“Why hasn’t the floor been cleaned? And where’s dinner?” Gleb tossed his briefcase onto the sofa, surveying the room with a sharp gaze. “Have you completely stopped taking care of yourself?”
Marina froze near the stove, her heart sinking. Though it was past midnight, she had waited foolishly for her husband, with a hot meal prepared. Yet, a foreign scent lingered on him—a subtle, expensive perfume, nothing like her favorite vanilla fragrance.
“Gleb, I tried calling you all evening. Where have you been?” she asked, striving to keep her voice calm.
“Enough with the interrogation!” he snapped and waved a hand irritably. “I was held up at work, alright? And my phone died.”
In silence, Marina placed a casserole dish on the table. Gleb poked at it disdainfully with his fork.
“This greasy junk again. Surprising you haven’t turned into an elephant with this diet,” he sneered, pushing the plate away. “Look at Sofia in our office—that’s what a real woman looks like.”
“Sofia? The one who keeps messaging you?” A chill ran down Marina’s spine.
Gleb rolled his eyes in annoyance.
“Don’t start. Sofia is just a colleague, and by the way, she takes care of herself. And you?” He looked down on his wife with disdain. “Your robe is threadbare, those slippers are ridiculous. You’re a dull little mouse.”
Marina swallowed hard, holding back tears.
“I can lose weight if it matters to you,” she whispered.
“Too late,” Gleb said and left the kitchen abruptly.
Deflated, Marina sank into a chair. What had happened to them? Once, Gleb laughed at her weight, assuring he loved women with curves.
The phone that Gleb had left on the table vibrated. Unconsciously, Marina peeked at the screen. A message from Sofia read: “Same time tomorrow?” followed by a heart.
Her hands trembled as she unlocked the phone with Gleb’s birthday password. The conversation opened instantly: dozens of messages, each delivering a blow.
“You are so passionate”
“When will you finally leave her?”
“Can’t wait…”
Along with pictures—Gleb and the slim brunette embraced, kissed, and shared intimate moments.
Turning off the phone, Marina sensed a chilling emptiness inside her chest. Three years of marriage, three years since her parents’ death, during which Gleb was her sole refuge.
She recalled how, after her parents’ funeral, Gleb insisted on a modest wedding—“not the time for grand celebrations.” He moved into her three-room apartment—“why rent when you have space?” He admired the summer house—“a great spot to sell and buy something classier.”
Marina examined her hands—small with plump fingers. Was she truly unattractive? Was Sofia better for Gleb, since he looked happy with her?
The sound of Gleb’s snoring came from the bedroom. His words from the night before echoed in her mind: “We have to sell the summer house. The price is good now. We’ll start a business and live well.”
Quietly, she rose and entered the bathroom. The mirror above the sink reflected a tired face with dark circles and messy hair. When did she become this way? When did she let herself get lost in others’ desires, forgetting her own?
Enough, she whispered to her reflection. Enough of being a doormat.
That morning, Gleb surprised her by bringing coffee in bed, a gesture he hadn’t shown in years.
“Darling Marina, I was too harsh last night,” he said, settling on the bed’s edge. “You know how work stresses me.”
Marina nodded, feigning understanding.
“You’re right about the summer house,” she said. “Let’s sell it. But I need to visit one last time to collect Mom’s belongings.”
Gleb smiled brightly. “Smart idea!” he kissed her forehead. “This weekend you go there, I’ll find buyers. We’ll handle it quickly.”
Too quickly, Marina thought but returned his smile.
Reflection at the Cemetery
Peace enveloped the old cemetery as Marina laid flowers on her parents’ graves and sat on a nearby bench. The warm May air carried lilac aromas.
“You were right about him,” she murmured, gazing at her parents’ photos. “But I didn’t want to listen.”
Memories surfaced—university, third year. Gleb, a confident charmer from economics, noticing blushing, laughing Marina. He seemed like a fairy-tale prince—caring, attentive, with plans for a bright future.
