— Don’t lie! — Anna grabbed the power of attorney and jabbed her finger at the signature. — This is not my signature. It’s a forgery. I’ve already been to the notary, to Rosreestr, and to the police. I’ve filed a report everywhere. The apartment has an encumbrance on it, the power of attorney has been declared invalid, and a criminal case is being opened against you. So your scam has failed.
Igor sank into a chair. His face was gray, his hands trembled.
— Anya, I’m sorry. I didn’t want to. I just…
— Shut up! — she didn’t recognize her own voice, so cold, so harsh. — 20 years of marriage. For 20 years I trusted you. I bore your children. I worked, kept house, saved money. All this time, you were my rock. And you turned out to be a common swindler, ready to sell me out for money. And you know what the most hurtful part is? That you thought I would tolerate it. That I would come back from Turkey, find out I was homeless, and stay silent. Because I’m used to tolerating things.
She turned and walked out of the kitchen. Igor rushed after her.
— Anya, wait. Let’s talk.
— There’s nothing to talk about. Tomorrow I’m filing for divorce. And for the division of property. And rest assured, I will get everything I’m entitled to. And you will get what you deserve.
She went into the bedroom and locked the door. She sat on the bed and only then allowed herself to cry. Quietly, so he wouldn’t hear. Not out of pity for him. Out of pity for the Anya who, just yesterday, believed she had a family, a husband, a shared life. The Anya who thought that 20 years meant something.
But the tears dried quickly. Anna wiped her face, stood up, and went to the mirror. She looked at her reflection. Fifty years old. A new life starting from scratch. But it was better than living a lie. It was better than enduring betrayal.
She took out her phone and sent a message to her daughter Katya: “Sweetheart, I need to tell you something. Call me when you can.” Then she wrote to her friend Olga: “Thank you for everything. I’m home. We’ll start the divorce proceedings tomorrow.” And she went to sleep without getting undressed. A new life would begin tomorrow. A difficult one, full of uncertainty. But an honest one. And a free one.
In the morning, Anna woke up early, before dawn. She had had anxious dreams all night: the airport, a plane, Igor running away somewhere with a suitcase of money. She got up, washed her face with cold water, and looked at herself in the mirror. Her eyes were red from tears and lack of sleep, but her gaze was firm.
The apartment was quiet. Igor had slept in the living room on the sofa; she had heard him tossing and turning, sighing. Oleg had apparently left right after their conversation.
Anna got dressed and gathered the necessary documents: her passport, marriage certificate, apartment papers, and the same forged documents she had brought from the airport. She put everything in a folder. She left the bedroom. Igor was sitting in the kitchen with a cup of coffee, unwashed, in a wrinkled shirt. When she entered, he looked up.
— Anya, let’s talk. Let’s talk properly.
— There’s nothing to talk about.
— Anya, please. I admit I was wrong. But I really have big money problems. The business is collapsing, debts.
— That’s no excuse. If you had problems, you should have come to me, told me, discussed it. We could have figured something out together. But you chose to deceive me, to sell our apartment behind my back. You forged my signature. That’s a crime, Igor. And none of your problems justify it.
She poured herself some water and drank it in one gulp.
— I’m going to a lawyer. To file for divorce. And for the division of property. If you want to talk, talk through a lawyer.
— Anya, don’t do this. Think about the children.
— The children? — she turned sharply. — The children are adults. They have their own lives. And by the way, they will find out what you did. I will tell them everything. Let them know what kind of father they have.
— You want to turn them against me?
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