My husband was angry that I worked and didn’t serve dinner on time. He suggested we move apart for a while and think.

My husband was angry that I worked and didn’t serve dinner on time. He suggested we move apart for a while and think.

Life became so much better without him — I got divorced.

I stared at my phone for a long time. Alexey was calling for the third time that evening, but I didn’t answer. The screen showed the time — half past ten. Before, at that hour I would already be washing the dishes after dinner, wiping the table, hanging the laundry. Now I was sitting on the couch with a cup of cold tea, thinking about how everything had changed in just three weeks.

And it all started that very evening. I ran home from work around eight, quickly threw my bag on a chair and took the meat patties I’d made in the morning out of the fridge. Alexey walked into the kitchen just as I was putting the pan on the stove.

“ So where’s dinner, Irochka?” he said calmly, but I immediately sensed the tension in his voice.
“I’ll heat it up, everything will be ready in five minutes.”
He walked to the table and ran his finger across the tabletop.

“Dust. Dust everywhere again. Do you even clean?”
I stayed silent, flipping the patties. My hands were trembling — from exhaustion or from hurt, I don’t know.
“I’m tired, Lyosha. I work now, remember?”

“That’s not your job — to work!” he raised his voice, and I flinched. “Why do you need this job if the house is dirty, there’s no dinner, and I sit here waiting like an idiot?”

Oh God, how many times. I’d explained — we didn’t have enough money. Or does he think getting a manicure once every three months is normal?
“We need money,” I said quietly. “Your salary isn’t enough even for decent groceries.”

“You need to be more economical! Other wives manage, but you…”
He fell silent and turned to the window. I turned off the stove and placed the plate in front of him. Sat across from him, feeling everything inside me tighten into a hard knot.

“Listen,” Alexey looked at me. “Let’s live separately for a while. I need time to rethink everything.”
“What?” I didn’t understand right away.

“Let’s take a break from each other. A friend advised me — he says it worked for him and his wife, everything got better afterward. I’ll move to my mom’s for a while, and you stay here and think about how you want to live.”

He stood up without touching the food. Left the kitchen. I stayed sitting there, staring at the plate of patties. There was a lump in my throat, and it was hard to breathe.

He’s leaving. Just like that — leaving.

An hour later, Alexey packed his bag and left. The apartment was mine — inherited from my grandmother — so he was the one who had to move out. I walked him to the door, tried to say something, but he just waved his hand.

“I’ll call you.”
The door slammed shut. I stood in the hallway listening to the silence. Such silence hadn’t been in our apartment for a long time. No snoring from the bedroom, no grumbling, no reproaches.

The first two days I cried. I couldn’t stop — cried in the restroom at work, cried at home in the kitchen, cried before bed. What would I do alone? How would I cope? I called my mom; she came over and stroked my head like I was a little girl.

“Maybe this is for the best,” she said quietly, wiping my tears. “Just look at yourself. You’re completely worn out.”
She took money out of her bag and put it in my hand.

“For your hair coloring. Don’t skimp on yourself, Irishka.”
I looked at the bills and felt something stir inside me. Anger? Hurt? I don’t know. But suddenly I thought — when was the last time I thought about myself?

On the third day, Tanya called. My friend since school. Her voice was upbeat, almost cheerful.
“Ira, enough sulking! Get dressed, I’m waiting for you in an hour. We’re going dancing!”

“What dancing, Tanya? I’m not in the mood.”
“That’s exactly why! I won’t let you turn into a vegetable. Get dressed and come out!”
I wanted to refuse but only came up with weak excuses. Tanya didn’t listen.
“That’s it, settled. I’m waiting!”

I looked at myself in the mirror. Messy hair, an old home sweater, a face swollen from crying. God, what did I look like.
I pulled on jeans, found a light blouse in the closet. Put on makeup — my hands trembled, the mascara smeared. I wiped it off and tried again. It came out more or less okay.

