Valentina went out into the courtyard half an hour later. Arthur stayed at home — “to work,” as he put it. She knew perfectly well that he was probably frantically rereading his messages and checking what his wife might have found. Let him check. She hadn’t found anything on his phone. She had found something far more valuable.
The neighbor was sitting on the bench. Her dachshund dozed at her feet, resting its muzzle on the warm asphalt.
“Tamara,” Valentina said, sitting down beside her. “Can I ask you something?”
“Sit down, Valyusha. Ask.”
“When it happened with your second husband… did you understand right away, or little by little?”
Tamara looked at her closely. Not with pity — with understanding. The look of a woman who had already walked through the same fire twice.
“Right away,” she answered. “But I didn’t want to believe it. Those are different things. You understand right away. But accepting it takes a long time.”
“And what did you do?”
“With the first one, I cried. I cried for six months, forgave him, believed his promises. He swore he would change. I believed him. Then I found him at that woman’s place. Do you know what he said? ‘It’s your own fault, you’re cold to me.’ Can you imagine? Me — cold. Me, who ironed his shirts at four in the morning.”
“And with the second?”
“With the second, I was smarter. No, that’s a lie — I was angrier. I didn’t cry. I packed his things in two hours and threw him out. He came home — and the lock had already been changed.”
“And he didn’t try to come back?”
“He tried. They all try. He stood outside the door shouting that I was crazy. Then he went to my parents and explained what a hysterical woman I was. Then he disappeared. A month later, I found out he was already living with her.”
Valentina was silent for a moment.
“Tamara, and the third one? He’s different, isn’t he?”
“He is,” Tamara smiled, and the wrinkles around her eyes softened. “But I only found him when I stopped being afraid of ending up alone. Do you understand? As long as you’re afraid, you endure. As long as you endure, they trample on you. That’s not philosophy, Valyusha. That’s arithmetic.”
“Thank you.”
“No need. And one more thing. I don’t interfere in other people’s business, you know that. But the day before yesterday, when you were at your mother’s, I saw Arthur get into a taxi. There was a woman with him. Young. Reddish hair. I wouldn’t have said anything, but since you’re asking…”
“Reddish,” Valentina repeated. “Yes. That’s what I thought.”
She stood up, thanked Tamara, and walked back toward the building. But she didn’t go into her entrance. Instead, she turned the corner, where her friend Marina’s car was parked. Marina was waiting with the window rolled down.
“Get in,” Marina said. “Tell me. I can see from your face that everything has been confirmed.”
Valentina got into the car. Marina handed her a bottle of water.
“It’s confirmed. Tamara saw him with her the day before yesterday. Young. Reddish hair.”
“Kristina,” Marina said calmly. “His sister’s friend. I hinted about it three months ago, but you brushed me off.”
“You didn’t hint. You said, ‘Arthur has good taste, he’s always liked redheads.’ I thought you were joking about me.”
“Valya, I never joke. That’s my problem. People think I’m joking when I’m telling the truth. And when I’m serious, they think I’m mocking them.”
“So what am I supposed to do?”
Marina looked at her and did not smile.
“That’s for you to decide. But I’ll say one thing. You live in your mother’s apartment. He lives in your apartment. Not the other way around. Think about that.”
“I have thought about it.”
“Then stop thinking and start doing.”
Vera called on her own. Her voice was trembling and angry, the voice of someone who had just learned something disgusting and hadn’t yet decided whether to scream or cry.
“Valentina, I need to talk to you. Urgently.”
“Come over,” Valentina said. “Arthur went somewhere. We have about two hours.”
Her sister-in-law arrived forty minutes later. She entered the apartment without taking off her shoes, walked straight into the kitchen, and sat down on the same chair where Arthur had sat that morning.
“I know,” she said immediately. “About Kristina.”
“How?”
“She told me herself. Yesterday. We were at my place, drinking wine, and suddenly she started saying that she had someone. A married man. That she hadn’t wanted it to happen, that it just turned out that way. That they ‘just kissed, and then it got out of control.’ I asked who it was. She didn’t want to say. Then I saw a message on her phone — she forgot to lock the screen.”
