Elena set the grocery bag down on the floor so she could fish her keys out of her purse. The fourth floor, as always, left her a little out of breath—the elevator in their building had been out of order for three weeks now. She lifted her head and froze. On the landing in front of her apartment door sat an unfamiliar girl perched on a suitcase. Two large gym bags stood beside her.
The girl looked up at Lena with tear-filled eyes. Her face was red, mascara smeared down her cheeks. She looked like someone who’d just arrived from far away and very much not by choice. Elena involuntarily thought that someone had kicked her out, and now this miserable stranger was looking for shelter.
“Excuse me—who are you here for?” Elena tried to keep her voice gentle, though anxiety was already stirring inside her.
The girl sprang to her feet, grabbed one of the bags, and—without waiting for an invitation—stepped toward the door. Lena automatically moved back as she slid the key into the lock. The whole situation was so absurd that she didn’t even think to block the stranger’s way at once.
“I’m waiting for my man. He said he lives here,” the girl said, walking through the open door with the confidence of someone coming home.
Lena stood frozen on the threshold, still holding the grocery bag. Her mind refused to process what she’d just heard. Her man? Here? In the apartment where she’d lived with Maksim for five years?
The stranger was already in the hallway, scanning the walls, peering into rooms. Elena finally stepped inside after her, shut the door, and set the bag down on the floor. Her hands weren’t shaking, but something inside her seemed to snap—an odd, almost physical sensation, like falling.
“What are you talking about?” Elena forced herself to speak calmly, though her heart was hammering somewhere in her temples. “Who are you?”
“Kristina.” The girl turned, and her expression held something between defiance and desperation. “Maksim promised I could move in with him. He said he’s getting a divorce. That this apartment is his.”
Maksim. Her Maksim. The man who had left three days ago on a business trip to a nearby city. The man who, over the last six months, had become someone else—closed off, always busy, hiding his phone. Elena remembered the new expensive shirts, the unfamiliar sharp cologne, the late-night calls Maksim took behind the bathroom door.
“This apartment isn’t his,” Elena heard her own voice as if from a distance. “It’s mine. I bought it before we got married. With the money from selling my mother’s place.”
Kristina frowned, tilting her head. It was clear she was trying to make sense of what she’d heard, but it didn’t fit the picture Maksim had painted for her.
“That can’t be.” Kristina spoke quickly, as if trying to convince not only Elena but herself. “Maksim said his wife… that you two have been living apart for a long time. That it’s just a formal marriage on paper. He promised he’d sort everything out by the end of the month.”
Elena walked into the kitchen—simply because she needed to move, to do something with her hands. She took out the kettle and filled it with water. Kristina followed, leaving her bags in the hallway. She sat at the table without asking. Elena caught herself watching everything as if from the outside, as though it weren’t happening to her but to the heroine of some ridiculous TV drama.
“How long have you been together?” Elena asked, setting a cup of hot tea in front of Kristina.
“Six months.” Kristina wrapped her hands around the cup even though the kitchen was warm. “We met in March. He came into our real estate agency, looking for an apartment. He said he was married but planning to divorce. That his wife was unbearable, always starting fights, and that they didn’t really live together anymore.”
March. Elena remembered that month. They had celebrated the anniversary of their first meeting at a small restaurant on the embankment. Maksim had given her flowers and told her how happy he was with her. And a week later they’d argued—apparently he went looking for an apartment and found not only real estate, but Kristina too.
“He bought me jewelry,” Kristina went on, not noticing how pale Elena had turned. “Took me away for weekends to a country hotel. Said I was the woman he wanted kids with. That things with you were over long ago—you just hadn’t filed for divorce because there was nothing to divide.”
Elena stood up, went into the bedroom, and returned with a folder of documents. She set it in front of Kristina and opened it. The ownership certificate for the apartment, in the name of Elena Sergeyevna Volkova. The date—one year before her wedding to Maksim. The purchase agreement. Receipts.
Kristina stared at the papers, blinking rapidly. Her face slowly changed color—pale to red, then pale again. Elena took her phone and opened her photo gallery.
