Elena slowly wiped the fogged bathroom mirror and froze, staring intently at her reflection. Her once soft features now appeared sharp and angular. Her cheeks were hollowed out, and her eyes had lost their usual shine, becoming dull and lifeless. The illness had mercilessly altered her appearance, as if erasing all traces of her previous life. “I need to call Katya,” she thought, repeating the thought to herself. Her niece had to know the truth, even though it would be hard for both of them.
From the living room came the muted sounds of a football match—Pavel was once again engrossed in watching the game, sprawled out on the couch with his feet up on the coffee table. There were probably crumbs from chips scattered around him, his usual snack while watching TV. Elena sighed heavily, feeling the weight of an invisible burden pressing on her shoulders, and closed her eyes, trying to distance herself from reality, even if only for a moment.
This apartment had become a symbol of her years of sacrifice and hard work. She had purchased it long before meeting Pavel, paying off the mortgage over five long years. She worked two jobs, deprived herself of even the basics, saved on everything: eating only the simplest foods, avoiding any purchases for personal enjoyment, coming home late at night to sleep for only a couple of hours before going back to work at dawn. When she made the final payment, Elena couldn’t hold back the tears—these walls held the memories of sleepless nights, endless labor, and perseverance. She knew she had earned them at the cost of her life, and this apartment had become something more than just a home to her.
She and Pavel met by chance several years ago, in line for coffee. He won her over with his attention, ease in conversation, and caring nature. In the first month of their relationship, he showered her with flowers, cooked romantic dinners, and showed affectionate care. But then everything changed suddenly, as if someone had flipped a switch. The ideal man she had seen in him at first slowly disappeared, leaving behind someone who stopped caring about her life, and most importantly—her feelings.
“Elena, did you pay the internet bill? It’s acting up today,” Pavel’s voice called from the living room.
“Yes, I paid it on Monday,” Elena replied, stepping out of the bathroom. “Just restart the router.”
“It’s too far,” he lazily drawled. “Come over, you’re right there.”
Elena didn’t argue. She silently walked over to the router, which was flashing a red light, and pressed the reset button. These small, everyday things no longer irritated her. But today, after the doctor’s visit, every detail of their life together seemed to take on a sharper, more significant meaning.
“Stage four,” the doctor had said, avoiding eye contact. “Metastases in the liver and bones. There are treatment options, but we need to be realistic.”
Elena nodded, as if the doctor were simply giving the weather forecast instead of telling her how much time she had left to live. She had always been practical, and this diagnosis only confirmed her tendency to deal with problems step by step. Mentally, she began to make a list: write a will, check her insurance, talk to her niece Katya. Everything had to be organized, leaving nothing to chance.
“Elena, what’s for dinner?” Pavel called again.
“I don’t know, I didn’t cook today,” Elena replied, sitting down in the chair. “You can order takeout.”
“Again with the spending?” he muttered. “It’s your day off. You could’ve cooked something.”
Elena didn’t answer. Pavel truly believed that earning money was a woman’s responsibility. He, on the other hand, preferred to scrape by with occasional side jobs or dream up grand projects that never came to fruition. At first, Elena hadn’t paid much attention to it—she had learned to rely on herself. But over time, it became clear that Pavel wasn’t just lazy—he believed that his role in the family was to “find himself” while his wife ensured their comfort.
“You know, I went to the doctor today,” Elena said, looking at her husband’s profile.
“Mhm,” he grunted, not tearing his eyes from the screen.
“I have cancer.”
Pavel turned to her, furrowing his brow in confusion.
“What?”
“Cancer, Pavel. Stage four,” Elena repeated, keeping her voice calm.
He put the remote down and sat up straight on the couch, clearly shocked by what he had just heard.
“What do you mean stage four? Can it be treated somehow?”
“It’s possible, but the chances are slim. The doctor says time is measured in months.”
Pavel blinked a couple of times, then ran a hand through his hair, seemingly trying to process the information.
“Well, medicine’s advanced now… Maybe there’s some experimental treatment? Or something abroad?”
“It’s possible, but it’s expensive,” Elena said, watching him closely.
“You’ve got good insurance, right?” Pavel jumped up, starting to pace the room. “And you’ve got savings.”
