A Glimpse Into a Changing Relationship
As Alice opened her eyes, she was greeted by the gentle, diffuse light of early morning that struggled to penetrate through the thick curtain of low autumn clouds outside. A soft, almost weightless rain fell steadily, and a stubborn droplet persistently marked the seconds as it fell from the awning onto the windowsill. This rhythmic sound roused her from her slumber. Lying still, she listened to the quiet breath of the room and the steady beat of her heart. Beside her, on the rumpled side of the bed, Maxim softly snored, sprawled out as if he were the sole rightful owner of the space.
Eleven years. Eleven long yet rapid years filled with both meaning and emptiness spent waking up next to this man. In the beginning, his breathing was a melody she yearned for, and his presence filled the space with warmth and a profound sense of safety. He was different back then – sensitive, attentive, with eyes that glimmered with genuine interest in her words while his hands instinctively knew where to find her worries and doubts, soothing them away. However, time, relentless and merciless, wore down these qualities like water eroding a stone, leaving only irritation and a deep, all-consuming emotional distance in their place.
Alice silently rose, placing her bare feet on the cool floor and wrapping herself in a well-worn, soft robe. As she left the bedroom, she carefully closed the door behind her, determined not to disturb the tranquil silence of the apartment. The kitchen welcomed her with its familiar order and a slight chill. She flicked on the kettle, and its gentle hum became the only sound breaking the stillness. The window fogged up, and trails of condensation slowly slid down, revealing a blurred world of soaked streets and drooping trees. She filled her mug with hot water, steeped a fragrant herbal blend, and settled into her favorite chair by the window, cradling the warm ceramic in her palms.
Change didn’t arrive suddenly; it crept in quietly, taking small, almost imperceptible steps. Three years prior, the rhythm of their lives was disrupted when Maxim’s company unexpectedly closed down. Initially, he spoke of a break, the chance to find something more worthy, with enthusiasm and confidence. He sent out resumes, attended interviews, and built plans. A month passed, then two, then three. After that, his motivation deflated like a slowly losing air balloon. He ceased searching. Gradually, his world morphed into a sofa, a smartphone screen, and an unending stream of television broadcasts, blending into a monotonous backdrop.
Alice worked in a small yet stable firm specializing in paperwork. Her salary sufficed for their needs: rent, groceries, and everyday expenses. Gradually, Maxim halted contributions to their shared needs, eventually avoiding the topic altogether. At first, he stammered shyly about temporary hardships and later acted as if everything was perfectly fine. Alice chose not to stage confrontations; she didn’t demand or reprimand. Instead, she silently shouldered all responsibilities, settling the bills and returning from shops with heavy bags of groceries.
“You’re up again before dawn,” came Maxim’s sleepy, raspy voice from the bedroom.
“I need to get ready; the workday starts in an hour,” Alice replied quietly and evenly.
“I’m going to stay home today. I need to think about some things.”
“Like yesterday. And the day before that,” echoed in her mind, but her lips remained still.
Maxim shuffled to the kitchen, stretched, and yawned loudly and carelessly. He had neither washed his face nor combed his tousled hair. He simply plopped down onto a chair and reached for the tea kettle.
“Pour some for me too, please?”
Alice silently obliged, placing a steaming mug of freshly brewed tea before him. He took a small sip and grimaced.
“It’s already lukewarm. Did you let it cool on purpose?”
“It just boiled,” Alice countered, gazing into her own cup.
“Of course,” he scoffed, pushing the drink away. “There’s always something to say in response.”
Alice chose not to continue a pointless conversation. She finished her tea, rinsed her mug, and made her way to the bathroom. Maxim stayed at the table, fixated on the vibrant screen of his phone.
At work, Alice endeavored to immerse herself fully in her tasks. Documents, phone calls, approvals, meetings with clients – all of these created a dense stream that temporarily displaced the burdensome thoughts about home. Yet evening came, and she had to return. With each approach to her familiar entrance, she felt a heavy, cold knot tightening inside her.