The dance studio was in the next district, in the basement of an old building. Tanya pulled me along, I resisted.
“Tanya, I don’t know how to dance.”
“You’ll learn there, don’t worry!”

The hall was small, with huge mirrors on the walls. It smelled of sweat and cheap air freshener. The floors creaked underfoot. There were about fifteen women — all different ages, cheerful, chatting.

The music started. The instructor showed the movements, everyone repeated. I stood in the corner feeling stiff as a board. My body didn’t obey, my legs stumbled. What was I doing here? Why?
I looked at myself in the mirror — and suddenly I saw it. Not a tired housewife, not a crushed wife. Just a woman trying to move to music. And there was a smile on my face. Uncertain, shy — but a smile.

“There! Look at yourself, beauty!” Tanya ran up to me.
I laughed. For the first time in days — truly laughed. And I felt something inside loosen. As if a tight rope that had bound me all these years had finally relaxed a little.

I felt good. For the first time, I simply felt good.

The next day Alexey called. I was at work and answered.
“How are you?” — his voice dry, businesslike.
“Fine.”

“The utility bill came. Send me half.”
“All right.”
A pause. I heard him breathing into the phone.
“Did you clean at least?”
There it was. Again.

“Alexey, why do you care?”
“What do you mean, why? It’s our apartment.”
“My apartment,” I said more firmly than I had planned.
He exhaled irritably.
“That’s exactly the problem, Ira. You’ve completely lost your sense of control…”

I hung up the phone. Just like that — pressed the red button and put it on the table. My hands weren’t shaking. Inside, everything felt calm.

I’m not going to justify myself anymore. I won’t.

The apartment was quiet. I made some coffee and sat by the window. There was a hyacinth in a vase on the table — completely dried out; I kept forgetting to throw it away. Now I got up, threw out the dead flower, and filled the vase with fresh water. Tomorrow I’ll buy new flowers.

Tanya called every day. Invited me out — for a walk, to the movies, to dance classes. I started going — at first forcing myself, then with interest. At work they noticed I had become more active. My boss called me in.

“Irina, we’re thinking of promoting you. The salary will be higher, but the responsibilities too. Do you agree?”

I nodded, not believing my ears.

“I agree.”

I’ll manage. I can do this.

Two weeks later, Tanya and I bought a trip to the seaside. An inexpensive, one-week trip. I hesitated for a long time — was it right to spend money on myself? But then I thought — why not?

The sea was warm, the wind salty. We lay on the beach, ate ice cream, talked until late at night. Tanya took pictures of me on her phone.

“Look at yourself! You’re glowing!”

I took her phone and looked at the photo. A tanned face, messy hair, a wide smile. Was that really me?

“You’re like a TV series heroine after a divorce,” Tanya laughed. “Found yourself again!”

“I really did,” I said softly.

When I came home, Alexey called again. This time he got straight to the point.

“Let’s meet. Talk.”

“About what?”

“Well, what do you mean — about us. We need to decide what to do next.”

I agreed. We arranged to meet at a café called “Dumplings and Coffee” — our old place where we used to go often.

I arrived first. Ordered coffee, sat by the window. The bell above the door jingled — Alexey walked in. He looked tired, worn out. He sat across from me and nodded to the waitress.

“Dumplings for me, please.”

We were silent for a minute. I sipped my coffee in small gulps, looking out the window. He rolled his phone in his hands.

“Listen, Ira, it’s unbearable at my mom’s. She gets into all my business, nags from morning to night. I’m exhausted.”

And I wasn’t exhausted when you nagged me?

“I’m sorry to hear that,” I said flatly.

“So what? Have you come to your senses? Will you quit that job? Let’s get back to normal life?”

I looked at him. At his confident face, his usual posture — leaning back in his chair, arms crossed. He wasn’t even considering that I might say no.

“Alexey, I don’t want to go back.”

He frowned.

“What do you mean?”

“I realized that it’s better for us to get divorced. We’re not right for each other.”

