Evelina stopped at the door and turned around. For a moment, she thought she saw something like remorse in her husband’s eyes. But Klavdiya Gennadyevna’s voice shattered that moment.
— Don’t humiliate yourself, son! You’ll find plenty of others — young, beautiful, and most importantly — respectful of your mother!
Evelina met Timur’s gaze.
— Goodbye.
And she walked out, closing the door firmly behind her. In the corridor, she leaned against the wall, catching her breath. Inside, she felt empty. No anger, no resentment, no regret. Just exhaustion and a strange sense of relief, as if a heavy weight had been lifted from her shoulders.
Returning to the apartment, Evelina began her final packing. Now that the decision had been made and announced, it was easier to act. She methodically packed the remaining items, labeling the boxes with a marker: “Kitchen,” “Bedroom,” “Bathroom,” “Work Materials.” On the living room table, she left the divorce papers — two copies with her sections filled out. Beside them, she placed a short note: “Timur, sign both copies and send them to the address provided. This will save us both a lot of trouble and expense. Evelina.”
Before leaving, she walked through the apartment one last time, checking if she had forgotten anything important. In the bedroom, on the nightstand, lay a book she had started reading a week ago — a novel about a woman starting her life over after a divorce. Then it had seemed like just an interesting story; now, it felt like a guide to action. Evelina took the book and put it in her bag.
Then she stopped in front of the family photo on the wall. She and Timur in the mountains, against a backdrop of snowy peaks. Their last vacation together, a year ago. Everything had still seemed good then, or did she just not want to see the problems? She decided to leave the photo — let it be a reminder for Timur of what he had lost.
The taxi arrived exactly at 11:00 AM, as ordered. The driver helped load her things without asking questions, for which Evelina was especially grateful. Sitting in the back seat and watching the home where she had spent five years of her life recede, she felt a strange mixture of sadness and anticipation. One chapter was ending, another was beginning. Unknown, frightening, but entirely her own.
In the new apartment, Evelina unpacked only the essentials: bedding, a towel, a change of clothes, her laptop. The rest could wait. She took a shower, ordered food from a nearby café, and sat on the windowsill with a glass of wine — the very Moët & Chandon she had taken from the old apartment. It was raining outside. Drops drummed against the glass, blurring the city’s outlines. Evelina raised her glass as if making a toast.
“To a new life!”
She took a sip and, for the first time in these crazy days, allowed herself to fully grasp what was happening. Her marriage was over. Five years of life together erased by the single appearance of her mother-in-law with suitcases. Or was it not just that? Maybe the problems had been piling up for a long time, and yesterday’s incident was just the last straw?
Evelina remembered how Timur always avoided conflicts with his mother, how he yielded to her in small things: in choosing holiday gifts, in planning vacations, even in which car to buy. “It’ll be calmer for Mom this way.” “Mom thinks it’s better like this.” “Mom is worried.” Phrases she had heard for years but hadn’t paid attention to. But the signs were there. Klavdiya Gennadyevna called her son several times a day, came over without warning, criticized Evelina’s cooking, her way of dressing, her decision to build a career. “A real woman should be a keeper of the hearth, not run around to meetings,” she would say, ignoring the fact that it was Evelina’s salary that allowed them to pay the mortgage.
Why did she tolerate it? Perhaps out of fear of being alone, due to societal expectations, or simply out of inertia. The years went by, and it seemed easier to accept it than to change anything. Evelina set down her glass and reached for her phone. She needed to call her parents and tell them what had happened. But what exactly should she say? “Mom, Dad, I left my husband because his mother decided to live with us”? It sounded absurd, although it was the plain truth. She dialed her mother’s number but hung up after the first ring. No, not over the phone. Such news is better delivered in person. Tomorrow she would go to her parents’ and explain everything.
Instead, Evelina texted Marianna: “I’m at the new place. Moved my things. Was at the hospital, announced the divorce.”
The reply came instantly: “How are you?
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