You Are Nothing Without Me—Or So He Thought
“Without me, you are nothing, Anna. Remember that well.”
Igor threw the last of his clothes into the suitcase, zipping it shut with a sharp motion. His words sliced through the dimly lit apartment like a cold blade.
Anna stood in the doorway, her fists clenched so tightly that her nails dug into her palms. She wasn’t silent out of fear but out of a strange paralysis, as if watching an inevitable catastrophe—terrifying, yet strangely mesmerizing.
“Nothing to say?” Igor straightened, casting a scornful glance at her. “For ten years, I kept you afloat. For ten years, you hid behind me. And now what? You think you can manage without me?”
Anna slowly raised her eyes. There were no tears—just the glint of the table lamp and something new, something unfamiliar to Igor.
“I already am,” she said quietly but firmly.
Igor let out a forced laugh, one that sounded confident on the surface but carried a hint of something else—uncertainty.
“We’ll see,” he scoffed, slinging his bag over his shoulder. “A month. I give you a month, and you’ll come crawling back.”
The door slammed behind him, sending a picture frame crashing to the floor. The glass cracked—right between their faces.
Lost in Silence
The days after Igor’s departure felt like walking through a fog. The apartment was too quiet—not peaceful, but oppressively empty. Every sound, every distant car door slamming, made Anna’s heart lurch. She kept catching herself listening for footsteps in the hallway, the creak of the elevator, the turn of a key in the lock—sounds that no longer belonged to her life.
At the table, she unconsciously set two plates, poured two cups of coffee each morning. And each time, when reality hit, her hands trembled.
“You are nothing without me.”
His words echoed in the hum of the refrigerator, in the ticking of the clock, in the silence that had become her unwanted companion.
Worst of all, a small part of her feared he was right. Who was she, really?
At social events, she had always been introduced as Igor’s wife. To the neighbors, she was the woman who kept a perfect home. But without those labels, without him—who was Anna?
Her bank account provided a cruel answer. Their shared savings? Igor had “invested” those into his business months ago. What remained were her personal funds—barely enough for three months of rent and necessities. And after that? She’d have to borrow.
Her résumé was embarrassingly thin. A degree, yes, but experience? Outdated. Skills? “Expert at ironing shirts,” “Stain removal specialist,” “Owner of my husband’s contacts.” Not exactly impressive.
And her so-called friends? Vanishing one by one. The invitations stopped, calls went unanswered. It turned out they had never really been her friends. They had been his.
At night, she sat by the window, watching people hurry past. They had direction. They had dreams.
What did she have?
Nothing.
A Forgotten Passion
One evening, desperate for a distraction, Anna climbed up to the attic and pulled out an old box. Inside were her university sketches—designs, layouts, ideas she had once dreamed of bringing to life.
She flipped through the yellowed pages, feeling an old spark reignite.
Then she slammed the folder shut.
“This is nonsense.”
But the next morning, she opened it again.
An Unexpected Chance
A week later, while running errands, a familiar voice called out to her.
“Anna? Anna Sokolova? No way!”
Marina, her old university friend, stood before her—older, sharper, but still the same Marina.
“It’s been ages! You’re still as stunning as ever.”
Anna forced a smile, feeling awkward. “Life’s… changed.”
“Still working in interior design?”
Anna shook her head. “No… I haven’t done that in years. I got married.”
Marina’s eyes flickered with recognition. “Igor. That arrogant lawyer from our third year, right?”
Anna hesitated. Then, for the first time, she said it out loud.
“We separated.”
She had been waiting for him to return. But now, saying it, she realized—it was over.
Marina didn’t pry. Instead, she studied Anna thoughtfully before saying, “You know, my design studio needs an intern. Just paperwork at first, but it could be a way back in. If you’re interested.”
Anna felt something she hadn’t in a long time—hope.
She took the business card.
That night, as she unpacked groceries, her gaze kept drifting toward the card on the counter.
It was a fragile, uncertain chance. But it was a chance nonetheless.
She picked up the phone.
“Marina? It’s Anna. I’m in.”
Rebuilding From Scratch
The first week at Contrast Studio was brutal. The software had evolved far beyond what she knew. Her colleagues were younger, faster, brimming with confidence. Every night, she came home exhausted, fighting the urge to quit.
“You are nothing without me.”
The words still haunted her. But she refused to let them win.
On Friday, after a particularly rough day, Marina stopped her at the door.
“Corporate drinks. Come with us.”
Anna hesitated.
“You need this,” Marina insisted. “And by the way, your café sketch? Incredible work. Just needs polishing.”
Anna blinked.
“You saw it?”
“Of course. You have talent, Anna. You always have.”
That night, over laughter and cocktails, something changed.
For the first time, she wasn’t Igor’s wife. She was just Anna.
A New Beginning
The first freelance project came unexpectedly—a tiny café renovation. The owner, a former classmate, sought her out personally.
“I saw your name in Contrast’s portfolio. I knew you’d be perfect.”
Anna poured herself into the work, day and night. She chose materials, sketched designs, negotiated with suppliers. It was exhausting, exhilarating. Hers.
When the café opened, her name was on the door. Designed by Anna Sokolova.
The recognition came quickly. More projects followed. She was no longer an intern. She was a designer.
Then, one day, Marina handed her a contract.
“You’re ready for this. I want you as my partner.”
Anna’s hands trembled as she signed.
She had done it. She had rebuilt herself.
Full Circle
Two years later, ASDesign thrived. Seven employees. A stunning new office. A portfolio envied by competitors.
One morning, her assistant knocked.
“A candidate is here for the project manager role. Tall, blue suit.”
Anna barely glanced up. “Take him to the meeting room. Offer him coffee.”
When she walked in, she froze.
Igor.
His suit no longer fit perfectly. His face was lined. His confidence—gone.
“Anna?” he whispered, stunned. “This is your company?”
“Yes.”
His voice wavered. “I didn’t know… I just saw ASDesign in the ad.”
“My initials.” She smiled coldly. “Shall we begin the interview?”
His business had collapsed. Debt, betrayal, failure. Now he needed a fresh start.
“Why ASDesign?” she asked, flipping through his résumé.
He sighed. “Because I know this place does great work. Because I need stability. Because…”
He hesitated. Then, softly, “Anna, I owe you an apology.”
Her heart should have raced. Instead, she felt nothing.
She closed the folder.
“I’m sorry,” she said coolly. “We’re looking for someone else.”
His face paled. “This is revenge?”
She stood, meeting his gaze.
“No. This is business.”
As he left, she felt a weight lift.
“You are nothing without me.”
Not anymore.
She was someone. Without him.
And that was all that mattered.