— “Potatoes again,” Andrei snapped, flinging his fork. “I’m a human being, not a rabbit. I want meat!”
— “We’re feeding the bank,” Polina, his wife, replied quietly. “Every month. We’re paying off your loan. For your phone. What meat, Andrei?”
— “There you go again!” he shouted. “I needed the phone for work!”
— “For work?” Polina gave a bitter little laugh. “And the game console? And the headphones for fifteen thousand—those were for work too?”
Their marriage had been splitting at the seams for a long time. Life in her grandmother’s old, unrenovated apartment, the constant shortage of money, Andrei’s irritability—especially the way he burned their last savings on gadgets—had drained Polina to the bone.
Then one day Andrei announced he wanted to celebrate his thirty-fifth birthday at home and invite ten guests. When Polina asked where the money would come from, he only waved her off.
“We’ll figure it out.”
For her, that was the point of no return. She realized she wasn’t even angry anymore—only cold, heavy disgust.
Three days before the party Andrei started up again, circling back to money and blaming her for “not inspiring” him.
“You’re a bad wife,” he said. “Any guy would give up with a wife like you.”
“If I’m such a bad wife,” Polina answered softly, “the door is over there.”
Something inside her went still and clear. Divorce.
On his birthday she sat home alone, filling out the divorce papers. That morning the bank called about an overdue payment—on a loan Andrei had taken out in both their names without telling her.
At work Polina vented to Zina, one of the orderlies. Zina only snorted.
“So what else is new? Men are men. All problems come from them.”
That evening Polina came home to a “surprise”: Andrei was at the kitchen table with a stranger in an expensive suit—Igor. They were discussing a new “business” venture: reselling phones.
“Andrei says you’ve got big plans,” Igor said, smiling like he owned the room. “Maybe I can help.”
Polina understood immediately—another one of her husband’s schemes, and she would be the one left paying for it.
That night they fought again.
“We’re already in debt, and now you’re jumping into some business?” Polina yelled.
“Shut up!” Andrei roared. “You don’t understand anything. This is a chance!”
Two days later a neighbor brought Polina a note Andrei had dropped—an IOU, a loan agreement for a huge sum.
That evening at the hospital, tending to a critically ill patient, Polina felt ashamed of her life—ashamed and powerless. On her way home before dawn, she ran into Igor.
“Your husband has stepped into something serious,” he said. “If he doesn’t pay, it won’t end well. Decide for yourself: keep dragging him along… or start a new life without him.”
At home Andrei was asleep, drunk. Polina looked at him and knew: it was over.
Then someone knocked.
A girl of about twelve stood in the doorway.
“Ma’am, are you Polina? I’m your distant relative. My mom sent me to you. To live here.”
Even surprising herself with her own resolve, Polina let the girl in. Her name was Masha. When Andrei woke up, Polina told him it was her niece and she would be staying with them.
A couple of days later Andrei brought Igor back. This time Igor didn’t bother with friendliness—he threatened Polina outright, hinting that Masha could “have problems” if the debt wasn’t repaid.
Polina understood she had to protect the girl. She took Masha to Zina and begged her to shelter her for a while.
At home Andrei grew more and more aggressive. One evening two burly men showed up, demanding the money within three days.
The next day Andrei vanished, leaving a note:
“Don’t wait for me. I’ll fix it.”
That night Igor called.
“If the money isn’t there tomorrow, look for him in the cemetery.”
“Do whatever you want,” Polina said. “He’s not my husband anymore.”