Maxim greeted her with the same question every time, without even turning away from the television:
“What’s for dinner today?”
Alice went to the kitchen and cooked. Silently, mechanically, almost without any reflection on her actions. Maxim sat before the screen, occasionally commenting on the news or offering his opinions on the hosts. After eating, he retreated back to the bedroom, diving once more into his virtual world. Alice was left alone to clear the table, wash the dishes, and tidy up the scattered items. Maxim never offered to help. It never even seemed to occur to him.
Another year passed. Then another. Alice gradually stopped expecting any changes. She merely existed, conducting a routine of actions: work, commute, home, shopping, cleaning, sleep. A closed circle with seemingly no exit.
Over time, however, something new began to creep into Maxim’s remarks – disdain. Initially timid, it became increasingly overt and confident.
“Take a look at yourself sometimes,” he tossed out one evening, scrutinizing her from the couch. “Your figure has changed. You weren’t like this before.”
Alice slowed her movements but did not turn around. Maxim continued to gaze at her with an evaluative, cold stare.
“Maybe you should join a gym? You’ve really let yourself go.”
Alice remained silent, continuing to unpack groceries in the pantry. But his words pierced her heart like thorns. Let herself go.
A few days later, Maxim revisited the topic.
“I saw our neighbor, Irina, today. Now that’s a woman. Always well-groomed, fit, made up. And you…”
“And what about me?” Alice quietly asked, facing away from him.
“Nothing. Just a thought out loud.”
Alice clenched her lips until they turned pale. She didn’t argue, offer excuses, or voice her feelings. She simply continued slicing vegetables for the salad.
Maxim didn’t relent. Every day, he found new reasons to compare, new sharp, stinging comments. Whether her dress fit like a sack, her hairstyle was outdated, or she spoke in a dull, uninteresting manner. Alice remained silent. She engaged less frequently in dialogue with him, reacting less to his words. Maxim, it seemed, interpreted her silence as weakness and agreement, thus he continued with renewed vigor.
“Have you ever thought about how you appear to others?” he inquired one evening at dinner. “Gray and lackluster. There’s no life in your eyes.”
Alice slowly set down her fork and raised her gaze to meet his. Maxim maintained eye contact for a few seconds before disdainfully huffing and turning away to continue eating.
Her calm demeanor, her quiet, impenetrable wall, frustrated him even more than any outcry or tears. It seemed he awaited a scandal, a hysterical outburst, a storm of emotions. But Alice did not give him that gratification. She simply continued to do what needed to be done, gradually paying less attention to his words.
A tipping point came on one of those brisk September nights. Alice returned home utterly exhausted from work, with heaviness in her limbs and a head throbbing from tension. Maxim, as usual, lay on the couch, glued to the television.
“Alice, run to the store,” he tossed casually, not lifting his gaze from the screen. “We’re out of beer.”
“You go yourself,” she replied, slipping off her shoes.
He slowly turned his head, eyebrows raised in disbelief.
“What did you say?”
“I said go yourself. I’m really tired.”
“Am I not tired?” he raised his voice, increasing in volume.
“From what?” Alice looked at him steadily. “From lounging on the couch?”
Maxim abruptly leapt to his feet.
“Are you out of your mind? How are you speaking to me like that?”
“I’m speaking the truth,” her voice remained astonishingly calm. “You’ve been unemployed for three years. For three years, I’ve been bearing all the burdens. Yet I have to endure being called indiscreet and uninteresting.”
Maxim was taken aback. Alice had never allowed herself such direct and blunt statements. She had always remained silent, tolerating, agreeing.
“What’s got into you?”
“I haven’t lost it. I simply realized that I can no longer stand this way of life, nor do I want to.”
“What do you mean you don’t want to?” Maxim crossed his arms across his chest, adopting a defensive posture. “Are you hinting at divorce?”
