Lena stood in front of the hallway mirror, studying her reflection. A gray turtleneck, old jeans, hair pulled into a careless ponytail. When was the last time she bought herself something new? Six months ago? A year? She ran a hand over her face, noticing the new little wrinkles near her eyes. Thirty-two, yet she looked forty.
“Len, are you going somewhere?” Igor’s voice carried from the room.
“To the mall. I want to use the gift card the girls gave me,” she replied, rummaging through her purse.
A gift card. Ten thousand rubles. Katya and Marina—her friends since college—had handed it to her last week when they dropped by with New Year’s greetings. They had sat in the kitchen drinking tea with cake, and Lena had caught the way her friends exchanged looks, noticing her washed-out robe and the exhaustion in her eyes.
“Lena, sweetheart, this is for you,” Katya said, holding out a pretty envelope. “Go buy yourself something beautiful. New Year’s is right around the corner—holidays, office parties…”
Back then Lena had felt awkward and wanted to refuse, but Marina cut in:
“Don’t argue. You’ve earned it. Treat yourself. And do Igor a favor too—dress up like you used to.”
Like you used to. The words hung in the air like a heavy weight. “Before” was five years ago, when she and Igor had just gotten married. She worked as a manager at an advertising agency, wore pretty dresses and heels, took care of herself. Then Igor got promoted, started earning more, and they decided Lena didn’t have to work. “Take care of the house,” he’d told her. “Rest from all that office bustle.”
Rest turned into four years of domestic confinement. Cooking, cleaning, laundry, cooking again. Igor came home late, tired and silent. Their conversations grew short and formal. Once they could talk until morning, make plans, dream. Now he only asked what was for dinner and went straight to his computer.
Lena dumped the contents of her purse onto the hallway shelf. Keys, wallet, lipstick, a comb, receipts… No card. She frowned and checked the pockets of her coat. Empty.
“Igor, have you seen the card? The gift one? I put it in my purse, I remember for sure…”
Silence. Then the creak of a chair.
Igor came out of the room, leaning a shoulder against the doorframe. His face had the expression she’d learned to recognize over the past year—a mix of irritation and condescension.
“Oh, the card,” he scratched the back of his head. “I gave your gift card to my sister. She needed an outfit for her corporate party, and you don’t go anywhere anyway,” her husband said coldly.
Lena froze. The words reached her as if from far away, through thick glass. She opened her mouth, closed it, opened it again.
“What?”
“Well, Sveta needed to buy a dress. Her office party is on Friday—an important event. The director will be there, potential partners. She has to look presentable. And you…” His eyes swept over Lena from head to toe. “You sit at home. Why would you need outfits?”
Something inside Lena began to boil. She stared at her husband and didn’t recognize him. This was the man who once told her she was more beautiful than any star, that he felt happy beside her. This was the man who brought her flowers for no reason, kissed her hands, built plans for their future.
“Igor, it was a gift. For me. My friends bought it специально so I—”
“So you what?” he interrupted. “Lena, look at yourself. When was the last time you went anywhere besides the grocery store? When did we go to a café, the movies, any kind of event? You’ve turned into a housewife who walks around in a robe all day.”
“I wear a robe because I’m cleaning this house!” Lena’s voice cracked into a shout. “Because I cook your breakfasts, lunches, dinners! I wash your shirts, iron your pants, mop the floors!”
“Did I ask you to?” He stepped closer, and Lena saw cold indifference in his eyes. “That was your choice—to sit at home. I suggested you get a job, but you refused.”
It was a lie. A year ago she really had wanted to go back to work, found a few openings, but Igor had said, “Why? We have enough money. And who needs you after a four-year break?” The words had cut deep, and she’d swallowed them, convinced herself he was right.
“Sveta isn’t married,” Igor went on. “She needs to be seen, make an impression. She’s got a career, prospects. And you… you’re not going anywhere.”
