Marina froze in the middle of the kitchen with a towel in her hands. She had just finished making dinner—stewed chicken with vegetables, her husband’s favorite. Plates were already on the table, the cutlery neatly laid out. She had tried to create a cozy atmosphere after a long day at the medical center, where she worked as a head nurse.
“What did you say?” she asked again, hoping she’d misheard.
Igor stood in the doorway with his hands shoved into his trouser pockets. A condescending smile played on his face—one that had been appearing more and more often lately.
“You heard me perfectly. Mom is moving into a new apartment—she needs money for renovations. And I’m strapped right now. They’re delaying my salary, you know how it is. Your bonus is coming in handy.”
Marina slowly set the towel down on the table. She’d received her quarterly bonus yesterday—twenty thousand rubles. Money she had honestly earned by working night shifts, saving lives, listening to patients’ complaints.
“Igor, that’s my money. I was going to buy a new washing machine—ours has broken down for the third time.”
“A washing machine?” he snorted. “You’re comparing some piece of metal to my mother? She gave her whole life to me, raised me alone without a father. And you’re clutching at twenty thousand?”
“I’m not clutching, I just…”
“Enough!” he cut her off. “I don’t want to listen to your excuses. I need the money tomorrow morning. End of discussion.”
Marina looked at the man she’d been married to for seven years. When they met at a mutual friend’s birthday party, Igor had seemed so charming, so attentive. He worked as a manager at a construction company, always had money, brought her flowers, took her to restaurants. After the wedding, something began to change. At first it was subtle—small jabs, remarks about her looks, her job. Then more and more often he started saying she wasn’t a good enough wife, not caring enough, not… enough.
“Igor, let’s talk about this calmly. Maybe we can wait until your paycheck? Or give half the amount?”
He stepped forward, and Marina instinctively stepped back until her spine hit the kitchen cabinets.
“Talk about it? Since when do we talk about anything in this house? I said it, so that’s how it’ll be. Or have you forgotten who the man is here?”
“I remember,” Marina replied quietly. “But it’s not fair. Your mother gets a good pension. She has savings…”
“Don’t you dare talk about my mother!” he snapped. “She’s a saint! And you… you’re just an egoist who thinks only about herself and her rags.”
Marina flinched. He called her uniform “rags”—the one she put on with pride every morning. Medicine was her calling, her life. She helped people in their hardest moments. And at home… at home her work meant nothing.
“I’m tired, Igor. Let’s eat dinner, and then we can come back to this.”
“No, sweetheart. Money first, dinner later. And what is this chicken anyway? Cutting corners on groceries again? You could’ve made steak, since you got your bonus.”
Marina closed her eyes, holding back tears. When had it gotten this bad? When had a loving husband turned into a tyrant who treated her like a servant?
“The card’s in my bag,” she whispered.
“Good girl,” Igor said smugly. “See how simple that was? No need for drama over some money. We’re family—everything is shared.”
He walked over to her purse hanging on a chair and started rummaging through it. Marina watched as he pulled out her wallet and took the card.
“PIN?”
“Four eight two one.”
“Perfect. Tomorrow morning I’ll withdraw it and take it to Mom. She’ll be so happy! Oh—and on Sunday we’re going to her place for lunch. Make something tasty—she likes your salads.”
Marina nodded, unable to say a word. A cold, dark emptiness spread in her chest.
The next morning Marina woke with a heavy head. Igor was already gone—straight to the ATM, apparently. A note lay on the bedside table: “Going to Mom’s. Back by evening. Dinner at seven.”
She got up, showered, got dressed. Saturday was her day off; usually she spent it cleaning, cooking, doing laundry. But today… something inside her resisted the usual routine.
Marina brewed strong tea and sat by the window. The city buzzed outside—people rushing around, living their lives. And her? What life was she living?
Her phone vibrated— a message from her colleague Olga: “Marinka, how are you? Yesterday I saw how upset you left. Everything okay?”
Marina typed back: “All good, thanks.”
But was it good? No. It hadn’t been for a long time. She had just gotten used to it—accepted it—decided that this was how it was supposed to be. That her husband had the right to control her money, her time, her life.
