I stared at my phone for a long time. Alexey was calling for the third time that evening, but I didn’t pick up. The screen showed the time—half past ten. Before, at that hour, I would already have been washing the dishes after dinner, wiping down the table, hanging up laundry. Now I was sitting on the couch with a cup of cold tea, thinking about how everything had changed in just three weeks.
And it all started that evening. I ran home from work around eight, tossed my bag onto a chair, and pulled the cutlets I’d cooked that morning out of the fridge. Alexey came into the kitchen just as I was putting the frying pan on the stove.
“So where’s dinner, Ira?” he said calmly, but I immediately heard the tension in his voice.
“I’m heating it up. Five minutes and it’ll be ready.”
He walked over to the table and ran a finger across the countertop.
“Dust. Dust everywhere again. Do you even clean?”
I stayed silent, turning the cutlets over. My hands were shaking—from exhaustion or from hurt, I don’t know.
“I’m tired, Lyosha. I work now.”
“It’s not your job to work!” he raised his voice, and I flinched. “Why do you need that job if the house is dirty, there’s no dinner, and I’m sitting here like an idiot waiting?”
God, how much longer could this go on? I’d explained it—money wasn’t enough. Or did he think getting a manicure once every three months was normal?
“We need money,” I said quietly. “Your salary isn’t enough even for decent groceries.”
“Then you need to be more economical! Other wives manage, and you…”
He stopped and turned toward the window. I switched off the stove, put a plate in front of him, and sat down opposite, feeling everything inside me tighten into a hard knot.
“Listen,” Alexey looked at me. “Let’s live separately for a while. I need time to rethink everything.”
“What?” I didn’t understand at first.
“Let’s take a break from each other. A friend advised me—he says it worked for him and his wife, things got better afterward. I’ll move in with my mom for a while, and you can think about how you want to live дальше.*
He stood up without even touching the food and left the kitchen. I stayed sitting there, staring at the plate of cutlets. There was a lump in my throat; it was hard to breathe.
He’s leaving. Just like that—he’s simply getting up and leaving.
An hour later, Alexey packed a bag and left. The apartment is mine—it belonged to my grandmother—so he was the one who had to move out. I walked him to the door, tried to say something, but he just waved his hand.
“We’ll talk.”
The door slammed shut. I stood in the hallway listening to the silence. There hadn’t been silence like that in our apartment for a long time. No snoring from the bedroom, no grumbling, no reproaches.
The first two days I cried. I couldn’t stop—I cried at work in the bathroom, cried at home in the kitchen, cried before bed. What would I do alone? How would I manage? I called my mom; she came over and stroked my head like I was little.
“Sweetheart, maybe it’s for the best,” she said softly, wiping my tears. “Look at you. You’ve completely run yourself into the ground.”
She pulled some money out of her bag and pressed it into my hand.
“For coloring your hair. Don’t skimp on yourself, Ira.”
I stared at the bills and felt something stir inside me. Anger? Resentment? I don’t know. But suddenly I thought—she’s right. When was the last time I thought about myself?
On the third day Tanya called. My friend—we’ve been friends since school. Her voice was lively, almost cheerful.
“Ira, stop moping! Get dressed—I’ll be waiting for you in an hour. We’re going dancing!”
“What dancing, Tanya? I’m not up for that.”
“That’s exactly why you are! I’m not letting you turn into a vegetable. Get dressed and come out!”
I wanted to refuse, but I could only come up with weak excuses. Tanya didn’t listen.
“Done. I’m waiting!”
I looked at myself in the mirror. Messy hair, an old house sweater, a face swollen from tears. God—what do I look like?
I pulled on jeans, found a light blouse in the closet. Put on makeup—my hands were trembling, my mascara smeared. I wiped it off and tried again. More or less.
The dance studio was in the neighboring district, in the basement of an old building. Tanya dragged me by the hand; I resisted.
“Tanya, I can’t dance.”