“I’m not hinting,” Alice walked into the room, opened the bottom drawer of a cabinet, and pulled out a grey cardboard folder. “I’ve already filed the application.”
Maxim froze. She placed the folder on the table and turned to face him.
“In a month, we can finalize everything. You just need to sign the agreement.”
He remained silent. Alice saw the myriad of emotions flicker across his face: astonishment, disbelief, followed by an intense flash of anger.
“Are you serious?” he finally squeezed out.
“Absolutely.”
“And what’s with the whole performance? Because I expressed my opinion a couple of times?”
“Because I no longer want to wake up next to someone who feels no respect for me,” Alice’s voice was steady and firm. “You’ve been living on my strength for three years. Existing on my means. And still allowing yourself to constantly insult me.”
“Insult?” Maxim laughed loudly, unnaturally. “I’m just speaking the truth! You’ve truly let yourself go, Alice. Look in the mirror!”
“I do look,” she nodded. “But now I will do it without you.”
Maxim stopped laughing. He approached the table, grabbed the folder, and began flipping through the documents.
“Did you really do this? Completed everything?”
“Yes.”
“And you think I will beg, cry now?”
“I don’t care what you will do,” Alice shrugged.
Maxim forcefully threw the folder back onto the table.
“Wonderful! Amazing! I’m glad! Happy I’ll finally be rid of an incessantly complaining shadow that drags me down.”
Alice didn’t flinch. She looked him straight in the eye – so intensely, so coldly that he involuntarily took a step back.
“Will you sign?” she asked calmly.
“I will sign!” he yelled. “I’ll go tomorrow and sign! Finally, I’ll start a normal life. A real one. Without you.”
“I’m so happy for you,” Alice took the folder and neatly placed it back into the cabinet. “So it’s settled then.”
Maxim abruptly turned on his heel and stormed off to the bedroom, slamming the door behind him. Alice stood in the middle of the living room. Inside, she felt strangely empty. Not painful, not bitter, not hurt. Just emptiness. And for the first time in many years – a quiet, profound peace.
The next day, Maxim indeed went to the registry office and signed all the necessary papers. He returned home gloomy but with the appearance of someone who had accomplished something significant. He ostentatiously packed his things into a sports bag and declared that he would stay with a friend until he resolved his housing situation.
“Don’t miss me,” he tossed back as he crossed the threshold. “But then again, who would want you?”
Alice slowly shut the door and leaned her forehead against the cool wooden surface. Silence. Finally, absolute, deep silence. No more stinging comments, no humiliating comparisons, no endless demands. Just a soothing silence that enveloped and calmed her.
For the first week, Alice adapted to solitude. In the mornings, she woke up without an external snoring. She had breakfast in complete silence, not speaking with anyone. She left for work without enduring any complaints. She returned home without anyone asking about dinner. She cooked only for herself, watched what she wanted, and went to bed without feeling the heavy, oppressive presence nearby.
By the second week, life became noticeably easier. Alice began doing things she had previously lacked the energy and time to do. She thoroughly cleaned the entire apartment, sorted through the mess in her wardrobe, and without regret, threw away Maxim’s old items. She enrolled in a swimming pool. Bought herself a beautiful, elegant dress in sea green. For the first time in many months, she approached the large mirror in the hallway and examined her reflection closely – without shame, without the impulse to look away.
By the end of the third week, Alice realized with surprise that she felt no sadness at all. None. The divorce ceased to be a tragedy and transformed into liberation. Maxim did not call, did not text, and did not remind her of himself. And Alice was immensely grateful for that.
In the fourth week, a call came from her friend Veronica, who lived at the other end of the city in a bright and spacious two-room apartment. Veronica invited Alice to come over for a few days.
“Come, change your surroundings. You need new impressions right now,” she said.
Alice gratefully agreed. She packed a small travel bag and went. Veronica welcomed her warmly; dinner was already set on the kitchen table. They talked late into the night. Veronica did not ask leading questions. She simply listened, nodding occasionally, inserting brief, sharp remarks. Alice spoke about everything – the years of silent endurance, Maxim’s words, and her decision to put an end to it.
