With an unusual force, Anna closed the archive cabinet door. Her phone had interrupted her three times within the last hour, each ring drilling into her patience like an unwelcome annoyance.
“Where are you hiding?” Mikhail’s voice shattered the quiet in the storage room. “Are you lost in those paper mountains again?”
Without lifting her gaze from the papers, Anna replied, “I’m working.”
“Working?” he scoffed harshly. “Sifting through dusty files for pennies. When will you realize this isn’t a career—just a shallow pastime for the defeated?”
Anna calmly retorted, “Those ‘papers’ are the guardians of our city’s heritage. Maybe you can’t grasp their worth.”
“Don’t be cheeky!” Mikhail snapped. “Your ‘history’ doesn’t pay. You’re trapped in fantasies!”
Ending the call quietly, Anna reflected on her six years dedicated to the local history archive. While colleagues respected her, and researchers sent letters of gratitude, Mikhail dismissed all as trivial “paper games.” To him, her honors degree and dissertation were mere ornaments and useless endeavors.
Suddenly, the door opened, revealing a poised woman in her forties excuding confidence.
“Excuse me, are you Anna Viktorovna? I’m Yekaterina, your husband’s former wife,” she introduced herself.
Surprised, Anna raised her eyebrows. “Oh! That’s unexpected. Please, come in. I hope this won’t turn into a dramatic confrontation.”
“No,” Yekaterina assured, scanning the room. “I’m sorry for the sudden visit but we have pressing matters. Where can we talk?”
Anna suggested a nearby café known for its quiet atmosphere, adding a request for peace.
Once seated, Yekaterina removed her gloves with grace and asked, “Has Mikhail mentioned me to you?” while stirring her tea.
“Yes,” Anna responded dryly. “He said we didn’t get along. A blunt summary, if I might say.”
“‘Incompatible’ is a polite way to put it,” Yekaterina smirked. “I was a literature lecturer for six years before meeting Mikhail. He admired my intellect and classical quotes, even called me his ‘muse’.”
Anna listened intently as Yekaterina continued.
“A year later, his tone changed. He called me a loser unable to earn real money, mocking my interest in ‘dead poets’. ‘Do something meaningful!’ he’d say.”
“Sounds familiar,” Anna commented with dry sarcasm. “His vocabulary is repetitive.”
“It’s deliberate,” Yekaterina explained. “He targets women like us—educated professionals. First, he praises our intellect, then systematically chips away at our confidence. Whether archivists, librarians, or teachers, it’s the same pattern—smart but branded ‘impractical’.”
“Why share this with me?” Anna asked, though the answer hung in the air.
“Because after our divorce, I returned to teaching, now leading a university department. I am far from a loser; I just lived with a man who made me feel that way.”
“What changed?” Anna inquired.
“Everything. Once his toxic voice is silenced, breathing freely becomes possible,” Yekaterina said with a knowing smile. “My students earn grants, my research is published in top journals. Meanwhile, Mikhail still devalues literature.”
“His disdain for the humanities remains steadfast,” Anna remarked, shaking her head.
“He fears educated women, but more so their independence,” Yekaterina added. “He must control you first, then break you down.”
Later, Pyotr Aleksandrovich—the archive director—entered with an official air, holding an envelope.
“Anna Viktorovna, I have an opportunity for you. The regional television is developing a documentary series on local history, seeking a consultant and scriptwriter,” he announced proudly.
Anna unfolded the letter to discover the payment was triple her usual monthly wage.
“They want you in particular,” Pyotr Aleksandrovich explained. “Your gift for transforming archives into engaging stories impressed the producers. The initial contract lasts a year, with potential for extension.”
“Quite tempting,” Anna admitted thoughtfully. “I need some time to decide.”
“This opportunity benefits not only you but the entire archive,” he said. “It will bring regional history to a broad audience, revealing the treasures within these walls.”
“You’re right,” Anna nodded. “It’s a chance to showcase the importance of our work.”
“And to dispel the notion that history is dull. In your hands, it truly comes alive,” he smiled.
At home, Anna cautiously shared the news with Mikhail, bracing for resistance. His reaction went beyond expectations.
“Have you lost your senses?” he exploded, standing abruptly. “You’ll embarrass me in front of the entire region! People will think I can’t provide for my wife, that she works on television!”
“This is my profession, and a respected one at that,” Anna responded firmly.
“A profession? You sift through papers for pennies! Now you want to humiliate me on TV, babbling about dead people?”
“Humiliate? I’ll spotlight our region’s rich cultural heritage. Where’s the shame?” she questioned.
“Where?” he groaned, clutching his head. “My colleagues will mock me! ‘Look at Mikhail’s wife pretending to be an academic!’ Don’t you understand?”
Anna remained composed. “You value your colleagues’ opinions more than my achievements.”
“I forbid you to disgrace our family!”
With calm determination, Anna dialed the producer.
“I accept,” she declared, locking eyes with Mikhail.
“Cancel immediately and refuse!” he grabbed her arm fiercely. “I forbid it! Do you hear me?”
“No,” she responded quietly but decisively.
Frozen, he repeated, “What did you say? Say it again!”
“No. I won’t decline. And remove your hands.”
“So be it!” Mikhail’s glare darkened. “Your choice: TV or family, dead documents or a living husband!”
Anna looked him in the eye—the man who spent years convincing her of her worthlessness. She now perceived fear rather than confidence.
“Here’s the irony,” she said thoughtfully. “You call my work dead, yet you fear a living woman.”
“What nonsense is that?”