Her phone rang—an unfamiliar number.
“Hello?”
“Marina Sergeyevna? This is Elena Vasilyevna, Igor’s mother.”
Marina tensed. Her mother-in-law rarely called; usually everything went through her son.
“Hello, Elena Vasilyevna.”
“Hello. I’m calling to thank you for helping out. Igor said you gave money for the renovation. That’s very kind of you.”
“You’re welcome,” Marina replied mechanically.
“Though I was a little surprised. I had the renovation last year. But Igor said there are still a few things to finish. Strange he didn’t mention it earlier… but oh well, he knows best. He’s such a caring son!”
Marina went cold.
“Elena Vasilyevna… how much money did Igor give you?”
“Five thousand. He said he couldn’t withdraw more—some kind of limit. But thank you anyway. It’ll be enough for paint and new wallpaper in the entryway.”
“Five thousand,” Marina echoed.
“Yes. Is that not enough? I can add my own— I have some set aside…”
“No, no, it’s fine. Goodbye, Elena Vasilyevna.”
Marina ended the call without listening to the reply. Five thousand out of twenty. Where had the other fifteen gone?
She dialed Igor. Long rings, then his voice:
“What is it? I’m busy.”
“Where’s the money, Igor?”
“What money? What are you talking about?”
“Fifteen thousand. Your mother said you only gave her five.”
A pause. Then an irritated exhale.
“So you’re eavesdropping now? Spying? Have you lost your mind?”
“I’m not spying. She called to thank me. So where is it?”
“None of your business! I’m the head of this family—I decide how we use finances. Maybe I have expenses you don’t know about.”
“What expenses? Igor, those were my money!”
“Were. Now they’re mine. And stop hysterics. We’ll talk tonight.”
He hung up. Marina stared at the dark screen. Inside her, slowly but surely, a feeling began to rise—one she’d suppressed for too long. Anger. Not hurt, not sadness, not disappointment—anger, pure and bright.
She paced the apartment. Their wedding photo stood on the shelf—young, happy, full of hope. Marina picked up the frame and looked at their smiling faces for a long time. Then she carefully put the photo into a drawer, face down.
All day she moved through a strange state—calm on the outside, boiling on the inside. She cooked dinner—beef stew; Igor liked meat. She set the table, lit candles. She put on the dress he once called beautiful. She did her makeup.
At seven, the front door slammed.
“Marina, I’m home!” Igor called.
She went into the hallway. Igor was taking off his shoes; he smelled of alcohol and someone else’s perfume.
“Well, look at you all dressed up!” he said, looking her up and down. “What—your conscience bothering you after this morning’s scene?”
“Dinner’s ready,” Marina said calmly.
At the table Igor ate with an appetite, praising the food. Marina watched him in silence.
“By the way,” he said with his mouth full, “tomorrow we’ll go to Mom’s around three. She asked for dumplings—help her make them.”
“I’m not going.”
Igor looked up from his plate.
“What do you mean, ‘I’m not going’?”
“I mean I have other plans.”
“What plans?” he barked. “Have you lost it? I said we’re going to Mom’s!”
Marina stood up.
“Igor. Where are the fifteen thousand?”
“Oh, here we go again. Enough! Forget the money!”
“No.” Marina’s voice was steady. “I won’t forget. You stole fifteen thousand from me. Stole. That’s theft. You’re a thief.”
Igor jumped up, knocking over his chair.
“How dare you! I’m your husband! Everything is shared!”
“If everything is shared, why did you take it without my consent? Why did you lie about your mother? What did you spend it on?”
“Get out!” Igor screamed. “Get out of my house, you ungrateful bitch!”
Marina stood in the middle of the living room, staring at her husband’s face, red with rage. In that moment she understood clearly—her fear was gone. Completely. What remained was anger and disgust.
“This is our home, Igor. We bought this apartment together. And by the way, my down payment was bigger than yours.”
“Don’t talk to me like that!” Igor took a step forward, but Marina didn’t back away.
“Or what? You’ll hit me? Go on. Just remember—I work in a hospital. We know how to document bruises. And I have plenty of friends who would be happy to help.”
