“Hello, Igor…” Galina called her husband, terribly anxious. “Are you at work?”
“Well, yeah…” he answered after a short pause.
“Yeah? Well, okay.”
“What’s up?”
“My mom just called. She said she saw you with some blonde at a café. She’s always making things up… I know you’re eating at work. By the way, the eggplants turned out delicious? I haven’t tried them yet.”
“Umm… yeah, pretty good. Though, a bit too salty,” Igor muttered. “Guess I’ve fallen in love. With me,” he joked, but Galina didn’t find it funny. That day, she had carefully packed her husband something other than just eggplants. The thing was, Igor didn’t know that. Although… he claimed he had lunch with homemade food.
Which means, mom was telling the truth. Igor had been to a café with some blonde.
Galina ended the call with a heavy heart. She could have started a scene right there, but Igor would have found some excuse. And if he really was cheating on her, it meant she had to act carefully. Watch from the sidelines. And eventually, the truth would surface… No matter how harsh it was.
“I don’t understand why you’re trying so hard, Gal,” Igor grumbled, fastening his new bag. “Who, nowadays, carries food in containers?”
“Those who have a loving wife at home,” Galina answered calmly, unzipping his bag again and placing a neat container inside. “There’s stew and a salad, like you like. Should I pour some compote into your thermos? Fresh, made with dried fruits.”
“What compote, Gal?! You might as well slip a bib in there and a note: ‘Enjoy your meal, my baby.’ I already feel embarrassed in front of my colleagues! The other day they asked when my wife would come feed me with a spoon! What a shame!”
Galina laughed. She was used to his grumbling. Deep down, she knew Igor loved her care, even if he pretended to be annoyed. In truth, he always praised her cooking, and Galina enjoyed standing at the stove for hours, just to make sure her husband was full and happy.
“They serve unhealthy food at cafés. They cook with old, rancid oil. No benefits! And your stomach is weak, Igor. Your mom told me this before our wedding,” she often repeated.
“Well, it is what it is…” Igor grunted, realizing that after marrying Galina, he had gained a few extra pounds. However, his stomach really had stopped hurting.
For three years, Igor happily brought homemade lunches to work. It was something he took for granted.
But after the switch to a new department, something changed. Among the office “elite,” her containers with homemade food suddenly became something shameful.
It all started with an innocent phrase:
“Seriously, you carry a container with you?” one of his colleagues, Andrei, was surprised.
“Yeah…” Igor shrugged. “Do you know where the microwave is? Where do you guys eat around here?”
“Microwave, buddy, that’s at home or at a shawarma stand. Nobody eats at work.”
Igor looked at his colleague and nodded. That day, he ate cold pasta right at his desk.
The very next day, Igor was nicknamed “Igor the Piggy.” They gave him this mocking nickname because his food, lovingly packed by Galina, seemed to someone like outdated, pig-like grub.
“Is that a little snack from your wife?” one colleague teased. “She probably calls you too, like, ‘Did you eat, my kitty?’”
“Hah,” snorted office star Kristina. “My grandmother feeds the cat food like that. Same smell…”
Laughter, jabs, pats on the back. Igor laughed it off in return, but inside, everything protested. The desire to bring lunch to work completely vanished.
But Galina kept caring for her husband. She cooked, packed, wrapped, washed…
To avoid being laughed at, Igor accepted lunch from his wife, then carefully transferred the food into his bag, but he didn’t eat it. Like everyone else, he bought a business lunch at the nearest café and threw away the container with the food Galina had prepared.
In the evening, he automatically thanked his wife, and the next morning, he grabbed the container with casserole again.
“Did you eat?” his wife asked in the evening. “Was it tasty?”
“Yeah,” Igor waved it off. “All good. Thanks. A wonderful lunch.”
He couldn’t admit to his wife that he had thrown away her food. That he spent money on lunches at cafés just so he wouldn’t look like a “pauper.” That his lovingly packed container was going straight to the trash every day.
Maybe Galina would have continued to try to please the “garbage can,” but the truth came to light at one point.
“Gal, hi!” Her mom called. “Listen, I just saw your Igor. He was sitting at a street café with some girl. A blonde, really cute. Do you know her?”
“No. Mom, you must have seen someone else. Why would Igor go to a café for lunch? I give him food to take with him. All homemade, fresh from the stove. Today, for example, I made liver soufflé using your recipe. It turned out so tender! Thanks, by the way.” Galina tensed up but didn’t want to continue the conversation with her mom about her husband.
“Yeah? Probably, you’re right. I didn’t have my glasses on, and I was in a taxi. It was probably just a man who looked similar.”
“Probably.”