“You acted very bravely,” Veronica remarked as the story concluded. “Not everyone has the courage to take such a step.”
“I was simply very tired,” Alice confessed. “Exhausted to the core.”
“And rightly so. Life is a precious thing, one should not waste it on those who cannot appreciate your brilliance.”
Alice stayed at her friend’s for a week. Then another. Veronica was thrilled to have her company. They wandered through the evening city, visited cozy cafes, enjoyed watching old favorite films. Alice seemed to be relearning how to live – without considering others’ critical opinions and without fear of saying or doing something wrong.
One of those days, Veronica cautiously suggested,
“How about trying out a gym? A very modern fitness center just opened nearby.”
Alice considered it. The gym. How many times Maxim had told her about it, but in his voice, it sounded like a reproach, like a sentence. Now, it was her own decision. For her sake, not to meet anyone’s standards.
“Let’s give it a shot,” she agreed.
The next day, the friends went for an introductory session. The gym was spacious, flooded with light, with enormous panoramic windows. The trainer, a young and cheerful girl, detailed everything, explaining the training programs. Alice chose group classes – a slow, meditative yoga and energetic, brisk cardio.
The initial classes were incredibly challenging. Her muscles ached, breathing became irregular, sweat dripped into her eyes. But Alice didn’t back down. She attended three times a week, diligently following all instructions and gradually getting into the rhythm. With each passing day, her movements grew more confident, her body lighter, and more obedient. Along with the physical changes came a newfound sense of self – strong, capable, and resilient.
Simultaneously, Alice became more mindful of her nutrition. She did not resort to exhausting diets, but instead began preparing lighter, healthier meals. More fresh vegetables, less fried foods, no late dinners. Her weight began to gradually decrease. Not rapidly, but steadily. Alice didn’t chase after perfect measurements. She simply wanted to feel good. And she was succeeding.
After a month, Alice approached the mirror after a shower and barely recognized her reflection. Her face looked fresher, brighter, her eyes sparkled, regaining their long-lost shine. Her figure had become more toned, her posture – straighter. But most importantly, the eternal tension that had lingered in the corners of her lips and the depths of her gaze had vanished. Alice smiled at her reflection. And that smile was genuine, radiating from the depths of her soul.
Noticing the changes, Veronica smiled approvingly:
“You just shine from the inside. A completely different person.”
“I feel like a different person,” Alice admitted honestly.
In early November, Alice returned to her apartment. She had delayed this moment for a long time but knew it was time to come back to her space, to her life. The apartment greeted her with silence and order. She unpacked her belongings, flung open the windows, letting in a rush of cold, fresh air. The house no longer bore down on her or oppressed her. Instead, it felt light, cozy, filled with brightness and tranquility.
In mid-November, another joyous event occurred. Alice was offered a promotion at work. The head of her department was retiring, and management was looking for a replacement. Alice had been with the company for many years, thoroughly understanding all the nuances of the processes and earning the respect of her colleagues. The director invited her in and suggested she lead the department.
“I am confident you will handle it,” he said. “You are a reliable and competent specialist.”
Alice accepted without hesitation. The new position brought not just increased responsibility but also new opportunities for growth. Her salary increased, and exciting, promising projects emerged. Alice dove into her work. Not to forget but because she genuinely enjoyed and found satisfaction in what she was doing.
Evenings, she returned home pleasantly tired. She cooked herself uncomplicated dinners, watched her favorite shows, read books she had previously not had time for. Life acquired a new, healthy rhythm. No fights, no reproaches, no humiliating comparisons. Just the long-sought silence and the sweet taste of freedom.
One month passed after the official documentation was finalized. Then another. Alice hardly ever thought of Maxim anymore. The ex-husband transformed into a distant memory, a chapter in her life she could turn without regrets.