Igor stopped, clearly not expecting resistance.
“You… you’re threatening me?”
“I’m defending myself. From you, from your lies, from your contempt. Seven years, Igor. Seven years I endured your humiliation, your rudeness, your disrespect. I kept thinking you’d change, you’d understand, you’d appreciate me. But you only got bolder every day.”
“What do you think you are? Look at you—an ordinary nurse, nothing special! I picked you up from nowhere, gave you my last name, the status of a married woman!”
“Gave?” Marina laughed, but there was no joy in it. “You think being your wife is a gift? Serving you, obeying your every whim, staying silent when you insult me? That’s not a gift, Igor. That’s hard labor.”
He tried to speak, but Marina kept going, her voice rising:
“Do you know how many lives I’ve saved all these years? How many people thanked me, cried with relief that their loved ones survived? And at home… at home I’m nobody. An empty space. A walking wallet.”
“Stop this hysteria! The neighbors will hear!”
“Let them hear! Let everyone know who you really are—not a loving son who cares for his mother, but a lying bastard who deceives everyone around him!”
Igor’s face darkened.
“Shut up, idiot!”
“No! I won’t shut up! Where’s my money, Igor? Did you gamble it away? Drink it away? Or spend it on a mistress—the one whose perfume is on your shirts?”
That hit its mark. Igor jerked as if slapped.
“I’m not blind and I’m not stupid. I just didn’t want to see it before. I hoped I was wrong. But today… today you finally opened my eyes.”
Marina went to the closet and pulled out a bag she had packed in advance.
“Where are you going?” Panic crept into Igor’s voice.
“To a friend’s. I’ll stay there until I decide what to do next.”
“You won’t dare leave! You’re my wife!”
“Look at me, Igor. I’m already leaving.”
She headed for the door, but he blocked her path.
“Stop! You’re not going anywhere! We’re not done talking!”
“We haven’t even started. All these years only you talked. I stayed quiet, endured, hoped. Enough.”
Marina tried to go around him, but Igor grabbed her arm.
“Let go. Now.”
“We need to talk first. You can’t just up and leave!”
“I can—and I am. And if you don’t let go, I’ll scream so loud the whole building will come running.”
Igor released her. In his eyes something new appeared—confusion, disorientation. He was used to a compliant wife who endured everything and forgave. This new Marina—angry, determined, fearless—threw him off balance.
“Marina… let’s talk calmly—”
“No, Igor. The time for talking is over. When we’ve both cooled down, then we’ll talk. About divorce.”
“Divorce? Are you insane? Over some miserable money?”
“Not because of money. Because of your attitude. The lies. The contempt. Because you turned our family into a farce. Because of your mistress.”
Marina opened the door.
“Marina! Stop! Come back!”
But she was already going down the stairs without looking back. Behind her she heard his shouting, threats—and then the slam of a door.
Outside, Marina stopped and inhaled the cool evening air. A strange feeling filled her—fear mixed with freedom, anxiety mixed with relief.
She took out her phone and called her friend.
“Olya? It’s me. Can I stay with you for a few days? Yes—I left. Finally left.”
For three days Marina lived with Olya. Her friend didn’t ask unnecessary questions—she was simply there: making tea, putting on comedies, hugging Marina when she felt like crying.
Igor called constantly. First he threatened, then begged, then threatened again. Marina listened but didn’t answer. After the twentieth call she just blocked his number.
On the fourth day Elena Vasilyevna called.
“Marina, what’s going on? Igor can’t find his place—he says you two had a fight.”
“We didn’t have a fight, Elena Vasilyevna. We’re separating.”
“Separating? Because of what? Igor says you snapped over some money…”
“He didn’t tell you the truth?”
“What truth?”
Marina took a deep breath.
“That he took my bonus—twenty thousand—supposedly for you. He gave you five, and the other fifteen he spent on who knows what—though I think on his mistress. And it’s not the first time, Elena Vasilyevna. Just the last straw.”
Silence on the line.
“That can’t be. Igor couldn’t do that.”
“He could, and he did. You can ask him yourself.”
“I… I’ll talk to him. This must be some misunderstanding.”
