For a long time, I lived in denial. I told myself nothing had changed — same routine, same life — that all of it was just a bad dream. I refused to believe Sergey had truly betrayed me. And not just a meaningless fling, but a full-blown affair. With her. The woman who now worked as his assistant. They saw each other every single day…
The signs were there, bold as daylight: late nights at the office, an unfamiliar perfume lingering on his shirt, hushed conversations behind closed doors, a sudden flurry of business trips. I brushed it all aside, convincing myself it was paranoia, that there was a logical explanation for everything.
But one day, I couldn’t take it anymore. I asked him straight out:
— Tell me the truth. Are you seeing her?
He didn’t even flinch. No denial, no hesitation.
— You already know. It’s good we’re talking about this now. I want a divorce.
Just like that. One sentence, and my world collapsed. No remorse. No tenderness. Only the cold finality of “that’s all.”
Afterward came the chorus of comfort.
— He’s not worth your tears, Olga, — my best friend Marina insisted. — Forget him like a bad dream. You’ll thank yourself later.
— I knew from day one he was no good, — my mother declared with righteous anger. — Let him go. You’ll meet a real man.
— That’s life, dear, — my mother-in-law sighed when I called to tell her. — You’re still young, beautiful, no children. Everything’s ahead of you.
Kind words, yes — but they didn’t reach me. Inside, I still clung to hope. Hope that Sergey would wake up, regret everything, and come back. Foolish? Probably. But I would have grasped at the smallest chance.
I called him again and again, wishing he’d change his mind. He never answered. It was as if the moment he left, he had erased me from his life.
To keep myself from falling apart, I started spending time with Marina and her brother, Kirill. We’d known each other for years, but our paths had always crossed more as acquaintances than anything deeper. As a teenager, I’d had a quiet crush on him — one I never breathed a word about, especially to Marina.
Kirill had recently returned to town after his own divorce. He seemed a little lost, a little bruised by life. And yet, around him, I felt alive again. He didn’t try to soothe me with empty platitudes. He didn’t ask about my feelings or tell me I “deserved better.” He was simply there. We’d walk in the evenings, watch movies, or sit in the park eating ice cream from the corner shop. Slowly, my pain softened. Sergey faded into the background.
When my divorce papers finally came through, I found myself ready to say yes to Kirill. I hadn’t seen it coming — but Marina certainly had.
— Finally! — she laughed, hugging me. — I always knew this would happen.
— You… knew?
— Of course! Who could be better for my brother than you? Your divorce was a blessing, Olga. The best thing that could’ve happened.
Months earlier, I might have bristled at that. Now, I understood she was right. With Kirill, I felt wanted, cherished, even spoiled — feelings I’d never known with Sergey.
Life had begun to feel full again when, out of nowhere, my phone lit up with Sergey’s name. My stomach tightened.
— Sergey, — I muttered. — Didn’t expect that.
— Answer, — Kirill said gently. — See what he wants.
I picked up.
— Olga? — His tone was clipped, almost businesslike. — We need to meet. Urgently.
— What about?
— Not on the phone. Tomorrow. The park by your place, near the lake. You pick the time.
I hesitated, but agreed.
The next day, I arrived alone at the little pond. He wasn’t there yet, and I began to wonder if he’d show at all. Maybe he’d changed his mind. Or maybe — absurdly — he’d come to ask me back.
Then I saw him, striding quickly toward me.
— Glad you came. We need to talk… about the ring.
— What ring?
— Your wedding ring. You still have it, right? I want it back.
I stared at him.
— You’re serious?
— I’m getting married. Karina and I need wedding rings. I paid for them once, so I think it’s fair to take yours back.
For a second, I was stunned. This was the man I once loved, now trying to recycle our wedding ring for his new bride — to save money. The absurdity of it hit me, and I burst out laughing, so hard tears streamed down my face.
— You’re in luck, — I said finally. — I didn’t throw it away. I even have it with me.
I pulled it from my pocket — a tiny circle of gold, heavy with old memories — and without another word, tossed it into the pond. The water swallowed it, leaving only ripples.
I didn’t wait to see his reaction. Without looking back, I walked away.
Later, when I told Kirill, we laughed until our sides hurt.
— You did the right thing, — he said. — Sometimes the only way to move forward is to let go.
We haven’t set a wedding date yet, though I suspect Kirill is already thinking about it. And why not? We’ve both known heartbreak. We’ve both earned the right to happiness. My parents are thrilled — my mother’s already talking about grandchildren.
As for me? I’m at peace. I’m loved. And I can finally say it without hesitation: I’m happy.
