— Talk.
A pause. He was clearly prepared for something different.
— I… I’ve been thinking a lot. These past three days. Barely slept.
— And?
— You were right. About everything. I’m a mama’s boy. A wimp. Not a man.
Marina was silent.
— I called my mom, — Oleg continued. — I told her we’re getting a divorce.
— You told her?
— Yes. And you know what she said?
— What?
— She said it was about time. That you don’t deserve me. That now I’ll finally be free.
Marina smirked. Predictable.
— And what did you say to that?
— I told her off.
— What?
— I told her off. For the first time in my life. I told her she destroyed my marriage. That because of her, I lost the only woman I ever loved. That I don’t want to see her anymore.
Marina couldn’t believe her ears.
— Are you… serious?
— Serious. Of course, she had a fit. Screamed that I was ungrateful. That she’d spent her whole life on me. That I was killing her. But I didn’t back down. For the first time, I didn’t back down.
— Oleg…
— Marina, I know it’s too late. I know you don’t believe me anymore. And you’re right not to. But I want you to know: I’ve realized it. For real. I don’t know if it changes anything, but I had to tell you.
She listened to his voice, tired, broken, and didn’t know what she felt. Joy? Relief? Regret?
— Oleg, I’m not coming back.
— I know.
— It’s not because I don’t love you. I did love you. For a long time. But I burned out. You understand?
— I understand.
— I need to move on. Without you, without your mother. Just live.
— I understand. — A pause. — Thanks for telling me.
— About Mom… It… It’s important.
— Yes. A pity it’s too late.
— A pity. Marina, I really did love you. I just didn’t know how to show it.
— I know. Goodbye, Oleg.
— Goodbye.
She pressed “end call” and sat with the phone in her hand for a long time. Outside, the sun was shining—for the first time in many days.
The divorce was finalized three months later. Quickly, without any drama. Oleg made no claim on the property, leaving Marina the apartment and the car. She made no claim on his money, taking only what was hers. Tamara Nikolaevna never showed up. No call, no letter. Apparently, she decided that her daughter-in-law (now ex) was no longer worth her attention. And thank God for that.
Marina stayed in the capital. Her job, friends, the city—all of it kept her there. But every weekend she went to visit her parents. She helped her mom in the garden, listened to her dad’s stories, breathed the fresh air. Her father recovered quickly after the anniversary. He joked that the stress from the capital’s viper had only made him stronger. Her mom would shake her head but smile.
— Marinochka, have you thought about getting married again? — she asked cautiously one day.
— Mom, I just got divorced.
— So what? You’re young, beautiful, your whole life is ahead of you.
— Someday. Not now.
— The main thing is not to close yourself off. Not all men are like Oleg.
— I know, Mom.
She really did know. She just wasn’t ready yet.
In the spring, Marina signed up for Spanish classes. She had long dreamed of learning it, and now she finally had the time. The classes were in the evenings in a small group. The teacher was a young guy named Andrei, who had recently returned from Barcelona.
— You have good pronunciation, — he said after the first class. — Have you studied before?
— No. I just love languages.
— I can tell. If you want, I can give you some extra materials. Movies, podcasts.
— I’d be grateful.
They started talking. First about school, then just about anything. Coffee after class, walks through the evening capital, conversations about everything under the sun. Andrei was different, not at all like Oleg. Open, cheerful, independent. He earned his own money, made his own decisions, built his own life. His parents lived in Mykolaiv; he saw them a couple of times a year and didn’t consider it a tragedy.
— Don’t you miss them? — Marina asked.
— I do. But everyone has their own life. They understand that.
— You’re lucky.
— Why?
— Not all parents understand that.
He didn’t press for details. He just nodded and changed the subject. For that, Marina was grateful. By summer, they started dating. Cautiously, without rushing. Marina was afraid of repeating past mistakes, and Andrei didn’t push.//
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