“What?!” he straightened up. “Are you serious?!”

“Absolutely.”

His face turned red.

“You’ve changed, Ira. I don’t recognize you.”

“And I’ve finally recognized myself,” I said calmly.

He stood up abruptly, almost knocking over the chair.

“Fine then! You’ll regret this!”

He turned and walked out. The bell over the door jingled again. The waitress came up to me.

“That’ll be five hundred thirty rubles.”

I silently took out the money. He didn’t even pay for his own order. As always.

At home I took an old suitcase out of the closet. Packed Alexey’s things — shirts, jeans, his razor, books. Carefully folded everything, closed the suitcase. Carried it out into the hallway.

He can pick it up whenever he wants.

I went back to the kitchen. Yesterday I had bought fresh flowers — chrysanthemums, yellow and white. I put them in a vase, filled it with water. The kettle on the stove was boiling — I brewed my favorite tea, the one Alexey hated. Said it smelled like grass.

I sat by the window with a cup. Opened the window — fresh air rushed in, smelling of rain and leaves. It was early October, the trees were turning yellow.

I’m free. For the first time in so many years, I can do what I want.

My phone vibrated. A message from Tanya: “So? How did it go?”

I typed back: “I’m getting divorced. And I feel wonderful.”

Almost immediately she replied: “Well, then we have to celebrate! Tomorrow evening!”

I smiled. Finished my tea, washed the cup. Looked around the apartment — my apartment, my things, my life. No one would complain that it’s dusty. No one would demand dinner on time. No one would tell me I should stay at home.

I will live for myself. Finally.

The next morning I woke up to sunlight. Got up, stretched. Made coffee, took yogurt out of the fridge. Turned on music — loudly, the way I couldn’t before because it bothered Alexey.

The phone rang. Alexey.

“I’ll come for my things this evening.”

“All right. The suitcase is in the hallway.”

“Ira, maybe you’ll think about it?”

“No, Lyosha. I’ve already decided.”

He was silent for a moment.

“Well, as you wish.”

He hung up.

I turned on the shower, undressed. Looked at myself in the mirror. An ordinary forty-two-year-old woman. Not young, not old. A bit overweight, hair with some gray. But in my eyes — a shine. A real, alive shine.

I like this woman in the mirror.

After the shower I put on jeans and a new blouse I bought last week. Bright, blue. Alexey used to say blue didn’t suit me. But I like it.

I got ready for work. At the door I saw the suitcase with my husband’s things. Soon he would take it, and that would be that. This chapter closed.

Outside it was a warm autumn day. Leaves rustled under my feet. I walked to the bus stop, thinking about how I’d meet Tanya in the evening. Then on Saturday — dancing again. Next month I want to sign up for some online courses to do side work — I’d dreamed about it for a long time.

I have so many plans. And all of them — for me.

At work, my boss praised me for the project. My colleagues invited me to lunch. I accepted — before I always refused, rushing home to cook dinner.

Now I don’t have to rush anywhere.

In the evening, when I came home, the suitcase in the hallway was gone. Alexey had taken his things while I was out. Probably on purpose, so we wouldn’t have to see each other.

Good. It’s easier that way.

I took off my shoes and went to the kitchen. Put the kettle on. Walked to the window — the chrysanthemums were fresh and bright in the vase. Outside, it was slowly getting dark, lights were coming on in the neighboring buildings.

My phone vibrated. Tanya: “Come out already, I’m waiting by your building!”

I grabbed my jacket and bag. Looked in the hallway mirror — fixed my hair, put on some lipstick. Not bad, quite decent.

I ran outside. Tanya was standing by the car, waving.

“At last! Let’s go celebrate your freedom!”

I got into the car and shut the door.

“Let’s go.”

Tanya turned on the music, and the car started moving. I looked out the window at the passing houses, trees, people. Inside, everything was warm and calm.

I’ll be fine. I’m already fine. And I feel good — so good, better than I have in years.