There it was. Even now, after hearing about his wife’s terminal diagnosis, his first thought was money. Not about supporting Elena, but about solving the problem financially. And of course, it was she who was expected to bear the full responsibility for the treatment.
“Yes, there are savings,” Elena nodded.
“Well, good,” Pavel replied unexpectedly cheerfully. “That means we’ll get treatment. Everything will be fine, you’ll see.”
He awkwardly hugged her and quickly pulled away, as if afraid of catching something.
“Listen, I need to go meet Dimon. We have to discuss something for work,” Pavel already reached for his coat. “You’ll be fine, alright? I won’t be long.”
The door slammed shut before Elena could say anything. She was left alone in the silence of the apartment, with only the sound of cars outside.
A week later, the situation became even clearer. Pavel started staying out later, citing business meetings, although he had been working remotely from home for the past two years and hadn’t had any meetings. He smelled of unfamiliar perfume, and his phone was always turned face down, as if he were hiding something.
Elena didn’t make scenes and didn’t confront him. Why? After the doctor’s news, all these little things lost their meaning. But one night, waking up in the middle of the night, she heard Pavel talking softly on the balcony.
“Yeah, it’ll all be over soon,” he was saying to someone. “The doctor said I don’t have long. Yeah, of course, I’m upset, but what can you do… No, no, everything will go to me, we’re married. The apartment, the savings—everything will be mine…”
Elena froze, unable to believe her ears. So that’s how it is. He’s already planning for the future without her, managing the property she worked for, with all her sleepless nights and constant effort.
The next morning, when the sun had barely broken through the blinds, Pavel announced that he was going to visit an old friend at the dacha for a couple of days. He said it lightly, adding, “I need to clear my head, get some rest.” Elena just nodded silently, not lifting her eyes from the cup of coffee in her hands. Inside her, she already had a plan—clear and cold, like a winter morning.
As soon as Pavel closed the door behind him, Elena took out her phone and called Katya, her only niece. Her voice was steady, though there was an underlying tension she couldn’t hide:
“Come over, we need to talk seriously.”
Katya rushed over within the hour. She was worried, as such a tone from her aunt was very unusual. When Elena told her about the diagnosis, the young woman broke into tears but quickly composed herself, understanding that it was important to focus on what could be done.
“What can I do? How can I help?” Katya asked, wiping her tears.
“I need to write a will,” Elena said calmly, as though discussing something mundane. “And I want the apartment and all my savings to go to you.”
“What about Uncle Pavel?” Katya asked, her surprise genuine, but there was a trace of worry in her voice.
“Katya, he’s already planning for my property,” Elena smiled sadly, looking off into the distance. “While I’m on IV drips, he’s off with his new girlfriend, talking about how soon I’ll die and he’ll inherit everything.”
That same day, they went to a notary. Elena clearly expressed her wishes: everything she owned would go to Katya after her death. When they returned home, she logged into the government services portal and filed for divorce. A divorce with no property division, no further claims—just the formal end of a relationship that had long been nothing but a facade.
Surprisingly, after all these actions, Elena felt relief. It was as if she had shed a heavy burden that had been weighing on her for years, allowing her to breathe freely again. That evening, she even found the energy to cook dinner and start watching her favorite show, a show she had always wanted to watch but never found the time for.
Pavel returned three days later, refreshed and rested. He looked at his phone, confused by a notification about the filed divorce. At first, he thought it was a mistake or spam. Frowning, he reread the message several times, trying to understand what was going on.
“Elena!” he shouted as he walked into the apartment with his suitcase. “What’s this nonsense I got on my phone?”
Inside the apartment, silence reigned. Pavel walked into the kitchen, opened the fridge, and pulled out a bottle of beer. His phone pinged again, signaling the new updates. Frowning, he entered the government services portal.
“Is this some stupid joke?” he muttered, glancing at the screen. “She’s filed for divorce!?”
The document stated that there would be no division of property, as it was purchased before the marriage.
“What the hell?” Pavel stared at the screen, realizing he had lost control of the situation. The house, the savings—everything he thought was his.
Elena, however, was already far away, resting and spending time with Katya, enjoying a peace she hadn’t felt in years.