— “So you’re leaving me for another woman and decided to claim my apartment?” I asked my husband in disbelief, not trusting my ears.
Alexander stood in front of me, nervously fiddling with a button on his jacket. He kept looking away, his whole posture broadcasting how awkward and ashamed he felt. But the words that had fallen from his lips a minute ago simply wouldn’t fit in my head.
“Anya, try to understand—this will be better for everyone,” he mumbled, carefully avoiding my eyes. “We’ve been strangers for a long time; you know that yourself. And the apartment… Why should we even split it? I’m registered here, I have every right…”
“Right?” I flared, clenching my fists. “You dare talk about rights? I bought this apartment with my own money when you hadn’t even finished university! I pinched every penny, lived on next to nothing for years. And you’re just registered here? What luck, huh!”
“Listen, let’s not get heated,” Alexander said in a conciliatory tone. “I’m not denying what you’ve done. Yes, the apartment was bought with your money, but we’ve lived here together for so many years. Do you really think I have no rights to it at all?”
“Exactly—we’ve lived here for years!” I cried out in anger. “And now you’ve decided to cross it all out and start a new life? Taking my apartment with you, the one I worked myself to the bone for?”
“I’m not trying to take anything!” my husband exploded, springing up from the couch. “Why are you throwing a fit? I’m offering to settle this peacefully, like adults. What do we even need this damned apartment for? Let’s sell the bloody thing, split the money, and go our separate ways. Don’t you understand that we don’t need all this bickering and humiliation right now?”
I laughed bitterly, shaking my head. Of course—how else? He did the rotten thing, he betrayed me and lied. And now, sure, let’s “forget it,” let’s sweep it under the rug and part gracefully. We’ll sell the place, split the cash—and bye-bye, off he goes to his new life.
“You know, Sasha, there was a time when this ‘damned apartment’ was the height of our dreams,” I said with a wry smile. “Remember moving in? How we did the renovation on our last pennies, bought furniture? You had grand plans—‘we’ll really live now, we’ll have kids…’”
“Oh God, why are you dragging up the past again?” he cut me off irritably. “That was ages ago. I’m telling you—everything’s changed, we’re strangers now. What’s the point of this sentimentality?”
“For you, maybe it has,” I ground out through my teeth. “For me—no. And I’m sorry, but I’m not splitting my apartment with you. You want a new life? Be my guest—just not with my property.”
“Honestly, you’re acting like a child!” Alexander flared again, throwing his hands up. “What do you mean ‘not with your property’? We’ve been together for years; by law half the apartment is mine!”
“Oh, by law? Then go to court and prove it!” I laughed harshly, feeling a lump rising in my throat. “Just know this—I won’t stand aside. I’ll fight for this apartment to my last breath. And believe me, I won’t hand over ‘my half’ for free!”
Alexander flushed dark red and clenched his fists. I could see he was barely restraining himself from saying too much. With an effort of will, he forced himself to calm down and exhaled loudly.
“Fine, Anya, this conversation is pointless,” he said wearily. “I can see I can’t make porridge with you—you won’t budge, you don’t want to negotiate at all.”
“And why should I negotiate?” I asked reasonably, crushing a dish towel in my hands. “You’re the one leaving, you’re the one tearing the family apart. And I’m supposed to hand you my apartment on top of that? No way! If you want to divide property, we’ll do it through the courts. Let’s see what they say!”
“Will you get it through your head, silly woman—we’ll have to spend money on lawyers!” he snapped again. “Fine, I have some savings at least. And you? With what money are you going to battle it out in court?”
“That’s not your concern,” I cut him off, drawing myself up to my full height. “I’ll manage without your handouts. And actually, Sasha, let’s end this pointless talk. You won’t convince me, and I won’t convince you. So go already… to your new sweetheart. And leave the apartment—it’s above your station.”
He ground his teeth, yanked his jacket off the hook. He flung the front door open so hard the panes nearly rattled out. He turned on the threshold and raked me with a contemptuous look.
“You’re a fool, Anya. Honestly, a fool. You’re turning down happiness and sticking your nose up. Just don’t come crying later!”
He stormed out, slamming the poor door behind him. I stayed standing in the hallway, my hands falling limp at my sides. Tears choked me, blurred my eyes. My heart was tearing apart from the injustice, from a scorching, all-consuming resentment.
And yes—what a fool. Eight years down the drain, eight years of self-denial and unconditional love. And for what? Betrayal, lies, and a desire to get hold of my only asset. To abandon me to my fate, to wash his hands of me.
