— Meet Karina. Until we get divorced and sell the apartment, she’ll be living here.
Ilya said it so calmly, as though he were announcing something completely ordinary. He dropped two heavy suitcases in the hallway and avoided looking directly at his wife.
Alla had been his wife for twenty-five years.
And now he was standing in front of her with a young woman.
Karina was wearing a light cashmere coat and pulling her scarf tighter around her neck. She looked uncomfortable, but there was also a hint of defiance in her eyes.
Alla stood in the kitchen doorway, still holding a damp sponge.
— The apartment belongs to three people, Ilya continued. — My share is mine. I have the right to bring whoever I want here. If you don’t like it, you can go stay with your mother.
Ilya was certain Alla would break down.
He knew his wife. He knew how much she hated scandals and arguments, and he was sure she would never want to live under the same roof as another woman.
He expected her to pack her things, leave in tears, and hand over the three-room apartment to them.
But Alla didn’t cry.
She didn’t shout.
She simply rinsed the sponge, wiped her hands, and walked back toward them.
— Take off your shoes, she said calmly. — Don’t come inside with mud on them. I just washed the floor.
Ilya stared at her in disbelief.
— Alla, you don’t understand. We’re going to live in the bedroom. You need to pack your things.
— I understand.
Alla walked into the bedroom, took out her large sports bag, and began packing.
Ilya followed her.
— What are you doing?
— Moving into the living room.
— You’re seriously staying here?
Alla looked at him.
— Of course. Two-thirds of this apartment belongs to me and our son. I’m not giving it to you as a gift.
She picked up her bedding and carried it into the living room.
Just then, the door to twenty-year-old Maksim’s room opened.
The young man looked around sleepily.
— Mom, what’s going on?
— Your father brought his girlfriend home. They’re going to live in the bedroom, and I’ll live here.
Maksim slowly looked at his father.
— Should I throw them out?
— No, Alla said. — Your father owns a share of this apartment. We’ll follow the law. Go back to studying.
Maksim stared at his father for several seconds before silently returning to his room.
That night, Alla didn’t cry.
She lay on the sofa, listening to the quiet voices coming from the bedroom.
But there was one thing she knew for certain:
her life had changed.
And from now on, she wasn’t going to fight for her marriage.
She was going to fight for herself.
The war began the next morning.
Alla woke up at six-thirty, as she always did. She had breakfast and then went into the bathroom.
Exactly forty minutes later, someone knocked on the door.
— Alla, are you going to be much longer? Karina asked. — Ilya needs to get to work.
Alla opened the door.
— I’m finished. But the drain is running slowly. You’ll have to wait.
Karina hurried inside.
A few seconds later, she let out a startled cry.
The previous evening, Alla had gathered all of Karina’s cosmetics and put them into a bag.
Ilya appeared moments later.
— What is this? Why did you put Karina’s things away?
— Because this is my bathroom too. She can keep her cosmetics in her own room.
— She lives with me!
— Then she can buy her own toothpaste, soap, and everything else she needs. I’m not going to support your mistress.
Ilya glared at her angrily.
Then he poured himself a cup of coffee.
Alla took the cup from his hand and poured the coffee into the sink.
— That’s my coffee, she said.
— Have you gone crazy?
— No. I’ve simply stopped making coffee for you.
Over the next few days, life became increasingly uncomfortable for Ilya and Karina.
Alla worked from home, so she spent most of the day in the living room. And the living room was the main passageway through the apartment. Wherever they wanted to go, they had to walk past her.
Karina became more and more uncomfortable.
She couldn’t use the kitchen properly either because she didn’t know how to cook. Instead, she and Ilya ordered pizza, hamburgers, and sushi.
Then, one morning, Alla collected all the empty food containers and neatly placed them in front of the bedroom door.
Ilya walked out, tripped over them, and began angrily swearing.
— Your garbage, your problem, Alla said calmly.
Meanwhile, she continued cooking for herself every day.
Borscht.
Roasted meat.
Potatoes with mushrooms.
Homemade pastries.
She ate peacefully with Maksim at the dinner table.
Ilya, meanwhile, ate cold pizza in the bedroom.
Karina tried cooking once, but afterward the kitchen looked as if a war had broken out inside it.
The next morning brought another surprise.
All the dishes were gone.
Plates, glasses, frying pans, pots, cutlery—everything had disappeared.
Ilya angrily confronted Alla.
— Those are my things too!
— No. I bought them. I still have the receipts.
— This is a shared apartment!
— Then buy your own dishes.
Ilya finally realized that Alla wasn’t going to back down.
Within a week, Karina had become completely disillusioned.
This was not the life she had imagined.
She thought she would live comfortably beside Ilya.
Instead, she had to leave the apartment during the day because Alla refused to let her stay there alone.
Ilya went to work.
Karina spent her days sitting in cafés, warming herself in the library, or going to cheap morning movie screenings.
Her money disappeared quickly.
By Thursday, she had caught a cold.
That evening, she finally exploded at Ilya.
— I can’t take this anymore! she shouted. — Rent us an apartment!
— With what money? I don’t have that kind of money.
— Then sell this apartment!
— We have to get divorced first. Then we’ll sell it, and I’ll get my share.
Karina laughed bitterly.
— When? Six months from now?
Ilya said nothing.
— I thought you were a man, Karina snapped. — You told me Alla would leave. Instead, you’ve become a guest in her own apartment!
Ilya went pale.
— Keep your voice down!
But Karina no longer cared.
She grabbed her suitcase.
— I’ve had enough!
She threw her clothes inside, then stormed out of the apartment.
Alla stood in the doorway of the living room.
Karina looked at her through tear-filled eyes.
— Are you satisfied? You drove me away!
— I didn’t drive you away, Alla replied. — I simply protected my home.
Karina slammed the door behind her.
Ilya stood motionless for a long time.
Then he turned toward Alla.
— Maybe… we rushed into this.
— No.
— It was just a crisis. Middle-aged men sometimes…
— Don’t.
Alla’s voice was quiet, but final.
— Tomorrow, I’m filing for divorce.
Ilya’s expression changed.
— Alla…
— We’ll sell the apartment. Everyone will receive the share they are legally entitled to.
— And where am I supposed to go?
— That is no longer my problem.
Ilya sat down.
— I don’t want to lose my family.
Alla looked at him silently for several seconds.
— You didn’t lose your family today, Ilya.
The man looked up.
— You lost it when you brought another woman home and assumed I would be the one to leave.
With that, Alla returned to the living room.
She closed the door behind her.
She lay down on the sofa and, for the first time in a week, felt completely calm.
She knew there was still a long road ahead.
Divorce.
Lawyers.
Paperwork.
Selling the apartment.
Moving.
But she had already done the most important thing.
She had refused to let anyone trample her in her own home.
She had refused to give away what she had worked for over twenty-five years.
And that night, Alla finally slept peacefully.
Because she had realized something:
her marriage was over.
But her life wasn’t.
Perhaps it was only now truly beginning.
