My husband said, “Let’s separate,” and I replied, “Then you move out.”
Svetlana noticed that Igor was wearing his best shirt—the very cream-colored one they had bought together last year for his birthday.
And new shoes.
He even wore cufflinks, although on Sundays at home he always dressed casually.
“Svetlana, we need to talk,” he said, standing by the window with his back to her.
She slowly placed her coffee cup on the table. Her heart skipped a beat, but strangely—not from fear, but from curiosity.
Igor had clearly been preparing for this conversation, treating it like an important event.
Then it hit her: he expected tears, pleas, hysteria. But she suddenly felt an astonishing calm.
“I think it’s better for us to separate,” he continued without turning around. “We both understand that.”
“Understand?” she repeated, surprised by her own voice. Calm. Almost interested.
Igor finally turned around. His face showed surprise—she was not reacting as he had anticipated.
“Well, yes. We’re adults. The feelings are gone; why pretend?”
Svetlana leaned back in her chair.
Twenty-two years of marriage. They had raised a son. Survived his turbulent teenage years and her own forties. And now, apparently, her real fifties were beginning.
“So, where will I go?” she asked simply.
“Well…” Igor hesitated. “You could stay with Masha for a while. Or rent something. I can help with money at first.”
Masha—her sister, who had always thought Svetlana had married him for nothing.
“Help with money.” How generous.
“And what about you? What are you planning?”
“Me?” He clearly hadn’t expected a counter-question. “Nothing special for now. Maybe I’ll sell the apartment, buy something simpler.”
“Sell the apartment?” Svetlana tilted her head. “This one?”
“Yes. Why?”
She stood and walked to the window. Igor instinctively stepped back.
Below, schoolchildren walked with backpacks—the school year had begun. Life went on.
“Igor, do you remember whose name the apartment is in?”
“In mine, of course. Why?”
“In mine?” There were hints of surprise in her voice, which could have seemed genuine. “Are you sure?”
For the first time in the conversation, he looked confused.
“Of course, I’m sure. We bought it a long time ago…”
“We bought it with money my mother gave me before our wedding. Remember? She sold her room in the communal apartment and said:
‘This is for your future.’”
And so it was—for our future.
Igor remained silent.
“It was put in my name because you weren’t working anywhere at the time, still looking for your calling. And I needed bank documents for the loan. Remember now?”
“But we… we agreed…”
“We agreed it was ours together. And it was. Until you decided to divide everything.”
Svetlana sat back down, took her cup. The coffee had cooled, but she took a sip.
“You know, Igor, I suddenly realized that you’re right. We really should separate.”
“Really?” He brightened, but a flicker of anxiety appeared in his eyes.
“Yes. And since you want a new life so much, let’s do everything honestly.
I stay in the apartment—it’s mine. And you find a new place for yourself. On your own. With your own money.”
“Svetlana, we can work something out…”
“Isn’t this working it out?” she smiled. “You want freedom—you get it. Fully.”
Igor sat across from her. His best shirt suddenly seemed ridiculous.
“But I don’t have money for an apartment right now…”
“And I don’t feel like supporting you. You said it yourself—we’re adults.”
“I thought we could solve everything peacefully…”
“We are solving it peacefully. No shouting, no scandals. Just everyone gets what they wanted.
You wanted me to leave, but it turns out, you’re the one leaving.
Is that unfair?”
Svetlana got up, took her cup, and headed to the sink. A notification about grocery delivery blinked on her phone—an order she had placed yesterday for today.
“I need some time to think,” Igor mumbled.
“Of course,” she agreed, rinsing her cup. “Just don’t take too long. I have friends coming over today.
I wouldn’t want to have a family drama in front of them.”
Igor went to the bedroom.
Svetlana heard him speaking on the phone—quietly but anxiously. She received the groceries for lunch and began cutting vegetables.
Her movements were calm, almost meditative.
Half an hour later, he returned to the kitchen.
“Svetlana, maybe we rushed? Let’s discuss everything again.”
“What’s there to discuss?” She didn’t look up from the cutting board. “You made the decision. I agreed. Everything’s fair.”