“I choose freedom, Mikhail. It’s easier than I imagined.”
Within thirty minutes, Anna packed her belongings. Four years of living under his control meant little accumulation—her purchases deemed waste, her books junk, her interests folly.
“You’ll regret this!” he shouted after her. “Without me, you’re nothing! You’ll crawl back soon!”
“We shall see,” she called over her shoulder. “I hold a TV contract. What about you?”
The door slammed behind her. Fear was absent—only relief, like shedding suffocating garments after a long day.
Valentina Petrovna, the archive’s seasoned veteran, offered comfort with warm tea and understanding.
“Stay as long as you need, dear,” she said kindly. “I divorced young once. I know what starting anew feels like.”
“Thank you. I’ll find a place soon,” Anna smiled.
“No need to rush. Solitude after marital turmoil can be a luxury,” Valentina observed.
- Anna’s courageous decision led her to embrace independence.
- Support came from unexpected allies.
- Her expertise earned recognition beyond the archive walls.
The next day, journalist Svetlana called with an offer:
“A cultural center in the regional capital seeks a head for its history department. The salary is attractive, with staff housing and room to grow.”
“That sounds promising,” Anna responded eagerly. “I’m interested.”
“Your work impressed the committee, especially your article on merchant legacies. When can you interview?”
“Tomorrow would be perfect. I’m free now.”
Weeks later, Mikhail arrived with roses and tears—the typical sorry tyrant.
“Forgive me, Anechka,” he pleaded on his knees in the hallway. “I see my mistakes now. I will support your career, even that television!”
“Stand up,” Anna said calmly. “There’s nothing left for us to discuss.”
“But I realize I was wrong! You can work anywhere!”
“You realized you lost control, which is different,” she corrected.
“We love each other! Four years together!” he insisted.
“No,” Anna shook her head. “You loved an obedient puppet. I spent years playing that part. The act is over.”
“Are you crazy? You’re destroying a family over a job!”
“A job?” Anna smiled gently. “Dear, I’m not leaving a job. I’m leaving you.”
New life awaited Anna in the regional capital. The cultural center offered endless creative outlets: exhibitions, seminars, global collaborations. She discovered latent leadership strengths.
Financial independence allowed her to rent a nice apartment, travel often, and reconnect with friends Mikhail had once isolated her from.
“You’ve truly blossomed,” friend Marina said over dinner. “I haven’t seen you this vibrant in years.”
“Turns out I wasn’t the invisibly gray mouse,” Anna laughed. “I just lived in a dull world too long.”
“And the TV project?” Marina inquired.
“It’s going wonderfully. Early episodes received positive feedback. Viewers express gratitude. People are eager to learn about their region when history is presented vividly.”
“No one mocks your paper work?”
“Quite the opposite,” Anna smiled. “I get invited to conferences and consultations. Last month, university students listened to me eagerly.”
Meanwhile, Mikhail resumed his pattern, dating Olga—a young art historian. His initial admiration for her education was a mask for his next manipulative act.
At a regional conference, Anna encountered Olga, who seemed weary but composed.
“Are you Anna?” Olga approached hesitantly. “Mikhail told me about you. He said you clashed, held different worldviews.”
“I see,” Anna said with mild irony. “And how is your relationship? Still romantic?”
“Honestly?” Olga whispered, glancing about. “He calls my work a hopeless whim. Art history is an expensive hobby, he says—something only losers obsessed with illusions pursue.”
“What about the intellect he once admired?” Anna teased.
“Now it’s just showing off,” Olga replied. “He claims I act smart to feel superior.”
Recollecting her talk with Yekaterina and her own struggles, Anna advised her.
“The cruelest part of his tactics? He begins by admiring the qualities he later dismantles. First, you are a cultivated soul; soon, an arrogant fool. Your calling becomes a worthless waste.”
“But he claims to want to help me improve,” Olga said.
“True love accepts you unconditionally and nurtures growth, not control and destruction,” Anna stated firmly.
Three days on, Olga informed Anna:
“Thank you deeply. I ended things with Mikhail. After our talk, the puzzle made sense.”
“How did he react? That must have been tough.”
“Initially, threats and regret claims. Then pleas for change, accusations of misunderstanding. Finally, insults branding me ungrateful and extreme.”
“And you stood your ground?”
“Yes, it was easier than I feared. Recognizing manipulation makes it seem trivial.”
Key Insight: Life is too precious to waste on those who fail to appreciate our worth.
“How did you conquer guilt? He convinced me I was destroying happiness,” Olga asked.
“The only destruction was to his scheme of making you a puppet,” Anna reassured. “That deserves applause, not tears.”
Denied control over a third woman, Mikhail spiraled—shifting jobs, alienating colleagues, losing friends. His manipulative pattern collapsed, as educated women no longer bowed to his tactics.
One month later, Mikhail left several frustrated voice messages for Anna, accusing her of turning women against him and demanding a meeting.
Anna ignored them. His last message called her a bitter feminist wrecking lives.
The final encounter occurred in a supermarket six months after their split. Mikhail appeared aged and lost, seeking a civil talk.
“Anna, wait! Can we speak as reasonable adults?” he pleaded.
Meeting his gaze, Anna replied steadily, “We have nothing to discuss. I wish you find yourself and stop blaming others for your failures.”
“You’ve hardened,” he muttered.
“No,” she said softly. “I have simply become honest—and that is profound change.”
The destructive saga had finally ended.
In this journey, Anna transformed pain into empowerment, reaffirming that independence, respect, and self-worth can only flourish once one breaks free from manipulation and embraces their true potential.