“Maybe you would have approved, at least in the beginning,” she wiped a tear.
Her father’s voice echoed in her mind: “Look closer, Marisha. A man who truly loves won’t watch others.” Her mother had quietly added, “And will accept your flaws too.”
The phone vibrated. A message from Gleb: “Where are you? I want to show the summer house to a buyer tomorrow.”
She didn’t respond. Instead, she scrolled through old photos on her phone: their simple wedding a month after the parents’ funeral. Gleb convinced her not to delay: “No need for a grand event—what matters is we’re together.”
Now Marina understood—he just wanted to establish himself quickly in her life, in her apartment. It wasn’t hard to reach a grieving girl’s heart who yearned to believe she wasn’t alone.
“He says the house and apartment are heavy burdens,” Marina told her mother’s portrait. “That we need money for business, for a better life.”
The birch branches above swayed gently. A sunlight beam rested on the tombstone as if giving approval.
“But I get it now,” her voice hardened. “He wants everything and then plans to leave. Thinks I’m blind.”
Marina stood and traced cold marble with a final touch.
“Remember what you always said, Mom? ‘You can only be deceived once. The second time, you deceive yourself.’”
Resolutely, she walked away from the graveyard, a clear plan forming in her mind. If Gleb chose to play dirty, he would meet his match.
Taking Charge
On the bus heading home, Marina called Sergey Petrovich—a longtime family friend and realtor. The old man welcomed her call with warmth.
“Marina, my dear, it’s been ages,” he said. “How are you?”
“I need your help urgently, quietly.”
Later, during a tense moment, Marina rejected Gleb’s attempt to sell the summer house cheaply.
“I never agreed to such a price,” she said, avoiding his surprised stare. “It’s worth more.”
He tried to reason, “This isn’t the best time, dear. The buyer is reliable, and frankly, the summer house is nothing special.”
Marina shrugged off his hand from her shoulder. “It’s our house. Or is it no longer ours?”
He narrowed his eyes. “What do you mean?”
“Nothing.” She forced a smile. “Just odd to hear ‘yours’ when we’re supposed to be family.”
Softening, Gleb kissed her forehead. “Of course ours. Just on paper… Ah, never mind. Everything’s for us, for our future.”
“Our,” she echoed bitterly. Since last week, she felt torn between two realities: one as the compliant wife agreeing to sell their inheritance, and the other as a woman consulting realtors, lawyers, and bankers.
“I’ll think about it,” she said. “I need to visit the house once more to pack Mom’s things.”
“Go ahead,” Gleb surprisingly agreed. “By the way, I forgot to tell you—I have an important meeting at the office tomorrow. Could you…?”
“Bring documents?” Marina interrupted. “Of course. Which ones?”
“A registry extract. My client wants to see the summer house documents—it’s just formal.”
“Alright.” She nodded. “Who’s the meeting with?”
“Clients,” Gleb averted his gaze. “You wouldn’t know them.”
His phone beeped; he grabbed it nervously, read a message, and tucked it away.
“Work?” Marina asked innocently.
“Yeah. They keep pulling me away.” Gleb visibly tensed. “Okay, I’m off to bed.”
Once his bedroom door closed, Marina silently took out her phone. Sergey Petrovich’s reply came immediately:
“The deed for the summer house is ready. Buyer agrees to your price. The deal is tomorrow.”
“And the apartment?”
“There’s a buyer for that as well, ready to close quickly without bargaining. Are you sure?”
“Absolutely.”
Footsteps echoed down the hallway. Marina quickly hid her phone.
Gleb, now in casual pants, went to the kitchen.
“You’re still awake?” he asked, taking juice from the fridge.
“Thinking about Mom,” Marina said, wrapping her arms around herself. “It’s been three years since they passed.”
“Here we go again,” Gleb snapped. “Stop living in the past. You can’t bring back the dead.”
