I wiped away the last of my tears, looking at myself in the mirror. No, I wouldn’t let myself break down. Not now. This is my apartment, and nobody has the right to throw me out.
Who would have thought that after six years of marriage to Pavel, it would end like this? We had seemed like the perfect couple—at least, that’s what everyone around us thought. A cozy apartment in the city center, a gift from my parents for my twenty-fifth birthday, our travels together, and our evenings spent watching movies. Life had seemed so perfect.
I still remember my father’s words before the wedding:
— Katyusha, we’ll register the apartment in your name, just in case. I trust Pavel, but you never know what might happen.
Back then, I waved it off, thinking our love would last forever.
— Ekaterina Andreevna, are you awake in there? — a voice called from behind the door.
I glanced at myself in the mirror once again, adjusted my hair, and straightened my shoulders. No, I was going to show this new woman in my husband’s life that I wasn’t broken.
— I’m coming out, — I said, opening the bathroom door.
Standing in the hallway was a tall blonde in her thirties, dressed in an expensive suit, designer shoes, and flawless makeup. It was clear why Pavel had chosen her—she was everything I wasn’t: polished and sophisticated.
— Alina Vitalyevna, — she introduced herself formally. — I am Pavel Sergeyevich’s attorney. We’re here to discuss the matter of your eviction.
— My eviction? — I couldn’t stop a bitter laugh. — From my own apartment?
Alina Vitalyevna tilted her head slightly, looking at me with a mix of confusion and determination.
— Pavel Sergeyevich mentioned this is a jointly owned property.
I couldn’t hold back a laugh this time:
— Did Pavel forget to tell you that this apartment was a gift from my parents before we even got married? And that it’s only registered in my name?
A flicker of doubt crossed her face, but she quickly regained composure.
I remembered when everything began to change. At first, it was small things—Pavel coming home later, speaking to me less. He blamed everything on a stressful project, and I—thinking this was just a phase—gave him space.
— I have all the documents for the apartment, — I said calmly. — Would you like to see them?
— That won’t be necessary, — she said, pulling out her phone. — I’ll call Pavel Sergeyevich.
As she walked to the window to make her call, I sat on the edge of the couch, replaying the last few weeks in my mind.
The evening Pavel came home unusually calm and sober, telling me we needed to talk. I had just finished preparing his favorite roast.
— It’s better if we part ways, — he said, his eyes focused on something far beyond me. — I’m filing for divorce.
I didn’t make a scene. Maybe it was how my mother raised me—always maintaining dignity. I quietly gathered the divorce papers and filed them a couple of days before he did.
Alina Vitalyevna finished her call and turned back to me. Her face was no longer confident, and she appeared uncomfortable.
— There’s been a slight misunderstanding, — she said, trying to regain her professionalism. — Pavel Sergeyevich didn’t explain the property situation correctly.
— You mean he lied? — I stood up from the couch. — Sounds just like him. He’s always been great at manipulating the truth.
Alina Vitalyevna shifted awkwardly, avoiding my gaze.
— I apologize for the inconvenience, — she said, shifting uncomfortably.
— No need, — I replied, walking toward the door. — You were just doing your job. Though, may I offer you some advice?
She looked at me with a raised brow.
— Be careful with Pavel. He’s a master of manipulation. Today, he convinced you to come here and evict his wife from her own apartment. And tomorrow…
I didn’t finish my sentence, but the look in her eyes told me she understood. I closed the door behind her and sank to the floor, my knees weak.
The phone rang, making me jump. It was Pavel.
— What kind of circus did you create? — his irritated voice came through the line. — Why humiliate Alina like that?
— Am I the one being humiliated? — I asked, anger rising inside me. — Sending your new girlfriend to evict me from my own apartment—now that’s humiliation.
— Alina is not my girlfriend, she’s my attorney!
— Who, by the way, ended up in your bed? — I couldn’t help but inject a bit of sarcasm.
There was silence on the other end of the line.
— You do realize I’ll still get my share of the property in the divorce, don’t you? — Pavel finally said.
— Which share? The apartment was mine before the marriage. You sold the car a year ago. What do we have left to divide?
— We have a joint account…
— Which contains only my money, — I interrupted. — Have you forgotten you’ve been living off my salary for the last two years while you built your business?
Another silence. I could almost picture Pavel, trying to figure out his next move.
— You know, — I said slowly, — I’ve always wondered how you manage to charm people. Now I realize—you do it because you believe your own lies. Do you really think you have any right to this apartment?
— Katya, let’s not… — Pavel’s voice sounded tired.
— Of course not, — I ended the call.
A week went by, and I tried to distract myself with work, but my thoughts kept drifting back to everything that had happened. On Friday, I decided to take a walk in the park. After all, I had to start getting back to normal.
The autumn wind swept yellow leaves across the paths as I walked. When I heard familiar laughter, I froze. Pavel and Alina Vitalyevna were standing twenty meters away, hand in hand, deeply engrossed in conversation.
— So, not a mistress? — I muttered, feeling a lump in my throat. — Just an attorney?
