Lena stood in front of the hallway mirror, studying her reflection. A gray turtleneck, old jeans, hair pulled into a messy ponytail. When was the last time she’d bought herself something new? Six months ago? A year? She ran a hand over her face, noticing new fine lines at the corners of her eyes. Thirty-two, yet she looked forty.
“Lena, are you going somewhere?” Igor’s voice called from the room.
“To the mall. I want to use the gift card the girls gave me,” she answered, digging 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’d sat in the kitchen drinking tea with cake, and Lena had seen the way her friends exchanged glances, taking in her threadbare robe and the exhaustion in her eyes.
“Lena, sweetheart, this is for you,” Katya said, offering a pretty envelope. “Go buy yourself something nice. The New Year’s almost here—holiday parties, office events…”
Lena had grown embarrassed and tried to refuse, but Marina cut her off.
“Don’t argue. You deserve 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 weight. “Used to” was five years ago, when she and Igor had just gotten married. She’d worked as a manager at an ad 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 said back then. “Rest from the office grind.”
That “rest” turned into four years of house arrest. Cooking, cleaning, laundry, cooking again. Igor came home late, tired and silent. Their conversations became short and formal. Once, they could talk until dawn, 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 hairbrush, receipts… No card. She frowned and checked her coat pockets. Empty.
“Igor, have you seen the card? The gift card? I put it in my bag—I remember for sure…”
Silence. Then the creak of a chair.
Igor came out of the room and leaned his shoulder against the doorframe. His face had the expression Lena had 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. She has a corporate event on Friday—an important one. The director will be there, potential partners. She has to look presentable. And you…” He looked her up and down. “You sit at home. Why do you need outfits?”
Lena felt something boil inside her. She stared at her husband and didn’t recognize him. This was the man who used to tell her she was more beautiful than any star, that being with her made him happy. The man who brought her flowers for no reason, kissed her hands, made plans for their future.
“Igor, it was a gift. For me. My friends bought it специально so that I—”
“So that you what?” he cut in. “Lena, look at yourself. When was the last time you went anywhere besides the store? When did we go to a café, the movies, any kind of event? You’ve turned into a housewife who spends all day in a robe.”
“I wear a robe because I’m cleaning this house!” Lena’s voice snapped into a shout. “Because I cook you breakfast, lunch, dinner! 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. “You were the one who decided to stay home. I suggested you find a job, but you refused.”
It was a lie. A year ago she’d 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?” Those words had cut deep, but she’d swallowed them and convinced herself he was right.
“Sveta isn’t married,” Igor went on. “She needs to be seen, make an impression. She has a career, prospects. And you… you’re not going anywhere.”
You’re not going anywhere. The words sounded like a sentence.
Lena slowly sank onto the hallway chair. Her hands trembled. Everything inside her churned—hurt, anger, pain, but most of all understanding. She realized that to him she had stopped being a woman a long time ago. She’d become staff. A maid, a cook, a laundress—someone who maintained his life but didn’t deserve respect, attention, or care.
When had it happened? When had she gone from beloved wife to free housekeeper?
“Did Sveta already buy herself a dress?” Lena asked quietly.
“Yeah, she picked something. She was happy,” Igor said, already heading back as if the conversation was over.
“Igor, wait.”
He turned, lips pressed in impatience.
“I think we need to live separately,” Lena said.
The words flew out on their own, but the moment she said them, she felt a strange relief—like a heavy stone she’d carried in her chest for months had suddenly vanished.
“What?” Igor frowned. “What are you talking about?”
“About the fact that we’ve turned into neighbors. No—worse. Neighbors in one 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 turned icy. “It’s about the fact that you didn’t even ask me. You didn’t think the gift was meant for me. That your sister could’ve asked you for money instead of taking what wasn’t hers. You just decided I didn’t deserve it. That I’m not important enough, not valuable enough, to have something of my own.”
