Galina unlocked the door to her apartment and instantly felt how drained she was. The workday had been brutal. The office heating had broken down, so she’d spent the entire day sitting in her jacket, hands going numb with cold. Then her boss tore into her over a report that was supposed to be finished yesterday. And on the bus, some guy stepped on her foot and didn’t even bother to apologize.
She slipped off her coat and hung it on the hook in the hallway. Autumn had been miserable this year—wet, raw, and gloomy. Leaves clung to the bottoms of her shoes, and the streets had turned into a muddy mess. Galina tugged off her boots and set them on the mat.
From the room ahead came the sound of the TV. Nikolai was home, of course. Where else would he be? He’d been out of work for half a year. Every day looked the same: sofa, television, refrigerator. Sometimes the computer—where her husband played games or scrolled through social media.
Galina walked into the kitchen. The sink was filthy, dishes piled up. Bread crumbs were scattered across the table, and an empty jam jar sat there like a little insult. Nikolai had eaten again and left everything behind. The usual.
She opened the fridge, took the last piece of cheese and some bread, and made herself a sandwich. Put the kettle on. Sat down and glanced at the calendar. The utility bill was coming due soon. And once again, she’d be the one paying.
The two-room apartment had belonged to her parents. After they died, the silence in the place felt unbearable—and that was when Nikolai entered her life. They met through mutual friends at work. Back then, he seemed like a decent man. He was an engineer, talked about projects and plans, sounded like someone with a future. Galina trusted him. Six months later, they were married.
The first year really was fine. Nikolai worked, helped around the house, cooked dinner. Then the problems began. First he said he was tired of his boss. Then he quit, promising he’d find something better. One month passed, then two, then three. Nikolai kept “finding himself.” He talked about starting his own business, doing something big. But it never went beyond talk.
Galina endured it. She told herself it was temporary, that he’d get back on his feet and everything would fall into place. But six months went by, and Nikolai was still at home. He didn’t check job ads, didn’t send out resumes. Instead, every day he announced a new “genius idea” that was definitely going to pay off.
Meanwhile, money kept vanishing. Galina worked as a manager in a small company. Her salary was average—enough to live on, but nothing extra. Nikolai spent like there were no limits. Cigarettes, beer, little purchases that added up. Galina started noticing cash missing from her wallet. At first it was two hundred, three hundred rubles. Then a thousand at a time. She asked her husband. Nikolai brushed it off, swore he hadn’t touched anything. But who else could it be?
His mother, Tamara Fyodorovna, lived across town. She didn’t come often, but when she did, she always brought opinions and instructions. When Galina complained about her son, his mother only waved her hand.
“Just put up with it, Galya. He’ll rise again. Men are like that—they need time to find themselves.”
“But it’s already been six months.”
“So what? The most important thing is that the family stays strong. You love him, don’t you?”
Galina stayed silent then. Did she love him? Once, yes. Now… now it was more irritation than love.
Tamara Fyodorovna always defended her son. She said Galina was too demanding, that Nikolai needed freedom. But what freedom was there to give when he was simply doing nothing?
Galina finished her tea and stood up. She went into the living room. Nikolai was stretched out on the couch, staring at his phone. Some movie played on TV.
“Nikolai, did you do anything at all today?” Galina asked.
He didn’t even look up.
“I did. I looked for vacancies.”
“And? Find anything?”
“Nothing suitable yet.”
Galina exhaled slowly. That excuse again—nothing suitable. As if “suitable” meant a director’s position with a huge salary.
“Nikolai, maybe you should take any job for now. Just temporarily. Until you find what you want.”
At last, Nikolai lifted his eyes from the phone.
“Gal, what job? A warehouse loader? I have a university degree.”
“So what? Better to be a loader than not work at all.”
“I’m not going to humiliate myself.”
“Humiliate yourself?” Galina’s fists tightened. “And living off my money isn’t humiliating?”
“It’s temporary. I’ll find something soon.”
“You’ve been saying that for six months.”
Nikolai turned away.
“Enough. I don’t want to argue.”
Galina left the room. Pointless. Every time it was the same—promises, excuses, and nothing ever changed.
Another week passed. Galina came home from work on Friday. The day had been especially terrible. Her boss had caused another scene, a coworker pinned her own mistake on Galina, and payroll was delayed at accounting. Her mood was dead.
She opened the apartment door and heard voices. Nikolai was talking to someone. Galina stepped into the living room. Her husband sat on the couch, and in the armchair beside him was a girl she’d never seen before—young, maybe twenty-five. Bleached blonde hair, tight jeans, a bright top.
“Oh, Galina’s home,” Nikolai said. “Meet Lena. My… friend.”
Galina froze in the doorway.
“Friend?”
“Yeah. We met online. Lena’s looking for work too, so I’m helping her with advice.”
