Anna stood in the kitchen, immersed in pleasant chores. Outside, morning was slowly breaking, filling the room with a soft golden light. Today she had a day off—the first after weeks of intense work—and she had planned every hour in advance.
“Anyuta, how about we hit the shops? Refresh your wardrobe, have a little fun?” her friend Irina’s ringing, cheerful voice trilled through the receiver.
The thought of noisy malls and fitting rooms didn’t stir the least enthusiasm in Anna.
“Thanks for the invite, Irochka, but I have other plans,” she replied gently. “I want to cook something tasty and take it to Sergey at work. I haven’t been to his auto shop in a while. And then I’ll tidy up at home—maybe wash the curtains, clean the windows.”
After hanging up, Anna turned on the washing machine; its steady hum became the soundtrack to the start of her day. She took out pots and pans and began preparing the dishes her husband loved most. She hadn’t found much joy in cooking before, but everything changed when Sergey appeared in her life. He often said that there was nothing more delicious or heartfelt than homemade food prepared with warmth and attention. And Anna learned, tried, discovered new recipes—just to see that satisfied smile on his face.
A few hours later, neat containers of still-warm food stood lined up on the table. Anna looked over the results of her work with satisfaction. She packed a roomy bag, set the containers inside, then added a bag of freshly baked sweet buns—Sergey would surely want to treat his coworkers. Her friends were often surprised when they looked at her: where had the proud, independent, slightly aloof girl they once knew gone? But Anna would just wave it off. Why keep that coolness inside when you can become softer, warmer? When, for the sake of the man you love, you want to create coziness, to fill the home with the aromas of fresh pastries and cleanliness. She was ready to change in many ways, as long as her chosen one felt happy, protected, and knew he was awaited and loved.
Deciding to make it a surprise, Anna didn’t warn her husband she was coming. She pictured how surprised and delighted he would be to see her. She timed it to arrive right before his lunch break, and today everything worked out perfectly: the bus came on time, there was no traffic, and soon she was already approaching the familiar door of the auto shop.
“Hi, Artyom. Where’s Sergey?” she asked the young man at the front desk.
“Anna, hello! It’s been so long since you’ve come by. You look wonderful—positively glowing,” he answered with a warm smile.
The girl smiled shyly in response. The compliments were nice, of course, but a faint shadow of unease stirred in her soul: what if Sergey heard and misunderstood those words?
“Thank you, Artyom, don’t embarrass me. Where’s my husband?”
“In the shop, at his usual spot. The guys are about to break for lunch. And I see you’ve brought treats? It smells so amazing my mouth is watering.”
Anna nodded and headed deeper inside, to where her husband usually worked. The door to the repair area was ajar, and from beyond it came the familiar smells of motor oil, metal, and gasoline. She had already stepped in when she froze on the threshold: she saw Sergey sitting on the floor, leaning against a car tire, talking animatedly with his partner, Dmitry. For a moment Anna stood still, admiring his profile, his focused face.
“Serёg, so what are you going to do about Marina now? Give her another chance, or keep playing the model family man?” Dmitry asked, taking a wrench from his friend’s hand.
Sergey sighed heavily.
“What am I supposed to do with her? I haven’t decided yet. First I need to tighten my belt a bit, make some money. She’s not going anywhere. Marina swears she loves me and says she’ll never let me go again.”
Anna’s heart quivered and plunged into an abyss. At the familiar name, her temples began to throb. Marina—his ex, his first and, it seemed, only real love. Their story had ended painfully—she had chosen someone else, more “promising,” or so she thought then. Sergey took it hard, and Anna had been there, supporting him, listening, and gradually, from a friend and comfort she became his wife.
“And what do you think? You have a wife. Anna may not be a model, but she’s smart, she’s got golden hands, and a wonderful character. Finding someone who won’t betray you these days is a rare thing.”
“I feel sorry for her, Dima, you understand? But you can’t order your heart around—it reaches for someone else. Anya really is wonderful, I won’t argue. She’d move mountains for me, do anything. But with me right now… it’s not that. When I’m with Marina, everything inside me boils; I feel truly alive, I feel real emotions. You know what I mean?”
