“You’ll love it, sweetheart. This is the best Transformer in the store,” a voice came from behind the shelf.
Yekaterina was putting children’s socks into her shopping basket when she heard a familiar voice in the next aisle. Her husband’s voice. She froze, listening.
Through the shelves of toys, Yekaterina saw Igor. He was holding an expensive robot—the exact one their four-year-old son Anton had been dreaming about. Next to Igor stood an unfamiliar woman in her thirties with a boy of about three.
“You’re so kind to us,” the woman said and kissed Igor gently on the cheek. “Thank you.”
The kiss lasted too long to be a simple gesture of gratitude. It spoke of intimacy, routine, closeness.
“Anything for you and Dima,” Igor replied, stroking the boy’s head.
Yekaterina stepped back behind the corner, trying not to breathe. Just last night, Igor had refused to buy Anton a new pair of shoes he’d been asking for all month.
“Money doesn’t grow on trees,” he told their son. “The old ones will do for now. Don’t be spoiled.”
And now he was easily spending eight thousand rubles on a toy for someone else’s child. Without hesitation. Smiling.
Yekaterina quickly walked to the exit, leaving the basket of socks behind. In her pocket was an envelope with her salary—ninety thousand rubles. She would give seventy percent of it to her husband that evening, just like she had for the last four years. That was their arrangement after marriage—Igor handled the family budget, allocated expenses. “A man should be the head of the family,” he had insisted back then.
Igor came home at his usual time. He kissed Yekaterina on the forehead, played with Anton for five minutes, and settled in front of the TV.
“Anything new at work?” Yekaterina asked, taking out the envelope.
“Same old stuff. The bosses are being a pain with all their demands,” he replied, eyes glued to the screen.
Yekaterina handed him sixty-three thousand instead of the usual sixty-five. Igor counted it and frowned.
“It’s two thousand short.”
“I spent it on groceries for Anton. He needs vitamins.”
“Next time, give me a heads-up,” Igor muttered, putting the money in his wallet. “I don’t like budget surprises.”
“Igor, what about Anton’s shoes? It’s October already. The rains are coming.”
“I’ll buy them this weekend. I promise, don’t worry.”
“And a jacket? Last year’s is too small.”
“I’ll get the jacket too. Don’t worry, everything will be fine. You know I keep my word.”
Yekaterina nodded. Her money was already spent—on that little boy in the store. On “Dimочка.”
“By the way,” Igor added casually, “we’re collecting money at work for a gift for Natalia Viktorovna. She’s a single mother, having a rough time. Her birthday’s coming up.”
The name Natalia echoed painfully in Yekaterina’s chest. She remembered the stranger’s tender kiss. This didn’t feel like charity for a struggling coworker.
“How much do you need?” she asked evenly.
“Well, five to seven thousand. We want to get her something nice. A necklace or earrings.”
Seven thousand for a “coworker’s” jewelry, but he begrudged two thousand for his own son’s vitamins.
“Take it from the shared money,” Yekaterina said.
“Already did. Yesterday. In advance, so to speak.”
That entire evening, Yekaterina stayed silent, secretly watching her husband. Igor noticed and looked up from his phone, where he was furiously texting someone.
“You’re acting strange today,” he said with slight irritation. “Something wrong? Trouble at work?”
“Just tired. Autumn blues.”
“Take some valerian. Or motherwort. You look gloomier than a thundercloud.”
“Thanks for the support,” Yekaterina couldn’t help but say sarcastically.
“You’re welcome, sweetheart,” Igor replied dismissively, burying himself back in his phone.
The next day, Yekaterina took the day off and went to her husband’s office. She sat on a bench in the park across the street and waited. At six o’clock, Igor came out of the building with that very woman. They walked to a café across the road, holding hands.
Yekaterina watched through the window as they had dinner. Natalia touched Igor’s hand several times, they laughed. Igor showed her something on his phone, and she clapped her hands with delight. When they left, Igor kissed her on the lips for a long time—right there on the street.
Everything became painfully clear.
That evening, Yekaterina took Anton to her mother’s house, lying about urgent work.
“You’ll stay with Grandma tonight, sweetheart,” she told her son. “Mommy has to go to Aunt Sveta’s on important business.”
“Won’t Daddy miss me?” Anton asked.
“Daddy… Daddy won’t even notice,” Yekaterina answered honestly.
Svetlana opened the door with puffy eyes and messy hair.
“Come in quick. I’ve been crying over my stupid life,” she said, hugging her friend. “Looks like we’re both in trouble.”
“What happened with you?”