Igor was silent, processing. Then he shrugged.
“Fine, I was wrong. Sorry. I’ll ask Sveta to return the card.”
“Don’t,” Lena shook her head. “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 looked at her as if he couldn’t believe she was capable of this. And really—when was the last time she defended her boundaries? When did she say “no”?
“You’re serious?”
“Completely.”
The first week after Igor packed his things and left for his parents’ place, Lena moved through her days as if numb. The apartment felt huge and empty. She wandered from room to room, not knowing what to do with herself. No need to have dinner ready at an exact 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 had opened up.
“Lena, how are you?” Katya called on the fifth day.
“Fine,” Lena lied.
“You’re lying. Come to us tonight. Marina will be there too.”
They met at a small café not far from Katya’s home. Marina and Katya were already at a table when Lena walked in. Both jumped up and hugged her.
“Talk,” Marina demanded once they sat down 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 quietly. “Lena, we could tell things were bad. But we didn’t think it was that bad.”
“I didn’t think so either,” Lena admitted. “I just lived day by day, convincing myself this was how it was supposed to be. That it was normal to dissolve into chores 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 argued. “I just don’t know what to do next.”
“Next you start living,” Katya said, taking her hand. “A real life. Yours. Let’s make a plan.”
They made the plan right there, while everything was still fresh. Point 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.” Point two: sports. Point three: work. Point four: new impressions, emotions, people.
“Sounds scary,” Lena admitted.
“But interesting,” Katya winked.
Lena went to a beauty salon the very next day. 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. Her long, dull hair had become a stylish shoulder-length cut with soft waves. The color changed from an indistinct light brown to a rich chestnut with copper highlights.
“Wow,” Lena managed.
“It suits you,” the stylist nodded. “You’re beautiful. You were just hiding behind that hair.”
Beautiful. When was the last time Lena had heard that word about herself?
Leaving the salon, she went straight to the mall—using her own money, saved from the days she used to work. She bought two dresses, jeans, several blouses, and high heels. Trying everything on, she caught herself smiling at her reflection.
At home, laying the new clothes out on the bed, Lena suddenly sat down and cried. Not from grief—from relief. She’d ignored herself for so long she’d forgotten what it felt like to care for herself, to make herself happy, to be herself.
She chose a gym near her home. Small and cozy, with a friendly trainer named Andrey.
“I want to get into shape,” Lena explained at her first session.
“Great. We’ll start small,” Andrey smiled.
The first week her whole body hurt. Muscles she’d forgotten existed protested at every movement. But each workout got easier. She felt her body changing—stronger, more resilient. And with her body, she changed too: confidence and energy returned.
After a month, Andrey said:
“You’re doing great. Very disciplined.”
“It’s just that I like it,” Lena admitted. “For the first time in a long time, I’m doing something only for myself.”
They started talking more. Andrey was thirty-five, a former professional athlete, now a trainer and co-owner of the gym. Divorced, with a seven-year-old daughter.
“Is it hard after a divorce?” Lena asked.
“At first, yes,” he nodded. “But then I realized it’s better than living in an unhappy marriage. I see my daughter every weekend—we have a great relationship. And I finally do what I love.”
His words resonated. Lena felt that she too, slowly, step by step, was reclaiming her life.
The job happened unexpectedly. Marina, who worked at an ad agency, mentioned they were looking for a project manager.
“Lena, it’s perfect for you! You have experience in advertising. Yes, there was a break, but you’ll get back into it quickly.”
“I haven’t worked in five years,” Lena hesitated.
“So what? You didn’t forget how to think, communicate, solve problems. Come on—try. I’ll recommend you.”
The interview went surprisingly smoothly. The agency director, Olga Viktorovna—a woman in her fifties with sharp eyes—listened carefully and said:
“I like you. Yes, you had a break, but I can see you’re motivated. Can you start in a week?”
“I can!” Lena couldn’t stop herself from smiling.