They didn’t see me, and I quickly turned into a side alley, my legs carrying me out of the park. Suddenly, everything made sense—the late nights, the business trips, the sudden divorce.
At home, I poured myself a glass of wine that my colleagues had given me for my birthday. Sitting by the window, I gazed out at the city in the evening, when there was a knock at the door.
There stood Alina Vitalyevna, but now she looked different—no business suit, just casual clothes, her hair in a messy ponytail.
— Can I come in? — she asked softly.
I stepped aside silently.
— Ekaterina, I need to explain, — Alina began. — The eviction issue… it was awful. I didn’t know the apartment was yours.
— You just took Pavel’s word for it? — I sat down across from her.
— Pavel can be very persuasive, — Alina said, looking down. — We met six months ago at a corporate event. He told me he was unhappy in his marriage, that you didn’t understand him…
— Classic, — I said with a sarcastic smile.
— I acted unprofessionally. I mixed business with personal matters, — Alina shook her head. — I’m sorry.
— For what? Falling for a married man or for trying to evict his wife from her own apartment?
Alina flinched.
— For everything. I… I broke up with him.
— Really? — I raised an eyebrow. — And today in the park?
— Did you see? — Alina paled. — Pavel called, said he wanted to discuss business. Then he started saying he made a mistake, that he wanted to fix everything…
I laughed bitterly.
— And you believed him?
— No, — she replied firmly. — That’s why I’m here. I wanted to warn you—he’ll come to you. He’ll ask for forgiveness, talk about a second chance.
It was clear to me. The next evening, I heard a knock on the door.
— Katya, we need to talk, — Pavel stood with a bouquet of my favorite lilies.
— About what? — I crossed my arms.
— I made a mistake. This affair… it meant nothing, — he said, stepping closer. — We can start over. I’ve realized everything.
— Really? — I looked at the man I once loved, barely recognizing him. — And what exactly have you realized?
— That only with you do I feel at home. That our marriage is worth saving.
— And what about Alina? — I used her name deliberately.
Pavel flinched.
— That was a mistake. A momentary weakness.
— Lasting half a year?
— Were you keeping track of me? — Pavel snapped.
— No, just that your “momentary weakness” came with an apology. Turned out far more dignified than you.
Pavel paled.
— What did she tell you?
— That’s enough, — I leaned against the door. — You know what’s the most amusing part? I was at a café where Alina was meeting a friend. They were sitting at the next table.
— And so? — Pavel tugged nervously at his jacket.
— Alina was explaining how she planned to use you to take my apartment. How she convinced you she could claim it in the divorce. Amusing, isn’t it? You thought you were manipulating her, but she was the one manipulating you.
— You’re lying! — Pavel stepped toward me.
— How predictable, — I shook my head. — You’ll always believe whatever benefits you.
The next day, I met with Elena Viktorovna, my lawyer. After reviewing all the apartment documents, including the deed from my parents, she confirmed:
— Ekaterina Andreevna, the apartment is entirely yours. But let’s be cautious. We’ll prepare additional documents to protect your rights.
The divorce went smoothly. Pavel didn’t show up; he sent his representative instead—another young lawyer who recited his lines in a monotone.
Leaving the courthouse, I felt a weight lift from my shoulders. I called my mom:
— It’s all over.
— How are you, darling? — her voice was filled with concern.
— You know, surprisingly well, — I smiled. — I’ve enrolled in interior design courses. It’s a dream I’ve had for a while.
— And work?
— I’m taking a month off. I want to renovate the apartment, get rid of everything that reminds me of the past.
I embraced the change. I rearranged the furniture, repainted the walls, bought new curtains. Every little change made it feel more like my space, shedding the past.
Slowly, life began to settle. I reconnected with friends who had drifted away during my marriage. Many of them had noticed Pavel’s odd behavior but hadn’t dared to speak up.
— You’ve changed, — my best friend Marina remarked over coffee. — You seem more confident.
— I’ve realized something important, — I said, stirring sugar into my cup. — I always thought trust was the foundation of a relationship. That it should be given freely. But now I understand—it has to be earned.
— And one must protect their own, — Marina added.
— Exactly, — I set my cup down.
Six months later, I was nearly done with my design courses and had taken on my first project—designing a small studio apartment. My Instagram showcasing my work started to gain followers.
One evening, while coming back from work, I ran into Alina. She was leaving a neighboring building.
— Ekaterina! — she called out. — Can I have a minute?
I stopped. She looked different—simpler, more natural.
— I wanted to say thank you, — she said, — Your words made me reflect on many things. I really did plan to use that situation for my own gain. But you showed me what it looks like from the outside.
— I’m glad I could help, — I replied sincerely.
At home, I sat by the window, watching the city. This apartment, once just a gift from my parents, had become a symbol of my independence, my strength to stand up for myself.
On the windowsill, a cactus bloomed, bought after the divorce—a small, prickly plant that, like me, was learning to protect itself. I smiled. The future no longer scared me; it beckoned with opportunities. And now, I knew for sure: my happiness depended only on me.