His harsh words startled Marina.
“You didn’t even come to the cemetery with me.”
“I have enough on my plate!” Gleb retorted. “Someone has to earn in this family.”
“And do you think I don’t work?”
“A nanny at a daycare? Be grateful I married you at all. Especially with your looks now…”
He suddenly stopped, as if recalling something.
“Sorry,” he muttered. “I’m tired. It’s been a rough week.”
Marina stared silently. Once, she loved him deeply; now, he was a stranger she despised.
“I’m tired too,” she said quietly.
Finalizing the Deal
The next day Marina met Sergey Petrovich and the summer house’s new owner—an elderly professor and her father’s friend. The transaction took under an hour.
“Aren’t you going to tell Gleb?” asked Sergey Petrovich when they were alone.
“He’s too busy with Sofia. He didn’t even notice that I emptied the closet.”
Back home, Marina packed remaining belongings. The apartment’s sale was scheduled for the next day, faster than she’d imagined.
The phone rang. Gleb.
“Did you bring the documents?” he asked without greeting.
“Yes, everything’s done,” she replied calmly.
“Perfect!” Triumph echoed in his voice. “I’ll be late. Don’t wait for dinner.”
A Night of Silence and New Beginnings
The night was heavy and sleepless. Marina lay on the living room couch wrapped in a thin sheet. For the first time in their marriage, Gleb didn’t come home, didn’t call, as if vanished.
At 7:30 a.m., loud knocking startled her.
“Who’s there?” she called.
“We’re from the real estate agency,” a male voice replied. “By arrangement with Sergey Petrovich.”
Opening the door, Marina found a young couple with a small girl and a stern man with a briefcase—the notary.
“Good morning,” the woman introduced herself. “I’m Olga. Sergey Petrovich informed me you’re ready for paperwork.”
Marina invited them inside. The notary promptly arranged documents on the table.
“Passport, ownership certificate, and preliminary contract signed yesterday.”
Marina retrieved a folder from her bag. The young couple admired the spacious kitchen and high ceilings.
“Will your husband be here?” the notary asked.
“No,” Marina answered. “I’m the sole owner. I inherited the apartment from my parents before marriage.”
“Excellent. Let’s begin.”
An hour later, signatures were in place, and the funds transferred to Marina’s account. Olga embraced her warmly.
“Thank you! We looked everywhere for an apartment in this area. When can we move in?”
“Whenever you like,” Marina replied, handing over keys. “I’ve moved most things out.”
“But there’s still a lot here,” Olga noted.
“Keep or discard whatever you find,” Marina said.
While the family explored their new home, Marina texted Sergey Petrovich: “All set. Heading to the bank.”
At the bank, she transferred most money to a new account, withdrawing some cash. Now, she just had to wait.
The phone rang while she was in a taxi.
“Hello,” Gleb’s frantic voice said. “Marina, I’m coming home. We need to talk.”
“Take your time,” she answered calmly. “I have things to do.”
“What things?” He tensed.
“See you around seven in the evening.”
Marina ended the call and asked the driver to reroute. She had a hotel room reserved and planned for the final act of this ordeal.
A Door Closed Forever
Right at seven, Gleb rushed to the house, nervously ringing the bell. No answer. He tried the key, but the lock wouldn’t open.
“Who’s there?” The door cracked open, revealing a woman unknown to Gleb.
“I… this is my apartment,” he stammered.
“You’re mistaken,” the woman frowned. “We bought it this morning.”
“Bought it? From whom?” Gleb paled.
“From the owner, Marina Sergeyevna.”
At that moment, Gleb’s phone rang, showing Marina’s name.
“What have you done?!” he shouted into the phone.
“Hello, Gleb,” Marina’s voice was firm. “How are you?”
“Some woman says she bought our apartment!” he nearly screamed.
“Not ours—mine,” Marina corrected. “Yes, I sold it this morning. And the summer house yesterday.”
