“Sweetheart, did he forget to tell you that he lives in my apartment?” I calmly asked my husband’s girlfriend.
Elena opened the door with her own key and immediately heard unfamiliar laughter coming from the kitchen.
It was loud, relaxed laughter. Not the kind of laughter guests give. It was the way people laugh when they are absolutely certain they belong there.
She froze in the hallway.
On the floor stood a pair of women’s high-heeled boots. Expensive ones. Beside them hung a light-colored coat, neatly placed on the hook Denis always ignored, tossing his own jacket wherever he pleased.
From the kitchen came the smell of fried meat, spices, and sweet perfume.
Not her perfume.
Elena slowly closed the door.
Nothing inside her snapped. No rage. No hysteria. Only a heavy, unpleasant realization that had been circling nearby for a long time, never quite forming into words.
Over the past few months, Denis had changed too sharply.
He started coming home late.
He hid his phone face down.
He went out to smoke in the stairwell, even though he had always smoked on the balcony before.
He became irritated by ordinary questions.
And most importantly, he suddenly started talking about the apartment.
Far too often.
“We should really put part of it in my name,” he would say casually.
“We’re family, after all.”
“Normal wives don’t act like this.”
“You don’t trust me?”
At first, Elena only smirked.
The apartment was hers. Completely.
She had inherited it from her grandmother before she ever met Denis.
Then came the renovation.
Then the wedding.
Then Denis moved in with her.
And very quickly, he began behaving as if the apartment existed because of him.
Even though Elena had bought even the washing machine herself.
She worked as an interior designer, taking private projects and exhausting herself so badly that sometimes she fell asleep with her laptop still on her knees.
Denis, meanwhile, was always “finding himself.”
Sales.
Delivery jobs.
“A friend invited me into business.”
Another brilliant idea that always ended in kitchen speeches and credit card debt.
But he always spoke with confidence.
With grandeur.
As if it were only a matter of time before everyone finally recognized his greatness.
Elena walked into the kitchen.
A young woman, around twenty-five, was sitting at the table.
Dark hair.
Perfect makeup.
Slender fingers with long pale manicured nails.
She was wearing Denis’s T-shirt.
Elena recognized it immediately.
She had bought that T-shirt for her husband herself in winter.
The girl was holding a glass of wine and laughing as she told some story.
And at that exact moment, Denis saw his wife.
His face turned gray.
He jumped up so abruptly that the chair crashed loudly against the tile floor.
“Lena… Why are you home so early?”
Elena calmly took off her jacket.
Placed her keys on the table.
Then shifted her gaze to the girl.
The girl was no longer smiling.
She was clearly trying to understand what was happening.
“Who is this?” she asked carefully.
Denis nervously ran a hand over his face.
“This is… this is…”
He stumbled over his words.
Elena looked straight at the stranger.
And quietly asked:
“Sweetheart, did he forget to tell you that he lives in my apartment?”
The girl’s fingers trembled.
The glass almost slipped from her hand.
“What do you mean… your apartment?”
“Exactly what I said,” Elena replied calmly. “The apartment is mine. Completely. And this man is only temporarily registered here.”
Denis jerked forward.
“Lena, stop it right now!”
But she did not even turn toward him.
The girl kept looking from one to the other.
And the longer the silence lasted, the more her face changed.
Her confidence disappeared right before Elena’s eyes.
“Denis told me the apartment belonged to both of you,” she said slowly.
Elena gave a short laugh.
“Of course he did.”
“Lena!”
“What? You don’t like it?”
Denis started moving quickly toward her.
“Let’s not make a scene.”
“Not make a scene?” Elena sharply turned to him. “You brought your mistress into my apartment, sat her at my table, poured her wine into my glasses, and now you’re telling me not to make a scene?”
The girl suddenly stood up.
“I should probably go…”
“Sit down,” Elena said unexpectedly.
The girl froze.
“You should hear this.”
Denis was starting to get angry.
It showed in his neck, in his tightened jaw, in his eyes.
He hated it when a situation slipped out of his control.
“You’re doing this on purpose! You’re putting on a show!”
“No, Denis. You’re the one who put on a show. Especially when you told her fairy tales about your apartment.”
The girl slowly set down her glass.
“Wait… Are you married?”