“That damn Nikolai. Turns out he’s been having an affair for six months. Today he said he’s leaving me for her. Says she understands him and I just nag.”
They sat in the kitchen, drinking strong tea with a splash of cognac. Yekaterina told her in detail about what she’d seen at the store and outside the office.
“Men are such bastards,” Svetlana concluded, pouring more cognac. “But don’t rush into anything, Katya. Think it through. You’ve got a kid, a shaky job… Maybe it’s worth trying to fix things? Talk to him?”
“Why should I fix what he broke?” Yekaterina asked. “Did I do something wrong?”
“Of course not. But think of the practical side. The apartment, the money, Anton’s future…”
“What future? Watching his father spend Mom’s salary on another woman and her kid?”
“Well… maybe it’s just a phase? Midlife crisis?”
Yekaterina looked at her friend with pity:
“Sveta… This isn’t a crisis. This is a new family.”
For a month, Ekaterina had been observing her husband and reflecting on the situation. Igor had become more cautious, stayed late at work less often, but didn’t stop seeing Natalia. He simply moved their meetings to his lunch breaks. At home, he played the role of a loving husband and father, though he was doing it more and more poorly.
“How’s school?” he asked Anton once during dinner.
“Dad, I go to kindergarten,” the boy replied in surprise.
“Oh right, of course. Kindergarten. How’s that going?”
“Okay. Will you buy me a bike?”
“In winter? What kind of bike in winter? Wait till summer.”
“But you promised on my birthday…”
“I remember, I remember. We’ll definitely get it.”
Ekaterina silently observed this exchange. Anton’s birthday had been three months ago.
Their rented two-room apartment consumed thirty thousand a month. In four years of marriage, they hadn’t managed to save for a down payment on a mortgage — Igor spent everything she brought in, and when questioned, gave evasive answers.
“I have a plan to improve our financial situation,” he would say. “Don’t worry about it. Women don’t understand finances.”
Ekaterina only briefly mentioned her marital problems to her mother, avoiding details.
“All couples fight, darling,” her mother brushed it off, as usual. “The key is a woman’s wisdom. A man always cools down and comes back home.”
“And if he doesn’t cool down?”
“He will. Where can he go from a submarine? You’re not a quarrelsome type, you’re a good homemaker. Just wait it out.”
Then Svetlana called:
“Katya, I have a proposal. Marina Petrovna, my mom’s friend? She recently lost her family in a car accident — her husband, son, and grandson. She’s all alone now and not doing well. She’s looking for a companion.”
“Sveta, I’m not ready for that. I’ve got more than enough problems of my own.”
“Just talk to her. Maybe it’ll help both of you. And she’s willing to pay well.”
“How much?”
“Sixty thousand a month, plus living in her house. Katya, this could be your way out!”
A few more weeks passed. Ekaterina got her advance pay but didn’t give Igor a single ruble.
“Where’s the money?” he demanded, looking at her with the usual expectation of obedience.
“I’ll manage it myself,” she calmly replied, continuing to prepare dinner. “In four years, we haven’t saved a thing. I spend only my money on Anton.”
“What’s this insolence?! I pay for the apartment, utilities, groceries!” Igor roared.
Ekaterina remained silent. Arguing with someone who spent her money on his mistress was pointless. Better to save her energy for more important things.
On the weekend, while taking Anton to her mother’s, Ekaterina ran into Svetlana with an elderly woman. The stranger looked elegant, but deep sorrow was evident in her eyes.
“Katya, meet Marina Petrovna,” Svetlana introduced her.
“Very nice to meet you,” said Ekaterina, instinctively liking the woman.
“Likewise,” Marina Petrovna responded gently. “Svetochka has told me many good things about you.”
They chatted for a few minutes about the weather and children. Anton tugged at his mother’s hand, impatient to get to his grandmother.
“Sorry, we have to go,” Ekaterina said and hurried off, but she remembered the pleasant impression the meeting left on her.
That evening, Svetlana called:
“She liked you. Marina Petrovna wants to discuss terms.”
“Terms?” Ekaterina was surprised.
“The job as a companion. She’s lonely, has a big house, lost her family — I told you. Think about it, Katya. This might be just what you need.”
Ekaterina glanced at Igor, who was watching TV and didn’t even look up when the phone rang. As if her conversations didn’t concern him at all.
“All right. I agree to the meeting.”
“Wise decision. Tomorrow at 2 p.m., I’ll send the address.”
Marina Petrovna’s house amazed her with its size. A two-story cottage with a well-kept yard reminded Ekaterina of her grandfather’s house, where she had spent joyful childhood summers.
