Inna gazed out the window, raindrops weaving random trails across the glass. Seventeen years together — was that a lifetime or just a fleeting blink? Every moment, every smile, every disappointment — all etched in her mind. And now, it was all unraveling like a fragile tower of cards.
“We need to talk,” Alexey’s voice cut through the quiet, heavy and lifeless.
She turned slowly, meeting his eyes. There was a strange blend of resolve and remorse in them — the look of a man who had made up his mind.
“I’m leaving you, Inna. For Natasha.”
The room fell silent except for the ticking of an old clock, a keepsake from his mother.
“To the student from your faculty?” Her voice was steady, unshaken despite the storm within.
“Yes. My feelings are gone. I crave something new, something thrilling. You’re intelligent — you should understand.”
A bitter smile flickered across her lips. “Smart,” he always used that word when he wanted his way.
“Are you sure?” she asked softly, offering no further words.
“Completely,” he replied. “I’ve packed.”
She nodded faintly, then went to the cabinet and pulled out a bottle reserved for special occasions.
“Well then,” she said, uncorking it, “let’s celebrate. Invite your friends, your family. Seventeen years deserves a proper goodbye.”
Alexey blinked in disbelief. “You want to throw a party for our split?”
“Why not?” Inna smiled, cold and final. “Let’s send off our life together with style. After all, I am the clever one, remember?”
She began typing quickly on her phone. “Tomorrow at seven. I’ll cook your favorites. Consider it my farewell gift.”
Alexey stood stunned, expecting tears, anger, or pleading — anything but this composed acceptance.
“Oh, and tell Natasha she’s invited too. I want to meet the woman who reignited a spark I couldn’t.”
The next day, Inna moved with purpose. She contacted banks, met lawyers, and prepared paperwork with precision.
By evening, the apartment was filled with the scent of exquisite dishes. She set the table with care, arranging china gifted by her mother-in-law.
“Everything must be flawless,” she whispered.
Guests arrived punctually. His parents came first. Vera Pavlovna embraced Inna awkwardly.
“Innochka, maybe there’s hope?”
“No, Mama. Sometimes letting go is the right choice.”
Friends trickled in until Alexey and Natasha appeared last.
“Please, have a seat,” Inna invited, “Tonight, you are the guests of honor.”
Raising her glass, she addressed everyone.
“Friends, we are here to close one chapter and begin another.”
She turned to Alexey.
“Seventeen years, Lesha. The joys, the hardships — thank you. You taught me love comes in many forms.”
A hush fell. Natasha avoided eye contact.
“You also taught me to watch the details,” Inna said, pulling thick envelopes.
She spread documents — joint loans, unpaid taxes, receipts from lavish dinners and jewelry. “Trying to impress Natasha, perhaps?”
Alexey paled. Natasha looked up sharply.
“The best part,” Inna smiled sadly, “is the prenup you signed without reading. It covers infidelity.”
Time seemed to freeze.
“The house is mine,” Inna declared. “Accounts frozen. Divorce papers filed.”
She faced Natasha.
“Are you sure you want to be with a man drowning in debts and lies?”
Frozen, Natasha fled.
His mother shook her head.
“Lesha, how could you?”
“I don’t understand…” he started, but his father interrupted.
“Seventeen years is no small thing. What did you trade it for? A fling?”
Friends murmured, avoiding his gaze. Only Mikhail, his oldest friend, quietly said,
“You really messed up.”
Inna gathered her papers.
“A month ago, I could have lost it. Broken your car, torn your suits, ruined your career.”
“But instead,” she revealed a plane ticket, “I chose freedom. Tomorrow, the Maldives — a dream you always dismissed.”
She placed car keys on the table.
“The apartment sells this week. Accounts frozen until court rules.”
Alexey looked lost.
“What now?”
“Not my problem,” she said, grabbing her coat. “Funny thing — you woke me up. Life goes on without you.”
At the door, she paused.
“Goodbye, Lesha. Hope it was worth it.”
The door closed softly. Alone amid half-eaten meals and spilled wine, Alexey listened as her car engine started. Rain tapped the window again — the same rain from that night. But this time, no one watched the patterns on the glass.