“What do you mean, WE’RE GETTING DIVORCED?” Igor asked in surprise, freezing in the middle of the living room with a bottle of beer in his hand. “I thought we just had a fight!”
Vera was standing by the door with a suitcase; her face showed a determination Igor had never seen in all seven years of their marriage.
“That’s exactly what it means. I filed the papers yesterday. A copy is on your favorite couch, next to the remote,” she pointed at the white envelope Igor still hadn’t noticed, too absorbed in the football match.
“But… wait! Because of yesterday? That’s nothing! So what if my mom went a bit too far…”
“A BIT?!” Vera even laughed, but there wasn’t a trace of amusement in her laughter. “Your mother called me a ‘defective woman’ in front of all the guests because we don’t have children yet. And your father added that I’m ‘a career-obsessed woman who only cares about money.’ And you… you just SAT THERE!”
“Well, they’re the older generation, they have their own views…”
“Yesterday was the climax of something that’s been going on for years!” Vera set the suitcase down and pulled her phone from her bag. “Do you want me to remind you? Last New Year’s Eve — your brother Kostya walked in on me in the shower because he had ‘mixed up the doors’. And what did you do? You laughed about it with him! On my birthday — your parents didn’t come, because the neighbor’s jubilee was more important. Our anniversary — you forgot, but you remembered your football game with friends!”
“Ver, don’t make a drama out of it…”
“DON’T YOU DARE say that!” her voice turned sharp. “Yesterday your precious mommy announced in front of twenty guests that you married me only because of my apartment in the city center. And you know what? She was right! Not about the apartment — about the fact that you MARRIED me. Because you never became a husband!”
Igor finally put the beer aside and got up from the couch. His face showed genuine bewilderment.
“I don’t understand what you’re talking about. I work, I bring money home…”
“A third of your salary!” Vera cut him off. “A THIRD! The rest goes on your ‘guys’ nights’, new gadgets, and presents for your mommy! And I pay the mortgage, the utilities, groceries, clothes for both of us, and still manage to save something!”
“You earn more, it’s logical…”
“Logical? And the fact that your parents live with us three months a year — is that logical too? That your brother comes to ‘borrow’ money every week — logical? That last week you promised your friend Misha, without even asking me, that he can live with us for a month after his divorce — that’s LOGICAL?”
“Misha’s in a tough situation…”
“And I’m not in a tough situation?” Vera pulled some papers from her bag. “You know what this is? Statements from our accounts. In the last year you spent four hundred thousand on yourself and your relatives. And on our joint vacation, which we never took — zero. On the renovation of the bedroom you promised two years ago — zero. On a single gift for me — ZERO!”
“You have everything…”
“I have everything that I BOUGHT for myself!” Vera was almost shouting now. “Even my engagement ring I chose myself, because the one you picked turned out to be fake! Remember? Or is that convenient to forget?”
Igor was silent, processing what he’d heard. Then his face took on a hurt expression.
“So it’s all about money? I thought you weren’t so mercenary…”
“NO!” Vera stamped her foot. “It’s not about money! It’s about respect! Which you DO NOT have for me! Yesterday, when your mother was insulting me, you sat there smiling! When your father said I should quit my job and start popping out kids, you nodded! And when I asked them to stop, you said I was HYSTERICAL!”
“You raised your voice at my parents…”
“After they’d been humiliating me for two hours! And you know what’s the most disgusting part? Your sister Alyona filmed everything! And posted it in the family chat with the caption ‘Vera is freaking out again’. And you… you hit LIKE!”
“That was a reflex…”
“A reflex? Seriously? And the fact that you tell your mother about our sex life — is that also a reflex? Yes, I know! She herself discussed in front of the guests what underwear I wear and that ‘decent wives don’t behave like that’!”
Igor flushed, but immediately went on the offensive.
“And what did you expect? You’re always at work! You come home late, leave early! When are we supposed to build a family?”
“A family? A FAMILY?!” Vera pulled out another set of papers. “Here’s the schedule for the last month. I wrote everything down. Fourteen evenings you spent with your buddies. Eight — with your parents. Four — playing computer games. Two — watching football. And only ONE evening we spent together! And even then, only because I bought theatre tickets, and you slept through the whole performance!”
“I was tired after work…”
“And I’m a robot? I work more than you, earn more than you, do ALL the housework because you can’t even wash your own plate! And I still have to put up with your family’s rudeness?”
“Don’t you dare insult my family!”
“Oh, but insulting mine is fine? Remember how your mother called my father ‘half-educated’ because he’s a school teacher? Or how your brother said my sister is ‘a whore’ because she’s a model? And you? You laughed!”
“They were just joking…”
“Joking? And when your father took my car without asking and crashed it — was that a joke too? And the fact that I had to file the insurance claim because he didn’t even have a driver’s license — is that funny as well?”
