Irina told her story. About the last few months, about Andrey’s withdrawal, his secretiveness. About the conversation she accidentally overheard on Thursday. About the old fortune teller and her predictions. The investigator listened, nodded, and took notes.
— You were lucky, — she said at the end. — If you had gone to work, he would have succeeded. The bank had already checked the documents and was ready to issue the money. Another hour or two, and the loan would have been finalized. Proving later that you were not involved would have been extremely difficult.
— And what will happen to him now? — Irina asked.
— A criminal case has been opened. Article 159, part 3: large-scale fraud. If the court finds him guilty — from three to six years in prison. Plus document forgery, that’s a separate article.
Irina nodded. Six years. Her husband could go to prison for six years. For trying to deceive her.
— Will you be filing for divorce? — the investigator asked.
— Yes. Definitely.
— Good. Such things are not forgiven.
When the investigator left, Irina sat down at the computer and started looking for lawyers. She needed to properly file for divorce, divide the property, although there was nothing to divide. The apartment was hers, there was no car, no savings either. Andrey had only brought debts into the family.
She found an office not far from her home, made an appointment. The next day she went there. The lawyer was a man in his forties, with a pleasant face and a calm voice.
— Your case is quite simple, — he said, after reviewing the documents. — The property is yours, you had it before the marriage. There is almost no jointly acquired property. Your husband’s debts are his personal gambling debts, they have nothing to do with you. We’ll file for divorce, and in two or three months, everything will be settled.
— What if he objects? — Irina asked.
— Even if he does, it’s not an obstacle. Under these circumstances, the court will grant the divorce anyway. The marriage is considered irretrievably broken.
Irretrievably broken. How legally it sounded for something that ached in her heart.
A week later, Irina went back to work. Her colleagues were sympathetic; news spreads quickly in a small team. Someone from her shift had seen the police come to her house. They asked cautiously, with hints.
— Irochka, how are you holding up? Is everything okay?
— I’m fine, — she would reply. — That’s just life.
Work helped. IV drips, injections, sick people—it all distracted her from her own thoughts. It was harder at home. The empty apartment greeted her with silence. Before, at least her husband was there, even if he was silent and distant, but a living person. And now she returned to absolute emptiness.
One evening, about two weeks after the incident, Irina received a call from an unknown number.
— Hello? Hello. This is Maxim, Andrey’s friend. — Irina remembered: the same Maxim who supposedly had a dacha. — I’m listening.
— I’m calling about Andrey. He’s staying with me now, — his voice was hesitant. — He’s doing very badly. He barely eats, doesn’t sleep. Cries all the time. I’m afraid he might do something to himself.
Irina was silent. Nothing stirred inside her. No pity, no sympathy.
— And what am I supposed to do? — she asked coldly.
— Maybe you could talk to him? He wants to see you. To ask for forgiveness.
— Maxim, your friend wanted to leave me homeless. He forged documents, was going to take out a three-million loan in my name. If he had succeeded, I would have been left with a huge debt, and I would have been evicted from my apartment. Do you understand that?
— I understand. But he didn’t mean any harm. He got tangled up, fell into debt. He was beaten, threatened. He was scared.
— He could have come to me and told the truth. Asked for help. Instead, he chose to deceive me.
— Ira, give him a chance. Just one conversation.
— No, — she said firmly. — I have nothing to talk to him about. I’ve filed for divorce. It’s over.
— But you’ve been together for eighteen years!
— Exactly. Eighteen years, and he betrayed me. In one day, he erased everything. I’m sorry, Maxim, but I don’t want to see him. Goodbye.
She hung up and blocked the number.
At the end of October, someone from the bank came to see her again. The same Kravtsov, the senior manager, but without the lawyer this time.
— Irina Petrovna, we have completed our internal investigation, — he said, sitting down in the armchair. — It has been confirmed that the attempt to obtain the loan was fraudulent. All documents with your name have been annulled. You owe the bank nothing.
— Thank you, — Irina poured him some tea.
— But there is one detail, — Kravtsov took out a folder. — Your husband owes the bank money on another loan. Two hundred thousand. He took out this loan a year ago in his own name. And he hasn’t made a payment in three months.
— What does that have to do with me?
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