“But the apartment… We invested in it together. Did the renovations, bought furniture…”
“Renovations?” Svetlana finally looked at him. “The ones my father did? With his own hands, for free?…”
Or the furniture we bought with my salary while you were still searching for your calling?
“I’ve always worked!”
“You worked. But somehow it turned out that you spent your salary on yourself, while I supported the family. Remember how you explained it?
‘A man must have his own money to maintain self-respect.’”
Igor fell silent.
“I also remember how you said you weren’t ready for children. And then, when Andrey was born—you said fatherhood scared you.
Yet now you tell everyone what a caring dad you are.”
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“It has to do with the fact that I understand perfectly well: you didn’t decide to leave yesterday. Or even last week.”
Svetlana set the knife down and turned to face her husband.
“Tell me, Igor, does Olesya like the apartment? Or are you planning to get something else?”
He went pale.
“What Olesya?”
“The one you’ve been messaging for the last six months. Eight years old? Works at your company, no kids yet, but really wants some.”
“Did I remember correctly?”
“You’ve been watching me?”
“Why watch? You told me everything yourself. Remember that evening three weeks ago? You came home happy, talking about a colleague.
So smart, so promising.
And the next day, for some reason, you bought a new shirt.”
Svetlana grabbed a towel and dried her hands.
“And you started showering in the morning. You used to shower in the evening. Bought perfume. Joined a gym—for the first time in ten years.”
“Svetlana…”
“And now you even take your phone into the bathroom. Used to leave it anywhere.
And you constantly smile at the screen.”
A notification lit up on Igor’s smartwatch. He glanced at it automatically and quickly hid his wrist.
“Olesya’s texting?” Svetlana asked with genuine curiosity.
Igor sank into a chair.
“I wasn’t planning…”
“Not planning what? To fall in love? Or to get caught?”
“It just… happened. We were talking at work, and then…”
“And then you decided it’s better if I leave myself. Convenient.
I leave the apartment, my reputation stays intact—wife left voluntarily, so she’s at fault. And with Olesya, you can start a clean slate.”
Svetlana sat across from her husband.
“You know what’s amazing? I’m not angry at all. I’m even grateful.
You helped me realize that I am much stronger than I thought.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Live. Here. In my apartment.
Maybe finally do what I’ve always dreamed of but never dared. Now I’ll have time for myself.”
“And what about Andrey?”
“Andrey is twenty-one. He’s an adult. I think he can figure out for himself how each parent behaves.”
Igor got up and walked across the kitchen.
“Svetlana, maybe we can work something out? I’m willing to pay you compensation…”
“For what?” she asked, genuinely surprised.
“Well… for the apartment. For the years we spent together.”
“Igor, you want to buy my apartment so you can bring your girlfriend here?”
“Not so harshly…”
“How then? You’re offering me money so that I voluntarily become homeless?”
Svetlana laughed—genuinely, without anger.
“You know, I would have agreed before. Out of pity for you. Thought:
‘Poor thing, he didn’t mean it, he just fell in love.’
And I would have gone to my sister, and even apologized to you for not being able to keep you.”
She stood and walked to the window.
“But now I understand: you simply thought I was a convenient fool who would tolerate everything.
And you know what?
You were wrong.”
“So, you won’t leave?”
“No. You will. Today. And you’ll take only your personal belongings.”
“And if I refuse?”
Svetlana turned to her husband. Her eyes held the calm of someone who had finally realized her true strength.
“Then tomorrow Olesya will find out that her beloved isn’t a free man, but still married. And she’ll also learn exactly how he planned to solve the housing issue.
Do you think she’ll like that?”
Igor remained silent.
“You have one hour,” Svetlana added. “My friends are coming at five. I wouldn’t want them to witness a family drama.”
She took a spray bottle from the windowsill and went to mist the plants.
The house became very quiet—only the hiss of water and the occasional creak of the floorboards under the husband getting ready.
Svetlana smiled at her favorite violet.
Real life was only just beginning.
Here, life is shown without embellishments—but with humor.