“This is us in July, at the sea,” Elena scrolled, her voice staying even, though something inside her had turned to stone. “And this is dinner last week. See the date? Tuesday. Did Maksim tell you he was working late?”
Kristina nodded without taking her eyes off the screen. In the photo, Maksim was kissing Elena’s cheek; they were both smiling. A happy couple. A perfect marriage.
“And on Saturday he was with you?” Elena continued, swiping to the next pictures.
“Yes.” Kristina’s voice trembled. “We went to the park. He said he wanted to introduce me to his friends. But then the plans changed and we just walked around the two of us.”
“Because on Saturday he and I went to his colleague’s birthday party,” Elena said, showing another photo. “Here—see? We got home at eleven.”
Kristina grabbed her head with both hands. Elena watched emotions race across the girl’s face one after another—disbelief, understanding, shame, fury. Elena felt a similar cocktail inside herself, but a cold determination wouldn’t let it spill over.
“He… he used me,” Kristina whispered. “All this time. Six months. I waited for him, believed him, planned…”
“He used both of us,” Elena corrected. “But there’s a difference. You lost six months. And I lost five years. Still—better late than never.”
Kristina looked up at her, eyes full of tears. Elena moved closer and took her hand. Strangely, she felt no anger toward her. Kristina was a victim too. Maksim had lied to them both so easily, so virtuously, that all you could do was marvel at his acting.
“Listen,” Elena said quietly but firmly. “We have a common enemy—this liar. Maksim is supposed to come back from his ‘business trip’ on Friday. Only now I doubt there was any business trip at all.”
“He told me he was going to his parents,” Kristina forced out through tears. “Said he needed to explain the divorce situation to them.”
“And he told me he had meetings with clients in a nearby city,” Elena gave a humorless smirk. “So where was he really? Doesn’t matter. What matters is that on Friday, Maksim will come home and see both of us. Together. I suggest we show him what it feels like when your lies fall apart.”
Kristina wiped her eyes and straightened up. Something hard and resolute appeared in her gaze.
“I’m in,” she said. “He deserves it.”
The next two days were strange. Elena went to work as usual. Kristina stayed in the apartment—Elena didn’t kick her out. The girl had nowhere to go, and for their plan it was important that Maksim find them together. They didn’t talk much, but each understood what the other was going through. Kristina spent hours in the living room scrolling on her phone. Elena cooked dinner, cleaned the apartment, folded laundry. Life felt paused, waiting for Friday.
Maksim called Thursday evening. Elena answered as if nothing were wrong.
“Hey, sunshine. How are you?” Maksim’s voice sounded upbeat—too upbeat.
“Everything’s fine,” Elena said, looking at Kristina sitting opposite her. “How about you? Did the meetings go well?”
“Yeah, great. I’m coming back tomorrow—I’ll be home in the evening. I missed you.”
“And I missed you,” Elena said mechanically. “See you tomorrow.”
When she hung up, Kristina shook her head.
“How can he do that? Lie without even blinking?”
“Habit, I guess.” Elena shrugged. “Tomorrow it ends.”
Friday came faster than expected. Elena got home from work at six. Kristina was already waiting—dressed, her bags packed in the hallway. She looked tense but composed. Elena suggested they sit in the living room on the sofa. She sat down beside her.
“He should be here any minute,” Elena said, glancing at the clock.
“I don’t know what I’m going to say to him,” Kristina nervously tugged at her sleeve.
“Don’t say anything,” Elena said. “It’s enough that you’re here.”
At half past six, a key turned in the lock. Maksim walked in, dragging a small travel suitcase. He shut the door, took off his jacket, went into the living room—and froze in the doorway.
Elena watched his face change. First confusion—why was Kristina sitting in their home? Then understanding—slow, crawling, terrible. The blood drained from Maksim’s face, his eyes widened. His phone slipped from his hand and clattered onto the parquet floor.
Silence hung in the air. Maksim opened his mouth but made no sound. Kristina stared at him as if seeing him for the first time. Elena stood up from the sofa, stepped forward, and stopped a meter from her husband.
“Maksim, I’m filing for divorce. Pack your things and leave today,” Elena said evenly, without emotion. She surprised herself with how calm she sounded.
