Dasha stayed late at work. Her legs were buzzing with fatigue, her bag was stuffed with folders of reports, and she had only one thought in her head: get home, kick off her shoes and finally drink some tea in silence.
She unlocked the door, and the first thing she saw were someone else’s shoes. Men’s, worn out, with dirty laces. Next to them were pink high-heeled sandals.
“Seriozha?” she called, shrugging off her coat.
Laughter drifted from the kitchen.
Dasha walked down the hallway and froze in the doorway. At the table sat her father-in-law, Nikolai Petrovich, pouring tea into mugs. Next to him was her brother-in-law Igor, Sergey’s brother, wearing a smug grin. And his girlfriend, some red-haired Katya, was rummaging in the fridge, taking out the cheese Dasha had been saving for a salad.
“Oh, Dashenka’s home!” her father-in-law held out a mug to her. “Sit down, have some tea.”
She didn’t move.
“What are you doing here?”
Igor stretched lazily.
“We’re moving in, sis. Aunt Vera said it’s okay.”
“What Aunt Vera?!” Dasha’s voice trembled. “This is my apartment!”
Sergey, her husband, came out of the bedroom. He looked guilty.
“Dash, let’s not make a scene…”
“Not make a scene?!” She spun toward him. “You knew too?”
He lowered his eyes.
“Well… Mom called… said they have nowhere to stay for now…”
“For now?!” Dasha jabbed a finger at Katya, who was already spreading her favorite cheese on bread. “Is she also ‘for now’?!”
Katya snorted.
“Oh, calm down, will you? It’s not like we’re going to live in a shack.”
Dasha walked sharply over to the fridge and slammed the door right in Katya’s face.
“That’s it. Pack your stuff and get out.”
“What are you yelling for?” Igor puffed up, getting to his feet. “We’re family!”
“Family?” Dasha turned sharply to her husband. “Sergey, tell them to leave. Right now.”
But he only sighed.
“Dash… maybe let them stay a couple of days…”
At that moment Katya reached for Dasha’s makeup bag on the shelf.
“Oh wow, what a nice lipstick!”
Dasha snapped. She grabbed their bags standing in the hallway and flung them out onto the stair landing.
“Out. Now!”
Her father-in-law turned pale.
“Is that how you talk to your elders?!”
“In MY apartment I talk however I want!”
Igor tried to chime in, but Dasha had already opened the front door.
“Either you walk out yourselves, or I throw you out. Your choice.”
Silence.
Finally, her father-in-law spat and started getting dressed.
“Come on, Igor. You see how we’re being ‘welcomed’ here.”
Katya pouted.
“What an idiot…”
Dasha didn’t answer. She stood in the doorway until the last of them walked out.
The door slammed shut.
Sergey said nothing.
“Whose side are you even on?” Dasha’s voice shook.
He didn’t answer.
And in the hallway, their disgruntled voices still echoed for a long time.
And the promise:
“We’ll be back!”
The silence in the apartment pressed down on her. Dasha stood at the window, gripping a glass of water so hard her fingers turned white. The floor creaked behind her—Sergey was carefully walking up.
“Dash… let’s talk about this…”
She spun around.
“Talk about what? About how your family decided to move into our place without even telling me?”
“They won’t be long… a week, two at most…”
“Two weeks?!” The glass clattered into the sink. “Do you even hear yourself?”
Sergey rubbed the bridge of his nose.
“What was I supposed to do? Mom called, said Igor’s having problems with his rental…”
“And what are we then, a health resort?”
He stayed silent. Dasha stepped closer, looking him straight in the eyes.
“You knew. And you didn’t even warn me.”
“I wanted to tell you, but…”
“But what? You were afraid I’d say no? Congratulations, now we have a trust crisis.”
The phone started ringing in the hallway. Sergey reached for it, but Dasha was faster. “Mom” flashed on the screen.
“Oh, is your ‘Aunt Vera’ reporting in already?” She tossed the phone onto the couch.
Sergey frowned.
