Marina stood by the window with a cup of cold coffee and watched the rain. The drops drummed against the glass as monotonously as her thoughts had been circling in her head for the past three weeks.
Three weeks since Igor packed his things and left. For Lena. For her best friend Lena.
“Mom, is it true Dad isn’t coming back anymore?” eight-year-old Sonya asked quietly, hugging her teddy bear.
Marina turned around and tried to force a smile, but it came out like a pitiful grimace.
“Sweetheart, adults sometimes… separate. That doesn’t mean Dad doesn’t love you.”
“And does he love you?”
That was a punch below the belt. Out of the mouths of babes, as they say. Marina sat down beside her daughter on the couch and put an arm around her shoulders.
“You know, Sonya… love is complicated. Sometimes it ends. But you and I will get through this, right?”
The girl nodded and buried her face in Marina’s shoulder. Marina stroked her hair and felt everything inside tighten into a hard knot. Igor and Lena.
Lena, who had been the witness at their wedding. Lena, who came over every weekend. Lena, who comforted Marina after every fight with her husband—and then, apparently, comforted the husband too. In her own way.
The phone vibrated on the table. A message from an unknown number: “Marina, it’s Igor. I need to pick up the rest of my things. I’ll come by tomorrow at two. I hope you’ll behave like a normal person.”
A normal person. So now he was demanding normal behavior, too! Marina felt something hot and vicious begin to boil inside her.
She snatched up the phone and started furiously typing a reply, then stopped. No. A scandal wasn’t her style. She would come up with something more interesting.
That evening, after Sonya fell asleep, Marina sat in the kitchen scrolling through old photos on her phone. There they were at the sea, happy and tanned. There was the first ultrasound. There was Igor rocking newborn Sonya in his arms, his face so tender you wanted to believe in eternal love. And there was a group photo of the three of them—Marina, Igor, and Lena—at someone’s birthday party. Lena had her arms around both of them, smiling that bright, toothy smile. What a sweet little snake.
“You wanted normal behavior, Igor?” Marina whispered into the empty kitchen. “Fine. You’ll get it in full.”
The next day she got up early, dropped Sonya off at her mother’s, and got to work. Igor’s things were neatly arranged in the closet: suits, shirts, his favorite leather jacket that cost twenty thousand. Marina took it all out and laid it across the bed.
Exactly at two o’clock, the doorbell rang.
Marina peered through the peephole—Igor was standing there with a bouquet of flowers and a guilty expression. Interesting. Were the flowers for her, or had he just forgotten to toss them on the way?
“Hi,” he said as he stepped into the entryway, glancing around as if he expected an ambush. “I’m here for my things.”
“Yes, yes, of course, come in,” Marina said, putting on the friendliest smile she could manage. “Everything’s ready.”
Igor grew wary. He was clearly expecting hysterics, broken dishes, tears, accusations. But this calm—something about it felt unnatural.
“So… uh… how are you?”
“Wonderful!” Marina spread her hands. “I’ve never felt better, honestly. Want some tea?”
“No, thanks, I’ll be quick.” He walked into the bedroom and stopped in the doorway.
His things really were laid out neatly. Too neatly. All the suits were on hangers, but… something was off. Igor stepped closer and looked.
Every button had been carefully cut off each jacket and pair of trousers. The shirts too. The jeans had gaping holes where the zippers used to be. The leather jacket looked untouched, but when he picked it up, he discovered all the inner pockets had been cut out.
“Marina!” he barked, storming into the hallway. “What is this—kindergarten?!”
“What is it, darling?” she said, standing by the mirror, painting her lips a bright red as if she were getting ready for a date.
“You ruined all my clothes!”
“Ruined?” Marina turned to him with innocent eyes. “I just… updated them. You said you were tired of your old style. Now you’ll have a new one—no buttons, no zippers. Fashionable, by the way. They dress like that in Paris.”
“You’ve lost your mind!”
“Maybe,” she shrugged. “But you wanted ‘normal,’ didn’t you? Here it is. I’m not yelling, I’m not crying, I’m not smashing plates. I just did a little work with scissors. A creative impulse, you know.”
Igor went purple. The veins in his neck bulged like a bodybuilder’s onstage.
“You’ll pay for this! I’ll sue you!”
“Go ahead,” Marina said, pulling out her phone and taking photos of his flushed face. “Just keep in mind: this is my apartment. I inherited it from my grandmother before we got married. Your things were on my property. I had every right to do what I wanted with what was inside my home.”
