«You… but you already left.»
«No. Marina and Andrei left. I stayed. I needed to see something I’ve known for a long time.»
«Vera, wait. It’s not what you think.»
«Egor, I’m not thinking. I know. I’ve known for three weeks. The burner phone in the shoebox. Every single text. Every word.»
«Where are my things?»
«In the hallway. Your mistress’s things are out there, too.»
«You went through my phone?! This is your fault! You pushed me to this! You with your controlling nature, with your constant suspicion!»
«Egor, lower your voice.»
«I will not lower my voice! This is my home!»
«This is my home. Purchased before we were married. With my money. With my father’s money. The documents are in the safe; feel free to check. You are a guest here. You *were* a guest.»
He fell silent. That information hit him harder than any shout. For four years, he had lived here believing the apartment was theirs. For four years, Vera hadn’t once reminded him whose it actually was—until this moment.
Diana appeared from the bedroom. Disheveled, wearing one of Egor’s T-shirts, her eyes wide with terror. She saw Vera and froze in the doorway.
«Vera…»
«Hi, Diana. Did you sleep well?»
«Vera, I can explain…»
«No, you can’t. Your things are in the hallway. Get dressed and get out. I have no intention of talking to you now, or ever again. As far as I’m concerned, you no longer exist.»
Diana started to shake. Her chin quivered, and her eyes filled with tears. She turned to Egor, looking for support, but Egor just stared at the floor.
«Egor, say something!»
«And what would he say?» Vera rose from the armchair. «He’s a coward. He’s always been a coward. He couldn’t tell me to my face that he had someone else. Instead, he sent me to Turkey just so he could bring you into my bed. Into my home.»
«Enough!» Egor stepped toward her, raising a hand. «Stop humiliating me!»
Vera didn’t back down. She caught his arm mid-air and delivered a sharp, stinging slap across his face. The sound echoed through the apartment. Egor recoiled, clutching his cheek, staring at his wife as if he were seeing her for the first time.
«Don’t you ever raise your hand to me. Never. Do you understand?»
He stood there, mouth agape. In four years, Vera hadn’t once raised her voice at him. She hadn’t once laid a finger on him. But now—that strike, that look, that tone—he realized he was facing an entirely different person. Or perhaps the same person, one he had never truly known.
At that moment, Tamara Nikolaevna stepped out of the kitchen. Egor saw his mother and slumped against the wall, sliding down into a squat.
«Mom…?»
«Yes, Egor. Mom. The one who sat in your kitchen all night listening to you snore in your wife’s bed with another woman.»
«Mom, you don’t understand…»
«I understand everything. I raised a fool. A greedy, cowardly fool who doesn’t value what he has. Vera is the best thing that ever happened to you. And you trampled on it.»
Taking advantage of the moment, Diana ducked into the bedroom and began dressing feverishly. A minute later, she was in the hallway.
Just then, the doorbell rang.
Vera opened it. Kirill, Diana’s husband, stood on the threshold. He was tall, broad-shouldered, with a face set in stone. He looked past Vera’s shoulder and saw his wife standing there with her shoes in her hands.
«Kirill?!» Diana dropped her shoes.
«It’s me, dear. Hello. Vera called me. Two hours ago.»
He entered the apartment—calmly, with a heavy presence, the way people walk when they have already made their decision. He saw Egor, standing in the corner of the hallway in his underwear, his cheek red. He walked right up to him.
«So, you’re the ‘family friend’.»
«Kirill, listen…»
Kirill didn’t listen. With a short, clean motion, he punched Egor in the jaw. Egor collapsed to the floor, hitting the back of his head against the baseboard. He tried to stand, but his legs gave out. Kirill stood over him, looking down.
«Don’t get up. That position suits you.»
«Kirill, please, I beg you—not here,» Diana rushed to her husband, hanging onto his arm. «Let’s go home, I can explain everything…»
«You won’t be explaining anything. We’re leaving. But not to go home. You’re going to your mother’s. I’m going to my place. It’s over.»