“Enough! They’re my family!”
“And who am I? Just a lodger?”
He inhaled sharply, as if he wanted to shout something, but held back. He went into the bedroom, slamming the door loudly.
Dasha was left alone. The kitchen was a mess: bread crumbs, dirty mugs, traces of someone else’s presence. She started cleaning on autopilot, but then noticed—her favorite mug with the words “Best Wife” was sitting in the sink with a crack in it.
At that moment the phone rang again. This time it was hers. Unknown number.
“Hello?”
“It’s Katya. We forgot a few things at your place.”
Dasha froze.
“What exactly?”
“Makeup, a charger… and anyway, we’re not finished here. Igor thinks you had no right to throw us out.”
“Consider it finished.”
“You didn’t even ask your husband,” Katya’s voice turned sugary. “He doesn’t mind us staying with you.”
Dasha hung up sharply.
A muffled conversation was coming from the bedroom—Sergey was calling someone. She crept closer.
“…I understand, Mom, but Dasha doesn’t agree… No, I can’t force her…”
His father’s quiet voice came through the phone:
“What, you’re whipped? A man is supposed to make the decisions!”
Dasha drew back. Her heart hammered. She walked quietly into the living room, sat on the couch and covered her face with her hands.
A few minutes later Sergey came out. Seeing her, he stopped.
“That was Dad.”
“I know.”
“They just want to help Igor…”
“Help?” Dasha lifted her head. “Your brother hasn’t worked for three years, and his girlfriend has already buried a second apartment in debt. And now we’re supposed to save them?”
Sergey sat down next to her and reached for her hand, but she pulled away.
“Listen… maybe really let them stay a couple of days? And I’ll talk to Dad…”
“No.”
“Dasha…”
“I said no.”
He stood up, his face darkening.
“Then I’ll go to them. We’ll talk it over calmly.”
“Perfect. You can even stay there.”
The door shut behind him. Dasha was alone.
On the table lay a key to the apartment—Sergey had forgotten it. She picked up the cold metal and suddenly felt a tear roll down her cheek.
Downstairs the entryway door banged. Somewhere outside, a dog barked.
And the phone rang again…
Dasha tossed and turned all night in the empty bed. At six in the morning she was already standing by the window with a cup of coffee, watching the first lights come on in the courtyard windows. Her phone was silent — no call from Sergey, no message.
She was getting ready for work when a persistent knock sounded at the door. In the peephole she saw a familiar face — her father-in-law, Nikolai Petrovich. Dasha took a deep breath and opened.
“We need to talk,” he announced, stepping over the threshold without an invitation. Katya slipped in behind him with a huge bag.
“About what?” Dasha blocked their way.
“About how you kicked my children out into the street!” her father-in-law thundered, spraying spit. “Seriozha had to sleep on a cot at our place!”
Meanwhile Katya had already put her bag down in the hallway and was taking off her jacket.
“I didn’t invite anyone,” Dasha said coldly.
“Well, we’re not asking,” Katya sniffed, heading for the kitchen. “Got any coffee?”
Dasha felt goosebumps run down her back. She reached for the phone.
“I’m calling the police.”
Her father-in-law snatched the phone out of her hands.
“Don’t disgrace yourself! We came in peace. Igor and Sergey will be here soon, we’ll discuss everything.”
Katya noisily rummaged through the cupboards.
“Where’s your sugar? Ooh, got any cookies?”
Dasha spun around and stepped out onto the balcony. With trembling hands she dialed her husband. He didn’t answer right away.
“Hello?”
“Your father and that… Katya are in my apartment. Get them out. Right now.”
“Dash, I’m on my way… We’ll sort this out…”
She hung up without listening. When she came back into the room, Katya was already sitting on the couch, examining Dasha’s makeup.
“Oh, is this powder expensive? Can I try it?”
“No, you can’t,” burst out of Dasha.
Her father-in-law was inspecting the apartment like an inspector.
