“You dragged yourself here for your junk, did you? Well then, come in—take a look at who’s the mistress here now,” her husband said with a sneer.
Vlad turned off the shower, wiped his face with a towel, and listened to the sounds coming from the bedroom. Masha was still asleep. Water was running down his shoulders, leaving wet tracks on the freshly cleaned floor. He glanced in the mirror and liked what he saw. At thirty-seven, he looked great. Regular workouts and a healthy lifestyle were paying off. Women noticed him, and that flattered his ego.
The past few weeks felt like the happiest in a long time. The divorce from Irina wasn’t finalized yet, but the separation itself had given Vlad the very feeling of freedom he’d dreamed about. Meeting Masha changed everything. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt such a surge of emotion.
“Are you up already?” Masha’s sleepy voice came from the bedroom.
“Yeah, I’ll make coffee,” he said, pulling on lounge pants and leaving the bathroom.
Masha was half-reclining on the bed, her loose hair fanned out over the pillow. At twenty-eight she was full of energy and a particular kind of life force. Vlad walked over, kissed her on the forehead, and headed to the kitchen.
“Coffee in bed again?” Masha stretched and smiled. “Just like at the beginning!”
“Why not?” Vlad smirked, taking out the coffee machine Irina had brought back from Italy three years earlier.
The apartment still bore traces of its previous life. Masha had moved some of her things in, but much reminded him of Irina. He had hidden the framed photos in a drawer, yet the books on the shelves, the dishes, the furniture—everything pointed to another woman.
“We should renovate,” Masha said as she walked into the kitchen wearing his T-shirt. “I want the apartment to really become ours.”
“Of course. As soon as the divorce is settled,” Vlad set the cups on the table.
“And when will that be?” Masha tucked one leg under herself as she sat. “You said it was a matter of a couple of weeks.”
“Well… bureaucracy,” Vlad waved vaguely. “But it doesn’t matter anymore. Irina and I have agreed on everything—just a formality left.”
Masha sipped her coffee, watching Vlad over the rim. Their relationship had moved fast—three months from meeting at the office to her moving in. She usually didn’t make such hasty decisions, but Vlad was persuasive. His certainty that the past was closed had rubbed off on her.
Vlad was about to tell her his weekend plans when the doorbell rang. He frowned.
“Who would come on a Saturday morning?”
He opened the door—and froze. Irina stood on the landing. The woman he’d lived with for six years looked completely different. Back then she’d been worn down by quarrels and stress. Now she was composed, confident, straight-backed, clear-eyed. Her hair was pulled into a ponytail that flattered her features. She wore an elegant sand-colored suit he’d never seen before.
“Hi,” Irina’s voice sounded different—calm, firm. “I came for my things.”
Vlad recovered quickly, smirked, and folded his arms across his chest. He’d imagined this moment—his ex seeing his new life. He had expected tears, reproaches, a scene. But Irina’s calm only irritated him.
“You came for your junk, did you? Well then, come in and see who runs the place now!”
He wanted to see pain in her eyes, but Irina only lifted an eyebrow and walked silently into the apartment.
“Who is it, Vlad?” Masha came out of the kitchen in his T-shirt, a cup in her hand.
“It’s Irina. My ex,” he said pointedly.
Masha froze, tugged awkwardly at the hem of the T-shirt barely covering her thighs, and looked Irina over carefully, trying to seem confident, though the faint blush on her cheeks betrayed her nerves.
“Nice to meet you,” Irina said in a tone that made it impossible to tell whether she meant it or was just being polite. “I won’t be long—just picking up my things.”
“By all means, don’t be shy,” Masha straightened, emphasizing her position.
Irina headed for the bedroom, Vlad following. His ex-wife opened the wardrobe and began taking out clothes.
“Isn’t it odd to show up without warning like this?” he said acidly.
“I called you three times this past week,” she replied evenly, neatly folding a blouse.
“I was busy,” Vlad leaned against the doorframe, watching.
Irina kept packing in silence. Her composure infuriated him. This wasn’t what he’d expected. He’d wanted tears, pleading…
“You found a replacement for me quickly,” she said, closing the suitcase.
“Yes. We’re happy,” Vlad didn’t miss the chance to underline his victory. “Masha is exactly what I need.”
“I’m glad for you,” Irina met his eyes. “Truly. Everyone deserves happiness.”