But no—over my dead body! Even if I have to go hungry, even if I turn myself inside out—I won’t give up the apartment. I’ll stand my ground to the last line. Let him just try to outmaneuver me, to grab my property through trickery or sheer nerve!
I know it will be hard. Nerves, courts, endless arguments and squabbling. But I’ll handle it—I have to. For myself, for my future. For this cursed apartment I broke my back for all these years.
“It’s all right, Sasha, it’s all right,” I hissed, wiping my tears. “You’ll dance to my tune yet, darling. You’ll find out how much trouble it is to mess with a ‘fool.’”
I straightened, squared my shoulders. I firmly wiped the last traces of tears from my face. Enough crying, enough wasting tears on someone unworthy. I needed to pull myself together. And fight—furiously and without mercy.
It doesn’t matter how old I am or how much strength I have left. It doesn’t matter how little experience or connections I have. I will fight to the end, defend my rights at any cost. Because this is my life—and I won’t let some scoundrel run it as he pleases.
I gave my reflection in the mirror a bracing nod and, chin lifted, walked into the living room. I sat on the couch and picked up my phone. For a few seconds I stared at it blankly, gathering my thoughts. Then I decisively dialed the cherished number.
“Hi, Mom? It’s me. Are you very busy right now? No? Good, then listen carefully. Sasha’s leaving me… Yes, for some little thing. And he wants to take the apartment—can you imagine? It’s a mess. I’m afraid I can’t handle this alone…”
“Good Lord, daughter, what on earth is going on?!” Mom gasped on the other end. “What a scoundrel, what a creep! The nerve—what a vile plan!”
“My thoughts exactly,” I sighed, tugging at the fringe on a throw pillow. “We have to do something. I’m not giving him the apartment—that’s not even up for discussion. But I have no idea how to fight. Advise me, will you? Maybe I should see a lawyer and get a consultation?”
“Absolutely!” Mom said firmly. “And none of this ‘maybe’! Tomorrow I’ll call everyone I know and find you the best attorney. And tell that good-for-nothing from me—he’ll get squat, not the apartment! He can take a hike, the con man!”
I smiled faintly, feeling a little lighter at heart. It’s such a blessing to have people who’ll back you in a hard moment. That’s Mom—straight into the line of fire, straight for the embrasure. She doesn’t care if the ex-son-in-law is wrong a hundred times over. The main thing is to defend her daughter, take her side.
“Thanks, Mom. You have no idea how much you’ve helped! I’d lost my head here; my hands had dropped. You shook me up and gave me strength. Now I definitely won’t surrender—I’ll fight to the bitter end!”
“That’s right, dear. Don’t let them hurt you—fight for your happiness. And we won’t leave you in trouble—neither I nor your father nor your friends. We’ll push through, you’ll see!”
And that’s how we left it. I hung up and took a deep breath, leaning back into the couch. It’s hard—oh, how hard—to start over. To build a life on the ruins of the old one, to learn to walk on the sharp shards of what used to be happiness. But there’s no other way.
I’ll have to cope; I’ll have to claw out my right to a peaceful existence. And first of all, once and for all, drive my ex away from any claims to the apartment. Even if it’s through court, through public proceedings—I will defend my property.
And the rest will sort itself out. Maybe I really will manage to start with a clean slate. Heal my wounded heart, regain faith in people. Find a new love—real and true. The one and only.
But for now… For now I need to gather my strength. Work out my defense strategy, prepare for a long, tedious legal battle. My gut tells me—it won’t be easy. But I’ll manage, I swear I will! After all, it wouldn’t be the first time. My whole life it’s been through thorns, against the grain.
And I’ll break through now. I’ll stand and I won’t break. For myself, for my future. And to spite every last Sasha who dared cross me!
A small flame began to kindle in my chest. Timid, uncertain—but it was catching all the same. And that’s what matters. It means it’s too soon to write me off. It means I’ve still got fight left in me!
With that, I rose from the couch and went to the bedroom. I pulled a big travel bag down from the top shelf and began to pack. A few clothes, the essentials—documents, money, laptop. The rest I’d pick up later, when things calmed down.
The main thing now was to get out. Immediately, this very minute. Before Sasha came back, before he started wheedling and throwing his weight around. I know him—first the coaxing, then the reproaches, and then it’s not far to raised hands. Been there, done that.
No more. I’ve had enough. I won’t stay another minute in this viper’s nest. Even if I have to sleep at the station—that’s still better than here.
Mom’s been asking me to move in for ages; I just never had a reason. Now’s the time. I’ll weather the first storm there, pull myself together. And then we’ll see—maybe I’ll find a place to rent for a while. As long as it’s far from this nightmare, as long as I can start over.