“It’s cramped here. But for starters it’ll do. Igor and Katya will take the living room, your mother and I will take the bedroom, and you and Sergey… well, you’ll find somewhere.”
Dasha was stunned.
“What are you talking about?!”
At that moment the door opened. Sergey and Igor came in. Igor carried two bags of clothes.
“That’s it, sis,” he smirked, “Dad explained how it’s gonna be. We worked it out.”
Sergey stood with his head down.
“Sergey?” Dasha asked quietly.
He lifted his eyes to her, looking guilty.
“Dash… they’ll stay a couple of weeks… Mom’s not feeling well…”
Katya was already hauling her stuff into the bedroom.
“Stop!” Dasha shouted. “That’s my bedroom!”
“Well, where are we supposed to sleep then?” Katya pouted. “In the kitchen?”
Her father-in-law slammed his palm on the table.
“Enough! The decision’s been made! The man of the house decides!”
Everyone looked at Sergey. He picked at a seam on his jeans with his finger.
“Dash… maybe really let them stay a bit?”
At that moment Katya was already hanging her sweater in the wardrobe, brushing up against Dasha’s dress with her shoulder.
Something clicked inside Dasha. She went up to the wardrobe, yanked out the sweater and flung it in Katya’s face.
“That’s it. Enough. Get out. All of you.”
Silence fell in the apartment. Even her father-in-law froze for a second.
Then Igor burst out laughing.
“You’re something else! What’s this for?”
“For the fact that this is MY apartment!” Dasha’s voice broke into a scream. “Bought with MY money, before I even met your pathetic son!”
Sergey flinched, as if slapped.
Her father-in-law turned pale.
“Watch your mouth!”
“I’ll say whatever I want!” Dasha flung the front door wide open. “Out! All of you! Including you,” she jabbed a finger at Sergey.
Katya suddenly shrieked:
“She’s crazy! I’m calling the police!”
“Call them!” Dasha pulled out her phone. “I’ll call myself! Let them come and write you up for unlawful entry!”
Sergey finally moved.
“Dad, let’s go… We’ll talk…”
“Talk about what?!” her father-in-law roared. “She’s insulting your mother!”
Dasha stood by the open door, shaking all over. They went out one by one—first Katya, muttering under her breath, then Igor, deliberately slowly, her father-in-law, throwing over his shoulder, “We’ll be back!”, and finally Sergey.
He paused in front of Dasha.
“I… I’ll come by tonight for my things…”
She didn’t answer. When the door closed, Dasha slowly slid down to the floor and covered her face with her hands. The apartment smelled of someone else’s perfume and hatred.
A spoon clinked in the kitchen—she’d forgotten to turn off the kettle. Dasha got up and went to the kitchen. On the table stood her father-in-law’s mug with unfinished tea. She picked it up and suddenly hurled it at the wall with all her strength.
The porcelain shattered into hundreds of pieces.
Three days passed since Dasha had thrown everyone out. Sergey never showed up—he only texted that he’d pick up his things over the weekend. The apartment was finally hers again, but the strange feeling of emptiness wouldn’t go away.
On Friday morning, she lingered in front of the mirror—dark circles under her eyes, pale skin. She was applying foundation when the intercom buzzed.
“Who is it?” she asked without looking at the screen.
“It’s me,” Sergey’s voice came through. “Can I come up?”
Her heart skipped a beat. Dasha pressed the button and then quickly checked herself in the mirror. Why? It’s not like she was going to impress him.
He came in uncertainly, holding a bag of pastries.
“I brought your favorites… with cherry…”
Dasha silently took the bag and put it on the kitchen table. Sergey looked no better than she did—wrinkled shirt, stubble on his cheeks.
“I… I came to talk,” he began, shifting from foot to foot. “They won’t come here anymore.”
“Who exactly is ‘they’?” Dasha crossed her arms over her chest.
“Well… my parents… Igor and Katya…”
“Yeah, as long as you’re here, they won’t come. And as soon as we make up, they’ll storm in again, right?”
