Igor’s voice was cold as he threw the last of his clothes into his suitcase, zipping it shut with a sharp flick. His words cut through the dimly lit apartment like a knife, heavy with finality.
Anna stood in the doorway, her fists clenched so tightly that her nails dug into her palms. She wasn’t afraid—no, she had stopped fearing him long ago. Instead, she felt frozen, as if watching an inevitable disaster unfold, both horrifying and mesmerizing at the same time.
He straightened up, shooting her a scornful glance.
*”For ten years, I carried you. For ten years, you hid behind me. And now what? You think you’ll survive without me?”*
Anna lifted her gaze slowly. There were no tears—only the glow of the table lamp reflecting in her eyes, mixed with something Igor had never seen before.
“I already am,” she said softly, but with unmistakable certainty.
His laugh came automatically, smug and confident. But underneath, there was something new—a hesitation, a faltering note.
*”We’ll see,”* he scoffed, throwing his bag over his shoulder. *”A month. I give you a month. Then you’ll come crawling back.”*
The door slammed behind him. A framed photo on the shelf trembled from the force, the glass cracking right between their faces.
### **A Life Without Him**
The first few days after Igor’s departure felt surreal. The silence in the apartment was suffocating—not peaceful, but loud and hollow, pressing in on her like a physical weight. She found herself listening for the sound of keys jingling at the door, for the familiar creak of the floorboards under his steps. But nothing came.
She still made two cups of coffee in the morning out of habit, still prepared portions big enough for two at dinner. Each time she realized her mistake, her hands trembled slightly.
His words haunted her. *”You are nothing without me.”*
The worst part? A small voice in her head whispered that maybe, just maybe, he was right.
After all, who was she? In their social circle, she was always introduced as “Igor’s wife.” At business dinners, people treated her as an accessory to his success. The perfect hostess, the silent supporter. But without those labels, who was Anna?
Her bank account was draining fast. Igor had convinced her to invest their savings into *his* business six months ago. Now, all that remained were her personal funds—just enough to last a few months. After that, she would have nothing.
Her résumé looked embarrassing. A degree, yes, but her work experience was minimal. Her skills? “Expert at ironing shirts,” “Master at removing stains,” “Keeper of my husband’s contacts.” Hardly qualifications for survival.
Even the phone stopped ringing. Their mutual acquaintances—people she had once called friends—avoided her now. Meetings were postponed indefinitely. Calls went unanswered. It became clear: they had always been *his* friends, not hers.
In the evenings, she sat by the window, watching strangers pass by, each with a purpose, a destination. They had plans, ambitions, dreams. And her? She had nothing but emptiness.
### **A Flicker of Hope**
One night, out of sheer boredom, she climbed into the attic and dug out an old box. Inside were faded sketches, interior design concepts from her university days. Drawings of spaces she once dreamed of creating. She traced her fingers over the pages, feeling something stir deep inside.
*”It’s pointless,”* she muttered, shoving the folder shut. But the next morning, she opened it again.
Days later, fate intervened.
At the grocery store, a familiar voice called out.
“Anna? No way!”
She turned to see Marina, an old friend from university. Her hair was shorter now, but her eyes held the same confidence they always had.
“It’s been ages! You look amazing,” Marina said warmly. “Still designing those beautiful interiors?”
Anna hesitated. “No… I haven’t worked in years. I—there was a family.”
“Ah, I see,” Marina nodded knowingly. “Igor, right? That pompous lawyer from our third year. What happened to him?”
“We… separated.” The words slipped out before Anna even realized she was saying them. It was the first time she had acknowledged it out loud.
Marina didn’t pry, just studied her thoughtfully. Then, after a pause, she said, “You know, my design firm is looking for someone. It’s just an internship—mostly paperwork—but it could be a start. Interested?”
A flicker of hope stirred in Anna’s chest. It felt foreign, fragile. But it was there.
“I’ll think about it,” she said, taking the business card.
That evening, as she put away the groceries, her gaze kept drifting back to that small piece of cardboard. A chance. A doorway. A possibility.
*”You are nothing without me.”*
Taking a deep breath, she picked up the phone and dialed.
“Marina? It’s Anna. I’d love to take the job.”
### **Proving Herself**
The first week at *Contrast Studio* was brutal.
The software had evolved far beyond what she remembered. Colleagues spoke in industry jargon she barely understood. Their fingers moved across keyboards at lightning speed, while she hesitated at every step. By the end of each day, she came home exhausted, burying her face in a pillow to muffle her frustrated tears.
*”You are nothing without me.”*
She wanted to quit. On Friday, she nearly did.
But Marina pulled her aside before she could slip out the door.
“Come to the team gathering tonight,” she insisted. “No excuses.”
Anna reluctantly agreed. To her surprise, she actually enjoyed herself. The team was welcoming, the drinks were strong, and for the first time in years, she felt like she belonged to something outside of Igor’s shadow.
By the next week, something shifted. Marina had seen one of Anna’s old sketches and raved about it.
“You have talent,” she said. “You just need to believe in it.”
Little by little, Anna started gaining confidence. She threw herself into projects, spending late nights refining designs, studying trends, catching up on lost years.
Then, one day, she landed her first solo client—a tiny café looking for a makeover. The owner, Dmitry, turned out to be an old university acquaintance.
“I always knew you’d do something big,” he said as they finalized the project. “Your work is incredible.”
For the first time, Anna believed it too.
### **Full Circle**
Two years later, Anna sat in the director’s chair of *AS Design Studio*, her own firm.
She had built a team, cultivated a reputation, and created designs that turned heads in the industry. She was no longer just *someone’s wife*. She was a force of her own.
One afternoon, her secretary knocked on her office door.
“Anna Sergeyevna, the candidate for the manager position has arrived.”
She barely looked up. “Show him in.”
A moment later, she heard a familiar voice.
“Anna?”
Her head snapped up.
Igor stood in front of her, looking older, more worn down. His once-perfect suit hung awkwardly on his frame. His confidence had cracks.
“I… I didn’t know this was your company,” he stammered. “I saw the ad and applied.”
Her lips curled into a small smile. “AS Design. Anna Sokolova. My initials.”
A realization dawned on his face. “I see.”
She scanned his résumé. His business had collapsed. He had lost everything. Now, he was looking for work.
Anna folded the folder shut.
“I’m sorry, but we won’t be moving forward with your application.”
Igor stiffened. “Is this revenge?”
“No,” she said coolly. “It’s a business decision.”
He exhaled sharply, gripping the chair’s armrests. “You’ll regret this.”
She just smiled. “Goodbye, Igor.”
As he stormed out, she felt nothing—no hatred, no triumph. Just lightness.
*”You are nothing without me.”*
Anna turned to the window, gazing at the bustling city. She was living proof of just how wrong he had been.
With a quiet, victorious whisper, she finally said the words she had longed to say:
“I am everything without you.”
And she truly was.