“And?”
“It said: ‘Baby, I can’t tomorrow, we’re going on vacation. I miss you. Yours, A.’” Vera closed her eyes. “Yours, A., Valya. My brother.”
Valentina poured her some water. She felt something strange — not pain, no. Coldness. Something inside her had frozen like a lake in late autumn. On the surface, smooth ice. Beneath it, dark depth.
“Vera, did you suspect it for a long time?”
“No. I swear. I knew Kristinka was seeing someone, but I never could have imagined it was Arthur. He’s my brother, do you understand? My brother. And she was my friend. They betrayed both of us. You and me.”
“Are you angry with him?”
“Angry?” Vera lifted her head. “Right now, I hate him. All his life he played the good boy. Mom was proud of him. Dad held him up as an example. And he… he didn’t even spare my friend. He used her too. For him, everything is a game. Something ‘new and fun.’ I know him.”
“What do you want to do?”
“I want him to get what he deserves. Not revenge, no. The truth. I want him to look in the mirror and see himself as he really is. Without the mask.”
Valentina nodded. Then she took out her phone and dialed a number.
“Marina? Come over. The three of us need to talk.”
Twenty minutes later, Marina was sitting in the kitchen. Vera looked at her cautiously — she knew Marina had a habit of telling the truth in a way that made people want to sink through the floor.
“So,” Marina said, looking from one woman to the other. “The husband is cheating. The mistress is the sister-in-law’s friend. The apartment belongs to the wife’s mother. Did I miss anything?”
“No,” Valentina answered dryly.
“Then there’s only one question: are you throwing him out, or are you going to keep playing happy family?”
“Marina!” Vera protested. “Could you be a little softer?”
“Softer how? Pat her on the head and say, ‘It’s all right, sweetheart, endure it a little longer, maybe it will sort itself out’? No. It won’t sort itself out. I’ve spent twenty years watching women endure things and then wonder why they lost themselves.”
Valentina stood up, walked to the window, and remained silent for a while. Then she turned around.
“I’m throwing him out. Today.”
“Correct,” Marina nodded.
“But first I need to know something. Vera, call Kristina. Invite her here.”
“Why?”
“Because I want to look her in the eyes. And say what needs to be said. Not to her — to myself.”
Arthur returned first. He came in whistling, carrying a grocery bag.
“Valya, I got your favorite cheese and that dried fish you…” He stopped short when he saw Vera and Marina at the table.
“Oh,” he forced a smile. “Hi, girls. Having a little gathering?”
“Sit down, Arthur,” Valentina said. Her voice was calm. Too calm.
“I’m fine standing. What happened? You all look like someone died.”
“Sit,” she ordered.
He sat. The smile slowly slid off his face like melting snow from a roof.
“Arthur, I asked you a question this morning. You pretended not to understand. I’ll ask again: did you warn Kristina that we were going on vacation?”
Vera looked at her brother. His face turned gray.
“What Kristina?” he muttered. “What are you talking about?”
“Kristina. Your sister’s friend. Young, reddish hair. The one you got into a taxi with the day before yesterday while I was at my mother’s. The one you write to: ‘Baby, I miss you. Yours, A.’”
“Vera!” He turned to his sister. “You told her all this?”
“No, Arthur,” Vera replied in an icy voice. “Kristina told me. My friend. Former friend. The one you dragged into your dirty little game.”
“Listen,” he stood up. “You’ve got it all wrong! Nothing serious happened! We kissed a couple of times, that’s all! It’s nothing!”
“Nothing,” Marina repeated, leaning back in her chair. “What a wonderful word. Nothing. You have a wife at home, but you kiss another woman — and that’s ‘nothing.’ You know, Arthur, you have talent. You manage to cheapen everything you touch.”
“Marina, nobody asked you!” he snapped. “This is our family business!”
“Our?” Valentina raised an eyebrow. “Do you and I still have an ‘our’? Really? Because it seems to me that ‘our’ ended the moment you started lying to me every single day.”