And then one evening, as Alice was brewing tea, her mobile phone rang insistently. She glanced at the screen and paused. A familiar name glowed on the display, once so dear. Maxim.
Alice remained motionless for several seconds, contemplating. Then her finger slowly pressed the green button.
“Hello.”
“Hi, Alice,” Maxim’s voice sounded muted, different from before. Softer, quieter, almost submissive. “How are you?”
“I’m well,” she replied briefly.
“I… I wanted to talk to you. If that’s okay.”
“I’m listening.”
Maxim hesitated. Alice could hear his uneven breath on the phone.
“I’ve thought a lot about it… Perhaps we rushed things? Made a hasty decision?”
Alice remained silent, giving him space to express himself.
“I realized I was wrong. I said too much, acted… well, not in the best way. I’m sorry.”
“Sorry for what exactly?” Alice calmly asked.
“For all those words. For everything that happened. I shouldn’t have treated you like that.”
“Yes, you shouldn’t have,” she agreed.
“You see? And I want to make it right. Let’s try again? Start with a clean slate?”
Alice slowly walked through the living room. Her gaze skimmed over the neatly arranged items, the clean couch, the table holding her favorite mug. Nothing excessive. Nothing that reminded her of those difficult years.
“No,” she said quietly but clearly.
“What do you mean no?” Maxim didn’t understand.
“No, we won’t try. We won’t start over.”
“Alice, at least listen to me…”
“I listened. You apologized. I accepted your apology. But my answer is no.”
Maxim fell silent. Then his voice returned, this time tinged with insistence:
“Alice, don’t be so principled. We went through so many years together. I acknowledged my mistake; I changed!”
“Changed?” Alice’s tone held a trace of mockery. “How?”
“I’ll find work! I’ll help around the house. I won’t say unpleasant things anymore.”
“Maxim, you promised to find work for three years. For three years, you lay on the couch and criticized me.”
“But now I’ve realized everything!”
“You came to this realization only after you were left alone,” Alice noted. “Not when you were with me.”
Maxim fell quiet again. Alice could hear his heavy, labored breath.
“Alice, it’s truly hard for me without you. Really. You always created such… a cozy atmosphere. And the smell of good food. And warmth.”
Alice softly chuckled.
“So, it’s not me you miss. It’s the comfort that I provided. That’s what you miss.”
“No, that’s not it! I miss you!”
“Me? The one you called an incessantly complaining shadow?”
Maxim took a heavy breath.
“Forgive me for those words. I was angry; I lost control of myself.”
“You were angry for three straight years, Maxim. You never controlled yourself at any time.”
“Alice, give me just one chance…”
“No,” her voice sounded like steel. “There will be no more chances.”
“But why?” Desperation crept into his voice.
“Because I no longer want to wake up next to someone who sees me as a burden. Someone who has lived off my means for years while humiliating me in the process.”
“I’ll change! I’ll do better!”
“Maxim,” Alice strolled to the window and gazed out at the evening city dotted with lights. “You won’t change. You just found yourself without a comfortable lifestyle. That’s all. You don’t need me. You need a maid to cook, clean, and silently endure your grievances.”
“That’s not true!”
“It is true. And you know it deep down.”
Maxim went silent. The breathing through the phone became strained and intermittent.
“Alice, can’t you forgive me? For all the years we’ve had together…”
“For all our years,” Alice interrupted, “I don’t want to go back. I devoted eleven years of my life to you. The last three felt like a prison sentence. I refuse to spend my days on someone who cannot respect me.”
“But I do respect you!”
“No. You’re just afraid of loneliness. That’s not the same thing.”
Maxim tried to say something, to argue, but Alice gently, yet firmly halted him:
“Maxim, those who were once considered shadows do not return to those who did not see the light in them. Remember that.”
“Alice…”
“I wish you well. Goodbye.”
