Inna stood at the window, watching raindrops creep down the glass in whimsical trails. Seventeen years—is that a lot or a little? She remembered every day they’d lived together, every anniversary, every glance. And now everything was collapsing like a house of cards.
“We need to talk,” Alexey said, his voice oddly flat.
She turned slowly and met his eyes. Determination mixed with guilt—Inna knew that look. It was the look of someone about to strike.
“I’m leaving, Inna. For Natasha.”
Silence. Only the ticking of the old wall clock—his mother’s gift—broke the stillness.
“To the student from your department?” Her voice sounded surprisingly calm.
“Yes. My feelings have faded. I need new emotions, fresh impressions. You’re a smart woman—you should understand.”
Inna smiled. A smart woman. How often he used that phrase when he wanted something.
“Are you sure?” she asked, nothing more.
“Absolutely,” Alexey said. “I’ve already packed.”
Inna only nodded. Then she went to the cupboard and took out the special bottle they had been saving.
“Well, this is a special occasion of sorts,” she said, beginning to open it. “Let’s have a farewell dinner. Invite your friends, your relatives. Seventeen years is no small thing.”
Alexey blinked, confused.
“You…want to throw a party for our divorce?”
“Why not?” Inna smiled—and something in that smile made him shudder. “Let’s send our life together off in style. After all, I am a smart woman, remember?”
She took out her phone and began to type. Her fingers flew.
“Tomorrow at seven. I’ll make your favorites. Consider it my parting gift.”
Alexey stood there, at a loss. He’d expected tears, hysteria, reproaches—anything but this calm acceptance.
“And yes,” Inna added without looking up, “tell Natasha she’s invited too. I want to meet the girl who managed what I apparently couldn’t—rekindling your spark.”
The next day began unusually early for Inna.
She methodically called banks, met with a lawyer, prepared documents. Every action was measured, precise—like a surgeon in a difficult operation.
By evening, their spacious apartment was filled with the aromas of well-seasoned dishes. Inna set the table with their finest china—a wedding gift from her mother-in-law.
“Everything has to be perfect,” she whispered, straightening the napkins.
Guests began arriving at seven. Alexey’s parents came first. His mother, Vera Pavlovna, awkwardly embraced her daughter-in-law.
“Innochka, maybe it’s not too late to fix this?”
“No, Mama. Sometimes the right choice is to let go.”
Friends trickled in. Alexey and Natasha were the last to arrive.
“Come in, sit,” Inna said, gesturing to the head of the table. “Tonight you two are the main characters.”
When everyone had settled, Inna rose with her glass.
“Dear friends, today is unusual. We’re here to mark the end of one story and the beginning of another.”
She turned to Alexey.
“Lesha, thank you for seventeen years—for the highs and the lows, the joys and the sorrows. You taught me many things. For instance, that love can take very different forms.”
An uneasy murmur passed around the room. Natasha twisted her napkin, eyes down.
“And you also taught me to mind the details,” Inna went on, taking out a thick envelope. “Especially the financial ones.”
She began laying out documents on the table.
“Here’s the loan for your car—taken on our joint account. Here are the tax arrears for your company. And these—particularly interesting—are receipts from restaurants and jewelry stores for the past year. I assume you were trying to impress Natasha?”
Alexey went pale. Natasha’s head snapped up.
“But most important of all,” Inna said, drawing out one last document, “is our prenuptial agreement. Remember signing it without reading? There’s a curious clause about division of property in the event of infidelity.”
The silence turned deafening. You could hear the kitchen tap drip.
“The house is in my name,” Inna continued. “The accounts are blocked. And I filed for divorce last night.”
She looked at Natasha.
“My dear, are you sure you want to bind your life to someone with no home, no savings, and considerable debts?”
Natasha sat frozen.
“Excuse me, I need to go,” she whispered.
Vera Pavlovna shook her head.
“Lesha, how could you? We raised you better.”
“You don’t understand, Mama…” Alexey began, but his father cut him off.