Lena smiled and gave a little wave.
“Hi.”
Galina nodded.
“Hi.”
She went into the kitchen, poured a glass of water, and drank it in one go. What nonsense was this? Friend? Nikolai had never mentioned any “friends.” Galina walked back into the room.
“Nikolai, can I talk to you for a minute?”
He came out into the hallway.
“What now?”
“Who is she?”
“I told you—my friend.”
“Since when do you have friends like that?”
“So what? We’re just talking.”
“In my apartment?”
“Where else? She rents a room. We can’t go there.”
Galina pressed her lips together.
“Nikolai, I don’t like this.”
“Oh, relax. Nothing’s going on. We’ll have some tea and that’s it.”
Galina wanted to answer, but Nikolai was already back in the room. Lena sat there scrolling on her phone. Nikolai dropped onto the couch beside her.
“Anyway, Lenka, I told you about that opening—sales manager. Exactly what you wanted.”
Lena nodded.
“Yeah, thanks. I’ll check it out.”
Galina stood in the doorway watching them. Something felt wrong. Nikolai was too animated. Too attentive. The way he looked at Lena was… not casual.
“Fine. I’m going,” Galina said, and went to the bedroom. She shut the door, lay down, and closed her eyes. Her head hurt. She wanted the day to end.
Half an hour later, Lena left. Nikolai came into the bedroom.
“What are you acting like a child for? Offended?”
Galina opened her eyes.
“I’m not offended. I’m tired.”
“Right.”
He walked out. Galina stayed there, thinking. What next? Living like this was impossible. Nikolai sat at home, spent her money, and now he was bringing women into the apartment.
On Monday, Galina came home early. Her boss let her go because there wasn’t much to do. The moment she opened the door, she heard laughter—a woman’s laughter. Galina went into the living room. Nikolai and Lena were on the couch. Close. Too close.
“What is this?” Galina asked.
Nikolai jumped up.
“Oh—Gal. You’re early.”
“I’m asking what’s happening here.”
“Nothing. Lena stopped by. We decided to talk.”
Lena stood too, smoothing her hair.
“I should go, probably.”
“Yes. You should,” Galina said coldly.
Lena grabbed her bag and hurried out. Nikolai watched her go, then turned to his wife.
“Why did you do that?”
“Why did I do that? Nikolai, are you out of your mind? You bring some girl into my apartment!”
“She’s not ‘some girl.’ She’s Lena.”
“I don’t care what her name is. I don’t want to see her here.”
Nikolai frowned.
“You know what, Galina? I’m sick of your complaints. What, am I not allowed to do anything at all?”
“You are. Find a job, for example.”
“Not this again! You’re like a parrot!”
“Because you’ve been sitting at home for six months!”
Nikolai stepped closer.
“Maybe I found someone who understands me. Someone who doesn’t nag and accuse. Someone who’s just… there.”
Galina went still.
“What are you talking about?”
Nikolai smirked.
“I’m saying I have someone else now. So get out.”
For a few seconds Galina stood blinking, not believing what she’d heard. Then she laughed—loudly, from the gut. Nikolai looked confused.
“What’s wrong with you?”
“Perfect,” Galina said when the laughter faded. “There’s a suitcase in the hallway. Pack.”
“What?”
“You heard me. Pack your things and leave.”
Nikolai’s face tightened.
“Gal, I was joking. You misunderstood.”
“Very funny. Especially after you’ve lived off my money for six months.”
“Galina, I—”
“Pack,” she repeated.
Galina went into the bedroom, opened the closet, and pulled down Nikolai’s travel bags from the top shelf. She carried them to the hallway and dropped them on the floor.
“Here. Put your stuff in.”
Nikolai stood in the doorway staring at her.
“Are you serious?”
“Completely.”
“Galina, listen—”
“No, you listen,” she said, stepping toward him. “I’ve put up with you for half a year. Half a year you’ve done nothing. You spend my money. You steal from my wallet. And now you bring girls here and announce you’ve got someone else. Enough. Leave.”
“But I have nowhere to go.”
“Not my problem. Go to your mother. Or go to your Lena.”
Nikolai clenched his fists.
“You’re kicking me out? Of my home?”
“Of my home,” Galina corrected. “This apartment is mine. I inherited it from my parents. You just lived here.”
“But… I’m your husband.”
“For now,” she said. “But we’ll fix that soon.”
Galina went back into the bedroom and started pulling his clothes from the closet—sweaters, shirts, socks—stuffing them into the bags. Nikolai stood there watching.
“Galina, don’t…”
“Yes. I do.”
“Where am I supposed to go?”
“Your problem.”
When she finished, she zipped the bags and carried them into the hallway.
“That’s everything. Now take your shoes and coat. Leave your keys.”
Nikolai didn’t move.