Alice pressed the red button. The screen went dark. She stood for a few seconds with the phone in her hand, then quietly smiled, switched it to silent mode, and placed it on the coffee table. Inside her, there was a remarkable calmness. No anger, no bitterness, no regrets. Just a quiet, deep sense of closure. Maxim attempted to return, but he encountered a solid, reliable wall – a wall Alice had built herself to protect her newly unfolding world.
She went back to the kitchen and refilled her mug with hot water. As the tea steeped, she stood by the window, gazing at the night city. The streetlights cast golden paths upon the wet pavement, and the few pedestrians hurried to their destinations. An ordinary evening. An ordinary life. But now this life belonged entirely to her. Without external demands, without humiliations, without the need to constantly justify her existence.
The tea transformed, taking on a rich color and aroma. Alice picked up her cup, added a spoonful of honey, and settled into her beloved armchair, wrapping herself in a soft, knitted blanket. She switched on a film she had wanted to watch for a long time – a lyrical melodrama. Maxim always turned his nose up at these, calling them boring and tearful. But now his opinion held no significance at all.
The movie turned out to be wonderful – deep, subtle, meaningful. Alice watched it until the final credits rolled, then switched off the television and headed to bed. She easily fell asleep, free from the usual burden of thoughts. There was no one beside her shifting restlessly, snoring, or occupying all the space. There was just silence, peace, and a light scent of lavender from the sachet lying on her pillow.
In the morning, Alice woke up feeling rested and full of energy. She prepared herself an omelette with herbs for breakfast and got ready for work. On her way, she thought about new projects, plans for the upcoming weekend, and her meeting with Veronica. Thoughts of Maxim didn’t even surface. He was left in the past. Irretrievably.
At work, the day flew by with a flurry of intense activity. Meetings, paperwork, negotiations with partners. Alice managed everything with ease and confidence. Colleagues observed that their new departmental head seemed to have rejuvenated and transformed. In return, Alice simply smiled.
As she made her way home, she stopped by a small supermarket near her home. She bought fresh produce, a few exotic fruits, and a novel that had been recommended to her. Strolling slowly, she inhaled the cool November air deeply. The cold now established its claim, but it no longer felt hostile. It was energizing, refreshing, filled with promises of the approaching snowy winter and the new year ahead.
At home, she prepared a light dinner, ate, and tidied up the kitchen. Then, she sank into the couch with her new book. She read for a long time, fully immersing herself in the fictional world. The phone remained beside her, still silent. Maxim no longer called or texted. He had seemingly finally understood that the door to her life was firmly shut. Forever.
Alice closed the book and glanced at the wall clock. It was past midnight. Time to rest. She got up, stretched, made her way to the bedroom, and lay down in the crisp, fresh sheets. Tucking herself under a warm blanket, she closed her eyes. There was no chaos or anxiety in her mind. Just a pleasant fatigue from a productive day and a deep, unshakeable conviction that everything was unfolding exactly as it should.
Life continued. Without Maxim, without his endless criticism, without the oppressive feeling of inadequacy. Now, Alice lived for herself. And this was the most correct, most important, and wisest decision she had ever made. She found the strength within herself to close one door, which opened up a whole world brimming with light, silence, and new opportunities. And this world was unimaginably beautiful.
* * *
Then winter arrived. Outside, the first, tentative snowflakes began to swirl, dancing slowly and enchantingly. Alice stood on the balcony, wrapped in a warm blanket, watching as they settled on the dark branches of trees, on the rooftops of cars, and on the pavement, transforming the gray city into a fairytale, crystalline kingdom. Inside her, it was quiet and bright. She caught one snowflake on her palm and watched as it slowly melted away, turning into a tiny droplet of moisture. Just as all that had once caused her pain and heaviness melted away. What remained was a pure, pristine surface, ready to accept new tracks. She smiled, gazing at the transformed world. Sometimes, it is necessary to endure a long season of rain to learn to appreciate the silence of the first snow and the boundless, crystalline clarity of a new beginning.
* * *