That day started like any other. I was sorting through old photographs in the closet, preparing for our wedding anniversary with Oleg—thirty years together. Among the pictures, I came across one from a college party: me, Svetka, and the girls celebrating the end of exams.
Who would have thought that so many years later…
“Ira, are you home?” my husband’s voice called from the hallway.
“Yes, I’m going through photos for the celebration!”
“What celebration?” There was something strange in his tone.
“Oleg, did you forget? It’ll be thirty years next month since we got married.”
He hesitated in the doorway, fidgeting with his watch strap—a nervous habit of his.
“We need to talk,” he said quietly.
“About what?” My heart sank, sensing something was wrong.
“I… I met another woman.”
The photos slipped from my hands, scattering across the floor. Among them was that same college picture of me and Svetka hugging like best friends.
“Who is she?” The question came out on its own.
“You know her.”
Just then, my phone buzzed in my pocket. Svetka. “Forgive me, my friend. I should’ve told you sooner…”
The room swam before my eyes. Thirty years of marriage, two grown children, a business we built together—all of it a lie? And Svetka, who had always been my confidante, my support?
“How long?” My voice didn’t sound like my own.
“Two years.”
“Two years?!” A hysterical laugh escaped me. “And all this time, you two…”
Oleg looked away.
“We didn’t want to hurt you.”
“Didn’t want to hurt me?” Each word scraped my throat. “What did you want? For me to figure it out on my own? Or were you planning to tell me on our golden anniversary?”
He said nothing. I stared at the photos scattered on the floor. Smiling faces, hugs, laughter—every moment felt like a fraud.
“Leave,” I said quietly. “Just go.”
When the door closed behind him, I sank to the floor among the photos. My phone kept vibrating—Svetka again. The irony: my best friend, the one I trusted all these years, turned out to be that other woman.
The following days felt like a surreal nightmare.
Svetka kept calling, sending message after message, full of apologies and excuses. “We didn’t plan it… it just happened… it’s real love…”
“Mama, are you okay?” my eldest son Andrey peeked into the room.
“I’m fine,” I tried to smile. “Just need time.”
“Dad called. He said he wants to settle things peacefully.”
“Peacefully?” I laughed bitterly. “How do you peacefully betray someone?”
Andrey sat beside me and hugged my shoulders. At thirty-two, he’d already been through a divorce. Maybe that’s why he understood better than anyone.
“You know what hurts most?” I continued. “Not even the affair. It’s that it was Svetka. Someone who knew all our problems, who comforted me, gave me advice. And all the while…”
Oh, that moment will never fade — every detail is etched in my memory. Even the smell of those chocolate candies… mixed with the tension in the air. Svetlana stood on the doorstep, like she hadn’t seen me in years, her guilty eyes stealing the breath from her chest. The ribboned box trembled in her hands—along with the remnants of my past life.
“Ira, we need to talk.”
“About what? Seriously, what could we possibly talk about? Maybe how you wiped my tears in the kitchen when I told you about Oleg? Or how the two of you enjoyed pretending to pity me?”
Svetka flinched, as if she’d hit an invisible wall.
“No one laughed!” She stepped forward as if to prove something. “It’s… everything is complicated…”
Oh, what a cliché. Just “complicated”? I was shaking. How can someone flip another person’s life with one sentence?
“Complicated?! What exactly? Sleeping with your best friend’s husband? Or lying to her face every day?”
Svetka wilted. Her shoulders drooped—there was no need for more words.
“Oleg and I… we love each other. And we want to be together. Officially.”
Officially. The word rang in my ears, like a blade through my temples.
“Officially?” I echoed.
“Yes,” she whispered. “He’s filing for divorce.”
That’s when everything inside me snapped. My head was no longer filled with emotion—just thoughts of documents, lawyers, dividing up property, even the family business. My life was turning into a checklist on a notary’s desk. But one thing comforted me: Oleg hadn’t just stumbled into this betrayal. He had calculated everything. Down to the last ruble and centimeter.
“But you know what, Svetka?” I didn’t recognize my own voice—no tremble, no pleading, just steel. “Remember how you always told me, ‘Never fully trust a man’? I took your advice to heart. And I planned ahead.”
For the first time, her eyes truly showed fear. And I… felt a strange calm. A new chapter had begun.
Her face twitched. There was something like panic in her expression. She clearly hadn’t expected this reaction from the woman she saw as weak and helpless.
A week later, I received a summons to court.
Oleg was demanding a division of property, including our family business—a chain of stores we’d built from scratch. But the most interesting part was still to come.
“Mom, I found a great lawyer,” Andrey said, handing me a business card. “She specializes in cases just like this.”