Sergey sighed heavily and sat down.
“Dash, they just wanted to help Igor… He really does have problems with housing…”
“And what, that makes it my problem?” Dasha’s voice shook. “Sergey, do you even understand that your father wanted to have Igor registered in my apartment?”
Sergey jerked his head up.
“How did you…”
“I’m not deaf! I heard your conversation!”
He lowered his eyes.
“That was just talk… Dad always says things like that…”
“Talk?” Dasha pulled out her phone and turned on a recording. Her father-in-law’s voice rang out: “We’ll register Igor there—then he’ll have a share in the apartment. We’ll see from there…”
Sergey turned white.
“You… you recorded it?”
“I’m defending myself!” Dasha shouted. “Your family decided to rip my home away from me, and what about you? You’re helping them!”
He jumped to his feet, knocking the chair over.
“That’s not true! I didn’t know anything!”
“You’re lying!” Dasha jabbed her finger into his chest. “You knew everything! And kept quiet! You covered for them!”
Sergey grabbed her wrist.
“Calm down! Let’s talk like adults!”
She pulled away.
“Don’t touch me! I’ve already spoken to a lawyer. If anyone from your family shows up in this apartment, I’ll call the police immediately. And the divorce petition is already written.”
Sergey staggered back as if he’d been hit.
“You… you’re serious?”
“Absolutely.”
He was silent for a minute, then suddenly smiled a crooked smile.
“Dad said… that this is what you were working toward… that you only needed the apartment…”
Dasha felt tears running down her cheeks, but didn’t bother to wipe them away.
“Congratulations. You’ve made your choice. Take your things and leave.”
She turned and walked out onto the balcony. Her heart was pounding so hard it rang in her ears. Through the glass she saw Sergey slowly packing his things into a sports bag. Several times he glanced toward the balcony, but she didn’t move.
When the front door slammed, Dasha realized—it was over. The marriage they had built for three years had collapsed in a few days. She picked up her phone and called her friend.
“Lena, remember that lawyer… the divorce one? Give me his number…”
That evening, sorting through paperwork, Dasha found a box in the wardrobe labeled “Our Dreams.” Inside were tickets to Paris they’d bought on installment, photos from the seaside, silly notes they’d written each other… She wanted to throw it all away, but suddenly heard noise under the window.
Looking out, she saw Sergey. He was standing with his father and Igor by the entrance, talking heatedly. Her father-in-law was waving his arms, pointing up at her window. Then they left, but Dasha knew—it wasn’t over.
She opened her laptop and started typing a statement to the police about the unlawful actions of her husband’s relatives. Every word cost her an effort, but she kept going.
Suddenly the doorbell rang. Dasha flinched. At the door stood her neighbor, Grandma Nina.
“Sweetheart,” she whispered, “your father-in-law is downstairs with some men… They’re asking about you… I called the district officer…”
Dasha thanked her and closed the door. Her hands were shaking. She went to the window—there really was a group of men downstairs. Not just her father-in-law and Igor, but two other unknown guys.
Her phone vibrated — a new message from Sergey: “Dasha, it’s not me. They came on their own. Don’t open the door to anyone. I’m on my way.”
She didn’t reply. Instead, she dialed the police and clearly said:
“I’d like to report an attempted unlawful entry into my apartment…”
Dasha stood at the window, clutching the phone in her sweaty hand. Downstairs, in front of the building, four men were huddled together: her father-in-law Nikolai Petrovich, Igor, and two strangers in tracksuits. One of them was drawing something on the asphalt with a stick, clearly explaining a plan.
“Operator, do you hear me?” Dasha repeated into the phone. “Some unknown individuals are trying to surround my building.”
“We hear you, ma’am. A patrol car is on its way.”
She hung up but didn’t let go of the phone. Suddenly a sharp knock sounded at the door. Not the intercom — the door itself. Loud, insistent.
“Dasha! Open up!” came her father-in-law’s voice. “We need to talk!”
She didn’t move.
