Alevtina was washing the dishes after dinner when Arseny picked yet another fight. He stood by the refrigerator, a utilities receipt clenched in his hand.
“Prices went up again!” he snapped, shaking the paper. “And who’s supposed to pay for this? Me—like always!”
Alevtina dried her hands on a towel and turned to her husband.
“I already suggested we split it in half. Let’s each pay our part.”
“Your part?” Arseny gave a bitter laugh. “With your paycheck, we’d survive a week—tops. How much do you even bring home? Pocket change.”
She pressed her lips together and said nothing. They worked in different worlds. Arseny was an engineer at a large plant and earned well. Alevtina did office paperwork at a small firm where the wages were modest. Still, she worked hard and tried to do everything right.
“I’m doing the best I can,” she answered quietly.
“The best you can?” he mimicked. “You drag yourself to that pathetic job, earn crumbs, and then act shocked we’re short on money!”
Alevtina turned back to the sink. Tears burned in her throat, but she refused to show him how much it hurt. Their fights about money had become constant. He used to shrug off their income difference. Now he used it as a weapon every chance he got.
And he wasn’t done. Arseny paced the kitchen, then stopped beside her.
“You know Egor’s wife works at a bank. She makes twice what you do. Their home is perfect—they renovated recently. And us? We live in this cave and can’t afford anything.”
“It’s not my fault they pay me less,” Alevtina tried to argue.
“Not your fault? You’re just lazy!” he raised his voice. “You could’ve found something better—something decent. But no, you sit in the same place for years because it’s comfortable for you, because I’m the one carrying everything!”
“That’s unfair! I run the house, I cook, I clean—”
“You cook?” he snorted. “Sad little pasta with sausages. Maxim’s wife makes real dishes—complicated recipes. And you…”
“Maxim’s wife doesn’t work at all!” Alevtina finally snapped. “She stays home while her husband supports her. Of course she has time to cook!”
“At least she’s useful,” Arseny shot back. “And what about you? No real money, no proper home-making either. You’re poor, Alevtina. You bring nothing into this marriage except problems.”
The words landed like a slap. Alevtina went pale. He hadn’t spoken to her with such cruelty in a long time. They argued before—but never with this blunt, open contempt.
On Saturday night another blowup erupted. Alevtina asked for money for a new winter coat. Her old one was completely worn out: the zipper was broken and the lining was coming out.
“A coat?” Arseny asked, looking up from his phone. “How much?”
“Eight thousand. I found a good one—nice quality.”
“Eight thousand?!” he exploded. “Are you crazy? That’s almost half your salary!”
“But I need it. Winter’s almost here, and I’m cold in the old one.”
“You need it? And what do I need?” he barked. “I need new boots, I need a work suit! But do I beg for things? No—because I understand there’s no money!”
“Arseny, I’m not asking every day. The last time I bought anything for myself was a year ago.”
“A year ago?” he drawled, mocking. “Don’t remember that. But I do remember you constantly whining—shoes, some dress… You’re a burden, Alevtina. A real burden. A parasite in this family!”
“A parasite?” she repeated quietly, feeling everything inside her tighten.
“Yes, a parasite!” Arseny shouted. “I work, I earn, I pay for everything! And you? You just spend—food, utilities, pointless nonsense! You bring nothing into this house!”
Alevtina stood up from the chair. Her hands were shaking, her heart thundering. She had lived with this man for seven years. Seven years of swallowing his insults, staying silent, hoping things would somehow get better. But in that moment something finally snapped for good.
“You know what, Arseny? Enough. I can’t take this anymore.”
“Enough of what?” he asked, smirking.
“Everything. This marriage. The humiliation. I want a divorce.”
Arseny laughed—loud and genuine.
“A divorce? You? Seriously?”
“Completely,” Alevtina said firmly. “I’m filing. I’m tired of hearing I’m bad, useless, poor.”
“You’ll file,” he repeated, still laughing. “And then what? Where will you go with your miserable salary? Rent a place? You couldn’t even afford a dorm room!”
“That’s my problem.”
“Your problem?” Arseny stood up and stepped closer. “Alevtina, come to your senses. Without me you’ll be lost. You’re going nowhere. In a week you’ll crawl back on your knees.”
“I won’t.”