“Please, come in,” the hostess greeted warmly.
Marina Petrovna led her to the living room. On the mantel were photos — an elderly man, a young man in military uniform, a little boy with a mischievous smile.
“That was my family,” the hostess said softly, and unexpectedly burst into tears. “I’m sorry…”
Ekaterina gently placed a hand on her shoulder:
“No need to apologize. Let’s get you to lie down.”
She led Marina Petrovna to the bedroom and returned to the living room. Automatically, she gathered the cups and washed them in the kitchen. She watered the plants — the soil in the pots was dry. Oddly, in this house she felt a peace she hadn’t known in her own home for a long time.
“Forgive me,” Marina Petrovna appeared half an hour later. “I didn’t mean to fall apart in front of you.”
“It’s all right. I know what it’s like — being alone with memories.”
The woman looked at her closely.
“You have grief of your own.”
“Yes. But mine can be worked through. Yours… not so much.”
Marina Petrovna sat down in an armchair:
“I have a proposal. Move in here with your son. The house is big and empty. I’ll cover food and pay a salary — sixty thousand a month.”
Ekaterina was stunned. That amount, plus the savings from rent and utilities…
“For six months, to start with,” she added. “Until I sort out my personal matters.”
“Agreed,” Ekaterina nodded. “Show me the room.”
The room on the second floor was bright and spacious, with two beds and a desk. The window looked out onto the garden. Ekaterina was reminded of her childhood — the same mornings, the same freedom from judgment.
“I like it,” she said. “When can we move in?”
“Tomorrow, if you’d like. I really need the company.”
“You’ve lost your mind!” Igor exploded when Ekaterina told him her decision. “What job? What move to some stranger’s house?!”
“A temporary companion job for a decent woman,” she answered calmly, continuing to pack. “Free housing, good pay. I’ll finally be able to save for a mortgage down payment.”
“We’re living just fine! What more do you need?”
“‘Fine’ means you spending my money on a mistress while our son wears torn shoes.”
“I need prospects,” she replied.
“Ekaterina, you can’t just walk away! We’re a family!”
“I can. And I’m taking responsibility for my life.”
“What happened to you?! You used to be a normal wife!”
“I used to be convenient. Big difference.”
Igor kept yelling for another half-hour, going from threats to pleas, but Ekaterina was already packing Anton’s things. The next morning, after her husband left for work, she called the movers.
“Mom, are we really going to live in a big house?” Anton asked, watching the men carry out boxes.
“Yes, sweetheart. There’s a garden and a swing set.”
“Will daddy come too?”
Ekaterina knelt in front of him:
“Daddy will stay here. But he’ll visit you.”
“Okay,” the boy agreed without hesitation.
Marina Petrovna met them at the gate and helped carry their bags.
“Welcome to your new home,” she said warmly.
Anton immediately ran off to explore the yard, and Ekaterina realized — the woman didn’t just need help keeping things in order. She needed someone alive beside her. Someone who wouldn’t let her drown in memories.
“Tomorrow, if you want, we can go to the cemetery,” Ekaterina offered over dinner.
Marina Petrovna looked at her in surprise:
“Are you sure? It’s not exactly cheerful there.”
“They need flowers. And you need to talk to them.”
“Thank you,” the woman touched her hand. “I’ve wanted to go for a long time, but going alone is scary.”
Igor called every evening.
“Katya, I miss you. Stop being silly, come home.”
“I’m working. I have a six-month contract.”
“Screw your stupid contract! You’re my wife!”
“Not anymore. And I keep my commitments.”
Anton quickly settled into the new home. Marina Petrovna taught him how to paint with watercolors, and Ekaterina read aloud — her voice was clear and calming to the hostess.
“You have a beautiful voice,” Marina Petrovna said one evening. “You could work on the radio.”
“I dreamed of that when I was young,” Ekaterina admitted. “But then I got married, had a son…”
“And buried your dreams?”
“Postponed them. But ‘later’ turned into years.”
“It’s not too late to go back to them. You’re only twenty-six.”
Two weeks later, Ekaterina agreed to meet Igor at a café. He looked worn out.
“Where’s the money from your paycheck?” he asked first thing, without even greeting her.
“How touching,” she replied sarcastically. “I spend it on myself and our son.”
“Ekaterina, stop being ridiculous! I’m your husband! I have a right to know!”
“For now, a husband,” she said, pulling documents from her bag. “Here’s the court summons. I’m filing for divorce.”
Igor paled as he looked at the stamp.