After the call with her mom, Galina decided to call her husband. To ask him directly. That’s when it became clear that Igor hadn’t eaten the lunch Galina had carefully made for him after spending all morning in the kitchen. Moreover, he didn’t even look inside the container! Because he didn’t know what was in it, after getting caught on the check with the eggplants.
That evening, while cleaning his bag, Galina decided to check it and felt something heavy. Inside was the container. Full. Still packed. Even unopened.
She remained silent. Took it out, unpacked it, washed it, and packed new, fresh food for tomorrow.
Her husband didn’t notice.
The next day, everything became clear. Galina stood by the window and saw Igor walking towards the building. He passed by, and suddenly… stopped at the trash can, took out the container, looked around as if checking that no one was watching… and threw the food away. Without regret, like it was trash.
At home, Igor was greeted by his wife.
“Do you go to cafés?” she asked from the doorway.
“No,” he answered, not looking her in the eye.
“I saw. I saw you throwing away my lunch, Igor.”
He remained silent.
“Why are you doing this? I try! Don’t you like the way I cook? Or do you want something different, something special? Tell me. I’ll cook it. I can make whatever you wish!”
In response, Igor looked at his wife with some regret.
“Don’t cook anything!” he spat. “Do you want to know why? Because I’m ASHAMED, do you understand?! Because in our office, it’s not cool to bring lunch from home! Because we have normal guys working here — they all go to cafés! And I’m like some… schoolboy, with soup and a note from mom!”
“So now I’m not your wife, but your mom?!” Galina turned pale.
“What’s that got to do with you? It’s just… I feel uncomfortable. Plus, my bag isn’t meant for that. It’s not a storage container! It’s an accessory, not a food storage space! My planner even started to smell like your culinary experiments!”
“So… it’s uncomfortable that I love you. That I try. That I wake up in the morning so you eat like a human. Is all of that embarrassing, huh?”
“You don’t get it!”
“No, Igor, I understand it exactly like that.”
The next day, the containers disappeared from the shelves. Galina ceremoniously threw them in the trash.
She no longer woke up early. Didn’t cook his favorite and healthy dishes. Didn’t leave him sweet notes for the day. She simply started living for herself.
At first, Igor sighed in relief. No more worrying about how to throw away the food unnoticed, how to “accidentally” forget the container at home, even though his wife stuffed it into his bag, even when it clearly shouldn’t fit.
But then, things changed again…
Two months later.
There was a change in leadership at the office. The experienced, older boss, Roman Sergeevich, immediately announced:
“Breaks for lunch, like smoke breaks, are not welcome. We’re wasting time. Now we have our own kitchen in the building, with microwaves, tables, and a refrigerator. We even have our own coffee machine so you, dear colleagues, don’t have to run across town for coffee for half the day. So, our motto is: homemade food is convenient, healthy, and rational. As the new trend says, ‘Healthy food’ (translated from English).”
To set an example for the colleagues, Roman Sergeevich himself brought pasta with gravy and ate it with the team, happily sharing how his wife salted cucumbers and treating everyone who wanted some.
“Delicious. My wife cooked it,” he said, beaming.
Igor seemed to laugh off this “Pickled” Roman, whom they initially nicknamed behind his back. But… soon… the very same colleagues who mocked Igor’s containers, calling him “Piggy,” were now sharing recipes and arguing about whose buckwheat was tastier and healthier.
And Igor… was in shock. At the security checkpoint, they didn’t let him out for lunch a couple of times, saying that every exit meant a deduction from his bonus.
Hungry, he started bringing food again, but since he had no leftovers, he had to make sandwiches. His stomach soon started hurting again from the sandwiches. But he complained to his colleagues.
“Doesn’t your wife pack your food anymore?” asked Andrei.
“Did she quit being your cook?” Kristina laughed. “Or do you throw her lunches away, preferring bread and cheese?”
Igor pressed his lips together. He realized his colleagues had simply changed their stance according to the new realities. He didn’t feel like responding. And he didn’t feel like carrying sandwiches with a hurting stomach.
“Galina…” he began in the evening. “Maybe you can start cooking again? My stomach hurts.”
“No, Igor,” Galina shook her head. “I don’t want my food to end up in the trash again. And along with it, my love, my care, my soul.”
“Are you still angry?”
“No. I’ve just learned to value my efforts more.”
She went to the bedroom and closed the door behind her. Igor had long been sleeping separately, on the couch in the living room…
A month later, they filed for divorce.
“Are you divorcing over a container?!” their friends were surprised. “Seriously?”
But the true reason was much deeper.
The divorce wasn’t about a piece of plastic. It was because the wife truly loved her husband — and he was ashamed of her love and too dependent on the opinions of others. To them, his marriage and his wife’s care meant nothing.