“You’re not going anywhere.” The sentence sounded like a verdict.
Lena slowly sat down on the chair in the hallway. Her hands trembled. Inside, everything churned—hurt, anger, pain, but most of all, realization. She understood that to him she had stopped being a woman a long time ago. She had become hired help. A maid, a cook, a laundress. Someone who maintained his comfort but didn’t deserve respect, attention, care.
When did it happen? When did she go from beloved wife to unpaid domestic labor?
“Has Sveta already bought herself a dress?” Lena asked quietly.
“Yeah, I think she picked something. She was happy,” Igor said, already turning back to the room as if the conversation were over.
“Igor, wait.”
He turned around, lips pressed in impatience.
“I think we need to live separately,” Lena said.
The words came out on their own, but the moment they were spoken, Lena felt a strange relief—like a heavy stone she’d carried in her chest for months suddenly vanished.
“What?” Igor frowned. “What are you talking about?”
“About the fact that we’ve turned into neighbors. No—worse. Neighbors in an apartment who irritate each other. I’m tired of feeling like a servant in my own home.”
“Lena, don’t talk nonsense. You’re making drama over some stupid card?”
“It’s not about the card!” She jumped up, and her voice went cold. “It’s about the fact that you didn’t even ask me. You didn’t think that the gift was meant for me. That your sister could’ve asked you for money instead of taking someone else’s. You just decided I didn’t deserve it. That I’m not important enough, not valuable enough, to have anything of my own.”
Igor stayed silent, processing her words. Then he shrugged.
“Fine, I was wrong. Sorry. I’ll ask Sveta to return the card.”
“No,” Lena shook her head. “Don’t. It’s too late. I’m serious, Igor. I need time to think. We both do. Go stay with your parents or with Sveta. A month. Maybe two.”
He stared at her in disbelief, as if he couldn’t believe she was capable of this. And truly—when was the last time she defended her boundaries? When did she say “no”?
“You’re serious?”
“Absolutely.”
The first week after Igor packed his things and left for his parents’ place, Lena moved around in a kind of numb stupor. The apartment felt huge and empty. She wandered from room to room, not knowing what to do with herself. No need to cook dinner at a precise time. No need to iron shirts. She could sit in the kitchen with tea until midnight, read books that had gathered dust for years, watch movies.
But strangely, instead of relief she felt emptiness. For four years her life had revolved around another person. Now that person was gone, and a hole remained.
“Len, how are you?” Katya called on the fifth day.
“Fine,” Lena lied.
“You’re lying. Come over tonight. Marina will be there too.”
They met at a small café not far from Katya’s place. Marina and Katya were already at a table when Lena came in. Both jumped up and hugged her.
“Talk,” Marina demanded once they settled in with coffee and pastries.
Lena told them everything—about the card, about Igor’s words, about the leaden realization that she’d become invisible in her own life.
“Bastard,” Katya breathed. “Len, we could see things were bad. But we didn’t think it was that bad.”
“Neither did I,” Lena admitted. “I just lived day to day, convincing myself that it was supposed to be like this. That it was normal—to dissolve into everyday life and forget myself.”
“It’s not normal,” Marina said firmly. “And you did the right thing kicking him out. Now the main thing is not to fall apart.”
“I’m not falling apart,” Lena protested. “I just don’t know what to do next.”
“Next you start living,” Katya said, taking her hand. “Real life. Yours. Let’s make a plan.”
They made the plan right there, while everything was still raw. Step one—change her appearance. “You need to see a different person in the mirror,” Marina explained. “A new one. The one you want to be.” Step two—sports. Step three—work. Step four—new impressions, emotions, people.
“Sounds scary,” Lena confessed.
“Sounds interesting,” Katya winked.
The very next day Lena went to a beauty salon. She sat down in the chair and told the stylist:
“Do whatever you want. Just not the way it was.”
The stylist—a young woman with bright hair—smiled.
“Got it. Trust me.”
