— Living in luxury, huh? — the ex sneered, though he still sends pathetic scraps for child support.
Veronika closed the bathroom door behind her and leaned against it, squeezing her eyes shut and taking a deep breath. Just five minutes. Five minutes of silence before the inevitable storm.
“Mom, Dad’s here!” Timofey’s excited voice pierced the quiet walls.
She ran her hands over her face and glanced in the mirror. Nothing special — just an ordinary 32-year-old woman with tired eyes, chestnut hair tied in a messy ponytail, no makeup. This was exactly how he hated seeing her the most.
“I’m coming, sweetheart!”
When she stepped into the living room, Boris was already settled on the new couch, legs crossed as if this was his rightful place, and she was just a temporary visitor. Timofey eagerly showed him his new toy.
“Hi,” Veronika said coolly.
Boris appraised her from head to toe with a sneer.
“Looks like you’re living quite well!” he remarked sarcastically, running his hand over the couch’s armrest. “Getting comfortable, huh? And still whining about child support.”
Veronika clenched her teeth. Not now. Not in front of her son.
“Tim, get your things ready,” she said, trying to keep her voice steady. “Don’t forget your book to read.”
The boy nodded and dashed to his room. Boris watched him go, then returned to his favorite topic.
“You complain about money, yet you’re buying furniture. Curious who’s footing the bill?” he raised an eyebrow mockingly.
“That’s none of your business,” Veronika snapped. “Five thousand a month isn’t child support — it’s humiliation. And you know it.”
“You won’t get a penny more. You wanted a divorce — deal with it,” he shrugged. “I warned you.”
Veronika turned away, hiding the tremble in her hands. Three years since the divorce, and he still seeks revenge. Every meeting, every conversation feels like a battle.
“Let’s keep it civil today,” she whispered. “Timofey’s been looking forward to this weekend with you.”
Boris stood up and stepped closer. The scent of expensive cologne mixed with self-satisfied anger.
“And what did you expect? That I’d smile and pretend I’m okay watching you destroy my life?” he hissed. “You ruined everything.”
“Ruined?” Veronika smiled bitterly. “The home where you’d come home at dawn? Where my opinion meant nothing? Where you controlled every step I took?”
“I loved you!” he shouted with such fury she instinctively stepped back. “And you threw it all away. And I’ll keep reminding you.”
At that moment, the door to Timofey’s room burst open and the boy ran out with his backpack.
“Dad, I’m ready!”
Boris’s face instantly changed — anger replaced by a strained smile.
“Good job, champ! Today’s going to be unforgettable!”
Timofey ran to his mother and hugged her tightly.
“Bye, Mommy.”
“See you tomorrow, sunshine,” Veronika kissed the top of his head. “Listen to Dad.”
She walked them to the door, waving goodbye to Timofey. Boris took his son’s hand without looking back and headed for the elevator. Just before it closed, he glanced back at her — that heavy, loaded look. This wasn’t over.
The door shut. Veronika sank slowly to the floor, pressed her back to the wall, and covered her face with her hands.
“He’s unbearable,” Anna muttered irritably, stirring her coffee. “How did you live with him so long?”
They sat in a cozy café near Veronika’s home. Timofey was with Boris, giving her a few hours of freedom.
“He wasn’t always like this,” Veronika said thoughtfully, staring out the window. “At first, things were different. Then… day by day, everything changed. I didn’t even notice how I was sinking.”
“But you found the strength to leave,” Anna placed a hand on her friend’s shoulder. “Many never do.”
“For Timofey,” Veronika nodded. “I didn’t want him growing up in a home where the mother is afraid to speak and the father controls every move.”
“And now he’s punishing you with those pathetic child support payments,” Anna shook her head. “Can’t you ask for more? Legally, he should be paying.”
Veronika took a sip of coffee.
“I could. But he works off the books and officially earns next to nothing. Legal battles drag on forever and the outcome is the same. Plus, he threatened to demand equal custody if I sue.”
“That’s blackmail,” Anna said sharply.
“He’s Timofey’s father,” Veronika replied quietly. “No matter what, Timofey loves him.”
Anna looked her friend squarely in the eyes.
“Ver, be honest — are you afraid of him?”
Veronika wanted to deny it but the lump in her throat stopped her. Was she afraid? Not physically — Boris never raised a hand. But the way he knows how to get under your skin, to knock the ground from beneath you with just a word or a look…
“Probably, yes,” she finally admitted. “I’m afraid he’ll never let go of the past. That this war will never end.”
“It ends when you stop fearing,” Anna squeezed her hand. “I went through the same thing with Igor. While I trembled at every word, he felt powerful. Then I just… stopped reacting.”
“Easy to say.”
“Not easy. But possible,” Anna smiled. “And you know where to start? With that very couch that hurts him so much.”
“What do you mean?” Veronika asked.
“Start living for yourself,” Anna explained. “Not to prove anything to him, but for you. Buy that lamp you’ve dreamed of. Get a new haircut. Sign up for classes. You’re free, you understand? He’s stuck in the past, but you’re not.”
Veronika thought about it. In a way, her friend was right. For three years she’d lived on edge, scrimping and saving just to avoid his accusations.
“Three years,” she whispered. “Three years I’ve been looking back at him.”
“It’s time to stop,” Anna said firmly.
At exactly seven o’clock, there was a knock at the door. Veronika opened it, and Timofey burst in, hugging her legs.
“Mommy! We rode rides! And Dad got me a huge toy truck!”
“That’s awesome!” she stroked his hair. “Go show me.”
The boy dashed to his room while Boris remained in the doorway, leaning against the frame. His eyes immediately caught the new lamp in the living room.
“Too much money?” he sneered.
Veronika suddenly felt something shift inside her. The exhaustion from endless defense and constant barbs overwhelmed her. How much longer?
“You know,” she looked him straight in the eyes, “you’re right. I’m living well. And it’s only going to get better. Because I deserve it.”
Boris was clearly not expecting that answer. He froze, as if unable to understand what just happened.
“You…”
“Thanks for bringing Timofey on time,” she cut him off calmly. “See you in two weeks.”
And she slammed the door right in his stunned face.
Timofey raced into his room, waving a huge red fire truck toy.
“Mom, look at this! It has a real siren and a telescoping ladder!”
Veronika smiled, crouching beside him.
“That’s an amazing toy! Dad picked out a great gift for you.”
The boy’s face shone with joy, and something tight squeezed Veronika’s heart. No matter how hard her relationship with Boris was, moments like these made it all worth it. Moments of pure, unconditional childhood happiness.