I zipped the bag and cast a farewell glance at the marital bed. My heart squeezed; my nose stung. So many memories bound to this room! Our wedding night, sleepless nights at our daughter’s cradle. Fights and reconciliations, frank talks until dawn. Is it really over? Is this the end?
I shook my head, chasing away the unwelcome thoughts. No more wilting, no more self-pity. What’s done is done, grass has grown over it. I must think about the future and build a new life. One with no room for weakness or despair.
I grabbed the bag and walked out without so much as a backward glance. I shut the door and turned the key in the lock. That’s it, period. Only forward now—into the unknown, toward change. Come what may.
I went down the stairs, listening to the hollow clack of my heels. My heart pounded wildly; my temples throbbed. Was I scared? Oh yes. But I was elated, too. The anticipation of a new life, the feeling of boundless freedom.
Of course it won’t be easy. Of course I’ll have to strain, to overcome a thousand trials. But I’ll manage—I’m strong. It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve started from scratch.
Long ago, still a teenager, I ran off with a single suitcase to an unfamiliar city. To enroll in university, to start an independent life. And it was fine! I studied, found my footing, became someone.
Now the story repeats itself. A new turn, new scenery. But the essence is the same—break out of the swamp, don’t let the quicksand swallow me. Find the strength to keep living, no matter what.
And I will. For myself, for my daughter. For our future, which will be bright—without lies, without betrayal, without endless heartache. Only forward—to my dream, to new horizons!
A fine rain was falling outside. I zipped my jacket and swung the bag onto my shoulder. I inhaled the damp autumn air and closed my eyes for a moment. Well—this is it. Farewell, old life. Hello, new life!
I strode off—past drab high-rises and withered front gardens. Toward the unknown, despite every obstacle and spiteful whisperer. That’s the only way now—through a minefield, on the knife’s edge. Because I don’t know how to live any other way.
I wonder if Sasha has noticed I’m gone yet. He’s probably raging, pacing from room to room, guessing where his darling wife disappeared to. Let him stew. Let him feel for himself what it’s like to be left. Maybe then he’ll think and come to his senses.
Though probably not. He’s not the kind to learn from his mistakes. And I don’t need his remorse anymore. Too late, Sasha. The train has left; the show’s over.
I picked up my pace and turned onto the main street. People were hurrying about their business, paying me no attention. Good. The last thing I needed was anyone’s pity or curiosity. I just wanted to keep going—wherever my eyes led, wherever my feet carried me.
Life surged all around—bright, many-sided, restless. Cars honked, trams rattled, market sellers chattered at full volume by the doors. And suddenly I felt light and calm inside. As if I’d shrugged off a burden I’d carried for years, finally broken out of a closed loop.
I stopped at a crosswalk and tilted my face to the sky. The drizzle tapped my cheeks and settled cool on my lashes. My lips spread into a smile— for the first time in a very, very long while.
“Hello, new life,” I whispered, turning my face up to the rain. “Let’s get acquainted. My name is Anya, and I will never again let any creep push me around. From now on it’s just me—and my choice. I don’t care what anyone says.”
I laughed and hopped over a puddle, catching the startled looks of passersby. Let them stare. It’s not like they’ve seen a Martian—just a woman starting over. Maybe not everything will be smooth, maybe I’ll have to rebuild from scratch—but it’s my life. And only I get to decide what it will be.
I walked on briskly, toward change. My bag held a phone with a bunch of missed calls from Sasha, but I’d already decided—I wouldn’t answer. Enough. We’ve said all there is to say, and seen enough of each other. From here on out—silence.
Ahead lay the unknown—thrilling, a little frightening. A new city, a new job. New encounters and discoveries, joys and sorrows. And my daughter beside me—my own flesh and blood, my heart’s delight. For her sake I’ll fight; I’ll crawl out of my skin if I have to.
I’ll prevail—no doubt about it. Because there’s no other way. Because that’s what’s needed—for me, for her. For all of us.
So there you have it, Sasha. You thought you’d crush me? Break me, grind me under your heel? You picked the wrong woman.
I will stand. In spite of you, in spite of fate the villainess. In spite of everything and everyone.
Because I am Anya. Just Anya. Strong, proud, unbending.
I am. I will be. I can. Got it, gentlemen? That’s more like it. Now out of my way. Let me pass.
I still have a whole world to conquer. And myself—to become who I really am, risen from the ashes. A woman who will never again be someone’s “other half,” someone’s appendage.