribly wrong. Maybe we could…”
“NO,” Yulia said firmly. “No ‘we’ anymore. That chapter is over. Problem solved, answer obtained. Time to move on.”
She gathered her things, left money for the coffee and got up from the table. Oleg tried to grab her hand, but Yulia gently pulled away.
“Goodbye, Oleg. I wish you to find yourself. But without me.”
She walked out of the café without looking back.
Oleg stayed sitting at the table, staring into his empty cup. Fragments of thoughts spun in his head. Svetlana… he had been such a fool. He let himself be dazzled by pretty wrapping and forgot about the substance inside. And his mother… For years, Antonina Petrovna had drummed into his head: “Your wife is a gray mouse, a nobody, you deserve better.” And he believed her. He stopped noticing how Yulia hugged him in the mornings, how her eyes lit up when he smiled, how she ironed his shirts so carefully, as if it were the most important job in the world. He went looking for something flashy on the side, while the most precious thing was right next to him. Every day. For eight years.
Now Oleg watched her walk away—her back straight, her stride confident—and realized he had lost not just a wife. He had lost the woman who truly loved him. The only one who loved him as he was—with all his flaws, weaknesses, and foolishness. And he had trampled that love with his own hands.
And Yulia walked through the city, turning her face to the warm sun. Ahead of her was a new life—without lies, without humiliation, without people who thought she was worthless. She smiled at a passer-by walking a dog, bought herself an ice cream, dropped into a bookstore.
She was happy