The doorbell rang again, then someone started pounding on the door.
“We know you’re home!” Igor shouted. “Don’t make a scene!”
Dasha slowly approached the door, leaving the chain on.
“Leave. I called the police.”
Laughter sounded from the other side.
“So what?” her father-in-law’s voice was calm, almost gentle. “It’s a family dispute. They won’t do anything to you.”
“You are not family. You’re criminals.”
Then another voice broke in—hoarse, unfamiliar:
“Girl, open the door, or it’ll be worse.”
Dasha’s heart dropped. She stepped away from the door and dialed the district officer’s number. Just then the intercom suddenly rang.
On the screen—Sergey. He looked flustered, glancing around.
“Dash, open up. They’ll leave now.”
“You’re with them?” she whispered.
“No! I came to stop them.”
Dasha hesitated. Her father-in-law started banging on the door again.
“Stop this silence! We’re not leaving!”
She pressed the intercom button, letting Sergey in. A minute later shouts and sounds of a scuffle echoed in the stairwell.
“What are you doing, son?!” her father-in-law yelled.
“Dad, that’s enough! Have you completely lost it?!”
Dasha pressed her ear to the door. She heard shoving, cursing, then footsteps on the stairs. Suddenly her door shook from a powerful blow.
“Come out, bitch!” an unfamiliar voice roared.
Her phone rang — the police.
“Ma’am, we’re here. Which entrance is yours?”
“The third! Hurry!”
She heard shouting in the stairwell, stomping, then a sharp command:
“Hands on your head! On the floor!”
Silence.
Five minutes later there was a cautious knock at her door.
“Dasha? This is Officer Malyshev. You can open up.”
She opened the door. In the hallway stood two policemen, pinning her father-in-law and one of the strangers to the wall. Igor was sitting on the floor, his hands twisted behind his back. The second stranger was gone.
“Your husband detained one of the attackers,” the officer explained. “He ran off, but we’ll find him.”
Sergey stood off to the side, his lip split, his shirt torn.
“I… I didn’t know they’d go this far,” he mumbled.
Dasha was trembling.
“Ma’am, you’ll need to write a statement,” the second officer said. “Did these men threaten you?”
“Yes,” Dasha answered quietly. “And not only today.”
Her father-in-law suddenly broke free and turned to her:
“You’re lying! We just came to talk!”
The officer shoved him back against the wall.
“Quiet!”
“Dasha…” Sergey took a step toward her. “I… I didn’t expect this. I’m sorry.”
She looked at him—beaten, confused, pathetic.
“You could’ve stopped this earlier. But you didn’t.”
The police began leading the detained men away. Igor suddenly shouted:
“You’ll regret this! We’ll get you!”
They shoved him into the elevator.
When the hallway grew quiet, only Dasha and Sergey remained.
“Can I… stay the night in the kitchen?” he asked. “Just for today…”
“No,” Dasha replied. “You’ve made your choice.”
He nodded, lowered his head and slowly walked toward the elevator.
Dasha closed the door and suddenly noticed a scrap of paper on the floor. She picked it up—it must have fallen from her father-in-law during the arrest.
“The apartment is privatized in her name, but it can be contested in court. Need witnesses that Sergey invested in it. Register Igor there—better chances…”
She crumpled the paper. The war was only beginning.
The morning started with a phone call. Dasha, who hadn’t slept all night, barely opened her eyes. An unknown number glowed on the screen.
“Hello?” Her voice was hoarse with fatigue.
“This is Officer Malyshev. There’s progress on your report. Can you come to the station today?”
She agreed and slowly got out of bed. In the bathroom, looking at her exhausted reflection, Dasha suddenly noticed—her favorite toothbrush was gone. On the shelf stood someone else’s, pink, with worn bristles.
Katya… flashed through her mind.
There was another surprise waiting in the kitchen. Yesterday’s bag of pastries Sergey had brought was ripped open. The cherry filling had leaked all over the table, and on top lay a note: “Tasty? We’ll be back for more!”