“Galina, wait. Let’s talk.”
“There’s nothing to talk about. You said it yourself—you’ve got someone else. So go.”
“I told you, I was joking!”
“And I’m not. Get out.”
Nikolai finally understood she meant it. Slowly he walked to the bags and picked one up.
“You’ll regret this.”
“No. I won’t.”
He took the second bag, put on his coat, pulled on his shoes, and dropped the keys onto the shelf by the door.
“Fine. I’m sick of this place anyway.”
“Goodbye, Nikolai.”
He opened the door and left, slamming it behind him. Galina stayed where she was, pressed her back to the wall, and exhaled. Done. Finally done.
She walked into the living room and sat on the couch. Silence. For the first time in six months, the apartment was quiet. No television blaring. No refrigerator door banging. No endless phone chatter.
She took her phone and called her best friend, Vera. They’d been friends since school, and Vera always told the truth straight, no sugarcoating.
“Gal! Hi! How are you?”
“Ver… I threw him out.”
“Finally! Thank God! I was starting to think you’d tolerate that parasite forever.”
“He said he has someone else. Just like that.”
“Unbelievable! He’s living on your neck and still has time to cheat.”
“That’s what I thought. I told him to pack and leave.”
“Good for you. Long overdue. Where did he go?”
“No idea. Not my problem.”
“Exactly. Listen—tomorrow? Let’s meet up, go somewhere, celebrate your freedom.”
“Let’s do it.”
Galina ended the call and walked around the apartment. Nikolai hadn’t taken everything. A few shirts, socks were still in the closet. She gathered it into a bag—she’d toss it, or donate it.
In the kitchen she cleaned up the dishes, washed the sink, wiped down the table. The apartment instantly looked neater, lighter. Galina poured herself tea and sat by the window, watching the autumn city—streetlights glowing, leaves swirling in the wind.
Her phone rang. Tamara Fyodorovna. Galina sighed and answered.
“Galina, what happened? Kolya called—said you kicked him out!”
“I did. He told the truth.”
“How can you? You’re husband and wife!”
“Were. Not anymore.”
“But why? What happened?”
“Tamara Fyodorovna, your son hasn’t worked for six months. He lives on my money. He steals from my wallet. And today he brought a girl into my apartment and announced he has someone else. That’s all.”
“What girl? Kolya isn’t like that!”
“He is, Tamara Fyodorovna. Exactly like that.”
“Galya, you understand—he needs time. He’s searching for himself.”
“Six months is enough. I’m not waiting anymore.”
“Where will he go?”
“To you. Or to his Lena. I don’t care.”
“Galya, you’re a kind woman. Forgive him. Give him another chance.”
“No. The decision is final.”
“But—”
“Sorry, I have to go. Goodbye.”
Galina ended the call and set the phone down. She knew her mother-in-law would call again, but she had no intention of answering.
That evening Galina went to bed early. For the first time in a long while, she slept peacefully—without Nikolai’s snoring, without the dread that she’d have to feed him again tomorrow and listen to excuses.
In the morning she got up, ate breakfast, got dressed, and went to a locksmith. She found a technician who worked weekends. He arrived within an hour and changed the front-door lock. Galina paid him and saw him out.
“Now I’m safe,” she told herself, clicking the new lock shut. “Nikolai definitely won’t come back.”
On Monday Galina took a day off and went to court. She filed for divorce. In the paperwork she stated there was no jointly acquired property: the apartment belonged to her by inheritance from her parents and had been obtained before the marriage. Nikolai had no rights to the home.
The clerk accepted the documents.
“The hearing will be in a month. You’ll receive notice by mail.”
“Thank you.”
Galina left the courthouse feeling lighter, as if a heavy load had slid off her shoulders. No more tolerating. No more forgiving. No more waiting. It was decided.
On the way back, she stopped at a café and ordered coffee and a pastry. She sat by the window watching people hurry past—talking on phones, staring at the ground, rushing through their own lives.
Her phone buzzed. A message from an unknown number. She opened it.
“Galya, it’s Kolya. Forgive me. I was wrong. Let’s talk.”
Galina deleted the message and blocked the number. There was nothing to talk about.
That evening Vera came over with a bottle of wine and chocolate.
“So, free woman—how does it feel?”
“Good,” Galina smiled. “Very good.”
“I’m happy for you. Nikolai’s a parasite—sat on your back and still had the nerve to demand things.”
“Yeah. But it’s over now.”
“Is he trying to come back?”
“He wrote, apologized. I blocked him.”
“Good. Don’t cave. People like that don’t change. They always go back to their old ways.”
Galina poured wine into two glasses.
“You know, Ver… I keep thinking how much time I wasted on him. Half a year I tolerated it, hoping he’d change. And he only got worse.”