“No, son, you don’t understand. Seventeen years is no joke. And you threw it away—for an affair with a student?”
Their friends stared at their plates. Only Mikhail, Alexey’s closest friend since school, muttered, “Lesha, you really messed up.”
Inna stood, still holding her glass, serene—as if discussing the weather at a reception.
“The funny thing is, I believed our love was special. Like those old couples in pretty stories who last to the end. I turned a blind eye to your late nights, the odd phone calls, the new ties and shirts.”
She took a sip.
“Then I started noticing the receipts. Jewelry. The ‘White Swan’ restaurant. The spa. You took her to the same places you once took me.”
Natasha returned but didn’t sit. She stood in the doorway, clutching her purse.
“Alexey Nikolaevich, we need to talk. Alone.”
“Of course, dear,” he said, starting to rise, but Inna halted him with a small gesture.
“Wait. I’m not finished. Remember our first apartment? That one-bedroom on the edge of town? We were so happy there. You said we needed nothing but each other.”
She smiled.
“And look at you now. Expensive suits, a flashy car, a young mistress—all built on lies and debt.”
“Alexey Nikolaevich,” Natasha’s voice trembled, “you told me you were divorced. That you lived apart. That you were buying us an apartment.”
“Natashenka, I can explain.”
“Don’t trouble yourself,” Inna said, producing another envelope. “Here are your card statements. Natasha might be interested to learn that along with her, you were seeing two other girls. Or should I say—students?”
Silence rang out. Natasha turned and ran, heels clattering down the stairs.
“Inna,” Alexey groaned, gripping his head, “why are you doing this?”
“Why?” She laughed, without joy. “What did you expect—that I’d cry and beg? Roll at your feet?”
She swept the room with her gaze.
“The strangest thing is, I truly loved him. Every wrinkle, every gray hair. Even his snoring made me smile. I was ready to grow old with him, to raise grandchildren.”
“Dear,” Vera Pavlovna whispered, “maybe enough.”
“No, Mama. Let them all know. Let them know how your son took out loans to buy presents for his mistresses. How he wasted our money. How he lied to me, to you, to everyone.”
She pulled out another paper.
“And this one is especially lovely. Three months ago you asked me to sign something ‘for the tax office,’ remember? It was a loan guarantee. You put my car up as collateral.”
Chairs scraped. Guests began to rise. Some mumbled apologies; others slipped out in silence. Only Alexey’s parents and Mikhail remained.
“Son,” his father said heavily, standing, “we’ll go too. Call when…when you come to your senses.”
Vera Pavlovna hugged Inna.
“Forgive us, dear. We never thought he…”
“Don’t apologize, Mama. This isn’t on you.”
After they left, Mikhail came to Alexey.
“Man, you really blew it. Call if you need help. But don’t ask me for money.”
He left as well.
Alexey sat, head bowed. His expensive suit looked like a ridiculous costume.
“You know,” Inna said, slipping the papers back into the envelope, “I could have made a scene a month ago when I found out. I could have smashed your car, shredded your suits, caused a scandal at your office.”
“But I chose another route,” she added, taking a plane ticket from her bag. “I’m flying out tomorrow. The Maldives. I always dreamed of going, but you said it was a waste of money.”
She set the keys on the table.
“The apartment needs to be vacated by the end of the week. I’m selling it. And don’t bother trying the accounts—they’re frozen until the court rules.”
Alexey stared at her, lost.
“What am I supposed to do now?”
“That’s no longer my problem,” she said, slipping on her coat. “You know the funniest part? I’m genuinely grateful. You woke me up. Shook off the dust. I suddenly realized life doesn’t end with you.”
At the door she turned once more.
“Goodbye, Lesha. I hope it was worth it.”
The door closed softly. Alexey was left alone in the empty apartment, among half-eaten dishes and half-finished wine. Somewhere outside, an engine started—Inna driving toward a new life.
The rain began again, just like the night he chose to ruin everything. Only now, there was no one left to watch the patterns on the glass.
