Hanging up the phone, Olga leaned back on the bench and closed her eyes. Free. Soon she will be free from Igor, from his reproaches, from humiliations. She will start a new life in her own house, on her own terms.
She remembered her grandmother. Remembered her hands: big, overworked, always warm. Remembered how grandma taught her to bake pies, how she told her about her life, about the difficulties she had to overcome.
“A woman must be strong,” she said. “Not evil, not callous. But strong. To withstand whatever happens.”
“Thank you, Granny,” Olga whispered quietly into the void. “For everything. For the lesson. For support. Even after death, you saved me.”
The wind brought the smell of smoke — one of the neighbors was heating a stove. Olga got up, went into the house, bolted the door. Her house. Her life. No one will ever tell her again that she is worth nothing.
During this time, Igor… Igor sat in his leather armchair, purchased immediately after his promotion, and looked at his phone. The screen glowed in the twilight of the empty apartment; it was already eleven at night. The first day had passed since he kicked Olga out.
He waited. Waited for a call, a message, a knock on the door. Imagined how she would knock — timidly, quietly, how she would stand on the threshold with her head down and ask for forgiveness.
“Igor, forgive me, I was wrong. Can I come back?”
“I won’t do it again.”
But the phone was silent. Igor chuckled, leaned back in the chair.
“Too early still. She’s stubborn, he knew that. Probably spent the night at one of her friends’, now thinking how to save face and still return. It’s fine, a day or two, and she’ll show up. Where can she go?”
He got up, paced the apartment. Unusually quiet. Usually, Olga did something in the evenings: rattled dishes in the kitchen, turned on the TV, rustled book pages. And now, dead silence. Even somewhat uncomfortable.
Igor opened the fridge. Empty. Or rather, almost empty: only leftovers from yesterday’s dinner in a container and an opened bottle of mineral water. He grimaced. He would have to stop by the store after work tomorrow. Or have dinner at a cafe. Anyway, Olga would return soon, would cook again.
On the second day, Igor woke up to the alarm clock and discovered with irritation that there were no clean shirts in the closet. All the dirty ones lay in the laundry basket. Usually, Olga did laundry on weekends, ironed, neatly hung them in the closet. Had to wear yesterday’s. At work, a colleague grimaced, smelling the stale odor, but said nothing. Igor was in a bad mood all day. Snapped at subordinates, was rude to the secretary.
In the evening, returning home, he stopped at the store, bought semi-finished products. Heated dumplings in the microwave, ate straight from the pot, standing by the stove. Tasteless. Olga cooked better.
The phone was still silent. On the third day, Igor started to get truly nervous. He checked his phone every half hour. Maybe he missed a call? Maybe she texted, and he didn’t notice? But no, nothing. Complete silence.
In the evening he couldn’t stand it, dialed Olga’s number. Long beeps, then voicemail. He hung up without leaving a message. Tried again an hour later. The same thing. The phone was either off, or Olga just wasn’t picking up.
Igor walked around the apartment, looked into the bedroom. Olga’s closet was almost empty; she took only the most necessary things. Cosmetics on the bathroom shelf vanished. Her slippers by the door were also gone. He returned to the living room, flopped into the chair. An unpleasant feeling began to spawn somewhere in his chest: not exactly anxiety, not exactly… Fear?
No, what fear? She’ll return. She will definitely return. Just decided to teach him a lesson, show some character. Well, let her. He has enough patience to wait out this childish grudge.
The fourth day turned out to be particularly difficult. A serious screw-up happened at work: one of the managers lost a major client, and Igor had to explain himself to the management. He was reprimanded, hinted that such blunders could cost him his position. Igor left the boss’s office pale, with clenched jaws…
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