“What kind of cases?” I smirked. “Where husbands run off with their wives’ best friends?”
“When they try to steal a business,” he said firmly. “I’ve found out some things.”
Turns out, Oleg and Svetlana had been preparing for this moment for a long time. Over the past two years, they had slowly transferred assets, funneled money into side companies.
“You know what’s funny?” Andrey tapped his fingers on the table. “They have no idea I know about their schemes.”
“What do you mean?”
“Dad tried to recruit me. Said it would be ‘better for everyone,’ that you’d get a ‘fair compensation.’”
His voice was so bitter it made my heart ache.
“And you?”
“I pretended to agree. And while I was pretending… I collected evidence.”
For the first time in days, I cried—not from pain, but from gratitude. My son, who I thought was just a mama’s boy, turned out to be a strategist.
The first court hearing was set for the following Thursday. I saw them together—Oleg and Svetlana. They held hands, radiating confidence. Svetka even winked at me:
“Irochka, maybe we can settle this peacefully? No need for court drama.”
“Peacefully?” I stared at her. “What do you mean by peacefully? How do you picture that?”
“Well,” she hesitated, “we’re offering you compensation. A small apartment and…”
“And what?” I cut in. “Forget thirty years of my life? Pretend none of it happened?”
Oleg stepped forward.
“Ira, please understand—we didn’t want…”
“Didn’t want what?” My voice was calm—surprisingly so. “To betray me? Or to get caught?”
The hearing began.
Our lawyer, Marina Viktorovna, was confident and meticulous. She presented documents showing a consistent pattern of asset transfers over the past two years.
“Your Honor,” she said, “please note the dates. Each transaction aligns with the period when the defendant began his affair with Ms. Svetlana Petrova.”
I watched their faces shift. Confidence faded into unease, then fear. Svetka clutched her handkerchief, Oleg frowned.
“Moreover,” Marina Viktorovna added, “we have proof that some of the assets were deliberately transferred to third parties to hide them.”
Suddenly, Svetlana stood up.
“I have counter-evidence!”
Triumphantly, she pulled out a folder.
“Look, this part of the business is officially registered under Andrey Olegovich—the plaintiff’s son. He agreed to it!”
The room fell silent. I felt a chill run through me. Could it be that Andrey…?
“Yes,” came my son’s calm voice. “Those documents are real.”
Svetka smiled, thinking she’d won.
But Andrey continued:
“And that’s exactly why, as a legal co-owner of the business, I’m filing a counterclaim to invalidate several of those transactions.”
Oleg turned pale.
“Son… but we had a deal…”
What are we talking about, Dad?” Andrey stared straight at his father. “About how you planned to leave Mom with nothing? Or about how you and Svetlana discussed where best to invest the stolen money?”
I saw Svetlana’s hands tremble. She hadn’t expected this turn of events. Thought she had outplayed everyone—but in the end…
“Betrayal,” I said quietly, looking at them both. “It has a way of coming back around.”
The courtroom erupted into chaos.
Svetlana, losing her usual composure, jumped to her feet.
“This isn’t fair! Everything we did was within the law!”
“The law?” Marina Viktorovna repeated. “Then explain why the asset transfer documents are backdated?”
Oleg turned white as chalk. He clearly hadn’t expected this information to come out.
“Where did you…?” he muttered.
“From the source,” Andrey replied calmly. “Remember, Dad? I worked with your accountant. Galina Sergeyevna turned out to be a very principled woman.”
I remembered that woman—quiet, unremarkable. She had managed our finances for twenty years. Who would’ve thought…
“I present to the court documents,” Marina Viktorovna continued, “proving the fraudulent nature of a number of transactions. As well as witness statements.”
Svetlana laughed nervously.
“What witnesses? What kind of circus is this?”
“For example, your assistant, Svetlana Petrovna. Tatiana, I believe? She spoke in great detail about your phone conversations—your plans, your future asset division.”
I watched as their perfect plan collapsed. As their confident facade crumbled, revealing fear and confusion underneath.
“Ira,” Oleg suddenly turned to me, “let’s talk. No lawyers. Just human to human.”
“Human to human?” I looked at him in disbelief. “And before? When you were planning to leave me with nothing—was that ‘human to human’ too?”
Svetlana tried to take his hand, but he pulled away. In his eyes, I saw something new—maybe realization? Or fear of the consequences?
“We can fix this,” he muttered.
“Fix it?” I shook my head. “Some things can’t be fixed. They can only be endured.”
The court session dragged on until evening. With every new document, every testimony, I watched the world of people I once loved fall apart. Svetlana chain-smoked during the breaks. Oleg kept trying to negotiate something with his lawyer.
“Mom,” Andrey put a hand on my shoulder, “are you holding up?”