“You will,” he declared. “Because nobody else will want you. Look at you—thirty-five, you earn nothing, you look forty. Who would marry someone like that? No one!”
Alevtina swallowed the pain and straightened her shoulders.
“I don’t need anyone. I just want to live in peace—without your constant insults.”
“Insults?” he scoffed. “I’m telling the truth. It’s not insults, it’s facts. You do earn little—that’s a fact!”
“The fact is you don’t respect me,” she replied. “And I don’t want to be next to someone who sees me as a burden.”
In the days that followed, Arseny kept taunting her, as if he wanted to break her completely.
“Still planning to leave?” he’d ask over breakfast. “Then go. We’ll see how you live. Without me you’ll have nothing at all.”
Alevtina ate her oatmeal in silence.
“You know what’s waiting for you?” he went on. “A rented dorm room for five thousand a month—if you’re lucky. Most likely you’ll end up in some shack. You’ll save on food, wear old clothes. Beautiful life, huh?”
“I’ll manage.”
“You’ll manage?” Arseny snorted. “You couldn’t even manage here—with me! I was always covering for you, paying your expenses. And now you suddenly think you’ll manage?”
“Yes.”
“Alevtina, you don’t get it,” he snapped. “I’m your only chance at a normal life! Without me you’re nothing—absolutely nothing!”
She stood up, carried her plate to the sink.
“And besides,” Arseny added, “no one else will marry you. No one. Men don’t line up for divorced women your age—especially poor divorced women.”
“I don’t need another husband.”
“You say that now. But in a year, when you’re sitting alone in your little hole, you’ll remember what I said. You’ll regret it.”
Alevtina turned and looked him straight in the eyes.
“I already regret it. I regret not leaving sooner.”
On Sunday morning, she packed two big bags—clothes, documents, makeup, books. Only the essentials. The rest could be taken later.
Arseny was sprawled on the couch, watching TV.
“You’re really doing this?” he asked lazily.
“Yes.”
“Mm-hm. Let’s see how long you last.”
Alevtina zipped up her jacket and grabbed the bags. Her friend Inna had agreed to let her stay for a while. Inna had a two-bedroom place—there was room.
“Goodbye, Arseny.”
“Bye-bye,” he waved without looking. “In three days you’ll call and beg to come back. I know you.”
Alevtina left, shut the door behind her, walked down the stairs, and called a taxi. In the car she looked up at the windows of the apartment that had once been her home. Life was about to change. Whether it would be better or worse—time would show.
Inna met her with a hug.
“Come in, get comfortable. The couch opens up—I made the bed with clean sheets.”
“Thank you,” Alevtina smiled, deeply grateful. “I won’t stay long, I promise. I’ll find a place to rent.”
“Don’t rush. You’re not bothering me at all.”
They drank tea in the kitchen and talked. Inna knew about the problems and supported Alevtina’s decision.
“You did the right thing. No one should put up with that.”
“I know. I’m just scared. The unknown is frightening.”
“It’s okay. We’ll get through it together.”
A week later Alevtina filed for divorce. She filled out the paperwork, attached a copy of her passport, and paid the fee through a terminal. It turned out to be simpler than she’d imagined.
A court notice was delivered to Arseny by mail. He called her late in the evening.
“Did you seriously file for divorce?!” he shouted into the phone.
“Yes.”
“Are you out of your mind?! I thought you were just talking—but you actually filed!”
“I warned you.”
“Alevtina, do you understand what you’re doing? This is an official divorce! This is serious!”
“That’s exactly why I filed.”
“Withdraw it. Now!”
“No.”
“What do you mean no?!” Arseny erupted. “I demand you withdraw it!”
“You don’t get to demand anything,” Alevtina said evenly. “I made my decision.”
“Decision? What decision?!” he spat. “You don’t decide anything! You’re nobody without me!”
Alevtina ended the call. Arseny rang back five more times. She declined every call. Angry messages poured in that night. She didn’t even read them—she deleted the chat completely.
The first hearing was set for a month later. Alevtina prepared herself mentally. She knew it wouldn’t be easy, but she wasn’t backing down.
Arseny started sabotaging the process however he could. He didn’t show up to the first hearing at all, sending a document claiming he was on a business trip. The judge postponed the case.