“You’ll learn there—don’t worry!”
The room was small, with huge mirrors along the walls. It smelled like sweat and cheap air freshener. The floors creaked underfoot. There were about fifteen women—different ages, all cheerful, chatting with one another.
They turned on the music. The instructor demonstrated movements and everyone repeated. I stood in the corner and felt like a piece of wood. My body wouldn’t cooperate, my feet got tangled. What am I doing here? Why?
I looked at myself in the mirror—and suddenly I saw it. Not a tired housewife, not a beaten-down wife. Just a woman trying to move to music. And there was a smile on my face. Uncertain, embarrassed—but a smile.
“There!” Tanya bounced up to me. “Look at you, beautiful!”
I laughed. For the first time in days—I laughed for real. And I felt something inside let go. As if the tight rope that had bound me all these years loosened a little.
I feel good. For the first time, I simply feel good.
The next day Alexey called. I was at work and picked up.
“How are you?” His voice was dry, businesslike.
“Fine.”
“The utility bill came. Send me half.”
“Okay.”
A pause. I could hear him breathing.
“Have you cleaned at least?”
There it was. Starting again.
“Alexey, what difference does it make to you?”
“What difference? It’s our apartment.”
“My apartment,” I said more firmly than I meant to.
He exhaled irritably.
“That’s the whole problem, Ira. You’ve gotten completely out of hand.”
I hung up. Just like that—pressed the red button and put the phone down on the desk. My hands weren’t shaking. Inside, it was calm.
I’m not going to оправдываться anymore. I won’t.
At home it was quiet. I brewed coffee and sat by the window. In a vase on the table there was a hyacinth—completely dried up; I kept forgetting to throw it out. Now I got up, tossed the dead flower, and poured fresh water into the vase. Tomorrow I’ll buy new flowers.
Tanya called every day. Invited me for walks, to the movies, to dance. I started going—at first forcing myself, then with genuine interest. At work they noticed I’d become more active. My boss called me in.
“Irina, we’re thinking of promoting you. The pay will be higher, but there’ll be more responsibility. Do you agree?”
I nodded, not believing my ears.
“I agree.”
I’ll manage. I can do it.
Two weeks later Tanya and I bought package trips to the sea. Cheap ones—just a week. I hesitated for a long time—was it okay to spend money on myself? Then I thought—why not?
The sea was warm, the wind salty. We lay on the beach, ate ice cream, talked until night. Tanya took pictures of me on her phone.
“Look at you! You’re glowing!”
I took the phone and looked at the photo. A sun-tanned face, messy hair, a wide smile. Is that really me?
“You’re like a TV heroine after a divorce,” Tanya laughed. “Found yourself!”
“I really did,” I said quietly.
When I got home, Alexey called again. This time he got straight to the point.
“Let’s meet. Talk.”
“About what?”
“What do you mean, about what? About us. We need to decide what we’re doing next.”
I agreed. We set the meeting at “Dumplings and Coffee,” our old place we used to go to often.
I arrived first. Ordered coffee, sat by the window. The bell above the door jingled—Alexey came in. He looked tired, drawn. He sat down across from me and nodded to the waitress.
“Dumplings for me, please.”
We sat in silence for a minute. I sipped my coffee in small gulps, staring out the window. He turned his phone over in his hands.
“Listen, Ira… it’s impossible at my mom’s. She sticks her nose into everything, nags me from morning till night. I’m exhausted.”
And I wasn’t exhausted when you nagged me?
“I’m sorry,” I said evenly.
“So what? Did you come to your senses? You’ll quit that job? We’ll go back to a normal life?”
I looked at him. At his confident face, his familiar posture—leaning back in the chair, arms crossed. He didn’t even doubt I’d agree.
“Alexey, I don’t want to go back.”
He frowned.
“What do you mean?”
“I realized it would be better for us to divorce. We don’t suit each other.”
“What?!” He straightened up. “Are you serious?!”