Diana sobbed. Kirill took her by the elbow and led her to the door. Egor lay on the floor, pressing a hand to his face. Blood was trickling from his lip. Tamara Nikolaevna stood in the kitchen doorway, crying softly and silently.
«Mom…» Egor wheezed.
«Don’t call me. Pack your bags and get out. Don’t come to my place. Not until you become a man.»
The apartment emptied out. Egor left—in wrinkled pants, with a split lip, dragging his trash bags behind him. Tamara Nikolaevna left after calling a taxi. Vera was left alone. She stripped the bed, shoved the linens into the washing machine, set it to ninety degrees, and sat in the kitchen.
She didn’t cry. The tears had run out three weeks ago, in the pantry, with the burner phone in her hands. Now there was something else—a strange, unfamiliar lightness. As if a cast she had been wearing for years, which she had mistaken for a part of her own body, had finally been removed.
Her phone rang. It was Marina.
«Ver, we’ve landed. How are you?»
«I’m free, Marina. It’s all over.»
«Did he confess?»
«He didn’t have to. I handled it myself. I’ll tell you when you get back. Get some rest.»
«I love you, sis.»
«I love you, too.»
Vera hung up. A phone vibrated on the table. Not hers. She picked it up—the screen was unlocked. It was Kirill’s phone. He had forgotten it on the kitchen table when he’d come in for water while washing his bruised hand.
A notification appeared on the screen. A message thread. Vera knew she shouldn’t look. But the phone was open, and her life had long since stopped playing by the rules.
She read it.
Kirill had been messaging three different women. Photos, plans for dates, bookings at country hotels. The oldest thread went back a year and a half. The man who had broken Egor’s face ten minutes ago for cheating had been cheating on his own wife for exactly as long as she had been cheating on him.
Vera smirked. Not with malice, not with spite—but with exhaustion. She took a picture of the screen, sent it to Diana, and put the phone back on the table.
A minute later, Diana called. Her voice was drenched in tears.
«Vera? What is this?»
«Kirill’s phone. He left it here. Everything is open. See for yourself.»
«He… he too?»
«Yes, Diana. He too. You wanted explanations and excuses—well, there’s your explanation. You and Kirill deserve each other.»
«Vera, I… I’m so ashamed…»
«You should have been ashamed sooner. When you were kissing me on the cheek at New Year’s and heading to my husband. We aren’t friends anymore. We aren’t anything at all. Goodbye.»
Half an hour later, Kirill called Vera.
«Hello, this is Kirill. I think I left my…»
«Phone. Yes. It’s on the table. You can come and get it. But I’m warning you—Diana has already seen your messages. All of them.»
The silence on the other end lasted a long time. Then, the line went dead.
Vera washed her mug, wiped down the table, and opened the balcony door. The morning air rushed into the apartment—fresh, sharp, with the taste of a new beginning. She dialed her father’s number.
«Dad, it’s me.»
«Verunya, did something happen?»
«It did. But it’s over. I’ve broken up with Egor.»
«It’s about time. Come over for lunch.»
«I will.»
She smiled—for the first time in three weeks. Not broadly, not joyfully—but truly. The way people smile when they’ve climbed out from under the rubble and finally seen the sky.
Two floors below, sitting on the landing, was Kirill. He had come for his phone, but he couldn’t bring himself to go in. He was dialing Diana’s number—the rings went out into the void. He dialed again—same result. The man who an hour ago had stood over Egor as a victor was now sitting on the cold stairs himself, lost, crushed by his own reflection in a stranger’s screen.
And Vera closed the balcony door, took her keys, and left her apartment. Without looking back. Without regret. Ahead of her was lunch at her father’s, a call from her sister in Turkey, and a long, honest, free life.
She was thirty-two years old. And everything was just beginning.