“It happens. The main thing is you stopped in time. Some women tolerate it for years.”
“True. It could’ve been worse.”
“Exactly. And now your whole life is ahead of you—free, without freeloaders.”
Vera raised her glass.
“To your freedom!”
Galina clinked glasses.
“To freedom.”
A few weeks passed. Nikolai stopped writing. Tamara Fyodorovna called once or twice, but Galina didn’t pick up. Then the calls ended.
Galina came to court alone. Nikolai didn’t show. The judge read the case and questioned her.
“Are you certain about your decision?”
“Yes, Your Honor.”
“No joint property?”
“No. The apartment is mine. Inherited before the marriage.”
“Very well. The marriage is dissolved. You can collect the certificate in a month.”
Galina left the courtroom. That was it. Officially free. No Nikolai, no promises, no excuses.
Outside, a thin rain drifted down. Galina opened her umbrella and headed toward the metro. On the way, she stopped at a store and bought groceries. That evening she planned to cook something delicious—for herself. Just because.
At home she unpacked the bags, turned on music, and started cooking. She chopped vegetables, seared meat. The apartment filled with warm, comforting smells.
Her phone rang. An unfamiliar number. Galina answered.
“Hello?”
“Galina Petrovna? This is Lena. Do you remember me?”
Galina tensed.
“I do. What do you need?”
“I wanted to apologize. For what happened. I didn’t know Nikolai was married. He told me he was divorced.”
“I see.”
“I’m really sorry. I’m not that kind of person. I just believed him.”
Galina sighed.
“Lena, he lied to you. He lied to me too. So don’t beat yourself up. It’s all in the past.”
“Thank you for understanding. And… I want to tell you—we broke up. He turned out to be nothing like he pretended.”
“Not surprised.”
“Yeah. Anyway… I’m sorry again. Take care.”
“You too.”
Galina ended the call and smirked. So Lena had figured him out too—and quickly. Smart girl.
Dinner turned out great. Galina set the table, lit candles, and sat down to eat, enjoying every bite. Quiet. Peace. No one bothering her.
After dinner she cleaned up, brewed tea, and sat by the window again. The city glowed beyond the glass—lights in the opposite buildings, cars sliding through wet streets, a few pedestrians under umbrellas.
Life went on. Without Nikolai. Without empty promises. Without endless waiting. For the first time, Galina felt like she was living for herself—not for someone else, not for a hope that things would magically change. Just living.
Her phone buzzed again. A message from Vera.
“How’s it going? Did court happen?”
“Yes. It’s done. I’m free.”
“Yesss! Celebrating tomorrow?”
“Let’s do it.”
Galina put the phone away, finished her tea, and walked through the apartment. Everything was in place. Clean, cozy, calm—exactly how it should be.
In the bedroom, she pulled a box of old photographs from the closet. She sorted through them and found the ones with Nikolai. She tore them up and tossed them in the trash. She didn’t need them anymore.
She went to bed, pulled the blanket up, and closed her eyes. For the first time in a long time, she didn’t think about problems, money, or how she’d feed the freeloader tomorrow. She simply slept.
In the morning she woke up rested. Stretched, did a quick workout, ate breakfast, and got ready for work. A normal day lay ahead—but now it belonged only to her.
At work, a colleague noticed.
“Gal, you look different. Fresher.”
“Do I? Maybe autumn is working its magic.”
“Or did something good happen?”
Galina smiled.
“Maybe.”
At lunch, Vera called.
“I was thinking—maybe you should take a vacation. Recover from all this.”
“Not a bad idea. I’ll think about it.”
“Think. And tonight we’re meeting, right?”
“Right.”
That evening Galina met Vera at a café. Her friend brought a gift—a small box.
“This is for you. For your new life.”
Galina opened it. Inside was a bracelet—silver, with a tiny stone.
“It’s beautiful. Thank you.”
“Wear it. Let it remind you that you did the right thing and you made it through.”
Galina slipped it onto her wrist.
“I did.”
“And now your whole life is ahead.”
“Yes. My whole life.”
Vera lifted her glass.
“To your freedom. To your new life. And to never tolerating parasites again.”
Galina clinked glasses.
“To freedom.”
They sat, talked about plans, work, life. Galina mentioned the idea of a vacation.
“Maybe the sea,” she said. “Or the mountains.”
“Anywhere you want. The only thing that matters is that you like it.”
“I’ll decide. I’ve got time now. No one to feed. No one to clean up after.”
“Exactly. Enjoy it.”
Galina got home late. Opened the door—silence. Her favorite silence. She undressed, went to the bedroom, lay down, and closed her eyes.
Everything had settled. Nikolai was in the past. Ahead were only her plans, her desires, her life—without freeloaders, without empty promises, without waiting for change.
Galina smiled in the dark. It worked. Finally, it worked.