Three hours later Lena stared into the mirror and didn’t recognize herself. Long, dull hair had become a stylish shoulder-length cut with light waves. The color changed from a muddy blond to a rich chestnut with copper highlights.
“Wow,” was all Lena managed.
“It suits you,” the stylist nodded. “You’re beautiful. You were just hiding behind that hair.”
Beautiful. When had Lena last heard that word addressed to her?
Leaving the salon, she went straight to the mall. On her own money—savings from the time she worked. She bought two dresses, jeans, a few blouses, high heels. Trying everything on, she caught herself smiling at her reflection.
At home, laying the new things out on the bed, Lena suddenly sat down and cried. Not from grief—from relief. She had ignored herself for so long she’d forgotten what it was like to take care of herself, to make herself happy, to be herself.
She chose a gym near home—small, cozy, with a friendly trainer named Andrei.
“I want to get in shape,” Lena explained at the first session.
“Great. We’ll start small,” Andrei smiled.
The first week her whole body ached. Muscles she’d forgotten existed protested with every movement. But each session got easier. She felt her body changing—growing stronger, more resilient. And as her body changed, so did she: confidence and energy returned.
After a month Andrei said:
“You’re doing great. Very disciplined.”
“I just like it,” Lena admitted. “For the first time in a long time, I’m doing something only for myself.”
They started talking. Andrei was thirty-five, a former professional athlete, now a trainer and co-owner of the gym. Divorced, with a seven-year-old daughter.
“Was it hard after the divorce?” Lena asked.
“At first, yes,” he nodded. “But then I realized it was better than living in an unhappy marriage. I see my daughter every weekend—we’re close. And I finally do what I love.”
His words resonated. Lena also felt that, slowly, step by step, she was taking her life back.
Work came unexpectedly. Marina, who worked at an advertising agency, said they were looking for a project manager.
“Len, it’s perfect for you! You have experience in advertising. Yes, there was a break, but you’ll get back into it fast.”
“I haven’t worked for five years,” Lena hesitated.
“So what? You didn’t forget how to think, talk, solve problems. Try. I’ll recommend you.”
The interview went surprisingly smoothly. The agency director, Olga Viktorovna—a woman in her fifties with sharp, intelligent eyes—listened carefully and said:
“I like you. Yes, you had a gap, but it’s obvious you’re motivated. Can you start in a week?”
“I can!” Lena couldn’t stop smiling.
The first weeks were hard. New software, new approaches, younger colleagues who spoke in an unfamiliar language of trends and strategies. But Lena absorbed everything like a sponge. She stayed late, read professional blogs, watched webinars. Gradually she felt herself coming back.
“Excellent work, Lena,” Olga Viktorovna praised her after the first successful project. “You’re a true professional.”
A true professional. She hadn’t heard anything like that about herself in years.
Igor called regularly—first once a week, then more often.
“Len, how are you?” he sounded unsure.
“Good.”
“Maybe we should meet? Talk?”
“Not now, Igor. I need time.”
Time passed. Two months turned into three. Lena lived a full life—work, the gym, meeting friends, going to theaters and movies. She signed up for marketing courses, started learning English—a dream she’d had for years. On weekends she went out of town, walked, photographed nature.
And with every day she understood more clearly: she didn’t want to return to her old life.
“Len, coffee after training?” Andrei offered one day at the end of a session.
They went to a café across the street and talked about movies, books, travel. It turned out they had surprisingly much in common. Andrei told funny stories from his coaching days; Lena shared workplace mishaps. They laughed, and Lena realized it was easy with him—easy and calm.
“Want to go somewhere this weekend?” Andrei asked as they said goodbye. “A museum, maybe. Or the park.”
“With pleasure,” Lena smiled.
It wasn’t a date. Or maybe it was. Lena wasn’t sure. But she didn’t care. She simply wanted to spend time with someone who interested her.
