Why should I leave? This is my home. My apartment, bought in equal shares. My life.
If Anton is making plans for the future without me, he should tell me to my face.
And I wanted to hear it from him. Honestly. Directly. Without pretense.
I took a deep breath, washed my face with cold water, put on clean clothes, and started gathering the documents I might need: my passport, my employment contract, my bank statements. Not because I was planning to run away. But because something inside me told me: we were in for a conversation. One that would change everything.
About an hour had passed when I heard the key turn in the lock.
I stayed in the hallway.
Dora, with her back straight and her arms crossed.
She was ready. Or at least, she was trying to be.
Anton went in first. He saw me and shuddered.
“Are you… at home?” He seemed confused.
“Where do you think I should be?” My voice sounded calm. An unreal calm, like before a storm.
He looked around, as if checking if his mother was nearby. Apparently, he had been expecting a more relaxed conversation.
“Listen, Lena…” he began tensely, “we need to talk.”
“Yes,” I agreed. “We really need to talk.”
But first, Anton… how is Tanya?”
Pale as if he had been stabbed.
“Which Tanya? What are you talking about…?”
“The same,” I interrupted. “‘Minister,’ ‘modest.’ The kind your mother approves of.”
Her eyes opened wide.
“Were you… were you listening?!” My voice rose to a shriek.
“Yes,” I said softly, without blinking, without blinking. “I was listening. And I should be grateful. Otherwise, I’d still think I have a husband who loves me.”
Anton ran his hand over his face. I saw he was searching for something to say. An excuse. An escape.
But then something unexpected happened.
He straightened up. As if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. His face became strangely calm. Cold, even.
—Well, since you heard everything… then let’s not beat around the bush, Lena.
Yes. I have doubts about our marriage.
Yes. I don’t know if I want to continue.