“He didn’t know…”
“GET OUT!” a woman’s voice suddenly shouted from the kitchen.
Igor jumped. Out of the kitchen came Vera’s mother, Galina Petrovna, and behind her — her father, Pyotr Mikhailovich.
“Mom? Dad? What are you doing here?”
“We’re helping our daughter pack,” Pyotr Mikhailovich replied calmly. “And at the same time making a list of property for division.”
“What division? This is MY apartment!” Igor exclaimed indignantly.
“You’re mistaken, young man,” Galina Petrovna took out some documents. “The apartment is in Vera’s name. It was bought before the marriage. The mortgage is paid from her personal account. You don’t even have temporary registration here.”
“But… but we’re husband and wife!”
“Not anymore,” Vera shook her head. “And you know what? I’ll give you a week to pack. You can go back to your mother. She always said you were the best, most wonderful son. Let her enjoy you.”
“You can’t kick me out!”
“I can, and I am. Here is the court order for eviction. Turns out that when someone doesn’t pay for housing, and there is evidence of domestic psychological abuse, the court decides very quickly. You didn’t come to a single hearing, you’re registered at your mother’s address, the notices were sent there, but she doesn’t check her mailbox. It’s over.”
“What abuse?!”
“Psychological. Humiliation, ignoring, gaslighting. I’ve been recording our conversations for six months. Yours and your family’s. My lawyer says it’s an easy win.”
“A lawyer? You hired a lawyer?”
“Three months ago. When you once again chose a drinking party with your friends over our anniversary.”
Igor looked lost. He glanced around as if searching for support.
“Ver, let’s talk… Maybe we should see a therapist…”
“I went. Alone. For a year. Do you know what they told me? That I’m a classic example of a woman in a toxic relationship. And that your behavior is typical abuse.”
“I never hit you!”
“There are different kinds of violence, Igor. And emotional humiliation is one of the worst. Bruises heal. But it takes years to rebuild your self-respect.”
“You’re exaggerating…”
“Really?” Vera raised her phone. “Do you want me to play the recording of last night? Where your mother spent an hour explaining what a bad wife I am? Or where your father told the guests that ‘Vera’s spoiled’ and ‘doesn’t appreciate what she’s got’? Or maybe the part where you agreed with them and added that I’ve ‘totally gone off the rails’?”
Igor turned pale.
“You… you were recording?”
“For the last six months. Everything. Every humiliation, every insult, every one of your ‘oh, come on, don’t take it to heart’ after another nasty stunt from your family.”
“That’s… that’s low!”
“But lying to me about ‘working late’ when you were actually at the bar — that’s not low? By the way, I know about Katya.”
“What Katya?” Igor tensed.
“The one from work. The one you’re ‘just friends’ with. The one you text at night about what a terrible wife I am.”
“How do you…”
“You forgot to log out of your social media on the tablet. Fascinating reading, I must say. Especially the part where you complain that you didn’t marry for love, but because ‘you had to’.”
“You took it the wrong way…”
“I don’t care anymore, Igor. Really. You can move in with her right now, if you want. Just warn her that your mom will come over every day. That your brother will be borrowing money. And that your father will be teaching her how to ‘live properly’. Let’s see how long she lasts.”
At that moment the door opened and Igor’s parents burst into the apartment.
“Son! We just felt you needed support!” Zinaida Lvovna rushed to Igor. “What has this snake done again?”
“Good evening, Zinaida Lvovna,” Vera greeted her coldly. “Please don’t insult my daughter in her own home,” added Galina Petrovna.
“In her home? This is my son’s home!”
“Your son is just a guest here. An unwanted one.”
“How dare you! Viktor, say something!”
Igor’s father, Viktor Pavlovich, puffed up like a turkey.
“We’ll call the police right now! You have no right to throw my son out!”
“Yes, we do,” Pyotr Mikhailovich showed the papers. “And if you don’t leave voluntarily, we’ll call the police. For unlawful entry into a dwelling.”
“We have keys!”
“Which you took without the owner’s permission. That’s called theft.”
“Igor!” Zinaida shrieked. “Do something!”
“Mom, let’s just go…”
“NO! That bitch needs to learn her place! She should be grateful that a guy like you even married her!”
“Why?” Vera asked calmly. “What’s so special about him? The fact he’s unemployed?”
“He’s not unemployed! He works!”
“As a courier. Half time. He makes fifteen thousand a month.”
“Where do you get these numbers from?”
“From his income statement he brought to apply for a loan. In my name, by the way. Because with his salary, they wouldn’t give him even a payday loan.”
“You’re lying! Igor is a manager in a big company!”
“He was. Two years ago. He was fired for skipping work. Since then he’s been ‘looking for a decent job’. On my dime.”
