— Maybe when the apartment sells, I’ll buy a small one-room place for myself? Or maybe even move to another city? I don’t know yet. But what I do know is that I will no longer tolerate someone who doesn’t respect me.
Her son Maxim called a few days later. He spoke briefly, curtly.
— Mom, I’m on your side. Dad was wrong. If you need help, let me know.
— Thank you, son. I’ll manage.
Three months passed. The court in the criminal case sentenced Igor to a suspended sentence and a fine of 300,000. The divorce was finalized. The apartment was sold for 9 million, and they each received four and a half. Igor moved in with his brother Oleg, who, by the way, was also investigated as an accomplice, but the case was closed for lack of evidence — formally, he hadn’t done anything, only intended to buy the apartment.
Anna rented a small, bright, and cozy apartment on the outskirts of the city. She began to furnish it to her own taste. She bought new furniture, hung pictures she liked on the walls. She adopted a cat from a shelter, a fluffy ginger she named Ryzhik.
At work, her colleagues supported her. Marina Sergeevna even gave her a raise.
— You’re amazing, Anna Petrovna. Not every woman your age decides to start her life over. I’m proud of you.
One day, as Anna was unpacking boxes in her new apartment, the intercom buzzed. She opened the door and saw Valentina Ivanovna, the cleaning lady from the airport.
— Hello, dearie. Do you remember me?
— Valentina Ivanovna! Of course, I remember. How did you find me?
— Well, I kept thinking about you, worrying how things were. Then I accidentally ran into your friend, Olga Valentinovna, the lawyer. I saw her at the store, we got to talking, and she told me everything ended well for you. She gave me your address, said you wouldn’t mind if I stopped by.
— Of course, I don’t mind! Please, come in. I was just about to make some tea.
They sat in the kitchen, drinking tea with cookies. Valentina Ivanovna talked about her life, her job at the airport, her grandchildren who live in another city. Anna talked about the trial, the divorce, her new apartment.
— You know, Valentina Ivanovna, if it weren’t for you, I’d be sitting in some hotel in Turkey right now, suspecting nothing. I would have come back to find myself homeless. You saved me. You literally saved my life.
— Oh, come on, dearie. I just couldn’t walk by. I remembered myself, my own story. I didn’t want another woman to go through the same thing.
— You are a wonderful person. And I would really like for us to be friends. If you don’t mind.
— Of course, I don’t mind. I’d be glad to.
From then on, they started seeing each other regularly. Valentina Ivanovna would visit, they would drink tea and talk about life. Sometimes they went to the theater or the cinema together. Anna felt that she had found not just a friend, but almost a second mother — wise, kind, who understood her without words.
Six months after the divorce, Anna had grown accustomed to her new life. She no longer felt lonely. On the contrary, she felt free. She could do what she wanted, when she wanted. No one criticized her, controlled her, or deceived her. She signed up for English classes, which she had dreamed of for many years. She started going to the swimming pool twice a week. She took a short trip, alone, walked around the city, admired the architecture, visited museums. And it was wonderful: to be alone, but not lonely.
One evening, Katya called her.
— Mom, how are you? How are things?
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