The doorbell rang. Vera opened it. Kristina stood on the threshold — pale, with red eyes. She stepped inside and froze when she saw Arthur.
“What are you doing here?” she breathed.
“I live here,” Arthur answered. “For now.”
“Kristina,” Valentina approached her. She was half a head taller and now looked down at her. “I’m not going to scream at you. I’m not going to insult you. I want to ask one question.”
“What question?”
“Were you never ashamed? Not even once? You came to Vera’s house, you knew his family, you knew I existed. And not once were you ashamed?”
Kristina lowered her eyes.
“I didn’t mean to… It just happened…”
“It just happened,” Valentina nodded. “Unbuttoned shirts, someone else’s bed — all of it just happened. Fine. I understand.”
“Valya, let’s not turn this into a circus!” Arthur stepped toward her and tried to take her hand. “Let’s talk privately. Without these… spectators.”
“Spectators?” Valentina pulled her hand away. “This is my sister — no, your sister. This is my friend. And this is your mistress. Everyone here is involved. There are no spectators.”
“I’m telling you, it wasn’t serious! I slipped up, it happens! The important thing is that I’m with you, I’m not leaving!”
“Exactly,” Valentina said coldly. “You’re not leaving. You stay. In someone else’s apartment. With someone else’s woman. Living someone else’s life. Do you know what the worst part is, Arthur? It’s not the cheating. It’s that you don’t even understand what you’ve done.”
“That’s enough!” he raised his voice and grabbed her shoulder. “Enough of this theater! We’re husband and wife, we’ll deal with it ourselves!”
Valentina looked at his hand on her shoulder. Then she raised her eyes. And with full force, she slapped him across the face — sharp and ringing, so hard his head jerked to the side.
Silence fell over the kitchen like a collapsing ceiling.
Arthur stood there, pressing his palm to his cheek. His mouth was open. His eyes were wide, stunned. He hadn’t expected it. Not from her. Not from Valentina, who for twelve years had endured, smiled, forgiven, and stayed silent.
“Do. Not. Touch. Me,” she said, stamping out every word. “Ever again.”
“You… you…” he whispered.
“Yes. And that is the last thing you will ever get from me. Pack your things. Now. You have half an hour.”
“You can’t throw me out! This is my home!”
“No, Arthur. This is my mother’s apartment. The documents are in her name. I am registered here. You are not. Half an hour.”
“Valentina…”
“Twenty-nine minutes.”
He turned to his sister, looking for support, sympathy — anything.
“Vera, tell her! You’re my sister!”
“I am your sister,” Vera nodded. “That is exactly why this hurts me more than anyone. Pack your things, Arthur. She’s right.”
He grabbed his phone.
“I’ll call Mom! She’ll explain everything to you!”
“Call her,” Valentina shrugged. “Just keep in mind: three months ago, your mother herself explained to me that ‘letting off steam on the side’ is normal. But when I jokingly said that I might have someone too, she almost fainted. Double standards, Arthur. It’s your family tradition.”
Kristina quietly backed toward the door.
“And you stay,” Marina said, without getting up, pointing a finger at her. “You need to hear this too. So that next time a friend invites you into her home, you don’t confuse the kitchen with someone else’s bedroom.”
Kristina froze. Tears appeared in her eyes.
“I’m not guilty… He was the one…”
“He was the one,” Marina nodded. “He came to you by himself, undressed by himself, lay down by himself. And you just lay there thinking about noble things. Of course you’re not guilty. You’re a victim of circumstance. Like every mistress in the world.”
Arthur packed his things in silence. A bag, a backpack, a sack with shoes. Twelve years of life fit into three containers by the door. Several times he stopped and looked back, hoping Valentina would say, “Wait,” “Let’s talk,” “Don’t go.” She said nothing.
At the entrance, he turned around.
“Valya, you’ll regret this. I promise you. You won’t manage alone.”
“I will,” she answered from the window. “I’ve been managing all these years. You just never noticed.”
He left. The door closed behind him. Valentina stood in the hallway, pressing her forehead against the wall. Then she exhaled — long and slow, like someone finally surfacing after a long dive underwater.