At the second hearing, Arseny appeared—only to announce he refused to divorce. He wanted to “save the family” and demanded time for reconciliation.
“Your Honor, I love my wife,” he said with a solemn face. “Please give us time to reconcile. At least a month.”
The judge turned to Alevtina.
“Do you agree to a reconciliation period?”
“No,” Alevtina answered firmly. “I don’t want to keep this marriage.”
“But the law allows for this,” the judge explained. “I’m required to give you time to think.”
A new hearing was scheduled for two months later. Alevtina walked out of the courtroom disappointed. Arseny caught up with her near the exit.
“You think I’m just going to hand you a divorce?” he smirked. “Not a chance. I’ll drag this out as long as I can.”
“Why?”
“Because you deserve it. You wanted freedom? Then suffer for it.”
He turned and walked away. Watching him, Alevtina understood the fight would be long. Arseny wasn’t going to give up easily.
Alevtina took two jobs. During the day she worked at her office; in the evenings she waited tables in a café. Exhaustion piled up, but she had no choice. She needed money—for rent, for living, for legal costs.
She found a room in a three-bedroom apartment, sharing with two women. The room was small, but it was hers. She could close the door and have silence.
Inna helped her move, bringing her things by car.
“Little by little you’ll settle in,” her friend encouraged.
“The main thing is I have my own space,” Alevtina said. “Small, but mine.”
At night, after her café shift, she came home drained and collapsed onto the bed without even changing. In the morning she got up early and rushed to work again. The days blurred into a loop.
Court hearings continued. Arseny filed a counterclaim to split property, demanding compensation for assets they’d acquired together—even though there was hardly anything: old furniture, inexpensive appliances.
“He’s just tormenting me,” Alevtina told her lawyer.
“Unfortunately, yes,” the lawyer said. “But we’ll hold our ground.”
Alevtina didn’t quit. She came to every hearing on time, brought documents, answered questions clearly and calmly, and showed she wouldn’t be intimidated.
Six months after she filed for divorce, an unknown number called her. A woman introduced herself as a notary.
“Hello, Alevtina Sergeyevna. You need to come to our office. This concerns an inheritance.”
“Inheritance?” Alevtina was stunned. “What inheritance?”
“From your relative, Klavdiya Petrovna. She named you in her will.”
Alevtina searched her memory. Klavdiya Petrovna… a distant aunt on her mother’s side. They’d only met a handful of times—at funerals of relatives, at milestone birthdays.
“Can I get details?”
“It’s best if you come in person. Would tomorrow at ten work for you?”
“Yes, of course.”
The next day Alevtina went to the notary’s office. The notary, a woman in her fifties, handed her a folder of documents.
“Klavdiya Petrovna passed away a month ago. The will was drawn up two years ago. You are the sole heir. The apartment was sold by the executor according to the deceased’s wishes. You are entitled to the remaining funds after expenses.”
“How much?”
“Two million three hundred thousand rubles.”
Alevtina froze. She repeated the number to herself. Two million three hundred thousand. She couldn’t believe it.
She received the money two weeks after the paperwork was completed. She opened a new account and transferred the entire amount. For a long time she stared at the balance on her banking app, as if it might disappear. It felt unreal.
The first thing she decided was to buy a place to live. She was tired of renting a room. She wanted a home of her own. She started browsing listings online, looking for one-room apartments under one and a half million.
She found a good option in a nice area: a one-bedroom on the fifth floor, fresh renovation, the furniture included. Price—one million four hundred thousand.
She met the owner and viewed the apartment. Bright and cozy. Windows facing the courtyard, quiet. A green neighborhood, with a park nearby, shops, public transport.
“I’ll take it,” Alevtina said after the viewing.
“Great. All documents are in order—we can finalize quickly.”
The deal took three weeks. They signed the contract and registered the ownership. Alevtina received the keys to her own apartment—her first apartment in her entire life.
She stood in the middle of the room, looking around. Her own home. No one could throw her out. No one could sneer at her. She could arrange everything the way she wanted. Tears of joy welled up without warning.
News of the purchase spread fast. Inna accidentally mentioned it to a mutual acquaintance. That person told another. Within a week, it reached Arseny.
He called Alevtina late one evening.
“I heard you bought an apartment.”
“Yes, I did.”