“Lena, wait—I can explain, it’s not what you think…” Maksim finally found his voice, babbling as he tried to move closer.
“Don’t come any closer,” Elena said, lifting a hand to stop him. “I don’t need your explanations. I know everything. Kristina told me. And I showed her the ownership documents. And our photos. So keep your fairy tales to yourself.”
Maksim turned to Kristina, tried to say something, took a step toward her. Kristina jumped up.
“Don’t even think about it,” she said, her voice shaking with rage. “You lied to me every day. Every minute we were together. You promised divorce, kids, a future. And you were just playing. Using me like a cheap toy. You’re nothing, Maksim. A coward—nothing.”
She grabbed her bags and suitcase. She shot Maksim one last look of such contempt that he took a step back. Then she walked past him into the hallway. The door slammed with a crash.
Elena and Maksim were alone. He stood in the middle of the living room—lost, emptied out. He tried to catch her eyes, to find even a trace of the warmth she once had for him. He found nothing.
“Lena, forgive me. I didn’t mean… it was stupid. I don’t know what came over me. You understand, it didn’t mean anything. I only love you,” Maksim said quickly, nervously, stepping closer.
“Six months isn’t ‘didn’t mean anything,’” Elena said, crossing her arms. “It’s a choice. Every day, every evening you went to her. Every lie, every excuse. You chose it, Maksim. Again and again. So don’t tell me it was an accident.”
“I’ll change. We can try again. I’ll never—” He reached for her hand, but Elena pulled away.
“You have two hours. Pack your things and go. The apartment is mine, the documents are with me. Tomorrow I’m filing for divorce. And yes—don’t try to bargain. We had a prenup, remember? You insisted on it when we got married. Everyone keeps what’s theirs. So take your clothes and your electronics. Everything else is mine.”
Maksim tried to argue, but Elena simply turned and went into the kitchen. She sat at the table and took out her phone. Her hands trembled slightly, but inside there was a strange relief—as if a weight she hadn’t even realized she was carrying had finally slipped off her shoulders.
Maksim moved through the apartment, gathering his things. Elena heard closet doors slam, the parquet creak under his steps. A little over an hour later, he appeared in the kitchen doorway with two large bags. His face was gray, his eyes red.
“I’ve taken everything,” he said dully. “Lena, if you change your mind…”
“I won’t,” Elena said without looking up. “Leave the keys on the dresser.”
There was a clink—keys dropping onto wood. Then footsteps in the hallway. The door opened and closed. Silence.
Elena sat in the kitchen, staring out the window. Outside, it had grown dark; streetlights flickered on. The city lived its usual life—someone hurrying home from work, someone walking a dog, children playing somewhere. Life went on. And her life would go on too.
She got up, poured herself water, went into the living room, turned on the TV. She sat down on the sofa—the very one where she’d sat with Kristina a couple of hours earlier, waiting for Maksim to return. Now the apartment was empty. Quiet. But it wasn’t the frightening quiet of loneliness—it was the liberating quiet of freedom.
Elena thought about the five years she’d spent with Maksim. About how she’d believed him, trusted him, made plans. Was it painful? Yes. Did it hurt? More than anything. But did she regret learning the truth? Not for a second. Better to know and move forward than to live inside a beautiful lie that would have fallen apart sooner or later anyway.
Her phone vibrated. A message from an unknown number. Elena opened it.
“Thank you. You’re strong. I understood a lot today. I wish you happiness. —Kristina.”
Elena smiled. For the first time in two days—she smiled sincerely. She typed back:
“And you too. We’ll make it. Both of us.”
She set the phone on the coffee table and leaned back into the cushions. Tomorrow would bring a lot to do—lawyers, paperwork, explanations to friends and relatives. Maksim would have to find a rental, tell his parents about the divorce, explain to colleagues why he suddenly had no roof over his head. But that was no longer her problem.
Elena took a book from the shelf—one she’d been meaning to read for a long time. She opened to the first page.
A new chapter. In the book, and in life.
The apartment was hers. The life was hers. The future was hers. And no Maksim could take that away anymore