— No, Oleg. Understand one thing: I’m not selling the apartment.
— But…
— No “buts”! — I felt everything boiling inside. I could hardly breathe from the rage. — This is MY apartment! My only inheritance! And you want me to sell it to cover YOUR debts?! Debts you didn’t even tell me about?!
I froze. My hand was raised, the fork was stuck in midair, and the potato, as if in a drama, slapped back onto the plate, leaving a greasy stain on our tablecloth—the very one we had bought from IKEA to celebrate our new life. Back then, Oleg had said, “This will be the symbol of our new beginning.” A symbol. Ha.
— What… what did you say? — My voice sounded as if I didn’t recognize the speaker. It wasn’t me. Something inside trembled, and I realized this wasn’t just a conversation—it was something much more important.
Oleg leaned back in his chair, as he always did when he had something unpleasant to say. His gaze darted around the kitchen, deliberately avoiding mine. He always did that when he started lying or leaving something unsaid. How had I not noticed it before?
— Anya, you heard me, didn’t you? — he said calmly, too calmly to avoid arousing suspicion. — I got laid off. We’ll sell your apartment, pay off my debts. It’s simple. We need to save ourselves.
I felt a heavy weight lodge in my chest. The world spun around me. This small kitchen, which until a minute ago had been my home, now felt alien, like an empty hospital corridor. The walls began to close in, and I realized: now I either stay here or I drown.
— But how… why? — the words struggled out. — You said everything was fine. That you were valued, that… that, damn it, what’s going on?!
Oleg waved his hand irritably, as if my questions were a waste of time.
— What’s the difference! It’s already happened. Now we need to solve the problem.
— The problem? — I felt a fury rising from within. Anger burned, filling my chest and making my voice tremble. — And your solution is to sell MY apartment?
— And what do you propose? — Oleg exploded, his face turning alien and unpleasant, as if he were someone else. — I’m in debt for three million! You want me to end up in jail?
I stood there, stunned. Three million?! God, where did he get such debts? We always lived modestly, almost miserably. Or did we? Maybe I had overlooked something? Or refused to see it?
— Oleg… — I said slowly, forcing myself not to break down. — Explain to me. Right now. Where did these debts come from?
He averted his eyes and drummed his fingers on the table. Knock—knock—knock. That sound echoed in my head like a hammer on a coffin lid. Knock—knock—knock. It was like the funeral of my marriage. The funeral of trust. The funeral of the life I thought I knew.
— Anya, you do understand… — he began quickly and nervously, his words jumbling as if he were trying to convince himself. — First, I miscalculated the loan just a bit. Then I decided to “make up for it”… And that’s it—it all spiraled out of control.
— Spiraled out of control?! — I nearly choked on that phrase. My ears rang. The room swam before my eyes, and I clutched the edge of the table to avoid collapsing. — Oleg, were you gambling? At the slot machines?
He leapt up, dashing around the kitchen like a cornered animal, his eyes filled with panic.
— What does it matter?! The main thing is—we have to fix the problem!
— No. Stop. — I stood my ground, not letting him pass. My legs wavered, but I forced myself to stand straight. — You’re going to tell me everything. Every single detail.
An hour later, I was sitting in the kitchen, my head in my hands. Three years. A whole three years! He had hidden his passion for gambling from me—losing his salary, borrowing money from friends, taking out loans. And I, foolishly, thought I was the one at fault: that I wasn’t good at saving, that I was bad at managing a household, so we were always short on money. Damn it!
Memories overwhelmed me like a tidal wave. There was the time Oleg said we’d wait for a baby—“we can’t afford it financially.” There was when I refused a trip to the seaside—“let’s save up instead.” And there I was in the store, scrutinizing price tags and counting pennies… while he, all this time…
— Anya, — Oleg knelt beside me. He reeked of sweat and some unfamiliar cologne. Where had he gotten it? And with whose money? — Anya, forgive me, I… I’ll fix everything. Honest promise! We’ll sell the apartment, clear my debts—and start anew. I’ll get a new job, work harder…
I lifted my head. Tears blurred my vision as I looked at his face—so familiar, so well-known… and yet behind it lay emptiness, an unfamiliar expression. How had I not seen that behind the mask was a completely different person?
— Sell the apartment? — I whispered. — MY apartment? The one my grandmother left me?
Immediately, my grandmother’s face appeared before my eyes. Her smile, her eyes full of wisdom. “Anya,” she used to say, “this is your fortress. Your support. No matter what happens—you will always have a roof over your head.” And now… that roof… is crumbling.
— So what are we supposed to do? — Oleg’s voice became pleading, even creaky. — Anya, please understand…
I stood up. My legs wavered, but I forced myself to stand tall. My grandmother’s face flashed in my mind, and I felt strength returning.
— No, Oleg. Understand one thing: I’m not selling the apartment.
— But…
— No “buts”!” — I felt everything boil inside me. I could hardly breathe with rage. — This is MY apartment! My only inheritance! And you want me to sell it to cover YOUR debts?! Debts you didn’t even tell me about?!
He abruptly stood and stepped toward me:
— Anya, come on—we’re family! We’re supposed to support each other in tough times!
I felt a chill. Next to him, I felt like a rabbit before a boa constrictor—about to be swallowed whole.
— Family, you say? — I smirked, a smirk bitterer than wormwood. — You know, Oleg, family is when you wear your soul on your sleeve, when you don’t hide your debts, your secrets… And you led me on all these years. You gambled away our money and never thought it would all come crashing down on us.
— I didn’t mean to! — His face contorted in despair. He looked like a character from a horror film. — I thought luck was just around the corner; I’d get everything back…
I shook my head. And suddenly, I felt a strange calm—as if a long-ailing part of my soul had finally found its place.