They walked in the park for hours, talking about everything. Andrei listened attentively, asked questions, laughed at her jokes. He looked at her with genuine interest, as if it truly mattered what she thought and felt.
“You know,” he said as they sat on a bench with coffee, “you’ve changed a lot these past months.”
“What do you mean?”
“The first time you came to the gym, you were… closed off. Tense. Like you were expecting to be hit. But now you’re different. You glow from the inside.”
Lena thought about it. He was right. She had changed—more confident, calmer, happier.
“I found myself,” she admitted. “Or rather, I brought back the person I used to be. Before I dissolved into someone else’s life.”
“I’m glad you did,” Andrei said, covering her hand with his.
Lena didn’t pull away. The warmth of his palm felt pleasant and natural. They sat like that for a few minutes in silence, watching ducks on the pond.
The meeting with Igor happened four months after their separation. He asked persistently, and Lena agreed. They met in the same café where she had once met her friends.
Igor had clearly tried—clean-shaven, wearing her favorite shirt, bringing flowers. But Lena looked at him and felt… nothing. No old pain, no anger. Only a faint sadness from realizing love had died.
“You look amazing,” he said, studying her. “New haircut, style… Did you lose weight?”
“I’m in shape,” Lena corrected. “I work out.”
“Len, I want you to come back,” he said, reaching for her hand across the table. “I realized what a stupid mistake I made. You were right. I treated you badly, took you for granted. Forgive me. Let’s start over.”
Once those words would have melted her heart. Now she heard the false note in them. He didn’t want her back—he wanted his comfortable life back. Hot dinner on the table, clean shirts, a tidy home.
“I found a job,” Lena said calmly. “I’m working again. I have new friends, hobbies. I’m happy. For the first time in years, I’m truly happy.”
“Great!” he brightened, missing the point. “So you’re in good shape. We’ll handle everything together. I’ll be better, I promise.”
“I don’t want to come back, Igor,” Lena said firmly. “We’ve walked our path. It’s over.”
His face went pale.
“What do you mean? You can’t be serious. You’re going to destroy our marriage over some gift card?”
“It’s not about the card,” Lena sighed, tired. “The card was just the last straw. Igor, we haven’t been husband and wife for a long time. We were strangers under one roof. You didn’t see me, didn’t hear me, didn’t value me. And I let myself disappear.”
“But I’ll change!”
“Maybe,” Lena said. “But I changed too. And now I know I deserve more. I deserve a partner who respects me, supports me, who sees in me not household staff, but a living person.”
“Do you have someone?” his eyes narrowed.
Lena could have lied, but she didn’t.
“Yes. There’s someone I’m interested in.”
“So you’re leaving me for another man?”
“I’m leaving you for myself,” she corrected. “That person just showed me what normal, healthy relationships look like—based on mutual respect and genuine interest.”
Igor leaned back, his face twisting.
“Fine. Go then. Think you’re so special? I’ll find another woman who’ll appreciate what I give.”
“I wish you luck,” Lena said sincerely. “Really. I hope you find someone you’ll be happy with. But it won’t be me.”
She stood up, leaving the untouched flowers and coffee, and walked out of the café. It was a frosty evening; snow crunched under her boots, streetlights poured soft light onto the road. Lena walked home, feeling lighter with every step.
Six months later, she and Andrei went to the sea—her first vacation in many years. They walked along the promenade, swam, lay on the beach with books, had dinner at small restaurants. Andrei was attentive and caring, but not intrusive. He gave her space when she needed it and stayed close when she wanted to talk.
“Do you know what’s special about us?” Lena asked one evening as they sat on the terrace with glasses of wine, watching the sunset.
“What?”
“We both went through divorce—through pain, loss, rethinking everything. And because of that, we value what we have now. We don’t take each other for granted.”
“You’re right,” Andrei nodded. “Every day I thank fate that you came into my life.”
He kissed her, and Lena thought she was finally home—not in an apartment, not in a city, but with this person