“You know,” I smiled for the first time all day, “I think I am. I just keep wondering—how could I have been so blind?”
At that moment, Svetlana approached us.
“Ira, please, listen…”
“No—you listen,” I stood up. “Do you remember three years ago, when I cried in your kitchen? Told you Oleg was growing distant, that I was afraid of losing my family?”
“Ira…”
“And you stroked my head and said, ‘It’ll get better, friend.’ And at that time, you two were already…?”
She looked away.
“I really did love you. As a friend.”
“Loved?” I gave a bitter laugh. “Real love means protecting someone—not betraying them.”
The judge announced a recess until the next day. As I left the courtroom, I saw Oleg and Svetlana in the corner, arguing heatedly. Their perfect union, built on betrayal, was starting to crack.
“You know what’s funny?” I said to Andrey. “They were so scared I’d suspect something, hid everything so carefully… and I? I just trusted the people I loved.”
That evening, at home, I was sorting through old photos when I found one from five years ago—our big family at the dacha, Svetka beside me, like always. Everyone was smiling…
“Mom, maybe don’t?” Andrey tried to take the album from me.
“No, son. I have to. It’s also part of life. I just know now that behind smiles, there can be lies.”
The next day, the court resumed, but the atmosphere had changed. Oleg no longer looked confident. Svetlana kept nervously adjusting her hair every five minutes.
“Your Honor,” Marina Viktorovna spoke, “we would like to submit additional evidence of fraudulent activity.”
“I object!” the opposing lawyer jumped up. “These are baseless accusations!”
But the judge shook his head.
“Objection overruled. Continue.”
Documents appeared on the screen—dozens of transactions, fake contracts, forged signatures. With every slide, Svetlana grew paler.
“And now the most interesting part,” Marina Viktorovna continued. “Look at these dates. A month before their affair began, Ms. Petrova opened a secret offshore account.”
Oleg turned sharply to Svetlana—his eyes filled with undisguised confusion.
“What?! You never even mentioned this to me!”
“Darling, wait… I can explain…” Svetlana’s voice trembled, and she seemed to shrink in on herself.
“Explain what, Sveta? That you were planning to screw me over too?”
I stood off to the side, like I was watching a silent movie stuck in slow motion. What irony: everything they had built for years… was crumbling in one flash of truth. That was it—the masks were off.
“And furthermore,” Andrey stood up, too calm for the storm around him, “we have documentation. Ms. Petrova negotiated behind the backs of the other stakeholders. Of course, those asset discussions were never authorized.”
Oleg visibly lost color. It was like the blood drained from his face in seconds.
“Sveta, tell me it’s not true.”
“You kept saying, ‘think about the future!’” Svetlana snapped, cornered like a wounded animal.
“Our future—not your secret bank account!”
And in that mad moment… I felt something strange. A quiet relief. As if the stone that had weighed on my chest for months was finally beginning, slowly, to lift.
The court case ended very differently than Oleg and Svetlana had imagined.
The judge delivered the verdict: most of the recent transactions were invalidated; their actions were ruled fraudulent. A strong word.
“Your Honor…” Svetlana’s voice trembled in a way that was almost comical, “we acted by the letter of the law, honestly…”
“By the letter of the law?” the judge raised his eyes above his glasses, like a stern schoolteacher. “And forged documents, hidden assets—that’s your idea of ‘legal,’ mm?”
The verdict was read. It felt like I’d returned to my body after a long winter hibernation. For the first time in ages, I felt alive again. Not a helpless victim caught in someone else’s web, but a person—someone who was once again holding her own fate.
“Ira!” Oleg caught up with me in the empty corridor. His voice was low, almost fading. “Forgive me… I didn’t think it would end like this.”
“Really?” I looked at him calmly, almost curiously. “You truly believed you could wrap betrayal in legal language and dress it up as decency?”
He looked down, ashamed, his shoulders slumping.
“I… got confused…” he whispered.
“No, Oleg,” I said quietly, firmly, “you weren’t confused. You made a choice. And now… learn to live with it.”
Svetlana stood off to the side, biting her lip. Her perfect plan had collapsed, taking with it her relationship with Oleg and her reputation in our shared circle.
“You know,” I said to them both, “I forgive you. Not because you deserve it—but because I don’t want to carry this weight anymore.”
As I walked out of the courthouse, I felt an incredible lightness. Andrey walked beside me, offering his arm.
“Mom, how are you?”
“You know,” I smiled, “I think I’m really starting to live now. No illusions—but with a clear sense of who’s truly by my side.”
Life had taught me one thing: sometimes you have to lose everything to understand what really matters. And that every ending brings a new beginning. I knew that for sure now.