“Igor, is that true?” Even Zinaida looked stunned.
Igor said nothing, staring at the floor.
“Son?”
“Mom, we’ll talk later…”
“So it’s TRUE?! You’ve been lying to us for two years?”
“I wasn’t lying… I just didn’t go into details…”
“And the money? You’ve been giving us money!”
“That was Vera’s money. The money he took from me ‘for gas’ and ‘for lunch’.”
Zinaida sank onto a chair. Her face was as white as paper.
“Igor… how could you…”
“You see, Zinaida Lvovna,” Galina Petrovna said softly, “your ‘golden boy’ is just a parasite. He lived off my daughter while letting you humiliate her.”
“We… we didn’t know…”
“And even if you had — would that give you the right to insult her? To call her barren? Defective? Greedy?”
Zinaida was silent.
“I demand that you all leave the apartment. NOW.”
“Ver, wait…” Igor took a step toward her.
“DON’T COME NEAR ME! And don’t you dare touch me!”
“But where am I supposed to go?”
“To your mother. To Katya. To the train station. I don’t care.”
“I don’t even have any money…”
“And how is that my problem? You’re a grown man. You’re thirty-two. Time to learn to take care of yourself.”
“Vera, please…”
“NO. That’s it. Enough. I put up with this for seven years. I hoped you’d change, grow up, become a man. But you stayed a mama’s boy hiding behind his wife’s back.”
“I’ll change!”
“Too late. Katya, by the way, thinks so too.”
“What?”
“I wrote to her. Yesterday. I sent her our family budget. And your chat with Misha where you brag about how you ‘scammed the fool out of her money’. She was very surprised. And she doesn’t want anything to do with you anymore.”
Igor looked like he’d been punched.
“You… you did that on purpose…”
“I was protecting another woman from the same scam. She even thanked me. Turns out you lied to her too. Told her you were getting a divorce. That I didn’t understand you. That we sleep in separate rooms. Classic.”
“Bitch…”
“OUT!” roared Pyotr Mikhailovich. “GET OUT OF HERE! Another word and I’ll break your jaw!”
“Viktor Pavlovich, take your son,” he added more quietly. “Before I really call the police.”
Igor’s parents got up. Zinaida was crying.
“Vera, forgive us… We really didn’t know…”
“Even if he were a millionaire, that wouldn’t give you the right to humiliate me. GET OUT.”
Igor’s family left the apartment. Igor was the last to go, throwing Vera a look full of hatred.
When the door closed, Vera sat down on the floor and burst into tears. Galina Petrovna hugged her daughter.
“It’s all right, sweetheart. It’s over now.”
“Mom, I wasted so many years…”
“It was an important lesson. Now you know what you must never tolerate.”
“I thought he loved me…”
“He loved what you gave him. The apartment, the money, the care. But not you.”
“Maybe I really am a bad wife?”
“NO!” Pyotr Mikhailovich squatted down next to her. “You’re a wonderful woman. Smart, beautiful, independent. And you deserve a man who will appreciate that. Not a parasite living at your expense.”
“Dad, what if I never meet anyone else?”
“You will. Absolutely. But first, learn to live for yourself. Not for a husband, not for his family — for yourself.”
Vera nodded, wiping away her tears.
A month later she received her divorce certificate. Igor didn’t show up in court, he just sent in his written consent.
Three months later she met Artyom. He owned a small architectural firm, and they met at an exhibition. Artyom won her over immediately when, on their very first date, he said:
“I have a rule. I don’t allow anyone, not even my own mother, to speak disrespectfully about the woman who’s with me. That’s non-negotiable.”
A year later they got married. A small wedding, just close family. Artyom’s parents welcomed Vera like a daughter.
And Igor? Igor moved back in with his mother. Katya really did cut all ties with him, telling their mutual acquaintances the truth. Igor’s reputation was destroyed. He never found a proper job — no one wanted to hire a thirty-two-year-old man with no experience or references.
At first, Zinaida was happy to have her son back. But very quickly she realized what kind of “prince” she had raised. Igor demanded to be waited on just like Vera used to wait on him. But his mother could no longer do that — her health, her age. And Igor refused to help.
Six months later, Zinaida threw her son out. She said what she should have said long ago:
“I raised a parasite. Go and learn to live on your own.”
Igor rented a room. Worked as a low-level clerk. Sometimes he thought about Vera, about her cozy apartment, the good food, the care. And he understood — he had ruined it all himself. With his own hands. With his egoism. His laziness. His meanness.
And Vera was happy. Truly happy. For the first time in many years. She had a loving husband who valued and respected her. She had a job that brought her joy. She had parents who always had her back.
And most importantly — she had faith in herself. Which, at last, she had found