“Oh, go to hell!”
“To where, Igor?” She tilted her head. “To Lena’s, maybe? Oh—right. Send her my regards. And tell her I’ll drop by myself soon. We have so many shared memories, don’t we? We should catch up, sit down, have a heart-to-heart.”
Igor grabbed his things and started stuffing them into a bag.
“You were always crazy—I just didn’t notice.”
“And you were always a weakling who couldn’t keep his word,” Marina shot back. “Remember how you swore you’d be faithful? ‘Only death will part us’—your words, weren’t they?”
“People change!”
“Uh-huh. Especially when they see their friend’s big butt in tight jeans.”
Igor froze with the bag in his hands. Something like shame flickered across his face, but he quickly pulled himself together.
“Lena understands me. She gives me what you couldn’t.”
“What, intimacy on the kitchen table?” Marina laughed. “Sweet Igor, I offered you that five years ago. You said it was unhygienic.”
“It’s not about intimacy!”
“Then what is it? That she echoes everything you say and tells you how smart and successful you are? God, I did that for eight years! You just got used to it and stopped noticing.”
He yanked the zipper on the bag and headed for the door.
“You know what, Marina? I’m sorry we ended like this. But I’m even more sorry I wasted so many years on you.”
That hit harder than she expected. Marina felt a lump rise in her throat, her eyes betraying her, filling with moisture. But she didn’t let herself break down. Not now. Not in front of him.
“Just go,” she said quietly. “And take your shoes from the entryway.”
Igor put them on and slammed the door. Marina remained standing in the middle of the hallway, arms wrapped around herself. The silence was deafening. Slowly she slid down the wall to the floor and buried her face in her knees.
She cried for a long time—so long that it got dark outside. The tears poured out on their own, washing away the pain, the resentment, the humiliation.
How could she not have seen it? How could she have been so blind? Lena… her best friend from university. They shared everything—secrets, clothes, problems. And now they were sharing a man.
The phone vibrated. A message from her mother: “Marina, Sonya keeps asking when you’re coming. She’s worried.”
Marina wiped her face on her sleeve and stood up. Enough. Enough being a victim. She had a daughter who needed a strong mother, not a wreck.
A week later, Marina stood at Lena’s apartment door with a bottle of wine and a box of chocolates. She rang the bell and put on the brightest smile.
Lena opened the door, stunned. Hair loose, light robe—Igor was clearly nearby.
“Marina? What… why are you here?”
“Hi, bestie!” Marina held out the wine. “I decided to stop by and talk. We’re adults, right?”
Lena took the bottle uncertainly and stepped aside to let her in. Igor was sitting on the couch in boxers and a T-shirt, staring at his phone. When he saw Marina, he jumped up like he’d been scalded.
“What are you doing here?!”
“Visiting my friend,” Marina said, settling into an armchair and crossing her legs. “Igor, don’t just stand there—pour us some wine.”
“Marina, listen,” Lena started, nervously tugging at the edge of her robe. “I understand what you’re feeling…”
“Do you?” Marina turned to her. “And what exactly am I feeling?”
“Well… hurt, anger…”
“And relief,” Marina added. “You know, Lena, thank you. Seriously. You took a burden off me that I didn’t even realize I was carrying.”
Igor and Lena exchanged glances.
“What burden?” he asked carefully.
“You, darling. For eight years I hauled that cart. I cooked, I washed, I raised our child, I worked. And you… you just existed. You ate my food, wore my freshly washed shirts, complained about being tired after work—even though I worked even more.”
“That’s not true!”
“It is true, Igor. And the funniest part is that I convinced myself it was how things were supposed to be. That it was normal. But now you’re gone, and you know what? It’s easier. I cook only for me and Sonya. I don’t have to listen to you whining about your boss. I sleep because you’re not snoring next to me.”
Marina stood and walked over to Lena.
“So thank you, my friend. Now he’s your problem. Enjoy.”
She headed for the door, then turned back.
“Oh—and one more thing. Igor really hates fish on Thursdays. And his snoring isn’t just snoring—he has sleep apnea, but he refuses to see a doctor. And he’s used to someone else pulling his socks out from under the couch. Good luck, lovebirds.”
The door closed. Marina walked down the stairs and, for the first time in a month, smiled for real. A new life was ahead. Without betrayal, without Igor, without fake friends. Just her and Sonya. And it was wonderful
