Wrinkled fingers of Lidia clenched the cup of cooled tea. Thirty-two years of marriage, three thousand dinners together, endless washing of his shirts — and now she sat alone in their kitchen, where every inch was soaked with shared memories.
“I don’t understand, Vitya,” her voice trembled like a string. “You’re just… leaving?”
Victor methodically folded his things into an old suitcase, as if performing a routine task. His movements were slow, as if giving Lidia time to come to terms with what was happening.
“Lida, we both knew this would happen sooner or later,” he didn’t even turn to her. “Everything between us has been dead for a long time. I want to live for myself. I’m sixty, and I haven’t seen anything yet.”
Lidia flinched as if slapped. Thirty-two years of their shared travels, theater visits, birthdays, New Years — instantly turned into “nothing.”
“And how old is she?” Lidia asked a question she already knew the answer to.
“Thirty-five,” Victor finally looked at his wife. “Her name is Katya. She’s… different. You understand?”
“Younger than me by twenty-two years? Is that what you mean?” Lidia felt something inside tear — a paper of hopes and illusions.
“Not just that,” Victor snapped the suitcase shut. “She’s vibrant, laughs loudly, doesn’t count every penny.”
“I controlled the money so we could buy this apartment! To send Masha to university!” Lidia’s voice involuntarily rose to a shout.
“See? You always yell. I’m tired.”
Lidia pressed her lips together. She yelled? After thirty years, she could have come up with a more substantial accusation.
“I’ll come back for the rest of my things later. The apartment papers are with the notary, each share is fifty percent, so don’t even think about…,” he stumbled looking for the word, “taking any action.”
“Where are you going now? To her?”
“Yes, Lida. To her.”
Victor headed to the door but stopped at it:
“You know, I think it’s for the best. You’ll get a break from me, cool off. Maybe you’ll even understand me.”
Lidia looked at him, not believing her ears.
“Understand you?” she smiled bitterly. “And will you be able to understand what I feel?”
“You’re strong, Lida. You’ll manage.”
The door slammed, and Lidia was left alone in the apartment where everything — from mugs to curtains — was chosen together. She sat motionless until the tea completely cooled, then suddenly threw the cup against the wall.
The crash of broken porcelain sounded like a call to action.
“That’s it? And he just… left?” her daughter Masha’s voice sounded indignant through the phone receiver.
“Yes, he packed his things and went to her,” Lidia paced the apartment, holding the phone to her ear, mechanically straightening photos on the walls. “Imagine, Masha, he said I’d ‘manage.’”
“God, Mom, what a…,” Masha paused, searching for a polite word, “selfish man! Thirty-two years together!”
“Thirty-two years,” Lidia echoed, stopping in front of their wedding photo.
For two weeks, Lidia barely left the house. She stared at the ceiling, flipped through photo albums, and cried all the tears she had. Then one morning she woke with piercing clarity in her mind.
“I will really manage,” she said aloud, addressing the empty pillow to her right.
That same day she called her longtime friend Nina, who worked as a family law attorney.
“Lida, we don’t have much time,” Nina laid papers out on the café table. “If he’s already mentioned property division, it means this Katya is turning him against you.”
“What can I do?” Lidia looked at her friend with determination in her eyes.
“Urgently transfer the ownership of your share to Masha. As for the savings…”
Lidia absorbed every word, taking notes. After the meeting, she went to the bank and withdrew half the money from their joint account. “Fifty percent is mine, Vitya. Remember?”
“Mrs. Vorontsova, are you sure you want to close this account?” the bank employee looked puzzled. “It’s on very favorable terms.”
“Absolutely sure,” Lidia smiled so calmly she surprised herself.
The following days became a marathon of legal and notary offices. Lidia collected documents, consulted experts, signed papers, made copies. With every completed document, she felt control over her life returning.
A call from Victor came a month later.
“Lida?” His voice sounded uncertain. “How are you?”
“Wonderful, Vitya,” she said with genuine ease.
“I… want to come by for the rest of my things. And to talk.”
Pause.
“Of course, come,” Lidia paused for a moment. “Maybe we’ll even have dinner together? Like old times.”
“Really?” His voice held undisguised joy. “I… I’ll be there tomorrow at seven.”
After ending the call, Lidia dialed Nina.
“He wants to come tomorrow. Looks like something happened with this… Katya.”
“I bet the young beauty quickly got tired of his socks around the apartment,” Nina chuckled. “Are all your documents ready?”
“Every single one,” Lidia looked at the neat folder on the table. “Divorce is finalized by proxy, the gift deed to Masha registered, accounts closed, new ones opened.”
“Lidochka, you’re amazing,” pride rang in Nina’s voice. “Remember, no matter what he says, stand tall.”
The next day, Lidia styled her hair for the first time in a long while. She wore that blue dress Victor always said suited her. She made his favorite dinner — potato casserole with mushrooms.
At seven, the doorbell rang.
Victor looked aged. Wrinkles deepened, hair thinned even more. And that elusive smell of another’s cologne, which he seemingly hadn’t bothered to wash off.
“Lida,” he smiled, awkwardly shuffling at the threshold, “you look wonderful.”
Lidia noticed the bottle of their favorite wine in his hands. She silently pointed to the coat rack and went into the kitchen.
“Smells amazing,” Victor sniffed, following her. “My favorite casserole?”
“I thought it was time to remember old times,” Lidia’s voice was neutral, emotionless.
They sat at the table. Victor awkwardly spun a fork in his hands, as if unsure where to begin.