The sincerity threw him off. He couldn’t understand why she didn’t care. Where was the jealousy? Where was the scene?
“Not even going to ask how long we’ve been together?” he made one last attempt.
“That’s none of my business,” Irina shrugged. “We’re getting divorced. You’re free.”
Vlad was boiling over. Nothing was going according to plan.
“Speaking of the divorce,” Irina paused in the bedroom doorway. “When you pay me for my share of the apartment, then you can talk about who’s the mistress here. For now, half of it is still legally mine.”
Vlad was stunned. The blood drained from his face. They’d only touched on this in passing when they’d first decided to separate. The apartment had been bought during the marriage and registered as joint property.
“What do you mean ‘your share’?” Masha stepped into the hallway. Apparently she’d been listening the whole time.
“Oh, he didn’t tell you?” Irina went on with a faint smile. “The apartment was jointly owned, and since we’re divorcing, my share remains mine. I hope you don’t mind living in someone else’s home.”
Masha turned to Vlad.
“What do you mean—half?”
Vlad saw the confidence drain from Masha’s face. She frowned and crossed her arms.
“It’s just a formality,” he tried to explain. “We’ll divide the property as part of the divorce anyway.”
“Which, by the way, isn’t finalized yet,” Irina added, heading for the door with her suitcase.
“Wait,” Vlad blocked her path. “Let’s settle this right now. I demand that you give up your share!”
“On what grounds?” Irina asked calmly.
“You’re the one who left first!” Vlad blurted out.
“I left because you cheated on me with a coworker,” Irina said it without bitterness, simply stating a fact. “And that doesn’t strip me of my share of the apartment.”
Masha stepped back, her eyes widening.
“You told me you broke up by mutual consent.”
The situation was spiraling out of control.
“It’s more complicated than it looks,” Vlad tried to wriggle out of it.
“No, Vlad, it’s actually very simple,” Irina took her phone from her bag. “I want my share in cash or we sell the apartment and split the proceeds. Your choice.”
“And if I refuse?” Vlad challenged.
“Then we’ll have to live three to the apartment,” Irina smiled, and there was something predatory in that smile. “Or I can rent out my share. I’m sure there’ll be takers.”
Vlad turned pale. He realized his mistake. He’d been in such a rush to start a new life that he hadn’t thought through the consequences. The apartment was his only valuable asset, and he’d just assumed Irina would give up her share.
“You can’t do that,” he said, feeling the ground give way beneath him.
“I can,” Irina replied calmly. “It’s my legal right.”
“Vlad, you said everything was settled!” Masha looked at him, accusation in her eyes.
Irina dialed a number.
“Hello, Svetlana Andreyevna? Good morning, it’s Irina. Could you tell me when you can prepare the documents for the division of property?”
Vlad stood there like a statue, staring at his ex-wife. The color was draining from his face as if all the paint were being washed off him. Irina nodded into the phone, jotted something down, and ended the call.
“The lawyer can have the papers ready by Wednesday,” Irina looked at her former husband. “I think the fairest thing is to sell the apartment and split the money fifty-fifty. Or you can buy out my share.”
Masha looked from Vlad to Irina and back again. She was clearly uncomfortable, shifting from foot to foot. The T-shirt now seemed too short, ridiculous.
“Maybe I should get dressed,” she muttered and, without waiting for an answer, disappeared into the bedroom.
Vlad was speechless for a minute. A moment ago life had seemed perfect; now it was collapsing like a house of cards.
“You can’t just show up and assert your rights,” he hissed at last. “We had an agreement.”
“No, Vlad,” Irina shook her head. “There was no agreement. You just wanted me to disappear and not get in the way of your new life. But we bought the apartment together, and my rights to it haven’t gone anywhere.”
Masha came out of the bedroom dressed—in jeans and a sweater. Her hair was pulled into a knot, proper shoes instead of slippers. She had transformed, as if she’d put on armor.
“Hang on… You told me the apartment was yours! And now it turns out half belongs to your ex?” Masha crossed her arms, staring at Vlad.
He tried to stammer something, but the words got tangled. Meanwhile, Irina took a folder of documents out of her bag.
“I’m not here to make a scene,” Irina said calmly, laying the papers on the coffee table. “Either you buy out my share, or we sell the apartment and split the money.”
