He looked at me, and something akin to madness splashed in his eyes. He couldn’t believe that all this was happening in reality.
— And yes, about the rent. — I paused so that my next blow would be as precise as possible. — You made a slight mistake in calculations there. I never paid half. I always paid for this apartment fully.
He frowned uncomprehendingly.
— This apartment is my property, Denis. I inherited it from my grandmother even before our marriage. So this is my house, and my rules apply in my house. And my separate budget.
I saw the last hope dying in his eyes. He understood everything.
— You have a week to pack your things and get out of here. — My voice became hard as steel. — If in a week you are still here, your things will be on the stairwell. Is that clear?
He nodded silently, lowering his head. Crushed, destroyed.
I stuck my hand into the pocket of my new coat and took out the keys. His BMW keys, which the bank had sent by mail along with the confiscation notice. A useless piece of metal. I walked over and threw them on the floor next to him. They clinked against the parquet.
— Here, take them. You can sell them as a keychain, maybe it will be enough for food for the first time.
This was the last, most cruel thing. I turned around, took the suitcase handle, and walked to the exit. I didn’t look back. I opened the door, stepped onto the landing, and closed it behind me. The loud click of the lock sounded like a gunshot. A shot that put an end to my past life. Ahead was the airport, the ocean, and freedom. And behind, in my former apartment, a man remained sitting on the floor who had destroyed everything he had with his own hands. And I didn’t feel sorry for him. Not at all.
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