“And you think that’s what real feeling is?” Dmitry snorted skeptically.
“I don’t know what to call it… and what difference does it make? With her I feel a rush, and with Anya… it’s calm, like with a sister. Yes, I’m attached to her, but that fire, that passion—no. And I’m still young, I want that. For now I’ll just put things with Anya on pause. I’ll say I’m worn out from work. I don’t want her getting pregnant right now, and later I’ll come and tell her I’ve decided to break up. Let Marina wait a little longer, think things through. We met yesterday—she was practically in tears, saying how much she misses me.”
Every word he spoke drove into Anna’s soul like a red-hot needle, leaving deep, painful scars. Sergey spoke of his betrayal so easily, so calmly, as if discussing the weather. He had been deceiving her all this time, and she had been too blind and trusting to notice anything. Her friends had hinted they’d seen Marina in town, but Anna had brushed it off, not wanting to believe it. She was sure that even if his ex returned, Sergey, remembering the old pain, would never go back to her. After all, he had married her, sworn love and fidelity. But it turned out he’d been with her only because it was convenient?
“I do like coming home to the smell of fresh food, where everything is neat and cozy. And I do like Anna, that’s true. But she… she isn’t Marina. She even gives me massages after a hard day, but it’s not the same… Eh! I’m probably acting like a complete fool. I’m afraid of making a mistake if I go back to the past. I need to weigh everything properly. After work today I’ll go walking with Marina again. We’ll see where it leads.”
Dmitry only shook his head, silently disagreeing. And Anna… she couldn’t move, couldn’t make a sound. She stood pressed against the doorframe, staring at her husband, while the echo of his merciless words rang in her ears without end. How could this be? Why? Why her? Her eyes filled with moisture, and hot, scalding tears slowly rolled down her cheeks. Suddenly she felt someone’s touch. It was Artyom. He gently took her by the shoulders and led her aside, to a quiet corner of the reception area.
“I’m sorry. I should have warned them right away that you were coming,” he said softly. “You shouldn’t have heard that.”
“It’s all right. This is even better. Now I know the truth. I know I was only a backup option, a convenient, comfortable match. Please don’t tell him I was here. All right? I’ll decide for myself what to do. I don’t want him to know…”
Artyom nodded silently and firmly. Anna handed him the bag with the containers and the sack of sweet buns.
“Take it—share it with the guys. I’m not taking all this back home.”
“Are you sure you don’t want to give it to him?”
She only nodded, unable to say a word. She no longer wanted to be convenient. She wouldn’t run after a husband who was making plans with another woman behind her back. Instead of returning to a home where a loving wife awaited him, he rushed to a date, dreaming of something happening between them. No… Anna understood that her place in Sergey’s life had been an illusion. To be completely honest, it had never been there at all. She had invented that love herself, built a fragile castle of sand, and believed she had become his whole world. But she turned out to be only a temporary substitute, a quiet harbor where he waited out the storm before rushing back into the ocean of passion with someone else.
She didn’t remember how she stepped outside, how she walked along familiar sidewalks. The scenery slid past the bus window as a blurry smear. Back at the apartment, she silently began to pack. The place was his—bought before their wedding. And though they had chosen the furniture together, hung the curtains together, arranged every corner together over three years of marriage, now she didn’t want to take any of it. Only the essentials. Only her own things. She wanted simply to disappear, to leave, and try to forget.
Casting one last, farewell glance around the apartment, Anna closed the door with resolve. She slipped the set of keys into the mailbox, called a taxi, and went to her grandmother’s. It was time to return to where she had once started her path. Pain was tearing her chest apart, but somewhere deep inside a certainty was forming: she would manage. She would get through this. How could it be otherwise? She was not going to break and give up on life because of someone who couldn’t appreciate her. On the contrary, she wanted to fill her days with new colors, new meanings, and regret nothing. She didn’t curse Sergey and didn’t place all the blame solely on him. When her grandmother, Lyudmila Petrovna, asked why she had come back, Anna simply said that she and her husband turned out to be too different, and so their paths had diverged. The elderly woman didn’t press for details; she just hugged her granddaughter and promised she would always be her support and her rock.