“Where did you get the money?” he asked suspiciously. “You were ‘poor,’ remember?”
“I inherited it from my aunt.”
“What aunt?”
“Klavdiya Petrovna. And honestly—it’s none of your business.”
“Inheritance…” Arseny stretched the word out. “So you have your own apartment now?”
“My own. Registered in my name.”
He went quiet. Alevtina could hear him breathing.
“Where is it?”
“Why do you care?”
“I’m just curious.”
“It’s in the northern district. That’s enough, Arseny. I’m busy.”
She ended the call, but a feeling in her gut told her this wasn’t the last time he’d try. He’d heard about the apartment. About the money. And it clearly sparked something in him.
Three days later she got a message: “Can we meet? We need to talk.” Alevtina didn’t reply. She deleted it.
On Saturday morning, the doorbell rang. She looked through the peephole and saw Arseny on her doorstep—holding a bouquet of roses, wearing a forced smile.
She didn’t open right away. She stood there, thinking. Then she turned the key and opened the door.
“What do you want?”
“Hi, Alevtina. Can I come in?”
“Why did you come?”
Arseny offered the flowers.
“I wanted to see you. Talk like adults.”
“We have nothing to talk about.”
“Please. Five minutes.”
Alevtina sighed and stepped aside. Arseny walked in and looked around.
“Not a bad place. Bright, cozy. It suits you.”
“Thanks. Now tell me why you’re here.”
He set the flowers on the table and turned to her.
“I’ve been thinking a lot lately. About us. About our marriage. And I realized I was wrong. Really wrong.”
“You realized?” she asked, unconvinced.
“Yes. I behaved terribly. I humiliated you, insulted you. It’s unforgivable. Forgive me, Alevtina.”
Alevtina folded her arms and stared at him. Arseny kept talking.
“I know I hurt you. I said cruel things. But deep down I always loved you. I just didn’t know how to show it the right way.”
“Alevtina, let’s try again,” Arseny said softly, almost pleading. “Give our marriage a second chance. I’ll change, I swear. No more reproaches, no more humiliations.”
“Arseny… are you serious?”
“Completely! I’ve understood my mistakes. I realized I lost the most valuable thing I had. Take me back. I’ll be a different person.”
He stepped closer and took her hands.
“We lived together for seven years. Seven years! Does that mean nothing? Are you really ready to throw it all away?”
Alevtina pulled her hands free and took a step back.
“The last three years were hell. You turned our life into constant fights and accusations.”
“I was a fool! I admit it! But people change, Alevtina. I can change. Give me a chance to prove it.”
“And how exactly do you plan to prove it?”
“I’ll be attentive, caring. I’ll stop comparing you to others. I’ll value what you do. I’ll help around the house—anything you want!”
Alevtina walked to the window and looked down into the yard. Arseny followed her.
“You know… I miss you,” he said quietly. “Your breakfasts. The way you smile. Our evenings together. I miss the home we built.”
“You don’t miss me,” Alevtina said. “You miss convenience.”
“No! I miss you!”
She turned and looked him straight in the eye, studying his face—his eager smile, his begging gaze. It all looked sincere. But she could see right through it.
“When did you find out about my apartment?” she asked calmly.
“What?” Arseny blinked, confused.
“When did you hear I bought an apartment? When did it reach you?”
“About a week ago. But what does that have to do with anything?”
“It has everything to do with it,” Alevtina said with a small, cold smile. “A week ago you suddenly remembered your feelings. Before that you were silent for six months. You dragged out the divorce, mocked me, did everything to make my life miserable. And the moment you heard about the apartment—here you are with flowers and a love speech.”
Arseny’s face flushed.
“That’s a coincidence!”
“A coincidence?” Alevtina let out a quiet laugh. “A very convenient one, don’t you think?”
“I really did realize my mistakes!”
“You realized them when I became a property owner—when I stopped being the ‘poor’ woman you despised.”
“Alevtina, you’re twisting it!”
“I’m seeing it clearly. You noticed I have money and a home now, and you decided I’m interesting again. That you might be able to come back.”
“No! That’s not it!”
Alevtina walked to the door and swung it wide open.
“When I was poor, I didn’t interest you,” she said evenly, meeting his eyes. “Funny how your opinion changed the moment I bought an apartment.”