“How are you living?” he finally asked.
“Great,” Lidia served him a portion. “I go to the pool, enrolled in Italian courses.”
“Italian?” He raised his eyebrows in surprise. “You always wanted to learn it…”
“Yes, for thirty years I wanted to,” she smiled, sipping wine. “And how are you, Vitya? How’s… Katya?”
Victor choked, set down his fork.
“We… broke up,” he looked down. “It wasn’t what I thought.”
“Is that so,” Lidia continued eating as if hearing about the weather changing.
“She was… too demanding,” Victor spoke faster. “Constantly complained about my habits, wanted gifts, restaurants. We moved in together, and a week later she said I didn’t provide enough comfort. Me, you know? Me, who all my life…”
“Young women have their own ideas about life,” Lidia shrugged. “Wasn’t that what you wanted? A vibrant woman who ‘laughs loudly’?”
Victor grimaced, hearing his own words.
“Lida, I… made a mistake,” he reached for her hand, but she gently pulled away. “I understand now. These weeks without you were a nightmare.”
Lidia looked at him, this defeated man with whom she’d spent most of her life. Strangely, she felt neither malice nor hatred. Only fatigue and… freedom.
“We can fix everything,” Victor continued hopefully. “Start over. I’ll never…”
“Wait,” Lidia stood from the table and went to the hallway. Returned with a thick brown envelope. “Look here first.”
Victor frowned, taking the envelope.
“What’s this?”
“Open it.”
He emptied its contents onto the table. Divorce certificate. Documents transferring part of the apartment to Masha. Bank statements closing joint accounts.
Victor’s face changed as he sifted through the papers. Confusion. Anger.
“What kind of joke is this?” His voice cracked. “What have you done?”
“Me?” Lidia calmly poured herself more wine. “I protected myself, Vitya. Like you said — I ‘managed.’”
“But this… it’s not fair!” He looked at the papers like venomous snakes. “The apartment is in both our names!”
“It was,” Lidia nodded. “But you left, and as the legal spouse at the time of the gift, I had the right to dispose of my share. And since we’re officially divorced, your share remained yours. The car is yours too, don’t worry.”
“You… you filed for divorce? Without me?” Victor grabbed his head. “How could you?”
“And how could you leave after thirty-two years?” For the first time that evening, steel entered Lidia’s voice. “You wanted freedom — now you have it. Complete.”
Lidia didn’t answer immediately. She just stood in the dim kitchen holding the plates to her chest as if the balance of the evening depended on them.
“No, Vitya,” she finally said softly, almost whispering. “You didn’t lose everything. But you lost me — the one you knew.”
Perhaps she felt sorry for him — so weak, disheveled, foreign… And at the same time forever close. You can’t undo that — so many years, habits, even the way they usually checked the time was often the same. Where does it come from? Who can understand.
“Lida…” He stood up, his hands trembling. “I can’t do it alone.”
“You can,” she gently interrupted. “Everyone can. And you will if you want.”
Outside, a tree rustled — the night wind caught the leaves as if it too didn’t want to let go of summer. Lidia caught herself on a strange thought: inside it was no longer cold, on the contrary — even warm. She used to be afraid to be alone. But now… now, for the first time in many years, she wanted to live for herself. Wanted to plan a new walking route tomorrow, to slightly open the balcony door and not fear the draft. Wanted for the first time in many years not to ask anyone’s permission.
She looked at Victor standing in the doorway, a little lost — like a child among broken toys.
“Try, Vitya,” Lidia said and for the first time that evening truly smiled at him. “It’s not all in vain.”
He lowered his head. Looked at the floor for a long time. Then nodded hesitantly — and for the first time in many years, there was no reproach or expectation in that nod. Only quiet acceptance that the story of their family ended not with drama but with hope — for each separately.
“I’ll go,” he said.
“I know,” Lidia answered.
When the door slammed behind him, she stood in the kitchen for a long time, listening to the quiet street. Suddenly she thought: how strange a new life begins — almost always with silence.
“Not all. You still have your freedom,” she returned to the table, placed her hand on his shoulder. “And you know, that’s really valuable. You just don’t yet understand how to use it properly.”
They were silent for a long time. Outside, darkness began to fall, city lights scattered bright points across the black velvet of night. Somewhere deep inside the house, a wall clock ticked — a sure sign of time passing.
“Can I stay tonight?” Victor finally asked. “Just to sleep over. On the couch, of course.”
Lidia smiled softly.
“No, Vitya. Not anymore. This is a different home now.”
He understood. Slowly gathered the papers, folded them back into the envelope. Stood up, adjusted his shirt with a mechanical gesture.
“Can I at least call you sometimes? Just to check how you are?”
“Of course,” Lidia nodded. “We lived together too long to be complete strangers.”
She saw him to the door. Victor turned on the threshold, looked as if wanting to memorize every feature of her face.
“You’re an amazing woman, Lida. I just… forgot about that.”
“Goodbye, Vitya.”
The door closed. Lidia leaned back against it, exhaled. Then went to the living room, took the phone, and dialed her daughter’s number.
“Masha? Yes, he came. Yes, everything is fine. Listen, I was thinking… Maybe we don’t go to Italy in January, but in December? I’m ready, darling. I’m absolutely ready.”
Outside, rain began to fall, but Lidia didn’t notice. She looked at photos of Italian cities on the tablet screen and smiled at the new day she had once feared. Now she knew: after every end, something new always begins. And sometimes you have to lose to truly find yourself. And perhaps everything is possible.