The silence hit harder than a scream.
Denis said nothing.
And that said everything.
The girl went pale.
“You told me you two had separated a long time ago.”
Elena slowly nodded.
“A classic.”
“Lena, enough!”
“No. Not enough.”
She walked over to the kitchen cabinet, opened a drawer, and took out a folder of documents.
She placed it in front of the girl.
“Here is the ownership certificate. You can look.”
Denis lunged toward the folder.
“Have you completely lost your mind?!”
Elena sharply pushed his hand away.
“Don’t touch it.”
The girl opened the documents.
For several seconds, she looked at them in silence.
Then she raised her eyes to Denis.
There was no tenderness left in her gaze.
No interest.
Only disgust.
“You live at your wife’s place?”
“It’s temporary!”
“Temporary?” Elena laughed. “For four years?”
“Shut up already!”
He snapped suddenly.
His voice struck the kitchen so harshly that the girl flinched.
Denis was breathing heavily.
“You’re humiliating me on purpose!”
“No, Denis. You’re doing a wonderful job of that yourself.”
“I invested in this apartment!”
Elena looked at him for a long moment.
“With what? Your speeches?”
He stepped closer.
“If it weren’t for me…”
“What?” she interrupted. “Would the refrigerator not open by itself?”
The girl unexpectedly let out a quiet laugh.
Denis turned sharply toward her.
“And you keep your mouth shut!”
“Don’t tell me what to do.”
She was looking at him completely differently now.
As if she were seeing him for the first time.
Without his pretty stories.
Without the image of a successful man he had worked so hard to create.
In front of her stood a grown man living off his wife and bringing mistresses into someone else’s apartment.
And Denis understood that.
He was always very sensitive to the exact moment when he stopped looking like a winner.
“It’s not the way you think,” he began quickly. “Lena is doing this on purpose…”
“Don’t,” the girl cut him off. “Just don’t.”
She picked up her bag.
Denis rushed after her.
“Kira!”
Elena raised her eyebrows slightly.
Kira.
A beautiful name.
Very fitting for this cheap little story.
“Kira, wait!”
But the girl was already pulling on her boots.
“You told me you were renting this place.”
“I was going to explain everything!”
“When? After she caught us?”
He grabbed her by the elbow.
Kira yanked her arm free.
“Don’t touch me.”
Elena stood by the kitchen and watched silently.
Strangely, she did not feel pain.
The pain had come earlier.
Much earlier.
When Denis first began getting irritated by her work.
When he said:
“As if you’re the only one who gets tired.”
When he laughed in front of friends:
“She has the personality of a man.”
When he demanded that she sell her grandmother’s country house to invest in another one of his “projects.”
When he resented her for refusing to put part of the apartment in his name.
When he began treating her apartment almost like his own property.
The affair was not the beginning of the end.
It was simply the final point.
Kira turned to Elena.
“I’m sorry.”
Elena calmly shrugged.
“He lied to you too.”
The girl nodded.
Then she looked at Denis.
“You’re pathetic.”
And she left.
The door slammed so hard that the glasses rattled.
For several seconds, there was silence.
Then Denis turned sharply toward his wife.
And now there was no fear left in him.
No confusion.
Only anger.
Real anger.
Ugly anger.
“Are you satisfied?!”
Elena looked at him calmly.
“Very.”
He grabbed a glass from the table and hurled it into the sink.
Glass shattered across the kitchen.
“You ruined everything!”
“I did?”
“Yes! You came home early on purpose!”
Elena actually laughed.
“Denis, are you serious right now?”
“You don’t know how to talk normally! You’re always humiliating me!”
“Have you ever considered that it isn’t a wife who humiliates a man? It’s his own actions.”
He began pacing around the kitchen.
Sharp.
Jittery.
Like a man who could feel the situation slipping away completely.
“You always thought you were better than me!”
“No. I simply carried everything alone.”
“Because you have an apartment!”
“Because I have brains, Denis.”
He slammed his palm against the table.
“If it weren’t for this apartment, who would even want you?!”
The words hung in the air.
Elena was silent for several seconds.
Then she said, very calmly:
“Now everything has finally fallen into place.”
Denis was breathing heavily.
He already understood he had said too much.
But he could not stop.
