It’s peculiar to awaken in the morning sensing that something significant is about to unfold. There’s no certainty if it will be joyous or sorrowful; only an unmistakable change in the atmosphere reveals itself. Such was the beginning of that February Monday.
I got up, made coffee, and found my husband, John, already seated at the table, as usual, absorbed by his phone. He remained silent, merely tapping his fingers nervously on the surface.
“Julia, please, listen to me,” he finally pleaded. “I’m leaving tomorrow.”
I nearly dropped my teaspoon.
– Where are you going?
– Down south. Sun, beach… I need some relaxation. I’ve already bought the ticket.
I stirred the now-cold coffee, gathering scattered thoughts. For two years, we had been saving for a joint vacation, putting aside money monthly and sacrificing many pleasures. Last year, I even gave up the coat I desired just to afford the trip together.
– And me? My leave isn’t approved yet.
“So what?” he shrugged off. “Do you think things are easy for me here? This dull, gray monotony is suffocating me!”
Gray monotony… And what about my strained nerves? Where do they fit in?
– But the money was pooled together…
“So?” he snapped. “I work too! I have the right to choose when to rest!”
It was at that moment conflict and doubt started to arise within me. Over recent months, something had changed. His distance had grown; he even took his phone into the bathroom, an unheard-of habit for him.
I observed what he packed into his suitcase: new swimsuits, flashy shirts—completely unlike his usual style. When had he bought these?
“If I have some money left, I’ll get you a fridge magnet,” he said while zipping up the suitcase.
A magnet. How generous.
He closed the door behind him, leaving me alone. Was I overreacting? Did he genuinely only want a mental break?
Suddenly, his phone on the table vibrated. A message appeared. Though protected by a password, the preview revealed:
“Darling, I’m already at the airport, waiting for you at…”
My little kitty. He hadn’t called me that in years, insisting such nicknames didn’t suit two adults.
Ten minutes later, he returned to pick up his phone, his face tense.
“Why are you still here?”
– I’m at home. Isn’t that allowed anymore?
He took the device, eyeing it suspiciously, as if fearing I had touched it. Then he kissed my forehead dramatically.
“Don’t sulk. I’ll bring you something when I return.”
And he left. My heart pounded wildly. Who was this “kitty”? What was really happening?
I hurriedly dressed and called a taxi. I knew my destination: the airport. Yes, costly—but discovering the truth was priceless.
I will never forget what I saw there. A young woman, around twenty, with long wavy hair and a slender figure, wore the same colorful shirt I had seen in my husband’s bag. They laughed, embraced; John whispered something in her ear, making her burst into laughter and hold him tight. It resembled a scene straight from a romantic movie.
All those months of saving and sacrifice had been for a lie.
I wanted to storm in, shout, maybe even slap them, but they were already boarding. It was too late. I stepped outside, sat on a bench, and began to cry—not just softly but with labored sobs. People looked at me suspiciously, but I couldn’t care less.
Snow began to fall: gentle flakes at first, then a thick white blanket. I remained there, freezing.
A voice called out:
“Excuse me, ma’am… Are you alright?”
In front of me stood a man wearing a worn-out coat with unkempt hair, shivering from the cold.
“Can I help you somehow?”
“Nobody knows I exist anymore,” I answered with a bitter smile.
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“Maybe things aren’t as bleak as they seem,” he said gently. “I could help you, in any way—even if just temporarily.”
I looked at him. Both of us were defeated that day, yet at least he was sincere.
“You know what? Come with me. At least eat something and warm up.”
“Are you serious?” he looked astonished.
“Are you a serial killer?”
“No,” he smiled.
“Then come on. There’s nothing left at home; Robert has already eaten all the food in the fridge.”
The taxi driver grumbled but changed his tone after receiving a generous tip.
The man introduced himself as John but preferred being called Roli. He was an engineer who had lost his job and home, while his wife had returned to her mother.
“She said she’d come back once I found work again,” he added with a bitter smile.
At home, I watched him approach the radiator to warm his hands.
“You can have a bath,” I offered. “There’s my husband’s robe in the wardrobe.”
“Are you sure?”
“Absolutely. He’s probably sipping cocktails with his companion somewhere down south; hence, the robe is available.”
While John bathed, I made soup. I wondered: “Am I normal? Can I truly invite a complete stranger into my home?”
That day felt utterly out of control, as though the earth had shifted its axis.
When he emerged from the tub, I barely recognized him: a man in his forties, with a determined, intelligent gaze. The robe gave him a slightly awkward look but was still charming.
“You’re really not homeless?”
“No,” he said. “I’m just going through tough times.”
- He shared stories about his previous construction company job where he designed sites.
- Faced bankruptcy, suffered six months without pay.
- Eventually laid off, which caused his wife to leave.
“Love at first sight,” I commented.
“Apparently so,” he replied.
I recounted my story too: the airport scene, the text to “kitty,” the lost savings.
“And now?” he gently inquired.
– I’m filing for divorce. My grandmother owned the apartment, and I have a job to support myself.
– What about the kids?
“It didn’t work out,” I said with regret. “He kept postponing. Now I realize why.”
“Maybe it’s for the best,” Roli remarked. “From a husband like that…”
“At least I don’t have to explain to my son why his dad went on vacation with another woman.”
After dinner, he turned on the television—he hadn’t followed the news for some time. I washed the dishes, then sat in the armchair and fell asleep.
“What the hell…!” he exclaimed. “The key doesn’t work!”
“I’ve changed the lock,” I quietly explained.
“Are you crazy? This apartment belongs to me too!”
“It did. Now it’s all mine,” I said, pulling a court summons from my bag.
“What’s this?”
“The divorce papers. The hearing is tomorrow morning.”
“Are you serious? You really want a divorce?”
– Absolutely. Where was your “kitty”? She disappeared the day after the vacation?
His expression twisted.
“You have no idea what you’re missing! I’m a man! I need passion, fire! And you’re just… cold.”
– I saved you six months, and you wasted them in a week.
Robert clenched his fist. For a moment, I feared he’d hit me. I closed my eyes.
But then…
“Victoria, are you okay?” came a familiar voice.
I opened my eyes to see Roli. Yet he was no longer the scruffy stranger: dressed in a smart suit, well-groomed haircut, accompanied by two men in suits behind him.
Robert stepped back as if struck by lightning. His mouth hung open, then he collapsed like a plaster mannequin.
“Is that you?” I asked in disbelief. “John?”
“It’s me,” he nodded with a smile. “I promised I’d make it. I just returned from a business meeting. Wanted to check how you’re doing.”
Robert muttered something and fled like a hunted man.
Roli gently took my hand.
“Let’s go. I’ll tell you everything.”
We sat down and brewed some tea—just like in a movie. That night, at my place, Roli had seen a job ad on TV: a large multinational design firm sought an expert, not a junior. The next morning, he attended the interview.
– I passed the probation period. Soon after, I got a permanent contract. Now I have a team, a decent salary, and a future plan. I worked and studied for months. But there was one thing that motivated me— you.
Key Insight: Even in the midst of betrayal and hardship, new opportunities and hope can emerge, fostering a fresh start.
In conclusion, this narrative showcases the emotional upheaval caused by deceit within a marriage, contrasted by the unexpected kindness and eventual redemption through another’s support. It reminds us that despite profound disappointment, resilience and new beginnings remain within reach.