Dasha swept everything into the trash with shaking hands. At that moment the intercom buzzed again.
“Who is it?” she asked, already expecting trouble.
“Flower delivery,” a young voice replied.
She opened the door on the chain. The courier held out a huge bouquet of roses. Dasha took it automatically and immediately felt something was wrong. Among the flowers was a card: “Forgive me. Yours, Sergey.”
But the handwriting wasn’t his. Dasha turned the card over—on the back, in sloppy scrawl, it said: “The neighbor upstairs saw you calling the cops. Expect more visitors.”
The flowers slipped from her hands. Dasha grabbed her phone and called the lawyer.
“Alexander Petrovich, it’s Dasha. They’re still at it… No, I’m not exaggerating… Yes, I got threats…”
She was getting ready to go meet the officer when she noticed—her wallet was missing from her bag. She’d definitely had it yesterday; after the store she’d put it right back…
5,000 rubles… just enough for the mortgage payment… flashed through her mind.
At the police station, Officer Malyshev, a man in his fifties with tired eyes, spread the papers out in front of her.
“Your father-in-law and his son testified that they only came to talk. The two guys with them say they just happened to be nearby.”
“And the threats? And the note?” Dasha pulled out the crumpled slip of paper.
“That’s not proof. No signature. No direct threats as such.”
“And the missing things? The money?”
“Are you sure you didn’t lose it? Maybe your husband took it?”
Dasha clenched her jaw. Just then a young policeman poked his head into the office.
“Ivan Sergeyevich, there’s a citizen Smirnov here. Wants to add his testimony.”
Sergey walked in. He looked awful—a black eye, bandaged arm.
“I can confirm,” he said quietly. “Dad and my brother threatened Dasha. I heard it.”
The officer sighed heavily.
“A son against his father… All right, write it down.”
While Sergey filled out the forms, Dasha stepped out into the hallway. A minute later he joined her.
“Dash… I didn’t know they’d go that far…”
“What did you expect?” She didn’t look at him. “You know them.”
“I… I went to my mom’s. Explained that if they don’t stop, I’ll file a report myself.”
Dasha turned sharply to him.
“And what did she say?”
“She cried. Said Dad is just trying to help Igor…” He fell silent.
“So nothing will change.”
Sergey suddenly grabbed her hand.
“Dasha, let me come back? I won’t let them in, I promise…”
She slowly pulled her hand away.
“No, Seryozha. You have to choose. Either them or me. For real.”
He lowered his head. At that moment the officer came out of the office.
“Ms. Smirnova, your father-in-law called. Says he’s having a heart attack because of your slanderous claims.”
Dasha rolled her eyes.
“Predictable.”
“He’s asking for a meeting. Says he’s ready to apologize in person.”
“No,” Dasha said firmly. “No more meetings.”
The officer shrugged.
“As you wish. Just keep in mind—if you refuse to reconcile, the court might see that as you being uncooperative.”
Sergey suddenly stepped toward the officer.
“What kind of nonsense is that? Is she obligated to make peace with them?”
“Calm down, citizen. I’m just—”
Dasha cut them off:
“I get it. I’ll think about it.”
On their way out of the station, Sergey spoke again:
“Dasha, can I walk you home?”
“No.”
“At least take this.” He held out an envelope. “Your money. Katya… took it from you. I got it back.”
Dasha took the envelope without looking at him.
“Thanks. But that changes nothing.”
She turned and walked away. Outside, the sun was shining brightly, people hurrying about their day. Just an ordinary day. Only Dasha’s life had split into “before” and “after.”
Near her building another surprise awaited—on the hood of her car, someone had laid out the word “BITCH” with small stones.
Dasha took out her phone and snapped a photo. Then she opened her messenger and wrote to the lawyer: “Alexander Petrovich, let’s start preparing the lawsuit. Full package: defamation, threats, property damage…”
She took a deep breath and added a second message: “And the divorce. Officially.”