Sergey called late in the evening. Apparently his date had gone well, since he got home so late and found emptiness.
“Anya, where are you? What happened? You had the day off. You didn’t even call.”
What would have been the point? Before, when she called him during the day, he often got irritated and said he was at work, not on vacation, and had no time to chat.
“I left you, Seryozha. I’m sorry, but we’re too different. I can’t live like this anymore. I feel there’s no love for me in you, and I… I need it. Do you understand? So just let me go.”
“But how? Why didn’t you talk to me, why did you just up and disappear? Anya, that’s not how problems get solved.”
“I know you’re seeing Marina again. And I wish you happiness. I don’t hold a grudge. Just give me a divorce, and our paths will never cross again.”
Every word cost her enormous effort. First and foremost, she was acknowledging to herself: this was the end. Their shared story was over. A sharp, cutting pain pierced her chest, but it was only the beginning—the beginning of her new, independent life. Sergey was silent on the other end. He couldn’t find words to justify himself, because he understood his guilt. He didn’t try to persuade her to return, didn’t insist on a conversation—he simply hung up.
Nearly two months passed. Anna received the coveted divorce papers and slowly began to heal her wounded heart. She stopped analyzing the past, stopped wondering what she might have done differently, how she might have influenced his feelings. You can’t force love, no matter how you twist it. He was fine with being loved by her, and he allowed himself to be loved. Now she wanted something else. She dreamed of meeting someone who would love her just as much and unreservedly as she once loved. She wanted to be truly desired and happy. Anna started with herself: she paid more attention to her appearance, her health, her hobbies. She began going shopping with her friends again, treating herself to new things. She got a more promising job and started saving for her own—however small—apartment, because she didn’t want to depend on anyone for the rest of her life.
A chance meeting with Artyom at the mall turned out to be unexpected but pleasant. Irina had just left on urgent business, and Anna didn’t want to go home yet, so she agreed to his offer to have a cup of coffee together. At a table in a cozy café, Artyom, a little embarrassed, confessed to her:
“You burst into my life like a ray of light on a gloomy day. From the very first time we met, I realized you were extraordinary. But I didn’t dare say a word, because you were my coworker’s wife. I tried not to think about you, but can you forbid your heart to feel? I’m not asking for anything, I’m not pressuring you. I just wanted you to know… Maybe someday you’ll give me a chance? I understand that now may not be the time.”
“Yes,” Anna answered, surprising even herself. “I’m ready to give that chance and see where it leads.”
Artyom was an engaging conversationalist—attentive and tactful. His words sounded sincere, and Anna felt that a few meetings would help her get to know him better and understand whether there was that very real connection between them. She didn’t overthink it and agreed to a first date.
It turned out they had far more in common than they’d imagined. They could talk for hours about everything and not notice time passing. They felt comfortable and calm together. Anna decided to trust fate. In Artyom’s eyes she saw that very spark, that warmth she had so lacked in her marriage. She felt that her wounded, cautious heart was gradually thawing and ready to love again. Perhaps it was too hasty to dive back into the ocean of feelings, but what was the point of running from them if they brought so much light and hope?
Sergey realized the depth of his loss too late. His fleeting infatuation with Marina burned out quickly, leaving behind only the bitter ash of disappointment. He found himself missing Anna unbearably. He caught himself searching for her face in the crowd, coming to the empty home with a secret hope that it was all a bad dream and she would step out to meet him at any moment. But it didn’t happen. He pined and finally, with pain, understood that he had loved his wife all along, but had willingly turned away from that feeling, refusing to see and acknowledge it.
Sergey never managed to speak with his ex-wife. Anna found the strength to move forward. She met a man who wanted to protect her, care for her, love her every day. With Artyom, she felt a sense of safety and happiness she had never known before. He helped her heal old wounds and believe again that love exists. Sergey had spent too long convincing himself he loved another; he had been ready to betray the person closest to him—and now he could only gnaw his elbows, realizing his mistake. Anna silently wished him to find his own path and peace, and she stepped into a new life… a life in which she was not only loving, but truly, deeply, and devotedly loved.
