A cold October wind was hurling wet snow against the windows as Anna stepped over the threshold of their shared apartment for the last time. Fifteen years of life together had been packed into two battered suitcases. Igor stood in the hallway, leaning against the wall, gazing past his wife. His eyes were fixed on a future where a young and striking Marina awaited him.
“You understand that this is better for everyone,” he recited the memorized phrase that he had repeated like a mantra over the past few weeks.
Anna nodded silently, clutching the keys that would, with a chime a moment later, fall into her husband’s outstretched palm.
At that moment, something snapped inside. Perhaps it was the final thread that had once tied their fates together. Fifteen years… Fifteen years of shared breakfasts, candlelit dinners, and Sunday walks in the park. Fifteen years of mutual support, future plans, and quiet family happiness.
Everything had crumbled two months ago when Igor came home unusually late and declared that he could no longer go on. That he had met someone else. That he and Marina loved each other and wanted to be together. And then the nightmare began: court battles, division of property, and threats.
Anna tried to fight for her share—after all, they had bought the apartment together, chosen the car together, and worked hand in hand at the country house every weekend. But Igor had been smarter: everything was registered in his name. “It’s better for business,” he had said before. And she had believed him…
Now, all that was left was the bitter aftertaste of betrayal. The lawyer shrugged his hands: without a prenuptial agreement, it was practically impossible to prove her rights to the property. And then came another blow: she was fired from the company where she had worked for ten years. Of course, on paper everything was clean—a staff reduction. But she knew exactly whose work it was.
“Goodbye, Igor,” Anna whispered as she reached for the door handle. In response—silence. Only the wind outside howled louder, as if mourning the end of yet another family story.
Three years passed in the blink of an eye.
Igor sat in the luxurious leather chair of his office, studying a photograph from a recent wedding with Marina. She was dazzling in a pristine white dress by a renowned designer. Back then, he hadn’t spared any expense—it was his way of proving to everyone that life was just beginning.
The first year with Marina had seemed like a fairy tale. She was fifteen years younger than him, admired his every word, and looked at him with love-struck eyes. Next to her, he felt young and successful. It was especially gratifying to appear together at business meetings—the envious looks from colleagues bolstered his ego.
But gradually the fairy tale began to fade. Marina started to be more capricious, demanded new purchases, and threw tantrums over trifles. “Honey, I need a new car. A BMW is no longer in style,” “Darling, why haven’t we bought a villa on the coast yet?” “All my friends have already been to the Maldives, and I…”
Igor frowned as he looked at the bills. The business was going through tough times. Everything was going inexplicably off course. Major projects were collapsing one after another, and with them, profits slipped through his fingers. And, of course, competitors began encroaching from all sides.
“You’re a loser!” Marina shouted during yet another argument.
—”I married a successful businessman, not a—” she didn’t finish, slamming the door.
And a week later, he accidentally saw her in a restaurant with a young owner of a construction company.
The divorce was swift and painful for his wallet. Marina knew where to find compromising evidence—several dubious deals that could interest the tax authorities. He had to pay up.
Now he sat alone in an empty apartment, where every object reminded him either of Anna or of Marina. Friends, who once crowded the thresholds of his office with offers to “drink and relax,” had evaporated. The phone stayed silent all day long.
The aroma of freshly brewed coffee and cinnamon filled a small café in the center of the city. Igor entered there by chance, seeking refuge from an unexpected downpour.
And he froze at the doorway, not believing his eyes. Behind the counter, smiling at customers, stood Anna.
She had changed. The old uncertainty was gone, replaced by an inner strength and dignity. A short haircut with a hint of gray made her look like a successful European businesswoman. In her eyes shone the serene happiness of someone who had found her place in life.
“Hello, Igor,” her voice was even and friendly, without a trace of old resentment. “Sit down; I’ll come over.”
Igor sat at a table by the window, watching as his ex-wife deftly managed both the coffee and the staff, while also handling business matters on the phone. This woman was no longer the naive, homely Anna he once knew.
“Your coffee,” Anna said as she set a cup in front of him and sat down across the table. “How are you?” Her question carried genuine concern.