“What for? We were living fine!”
“You were living fine. I was surviving.”
“But why divorce? What did I do so wrong?”
“Natalya…”
A deadly silence followed. Igor clenched his fists, his face twisted.
“That… that’s not what you think…”
“An 8,000-ruble toy for her son? Weekly kisses at the café on Tverskaya? Which part of that isn’t what I think?”
“You were spying on me?! How dare you?!”
“I saw it by accident. But you dared to spend my money on someone else’s child while your own walked around in torn shoes.”
“We had a rough patch! So I met up with someone a couple of times, so what?”
“So rough that you had money for her child, but not your own.”
Igor leaned back in his chair.
“Okay, yes, I had an affair. But I didn’t leave you! Family is sacred to me!”
“So sacred that you betray it at the first opportunity.”
Ekaterina stood up and took her bag.
“Where are you going?! We’re not finished talking!”
“I’m done. See you in court.”
She left without looking back at his shouts.
Back at Marina Petrovna’s house, Ekaterina sat on the porch for a long time, staring into the dark. The meeting with Igor had shaken her more than expected. She thought it would feel easier, but inside, she was still boiling with anger toward the man she had spent four years with.
“Something wrong?” Marina Petrovna came out onto the porch with two cups of tea.
“I met with my husband. I officially filed for divorce.”
“How did he react?”
Ekaterina gave a bitter smile.
“First demanded my salary. Then acted shocked I was filing for divorce.”
Marina Petrovna sat next to her and handed her a cup.
“Tell me. Sometimes saying it out loud helps sort things out.”
And Ekaterina told her. About that day in the store, about what she’d seen near his office, about the years she gave up seventy percent of her salary while there was barely enough left for her own son.
“You know what pisses me off the most?” she finished. “He genuinely believes he did nothing wrong. That I’m just being moody.”
“Such refined logic your husband has,” Marina Petrovna said sarcastically. “Spending money on a mistress is normal, but being upset about it is ‘being dramatic.’”
“Exactly! And when I reminded him about developmental classes for Anton, he said the kid will grow up fine without them.”
Marina Petrovna was silent for a long time, then said quietly:
“My Viktor brought home every kopeck for thirty-two years. Never raised a hand to me, never cheated. I used to think that was just the way it should be. But you… you did the right thing. Life’s too short to waste on someone who doesn’t value you.”
“You know,” Ekaterina said softly, “I haven’t talked to anyone this openly in so long. Igor always interrupted or turned the conversation to himself.”
At the same time, Igor was standing outside Natalya’s building, trying to summon the courage to ring the doorbell. Ekaterina had left him, the apartment felt like a tomb, and tomorrow he had to figure out how to go on.
Natalya opened the door in a robe, clearly not expecting visitors.
“Igor?”
“Can I come in? We need to talk.”
She reluctantly let him into the entryway, but didn’t invite him any further.
“Listen, everything’s changed,” Igor began. “Ekaterina filed for divorce. We can be together now.”
Natalya turned pale.
“Igor, you don’t understand…”
“I do! We’re finally free!”
“No, you don’t understand!” she snapped. “I’m married!”
Igor froze.
“Married? To who?”
“For two years now… What, you thought I’d wait around for you to wake up?”
“Two years?” Igor’s voice cracked. “You strung me along for two damn years?! I spent money on you, lied to my wife, and you…”
“I didn’t string anyone along!” Natalya snapped. “You made it all up! I never said I was single!”
“What about the kisses? The gifts for my—his—kid?! All those meetings?”
“I never asked you to buy toys!” she shot back. “And kisses don’t mean commitment! What, are you from a village?”
“So I was just a fool paying for everything…”
“And what was I to you?” Natalya sneered. “You had a wife and a child! Or did you think I’d believe in your ‘great love’?”
A child’s cry came from the other room. Natalya looked back anxiously.
“Leave. Sergey will be home soon.”
“So that’s how it is?!” Igor shouted. “I was just a fling?! A cash machine?!”
“What did you expect?” Natalya said coldly. “A married guy with a kid looking for thrills on the side. Thought you’d find a naïve girl who’d believe your fairy tales about a sad marriage?”
“I don’t have a wife anymore! I lost my family because of you!”
“You lost them because of yourself,” Natalya snapped. “Because of your lust. And now you want to blame me?”
“Bitch!” Igor hissed. “You’re just a greedy bitch!”
“Maybe,” Natalya shrugged indifferently and opened the door. “Don’t come back.”
“We’ll see each other again!” Igor shouted as he left. “Women like you always get what’s coming!”