“You were always throwing this place in my face!”
“I was?” Elena slowly stepped closer. “I stayed silent for four years. Four years of enduring your business speeches, your debts, your endless ‘soon everything will change.’ And now you bring a mistress here and still dare to open your mouth?”
“Don’t pretend you’re a saint!”
“I’m not pretending. I’m simply the owner of this apartment. And you are the person who is about to be thrown out of it.”
He froze.
“What?”
“You heard me.”
“You can’t kick me out.”
Elena looked him straight in the eyes.
“I can.”
“I live here!”
“In my apartment.”
“I’m your husband!”
“For now.”
Denis gave a nervous smirk.
“You think I’ll leave?”
Elena took out her phone.
“I think you will.”
“And what are you going to do?”
“First, I’ll call a locksmith and change the locks. Then I’ll pack your things. Then I’ll file for divorce.”
He stared at her as if he were seeing her for the first time.
Because before, Elena really had given in.
She had stayed quiet.
Smoothed things over.
Tried to save the relationship.
But now a completely different woman stood in front of him.
And it frightened him.
“You wouldn’t dare.”
“Shall we test that?”
She dialed a number.
Denis quickly stepped closer.
“Lena, stop.”
“No.”
“We can discuss everything.”
“It’s too late.”
“You’re destroying our family over some girl?”
Elena slowly lowered the phone.
“No, Denis. You destroyed the family the moment you decided you could use me as a free attachment to my apartment.”
Then his tone changed.
Abruptly.
It softened.
“Lena… Come on. Wait. Let’s be calm.”
She knew this too.
When pressure failed, Denis switched to pity.
“It was a mistake.”
“No. A mistake is when someone accidentally buys the wrong kind of sugar. You were bringing your mistress here for months.”
He fell silent.
And with that, he confirmed everything again.
Elena felt something inside her become unexpectedly light.
As if a very long, very heavy conversation she had been having with herself for years had finally ended.
“How many times has she been here?”
Denis looked away.
That was enough.
Elena gave a short nod.
Then she walked over to the window.
Outside, rain was beginning to fall.
People hurried along on their errands.
An ordinary evening.
And her marriage was falling apart.
Yet strangely, she did not want to cry.
She wanted only one thing.
For this man to disappear from her apartment.
Forever.
She turned around.
“You have one hour.”
“For what?”
“To pack your things.”
Denis smirked.
“And what if I don’t leave?”
Elena looked at him calmly.
“Then tomorrow your suitcases will be standing outside the entrance.”
He began getting angry again.
“You’re acting like a hysterical woman!”
“No. Like the owner of her apartment.”
“Choke on your apartment, then!”
“I already am. Especially after your guests.”
He grabbed his jacket sharply.
“You think anyone will want you with that kind of character?”
Elena stepped closer.
And said quietly:
“At least I won’t have to lie to women and tell them I live in my own apartment.”
He stared at her for several seconds.
Then he kicked the chair hard.
And went into the room to pack.
The sound of slamming doors echoed through the apartment for almost an hour.
He made noise on purpose.
Threw things around.
Dropped objects.
Yanked open wardrobes so violently it sounded as if he wanted to rip the doors off.
Elena sat in the kitchen and silently drank water.
No tears.
No trembling.
Only sometimes, she glanced at the broken glass in the sink.
Then Denis came out with his bags.
He stopped in the hallway.
“You’ll regret this.”
Elena leaned her shoulder against the wall.
“No.”
“I mean it.”
“And I don’t.”
He looked at her for a long time.
As if waiting for her to stop him after all.
To say something.
At least to shout.
But Elena remained silent.
And that was more frightening than any scandal.
Because there was no love left in her eyes.
Nothing at all.
Only exhaustion.
Denis sharply opened the door.
And walked out.
A second later, he stuck his head back inside the apartment.
“And by the way! Kira would have chosen me anyway!”
Elena suddenly laughed.
Truly laughed.
For the first time that evening.
“Denis… She ran the moment she found out you live with your wife.”
His face turned crimson.
The door slammed shut.
Silence covered the apartment instantly.
Real silence.
Deep silence.
Elena slowly exhaled.
Then she walked to the door.
Locked it.
And for the first time in a very long time, she felt at home.