“I’m… okay,” he faltered, unsure how to describe his collapse. “And you… is this your café?”
“Yes,” she smiled. “You know, after our divorce, I struggled to pull myself together. Finding a job was difficult—your recommendation worked,” a hint of irony flashed in her voice. “I had to start from scratch. I took barista courses, then business management courses. I took out a loan, found this place… In the beginning, it was very hard, but now I have a network of three cafés.”
At that moment, the café door opened, and a tall middle-aged man in an expensive but not ostentatious suit entered. He immediately made his way to their table.
“Sweetheart, don’t forget, we have a dinner with partners at seven,” he said gently, touching Anna’s shoulder, and Igor noticed the wedding ring on her finger. “Oh, I’m sorry, did I interrupt?”
“Let me introduce you, this is Igor, my ex-husband,” Anna calmly introduced him. “And this is Mikhail, my current husband and business partner.”
“Very nice to meet you,” Mikhail extended his hand for a handshake with the calm confidence of a man who knew his place in life. Igor mechanically shook his hand, feeling a painful squeeze inside.
He looked at them and saw something that once existed between him and Anna, but in an improved version—a special closeness between people who not only live together but truly support one another. Mikhail placed his hand on the back of Anna’s chair—a simple gesture, yet one filled with care and protection…
“Anna, may I have a word with you?” Igor felt compelled to say something before it was too late.
She nodded and moved with him to the window.
“I… I wanted to apologize. For everything,” his words came with difficulty. “You know, I only now realize what a mistake I made. You were…”
“Stop,” Anna gently interrupted him. “There’s no need, Igor. Everything that happened is history now. Yes, it hurt, very much. But that pain made me stronger. I’m grateful to you for the fifteen years we spent together. And even for the way it all ended—otherwise, I would never have found the strength to change.”
She smiled: “You know what’s most interesting? When you kicked me out of the apartment, took the car and the country house, I thought my life was over. But it turned out—it was just beginning. Sometimes you have to lose everything to find yourself.”
Igor stared out the window at the drizzling rain. In the glass reflection he saw Mikhail gently helping Anna put on her coat, heard her talking to the staff, and saw them leaving hand in hand…
And he was left alone in the empty café, where every detail of the interior had been carefully planned by the woman he once thought of as nothing more than a housewife. The waitress brought the check, and he mechanically pulled out his credit card, on which there were almost no funds left.
“Sorry, but we only accept cash,” the girl smiled. Igor rummaged through his pockets for loose change. His expensive suit could no longer hide the wear and tear, just as his life could no longer conceal its complete collapse.
Leaving the café, Igor wandered the evening city for a long time, oblivious to the rain or passersby. Before his eyes, there stood a happy Anna—so close yet infinitely distant.
He recalled their past life as if flipping through an old photo album. There was Anna preparing his favorite borscht, humming softly. There they were together planting flowers at the country house, her laughing as he got soil on his nose. There she was, staying up late to help him with reports…
Back then, it all seemed so ordinary, even dull. He had been chasing thrills, vivid emotions, thinking he deserved something greater. And now he understood—that had been true happiness. Simple, warm, reliable.
When he finally reached his apartment, Igor looked around carefully for the first time in a long while. The expensive furniture, trendy paintings on the walls—all of it suddenly seemed tasteless and alien. Somewhere in here, Anna’s beloved violets had once stood, family photographs hung on the walls, and the throw she had knitted with her own hands lay on the couch…
He took out his phone and scrolled through his contacts. Anna… Her number was still there, although he had never dared to call it in these three years. His finger hovered over the call button, but after a moment, Igor shook his head and deleted the number.
Some doors close forever.
It wasn’t just that Anna was now with someone else. She had simply become a different person—strong, independent, whole.
And Igor was left with no choice but to move on, carrying this lesson within him. And perhaps, one day he too would find the strength to change, just as Anna had. After all, sometimes you have to lose everything to finally understand what truly matters in life.
For now, he simply stood by the window, gazing at the nighttime city, where somewhere in a cozy café the aroma of cinnamon and unfulfilled hopes still lingered…