Igor took out his phone, wanted to dial her number. But stopped. What would he say? Forgive me? Too late for apologies. Come back? She won’t return, and he knew it. He lowered the phone, looked out the window. Fields, small forests, rare houses floated by behind the glass. An ordinary autumn day. For everyone else — ordinary. But for him — the day he lost more than he thought.
A week later, Igor received a summons to court. He came, listened to the formalities in silence. Olga sat on the other side of the hall, next to the lawyer. She didn’t even look in his direction. The judge asked questions, they answered. All quick, dry, strictly business.
“Do the parties have mutual claims?” asked the judge.
“No,” answered Olga.
“No,” echoed Igor.
“Good. Given the absence of common children and property disputes, as well as mutual consent to the dissolution of marriage, the court decides to satisfy the claim. The marriage between Igor Valentinovich Morozov and Olga Sergeyevna Chernova is considered dissolved as of today.”
The strike of the gavel. It’s all over.
Olga stood up, gathered documents, exchanged a few words with the lawyer, and headed for the exit. Igor wanted to call out to her but didn’t dare. Just watched her leave the hall: straight back, confident walk.
He remained sitting for a few more minutes after the hall emptied. Then he also got up, went outside. Walked to the car and thought about how he would return to an empty apartment now. Would eat microwave meals again, sleep in a dirty bed, stumble with his gaze upon empty shelves where Olga’s books used to stand.
And she will return to her house. Will heat the stove, brew tea, sit on the porch with a book. Or invite a friend over. Or simply sit in silence and rejoice that she is finally free.
Igor sat in the car, looked at his reflection in the mirror. Tired face, shadows under the eyes, a bitter fold near the mouth. When did he manage to age so much? He started the motor and drove home.
On the way, he thought about how life is a strange thing. You think you control it, that everything is going according to your plan. And then it turns out you were just walking on the edge of a cliff and didn’t notice it. Until you fell.
The apartment met him with the same dead silence. Igor threw the keys on the nightstand, walked into the living room, sank into his leather chair. The very one he bought after the promotion, proud and smug. Now it seemed just a chair. Expensive, but meaningless…
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