Arseny’s face went dark—whether from shame or anger, it was hard to tell.
“You’re cynical!”
“I’m realistic. I call things what they are. When I was the ‘burden’ and the ‘parasite,’ you didn’t even want to look at me. You mocked me for being poor, you humiliated me. And now you suddenly remember love.”
“I always loved you!”
“No, you didn’t. You only loved yourself—and you still do. You just saw a benefit in coming back.”
“What benefit?!”
“The apartment. The money I have left. The chance to latch on again—except this time you’d be living off me.”
Arseny clenched his fists.
“You have no right to say that!”
“I do,” Alevtina answered. “This is my apartment, my life. And I have every right to say what I think—especially to the man who called me a parasite.”
“I was wrong! I apologized!”
“Apology not accepted. You showed your true face, Arseny. And I don’t like what I saw.”
“So you won’t give us a chance?”
“No. Because there is no ‘us’ anymore. And there won’t be.”
Arseny stood in the hallway, his face red with rage and humiliation, searching for words. But Alevtina didn’t let him take control of the moment.
“You used me for seven years. You crushed me, insulted me, treated me as less. You made me feel worthless. And I put up with it. I hoped you’d change, that things would get better. But you only got worse.”
“I can change now!”
“Too late. I have no desire to test your promises. I’m tired—tired of enduring, bending, explaining myself. I want peace. Without you.”
“Alevtina, think! We spent so much time—”
“There’s nothing to think about. I decided a long time ago—when I filed for divorce. You showing up now changes nothing.”
Arseny nervously twisted the bouquet in his hands. Petals fell onto the floor.
“So that’s it? For good?”
“For good. Final.”
“Fine,” he threw out sharply. “You’ll regret it. You’ll end up alone, unwanted by anyone.”
“Better alone than with you.”
“You’ll see! In a year you’ll crawl back yourself!”
“I won’t. Now leave. Immediately.”
Arseny hurled the roses to the floor and stomped into the corridor. At the threshold he turned back.
“So proud now! That apartment went to your head!”
“Go,” Alevtina repeated coldly.
He slammed the door so hard the glass rattled. Alevtina leaned against it and exhaled. That was it. Over.
She picked up the bouquet and tossed it into the trash. Wiped up the drops of water from the stems. Then she walked into the room and sat on the couch.
Silence. Clean, calm silence. No shouting, no accusations, no humiliation—only the steady ticking of the wall clock. She could breathe again.
She looked around her apartment: light walls, comfortable furniture, flowers on the windowsill. Everything chosen by her, for her. No compromises, no arguments. Just her space.
A month later the divorce was finalized. Arseny didn’t show up to the hearing—he sent written consent. The judge issued the decision: the marriage was dissolved. Alevtina received the divorce certificate and reread the lines again and again.
Free.
She found a new job—landed a position at a large company after an interview. The pay was much higher than before. The schedule was convenient, the team friendly, the manager reasonable and not petty.
In the evenings Alevtina worked on making the apartment truly hers. She bought a new floor lamp, pretty cushions for the couch, a painting for the wall. Little by little it became a real home—warm and comfortable.
Inna came over often. The friends drank tea, talked about everything, and made plans.
“You’re strong,” Inna told her. “Not everyone would take that step.”
“I just got tired of enduring,” Alevtina said. “I realized I deserved more.”
“And now you’re getting it,” Inna smiled.
Alevtina looked out the window. Evening settled in; the yard lights flickered on. Children played on the playground, a couple walked their dog—ordinary life, quiet and steady.
Now she had her own apartment. A job she liked. Friends who supported her. Freedom from a toxic relationship. What else did she need?
She smiled at her reflection in the glass. Her life was coming back together—slowly, step by step. No rush, no drama. Just a calm movement forward—toward something bright. New opportunities, new meetings, new joys.
Alevtina stood up and went to the kitchen to make dinner. She turned on music, hummed along, and chopped vegetables—feeling genuinely happy.
For the first time in many years, truly happy.
The apartment filled with the smell of food, the sound of music, and the warmth of her presence. This was her home. Her fortress. Her new life. And no one could take it away from her anymore. No one would ever make her feel worthless, poor, or unwanted again.
She was free. Independent. Happy. And that was enough.