“Are you mad?! Where will I live now?!”
“Maybe ask Sofia to take you in,” Marina suggested calmly. “Judging by your messages, you spend plenty of time together.”
“You snooped through my phone?” Gleb hissed. “You had no right!”
“And you had the right to demean me for three years? Use me? Cheat on me?” Her voice quivered. “Did you think I wouldn’t find out your plan to sell my property and then vanish with your perfect Sofia?”
Silence followed.
“Marina, this is a misunderstanding,” Gleb finally said, changing tactics. “I never… Sofia is just a colleague. Let’s meet and discuss.”
“Too late, Gleb,” she replied, void of malice, only weariness. “You got what you deserved.”
“But what about our future? Plans? Business?” he pleaded.
“Our marriage ended when you decided I wasn’t worthy of respect. You’re free now. Goodbye.”
Marina hung up and blocked his number.
Seconds later, another call from an unknown number buzzed.
“You wretch!” Gleb screamed. “You’ll pay for this! I’ll sue you! I’ll ruin you!”
“Gleb,” Marina interrupted calmly. “Everything was legal. The apartment and summer house were mine before marriage. We never signed a prenuptial agreement. I owe you nothing.”
She heard Gleb’s heavy breathing.
“Shouldn’t have called me a dull little mouse,” Marina whispered. “You lost, Gleb. Now I’ll live for myself.”
Freedom’s Dawn
In her hotel room, Marina gazed at the city lights. Three days had passed without a call or message from Gleb, whose efforts to reconnect failed.
There was a gentle knock.
“Come in,” she said.
Sergey Petrovich entered, holding a folder.
“All set, Marina. A small but cozy one-bedroom is now in your name, in a good neighborhood.”
“Thank you,” she hugged him tightly. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
“Your father would have done the same for my daughter,” he smiled, patting her shoulder. “The bank called—your savings are secure.”
Marina nodded, feeling a strange emptiness. The revenge was complete, yet the relief was reserved.
“I heard Gleb tried to break into the sold apartment,” Sergey said cautiously. “The new owners called the police.”
“I know,” she whispered. “Olga told me he was drunk and yelling about being robbed.”
“And Sofia? His… colleague?”
Marina smiled sadly.
“She left him once she learned he had no home or money. Classic story.”
Sergey shook his head.
“Do you regret it?”
Marina looked out the window at the bustling street, people with their own stories, victories, and losses.
“I thought I’d feel triumphant,” she mused, “but all I feel is freedom—like dropping a heavy backpack I carried for years.”
Her phone buzzed. A message from an unknown number appeared:
“I know you blocked me. But you’ll regret it. Everything I did was for us. For family. You misunderstood Sofia. Return some money and forget this nightmare. Gleb”
Marina showed the message to Sergey Petrovich.
“He still cannot accept blame,” he said, shaking his head.
Marina deleted the message and tossed the phone on the bed.
“I’ll change my number tomorrow,” she declared firmly. “And start a new life.”
New Horizons
A week later, Marina settled into her new apartment—bedroom, kitchen, a small living room—the essentials for one. She placed a few family photos and a painting she bought at a flea market. For the first time in a long while, she felt truly at home.
That evening, sipping tea on the balcony, she opened an old family album—the only thing she had kept from the past life. On the last page was their wedding photo.
Marina stared at it for a long time, then carefully removed it and tore it into tiny pieces.
“Thank you for the lesson,” she whispered, dropping the fragments into the trash. “Now I truly know my worth.”
Key Insight: This story illustrates the devastating impact of betrayal and the strength required to reclaim one’s life. Marina’s journey from sorrow to empowerment reminds us that self-respect and independence are the true cornerstones of happiness.
In sum, navigating trust and loss within a marriage is deeply challenging, but it also offers an opportunity for profound personal growth and renewal. Marina’s resolve exemplifies the courage to rebuild and redefine one’s path in the face of heartache.