“Is that a threat?” Natalya sneered. “Here, take down the police officer’s number. Might come in handy.”
The weeks before court dragged painfully. Igor tried several times to contact Ekaterina, demanding to meet, but she replied dryly:
“We’ll talk in court.”
“Katya, we’re a family! Four years together!” Igor tried to guilt-trip her during one call.
“Igor, you betrayed me and Anton. More than once.”
“What did I even do?!”
“Goodbye, Igor. See you in court.”
He was sure she’d back out at the last minute. That she’d remember four years of marriage, that they were a family. After all, who would want a single mom with a kid?
But when Igor saw Ekaterina in the courtroom, he realized—there was no going back. She was calm, answered the judge’s questions evenly, and looked at him like he was a stranger.
“Plaintiff, state your reasons for the divorce,” the judge asked Ekaterina.
“For three years, the defendant spent family finances on an extramarital affair. He systematically lied to me and our child about the family’s financial situation and ignored our underage son’s needs.”
“Defendant, do you contest the divorce?”
Igor wanted to say something in his defense, but the words wouldn’t come. How could he explain to the judge that he just wanted to be happy?
“Do you agree to the divorce?” the judge asked.
Igor wanted to say no, but the words caught in his throat. The woman beside him only looked like his Ekaterina. The real Katya was gone.
“I agree,” he forced through clenched teeth.
“Is the plaintiff seeking alimony?”
“Yes,” Ekaterina said firmly. “Twenty-five percent of the defendant’s total income.”
“This is robbery!” Igor burst out. “I have a rented apartment, loans!”
“You should’ve thought of that earlier,” Ekaterina said coldly. “When you were spending our money on another woman.”
There was no shared property—only credit card debt, which the judge assigned to Igor. The alimony was set at 25% of his salary—18,000 rubles.
As they left the court, Igor tried to talk to his ex-wife:
“Katya, maybe…”
“Goodbye,” she interrupted and walked away without looking back.
“You’ll regret this!” he yelled after her. “Single mom with a kid! Who would want you?!”
Ekaterina stopped and turned.
“You know, Igor, your biggest mistake is thinking a woman without a man is incomplete. But in truth, a woman with the wrong man—that’s an incomplete life.”
At home, Igor sat with a calculator. Salary: 70,000. Minus alimony—52,000 left. Rent: 30,000. Utilities: 5,000. Food: 10,000. That left 7,000 for everything else.
Ekaterina used to bring in another 65,000. Now that money was gone—along with her.
“What the hell?!” he shouted into the empty apartment. “All women are greedy bitches! Use men like cash cows, then toss them away like garbage!”
He hurled the calculator at the wall. It cracked and shattered on the floor.
“Natalya lied, used my gifts while being married! And she—” he jabbed a finger at the air, as if Ekaterina stood before him, “—left me at my lowest and sued for alimony! Like I owe her something!”
He stormed around the room, kicking things out of his way.
“None of them cared how I’d survive! All they want is money! Damn leeches!”
But the most infuriating thing? They both thought they were right. Natalya with her “I didn’t want to upset you,” and Ekaterina with her “you brought this on yourself.” Hypocrites.
Meanwhile, Ekaterina was walking her son’s bike along a park path, watching Anton learn to balance. Marina Petrovna rode beside them, encouraging the boy:
“Well done, Antosha! Don’t look down, look ahead! Imagine you’re flying!”
“Mom, look, I’m riding! Look!” Anton shouted joyfully.
“I see, sweetheart! You’re a real cyclist!” the older woman called back.
Ekaterina smiled, but a strange pang stirred in her chest. Marina treated her son so naturally, like he was her own grandson. And Anton was drawn to her, confiding in her like he used to only with his mother.
“Don’t be jealous,” Ekaterina scolded herself. “He needs attention, and you work from morning to night.”
In that moment, she realized—over the past month, she had found something she never had in marriage. Peace. No one demanded explanations for her spending. No fights, no lies. She had already saved thirty thousand rubles. In another year, she could start thinking about a mortgage.
—
That evening, after Anton fell asleep, Ekaterina sat on the porch with a mug of hot cocoa. The phone was silent—Igor hadn’t called in a month. Alimony came regularly.
“Strange,” she thought, “a year ago his indifference hurt. Now, it’s just like the weather.”
Life was truly getting better. Work brought not just money, but satisfaction. Anton had started reading and no longer asked why his dad didn’t live with them.
And most importantly—she no longer made excuses for other people’s choices. Igor had made his. So had Natalya. Now it was her turn.
And she had made the right one.