“How are you?” Vera asked, coming up behind her.
“I don’t know. Empty. But free. It’s a strange feeling.”
“Normal,” said Tamara, who had come after noticing the commotion in the courtyard and was now standing quietly in the doorway. “Completely normal. I remember it. It passes. And something else appears in its place.”
“What?”
“Respect. For yourself.”
Marina washed the cups and wiped the table. Then she walked over to Valentina and hugged her — simply, without a word. It was so unlike Marina that Valentina, for the first time, felt something hot rise in her throat.
“Don’t cry,” Marina muttered. “Otherwise I’ll start crying too, and I can’t afford that. I have a reputation as a heartless bitch.”
Valentina laughed through her tears.
Two days later, Vera came again. Her face looked strange — shocked and, at the same time, somehow liberated.
“Valya, I need to tell you something.”
“What happened?”
“Arthur went to Mom’s. They had a huge scandal there. Mom screamed that you threw him out illegally, that you weren’t worthy of him, that he would find someone better. And then… then Arthur told her about Kristina. Everything. In detail.”
“And?”
“At first Mom pitied him. She said, ‘Well, these things happen, men are like that.’ Then Arthur, apparently deciding that since everything was out in the open, he might as well be honest, blurted out, ‘Mom, you yourself said that letting off steam on the side was normal.’”
“And?”
“Mom screamed, ‘That’s one thing! But for a wife to go around cheating — that’s different!’ And then Arthur said, ‘But Valentina told me you once admitted to her that you had an affair too.’”
Valentina turned pale.
“I never said that.”
“I know. But Mom didn’t deny it. She went white, fell silent, and then… then Dad came into the room. He had heard everything. Everything, Valya.”
“My God.”
“Dad stood in the doorway and looked at Mom. Mom stood there and said nothing. Then Dad asked, ‘Galya, is it true?’ She started explaining, justifying herself. But then he asked something else. He asked, ‘Is Vera my daughter?’”
Silence. Valentina stopped breathing.
“And what did she answer?”
“She was silent for thirty seconds. I counted. Then she said, ‘No.’ Just ‘no.’ No explanation, no excuses. One word.”
“Vera…”
“Dad turned around and left. Arthur sat there with his mouth open. And I stood in the hallway, listening to everything through the door. My father is not my father. My brother is not entirely my brother. And the woman I considered a model of morality for twenty-nine years turned out to be… exactly what she is.”
Vera did not cry. Her voice was dry and even. Valentina took her hand.
“Vera, he is your father. He raised you. He loved you. Blood is biology. Family is a choice.”
“I know,” Vera whispered. “I know. But it hurts. So much.”
A week later, her mother-in-law tried to come to Valentina. She rang the doorbell. Valentina opened the door.
“This is all your fault!” Galina began from the threshold. “You destroyed my family!”
“No, Galina Petrovna,” Valentina answered calmly. “You destroyed your family yourself. Thirty years ago. I destroyed only mine — so I could build a new one. Without lies.”
“You threw out my son!”
“Your son threw himself out. With every lie, every deleted message, every kiss with another woman. I simply opened the door and showed him the direction.”
“You’ll regret this!”
“Maybe. But not for the reason you think.”
Valentina closed the door. Turned the key.
A month later, news arrived: Kristina had discovered that Arthur had also been messaging two other women at the same time. She called Vera, crying, choking on her words, trying to find comfort. Vera listened. Then she said:
“Kristina, you got what you deserved. Just like my brother. Just like my mother. All of you played with lies — and lost. Don’t call me again.”
Arthur moved back and forth between his mother’s apartment, where his father no longer spoke to either him or Galina, and a rented room he could barely afford. The “new” and “fun” had turned into a broken family, a lost apartment, a sister who wanted nothing to do with him, and a mother whose own betrayal had ricocheted into everyone’s life.
Valentina stood by the window. A cup of hot tea in her hands. The wet courtyard outside. Tamara with her dachshund on the bench. Marina in her car, honking, calling her to breakfast.
Nothing was like yesterday anymore. Nothing was like the past twelve years.
At last, everything was the truth.