Rain was drumming on the windowsill as Dasha signed the last document at the lawyer’s office. Alexander Petrovich, a gray-haired man with attentive eyes, carefully put the papers into a folder.
“Everything is ready. The petition for divorce, the complaint about slander and threats, and the motion for a restraining order. The hearing is in two weeks.”
Dasha nodded, staring at the ring on her finger. She could already take it off, but somehow couldn’t bring herself to.
“Will they be there?” she asked quietly.
“Definitely. Especially when they find out you’re demanding compensation for moral damages.”
She sighed and got up. Outside, the rain intensified. Dasha pulled up her hood and stepped out of the building, when she noticed a familiar figure under an umbrella across the street.
Sergey.
He stood there as if he didn’t dare come closer. Dasha stopped. Water streamed down his face, though it could have been tears.
“Dash…” he stepped forward. “Can we talk?”
She nodded silently and they moved under the awning of a nearby café.
“I brought this,” Sergey held out a envelope. “A statement from my father. He’s renouncing any claims to the apartment.”
Dasha took the envelope without opening it.
“What changed his mind?”
“I…” He lowered his eyes. “I said I’d file a theft report. Katya really did take your money.”
“And he got scared?”
“No.” Sergey raised his eyes to hers. “I said if they didn’t leave you alone, I’d leave the city. For good.”
A lump rose in Dasha’s throat. She turned away, watching the wet streets.
“Why now? Why not a month ago?”
“Because…” his voice shook, “…because I saw what they wrote on your car. And I realized—they’re not family anymore. They’re enemies.”
They were silent. Through the café window they could see a waitress laughing with the cook. Normal life.
“What now?” Dasha finally asked.
“Now…” Sergey took a deep breath, “…now I’m renting a room on the outskirts. Working two jobs. And… I filed for divorce. So you wouldn’t have to.”
Dasha looked at him sharply.
“You think that changes something?”
“No.” He shook his head. “I know I don’t deserve a second chance. I just wanted you to know—I choose you. Even if you don’t choose me anymore.”
He turned to leave. Unexpectedly, Dasha called out to him:
“Sergey…”
He looked back. The rain running down his face made him look like a crying child.
“Thank you,” she said. “For the statement.”
He nodded and walked away. Dasha stood under the awning until his figure disappeared in the rain.
Two weeks later, the court hearing lasted only twenty minutes. Nikolai Petrovich didn’t show up, sending a doctor’s note instead. Igor and Katya sat on the back bench, whispering. When the judge announced the decision to dissolve the marriage, Katya let out a loud snort.
On her way out of the courtroom, Dasha came face to face with her former father-in-law. He stood leaning on a cane, smiling strangely.
“Congratulations, daughter-in-law. You got what you wanted.”
“This isn’t a victory,” Dasha replied quietly. “It’s the end of a nightmare.”
“You’re wrong.” He leaned closer, and she smelled medicine and old age. “The nightmare is just beginning.”
But when Dasha stepped out of the courthouse, there was a surprise waiting. By her car stood Sergey talking to… Officer Malyshev. Seeing her, he walked over.
“Dash, I just wanted to say…” He fell silent when he saw the fear in her eyes. “Don’t be afraid, I’m not breaking the restraining order. I came here with the officer on purpose. So you’d know—I filed a report against my father and brother. For the threats.”
The officer confirmed it with a nod.
“The documents have been received. We’ll investigate.”
Sergey handed her the keys to their—now only her—apartment.
“I took my last things. I won’t come back. Unless…” He stopped.
Dasha took the keys. Their fingers brushed briefly. Cold metal, warm skin.
“Goodbye, Sergey.”
“Goodbye, Dasha.”
When she started the car, she saw him in the rear-view mirror, standing in the pouring rain without trying to cover himself. As if he hoped the water could wash away all his mistakes.
But Dasha knew—some things don’t wash off. Like the word “BITCH” that had left a trace on the hood even after professional polishing.
She put the car into first gear and pulled away. Ahead lay a new life. Scary and lonely.
But her own