Vlad felt the ground open beneath him. He didn’t have the money to buy her out—his last savings had gone toward the new bedroom furniture that Masha had picked out so enthusiastically. And selling the apartment meant the complete collapse of his plans.
“How much time will you give me?” Vlad asked, trying to buy at least a little time.
“Time for what?” Irina raised an eyebrow.
“Well, to scrape the money together or…,” Vlad faltered. “And what if I just… let’s say, keep living here?”
“Then I’ll sell my share to someone else or rent it out. After all, I do have my half here, don’t I?” Irina’s voice was almost cheerful.
Masha shot up from the couch she’d just sat down on. Her patience had clearly run out.
“I am not going to live in an apartment where the owner is your ex-wife! Vlad, figure it out yourself, but I’m leaving.” She went to the bedroom and started packing.
Vlad darted after her, leaving Irina in the living room.
“Mash, wait, let’s talk,” he whispered, closing the door behind him. “This is just a misunderstanding. I’ll fix it.”
“A misunderstanding?” Masha was flinging clothes into a bag. “You lied to me! You said the apartment was yours, that the divorce was almost done, that you split by mutual consent. Turns out you cheated on your wife! And now this woman has a right to half the apartment where I, like an idiot, was already planning a renovation!”
“I didn’t know she’d do this,” Vlad tried to justify himself. “I thought we’d work it out.”
“You just decided she’d back down,” Masha zipped the bag. “Well you know what, Vlad? In her place I’d do exactly the same. And how could you bring me so casually into an apartment that half belongs to your ex? It’s… gross.”
Vlad tried to stop Masha, pleaded, promised to make it right, but she was adamant. She finished packing and walked through the living room to the door.
“Sorry for the scene,” she tossed to Irina. “Nice to meet you.”
“Likewise,” Irina nodded.
Vlad watched helplessly as Masha opened the front door. He lunged after her, but she was already heading down the stairs without looking back.
“Masha! Wait!” he shouted from the threshold, but the only answer was the slam of the entry door below.
When he came back inside, Irina was already in the hall. She adjusted her jacket collar, perfectly calm, as if nothing special had happened.
“I think we’ve settled everything,” she said, fastening her bag. “I’ll come back for a couple more things, but I’ll give you a heads-up.”
“You did this on purpose, didn’t you?” Vlad ground out. “You came when you knew I wouldn’t be alone. You wanted to ruin everything.”
“I came for my things, Vlad,” Irina looked at her ex with mild surprise. “And I would’ve warned you if you’d picked up the phone even once this week. As for ruining things—well, I wasn’t the one cheating or lying.”
Vlad clenched his fists. He wanted to punch something, to scream, but a lump of helplessness rose in his throat. Irina headed for the door, tossing over her shoulder:
“You’ve got two days to sort it out with the notary. If you don’t want to settle this amicably, we’ll do it through the courts.”
The door closed behind Irina, and Vlad was left standing in the hall. Several minutes passed before he moved. He went back to the living room, collapsed on the couch, and buried his face in his hands.
The apartment suddenly felt too big and too empty. Two cups of half-finished coffee—his and Masha’s—stood on the coffee table. The morning that had started so well had turned into a nightmare. He reached for his phone—maybe Masha would pick up, maybe he could explain? But explain what?
He dialed and heard a busy tone. Masha had blocked him. Vlad leaned back and stared at the ceiling. The realization crashed over him: in an instant he’d lost everything—his girlfriend, his comfortable life, his confidence in the future. All that remained was an empty apartment, half of which didn’t even belong to him anymore.
As Irina stepped out of the building, she finally felt lightness. The sun warmed her face, and she turned her cheeks to it, eyes closed. It was a strange feeling—a mix of sadness and release. She hadn’t just walked out of an apartment; she’d left behind a past where she wasn’t valued. Six months ago, when she’d found the messages on her husband’s phone, Irina thought her world had collapsed. Now she understood—the world was only beginning.
She pulled out her phone and sent a message: “I did everything as we decided. Stopped by for my things and the papers. You were right—it felt easier right away.”
A minute later came the reply: “Well done. Shall we celebrate your freedom with dinner tonight?”
“I say seven at my place?” she typed.
The answer came instantly: “Can’t wait.”
She slipped the phone into her bag and headed for her car. The life that had seemed shattered six months ago was now being rebuilt, brick by brick. And in this new life there was no place for a man who didn’t know how to value what he had.