— No, Oleg. Enough. I can’t live like this anymore.
He paled.
— What… what do you mean?
I took a deep breath. My heart pounded wildly, and my temples throbbed. But I knew: there was no turning back.
— I’m filing for divorce, Oleg.
— What?! Anya, have you lost your mind?! — he grabbed me by the shoulders, his fingers digging into my skin. The pain was like a splinter, yet I barely felt it. — You can’t leave me! Not now! I need your help!
I shook off his hands, as if they were burning me like acid. He was always like that—soft when he needed something, and hard when he no longer saw a way out.
— No, Oleg. Enough. — I couldn’t tell what hurt more—his words or the years of enduring. — I will no longer let you manipulate me. You brought this mess on yourself, so now deal with it.
I turned and stepped into the hallway. Behind me, something crashed—he’d probably knocked something over, as he always did when things didn’t go his way. But I didn’t look back.
In the bedroom, I collapsed onto the bed, burying my face in the pillow. The pillowcase became damp immediately. Tears flowed uncontrollably. I cried like I hadn’t cried in ages, releasing all the pain, the disappointments—everything that had built up over the years. Fear? Yes, it was there too. But what was there left for it when the world was collapsing around me?
Through my sobs, I heard Oleg pacing in the apartment, muttering something, opening and closing drawers. And then, at some point, the front door slammed. Where was he off to? The casino? Borrowing money from friends? Or perhaps he’d set off on a rampage… what difference did it make now?
I couldn’t tell how long I sat in that silence. An hour? Two? Or an eternity? When your mind won’t stop racing, time becomes your enemy. Finally, I forced myself to get up. My legs wavered, and everything swam before my eyes like a dense fog. In the bathroom, I splashed cold water on my face. It was disgusting. Not at all like me.
“Pull yourself together,” I whispered to my reflection, though I didn’t really believe it. “You can do this. You’re strong.”
Returning to the bedroom, I grabbed a suitcase. My hands trembled as I packed—light underwear, jeans, sweaters… documents. A little cash—just in case Oleg decided to “contribute.” And then, that day arrived.
Suddenly, the doorbell rang. I froze. I wasn’t expecting anyone. I cautiously approached and peered through the peephole…
At the door stood Marina. And she wasn’t alone.
I flung open the door, and Marina smiled apologetically:
— Sorry for coming without warning. But… we have nowhere else to go.
Beside her stood two children—a boy of about six and a slightly younger girl, Misha and Katya. All three looked exhausted, lost. Marina’s eyes were red, as if she hadn’t slept in days.
I silently stepped aside, letting them into the apartment. A thought flashed through my mind—this is the wheel of fate. Who knows, maybe in six months I’d be standing on someone else’s doorstep, not knowing where to turn.
— Come in, — I said. — Let’s get some tea and sandwiches. And then… you can tell me everything.
Marina exhaled in relief. And suddenly I realized I was smiling—for the first time in months. Maybe… maybe life was just beginning.
While the children settled in the living room, Marina and I busied ourselves in the kitchen. She briefly explained—Oleg had returned, demanding money. Threatening. She had taken the children and left, wherever she could.
— I didn’t know who else to turn to, — she admitted. — Sorry for just showing up like this…
I shook my head.
— You did the right thing. You did exactly what you needed to do.
That night, lying awake, I thought about the twists of fate. Just six months ago, I had considered myself a happy wife. Then—betrayed, deceived, cornered… And now?
Now I felt strong. I had managed to stand without breaking. And, surprisingly, without hardening.
In the next room, Marina’s children slept softly. She herself slept on a fold-out sofa in the living room. And I… for the first time in a long while, I felt that everything would be okay.
No, not just okay. Everything would be RIGHT.
The morning light gently streamed through the window as Marina and I enjoyed the silence and fragrant coffee in the kitchen. The children were still dreaming, and the apartment was immersed in the calm of early hours.
Marina suddenly looked up from her cup, and something new flashed in her eyes.
— You know, — she began, lowering her voice as if sharing a secret, — I’ve always dreamed of opening my own little café. A cozy place, with homemade pastries…
I looked at her intently. There was a mix of timid hope and a long-nurtured desire in her words. It wasn’t just a passing fancy—this idea clearly meant something more.
Marina froze, as if struck by lightning. Her eyes widened, like a cat startled by a cucumber.
— Are you serious? — she blurted out, her voice trembling like a leaf in the wind. — Do you really think I can pull it off?
I stifled a laugh. Beneath her feigned calm lay a storm of doubts. It was evident that every step, every word was hard for her. But this moment… it was important. Very important.
— And why not? — I replied, determined not to lose face. — Let’s figure out how to make it happen.
Marina set her cup down on the table as if it might jump out of her hands. She drew a deep breath, as if about to plunge headfirst into a deep pool.
— You know, — she began softly, almost like a mouse under a broom, — I’ve mulled over this idea from every angle. Every little detail, every scent… But I always found excuses, reasons why it was nothing but a foolish notion.
I gazed at her, unable to tear my eyes away. Despite her exhaustion, a small spark ignited in her gaze—a weak spark, like a candle in the wind, but still alive.
And then it hit me like a sledgehammer: this conversation could turn everything upside down—both her life and mine.
Marina blinked in surprise.
— You… you really will help?
I smiled.
— Of course. We’re now… — I hesitated, searching for the right word. — We’re now family. Even if it’s an unusual kind, but family nonetheless.
Marina laughed softly—quiet enough not to wake the children. And I thought—here it is, a new beginning. Not the one I had imagined, but maybe even better.