Elena Vasilyevna hung up. Marina shook her head. A mother will always defend her son, no matter what he does.
That evening Olya came home from work, shaken.
“Marinka, he’s standing by the entrance. Looks like he tracked you down.”
Marina looked out the window. Sure enough, a familiar figure lingered by the door.
“Should we call the police?” Olya offered.
“No. I’ll handle it.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes. I need to put an end to this.”
Marina went downstairs. Igor lunged toward her, but she stopped him with a gesture.
“Don’t come closer.”
“Marina, sweetheart, forgive me! I was wrong! Let’s talk!”
“Talk about what? How you lied to me? How you spent my money on a mistress?”
Igor flinched.
“What mistress? You’re making things up!”
“Alla, right? Works at your company? Blonde, filled lips, loves expensive gifts?”
He went pale.
“Who told you?”
“No one. I figured it out. The perfume, hairs on your jacket, the constant ‘late at work,’ the mysterious expenses… I’m not an idiot, Igor—though you clearly thought I was.”
“It didn’t mean anything! Just a fling! You’re always at work, always tired…”
“So it’s my fault you cheated?”
“No—that’s not what I meant… Marina, please come home. I’ll fix everything. I’ll return the money, I’ll end it with Alla…”
“No. Too late, Igor. Trust is dead, love is gone. All that’s left is resentment and disgust.”
“But we’ve been together seven years! Does that mean nothing?”
“It means something. It means I wasted seven years on a man who didn’t value me, didn’t respect me, and didn’t love me.”
“I loved you! I love you!”
“No, Igor. You love yourself. I was a convenient add-on to your life—I cooked, cleaned, earned money, stayed silent. The perfect wife for an egoist.”
He tried to take her hand, but Marina stepped back.
“Don’t touch me. Tomorrow I’ll come for my things. I hope you’ll be at work. If you’re not, I’ll come with friends—they’ll help.”
“You can’t just leave like this! The apartment is ours, the property is ours!”
“We’ll divide it. In court, if needed. Or peacefully, if you show some sense.”
“You won’t do it!”
“I will. And you know what? I feel good. For the first time in a long time, I feel good without you. I feel like a person again, not a servant.”
Something like regret flashed in his eyes—but it was too late.
“Marina…”
“Goodbye, Igor.”
She turned and walked back to the building. Behind her he shouted:
“You’ll come crawling back on your knees! Who do you think you are without me? No one will want you!”
Marina didn’t turn around. She went back up to Olya, who met her with a cup of hot tea and a warm blanket.
“How did it go?”
“Fine. I said everything I think.”
“And him?”
“In shock. He didn’t expect me to actually leave. He thought I’d yell and come back like before.”
“But you won’t go back?”
“Never.”
A month passed. Marina rented a small apartment near the hospital and moved her things. Igor didn’t appear anymore—apparently he understood she was serious.
She filed for divorce two weeks after leaving. Igor tried to drag out the process, demanded meetings, but Marina wouldn’t budge. All discussions—only through a lawyer.
Life gradually began to improve. Work brought her satisfaction; her colleagues supported her. It turned out many of them had noticed long ago how she was wilting next to her husband, but they hadn’t dared to say anything.
Igor tried to stall, hoping Marina would give in, but the court sided with her and demanded a division of property. Marina offered for him to buy out her share, but he didn’t have the money—so she offered to buy out his share. He agreed, surprised and asking where she got the funds, but Marina only smiled coldly: her parents had helped with a loan. Igor moved out and went back to his mother, but Elena Vasilyevna—having learned the full truth about her son’s cheating and lies—received him coldly and said he had a week to find his own place and move out. Igor tried to guilt her, reminding her of the money he’d given her, but his mother cut him off: “You betrayed an honest woman, and I’m ashamed of you.” He cursed his defiant ex-wife who had dared to rebel, failed to “appreciate” his “generosity,” and ruined his comfortable life. Meanwhile, Marina stood by the window of that same apartment, which now belonged only to her—yes, there was a loan ahead, but her parents promised to help, and she knew she would manage, because for the first time in many years she felt truly free and happy