“Absolutely.”
His face flushed red.
“You’ve changed, Ira. I don’t recognize you.”
“And I recognized myself for the first time,” I said calmly.
He stood up abruptly, almost knocking over the chair.
“Fine! Have it your way! You’ll regret it!”
He turned and walked out. The bell above the door jingled. The waitress came over to me.
“That’ll be five hundred and thirty rubles.”
I silently took out the money. He didn’t even pay for his order. As always.
At home I pulled an old suitcase out of the closet. I packed Alexey’s things—shirts, jeans, a razor, books. Put everything in neatly and closed it. Left the suitcase in the hallway.
Let him take it whenever he wants.
I went back into the kitchen. Yesterday I’d bought fresh flowers—chrysanthemums, yellow and white. I put them in the vase and poured water. The kettle was coming to a boil—I brewed my favorite tea, the one Alexey couldn’t stand. He said it smelled like grass.
I sat by the window with my cup. Opened the window—fresh air rushed in, smelling of rain and leaves. It was early October; the trees were turning yellow.
I’m free. For the first time in so many years, I can do what I want.
My phone buzzed. A message from Tanya: “So, how did it go?”
I typed back: “Getting divorced. And I feel amazing.”
Almost immediately the reply came: “Then we have to celebrate! Tomorrow evening!”
I smiled. Finished my tea, washed the cup. Looked around the apartment—my apartment, my things, my life. No one will grumble that it’s dusty. No one will demand dinner on time. No one will tell me I have to stay home.
I’m going to live for myself. Finally.
The next morning I woke up to sunlight. Got up, stretched. Made coffee, took a yogurt from the fridge. Turned on music—loud, the way I couldn’t before because it bothered Alexey.
The phone rang. Alexey.
“I’ll come pick up my things tonight.”
“Okay. The suitcase is in the hallway.”
“Ira… maybe you’ll still think about it?”
“No, Lyosh. I’ve already decided.”
He was quiet.
“Well, as you wish.”
He hung up.
I turned on the shower, undressed. Looked at myself in the mirror. An ordinary woman of forty-two. Not young, not old. A bit overweight, hair going gray. But in my eyes—there was a sparkle. A living, real sparkle.
I like the woman in the mirror.
After the shower I put on jeans and a new blouse I’d bought last week. Bright blue. Alexey used to say blue didn’t suit me. But I like it.
I got ready for work. By the door I saw the suitcase with my husband’s things. Soon he’d take it, and that would be it. That chapter would be closed.
Outside it was a warm autumn day. Leaves rustled underfoot. I walked to the bus stop thinking that in the evening I’d meet Tanya. Then on Saturday, dancing again. Next month I want to sign up for some online courses to make extra money—something I’ve been dreaming of for a long time.
I have so many plans. And all of them are for me.
At work my boss praised me for the project. Colleagues invited me to lunch. I agreed—before, I always refused, rushing home to cook dinner.
Now I don’t have to rush anywhere.
In the evening, when I got home, the suitcase in the hallway was already gone. Alexey had picked it up while I was out. Probably chose the time on purpose so we wouldn’t meet.
And that’s fine. It’s easier that way.
I took my shoes off and went into the kitchen. Put the kettle on. Walked to the window—the chrysanthemums in the vase were fresh and bright. Outside it was slowly getting dark; lights were coming on in the neighboring buildings.
My phone buzzed. Tanya: “Come on, I’m waiting downstairs!”
I grabbed my jacket and bag. Glanced in the hallway mirror—straightened my hair, touched up my lipstick. Not bad. вполне decent.
I ran outside. Tanya stood by the car, waving.
“Finally! Let’s go celebrate your freedom!”
I got into the car and shut the door.
“Let’s go.”
Tanya turned on the music and the car pulled away. I looked out the window at houses, trees, people sliding past. Inside I felt warm and calm.
I’ll manage. I already am. And I feel good—so good, the way I haven’t in a long time.