The first weeks were hard. New software, new approaches, younger colleagues speaking a strange language of trends and strategies. But Lena absorbed everything like a sponge. She stayed late, read professional blogs, watched webinars. Gradually, she felt herself returning.
“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 a long time.
Igor called regularly. At first once a week, then more often.
“Lena, how are you?” His voice sounded uncertain.
“Good.”
“Maybe we could meet? Talk?”
“Not now, Igor. I need time.”
Time passed. Two months became three. Lena’s life grew full—work, the gym, meeting her friends, going to the theater and the movies. She enrolled in marketing courses, started learning English, something she’d dreamed of for years. On weekends she drove out of town, walked, photographed nature.
And every day she understood more clearly: she didn’t want to go back to her old life.
“Lena, coffee after training?” Andrey suggested one day at the end of a session.
They went to the café across the street. They talked about films, books, travel. They had surprisingly much in common. Andrey told funny stories from his coaching practice; Lena shared work mishaps. They laughed, and Lena realized it was easy with him. Easy and calm.
“Maybe we could go somewhere this weekend?” he asked as they said goodbye. “A museum, maybe. Or the park.”
“I’d love to,” Lena smiled.
It wasn’t a date. Or was it? Lena wasn’t sure. But she didn’t care. She simply wanted to spend time with someone she found interesting.
In the park they walked for hours, talking about everything. Andrey 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 when they sat on a bench with coffee in their hands, “you’ve changed a lot these past months.”
“How do you mean?”
“When you first came to the gym, you were… closed off. Tense. Like you were expecting a blow. And now you’re different. You glow from the inside.”
Lena thought about it. He was right. She had changed—more confident, calmer, happier.
“I just found myself,” she admitted. “Or rather, I got back the person I used to be—before I dissolved into someone else’s life.”
“I’m glad you did,” Andrey said, placing his hand over hers.
Lena didn’t pull away. The warmth of his palm felt pleasant and natural. They sat like that in silence for several minutes, watching ducks glide across the pond.
Lena met Igor four months after their separation. He insisted, and she agreed. They met at the same café where she’d once met her friends.
Igor had clearly made an effort—shaved, wore her favorite shirt, brought flowers. But Lena looked at him and felt… nothing. No old pain, no resentment. Only a faint sadness at the realization that 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.”
“Lena, I want you to come back,” he said, taking her hand across the table. “I realized what a stupid thing I did. You were right. I treated you badly, took you for granted. Forgive me. Let’s start over.”
Before, those words would have melted her heart. Now she heard falseness in them. He didn’t want her back—he wanted the comfortable life back. A hot dinner on the table, clean shirts, a tidy home.
“Igor, I found a job,” Lena said calmly. “I’m working again. I have new friends, interests. 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 want to destroy our marriage because of some stupid card?”
“It wasn’t about the card,” she sighed tiredly. “The card was just the last straw. Igor, we haven’t been husband and wife for a long time. We were strangers living 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, sees me not as household staff, but as 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—built on mutual respect and genuine interest.”
Igor leaned back, his face twisting.
“Fine. Go. You think you’re so special? I’ll find another woman who appreciates what I give.”
“I wish you luck,” Lena said sincerely. “Really. I hope you find someone you’ll be happy with. But it definitely won’t be me.”
She stood, leaving the flowers and coffee untouched, and walked out of the café. Outside, the evening was icy, snow crunched under her boots, and streetlights spilled soft light onto the road. Lena walked home and felt lighter with every step.
Six months later, she and Andrey went to the sea—her first vacation in many years. They walked the promenade, swam, lay on the beach with books, ate dinner in small restaurants. Andrey was attentive and caring, but not clingy. 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’ve both been through divorce. 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,” Andrey nodded. “Every day I thank fate that you came into my life.”
He kissed her, and Lena thought that at last she was home—not in an apartment, not in a city, but with this person