“Of course, I believed her. It was convenient.”
Andrey grabbed one suitcase, dragged it towards the stairs. He turned back.
“I’ll sue. I’ll get half of this apartment.”
“Try it,” Katya shrugged. “The apartment was mine before the marriage. You have no rights to it. Ask your lawyer, since you consulted with one.”
Andrey cursed angrily, grabbed the second suitcase, and disappeared into the stairwell. The front door slammed shut. Katya closed her door, turned the key in the new lock. She leaned her forehead against the cold metal. Her legs were weak, her hands were shaking. But inside—relief. A heavy, exhausting relief.
“Is everything alright?” Dmitry asked.
“Yes,” Katya straightened up, turned to him. “Thank you. Will you stay for another twenty minutes? In case he comes back?”
“Of course. I’ll be by the door.”
The next half hour passed in silence. Andrey didn’t come back. Katya sat in the kitchen, drinking water in small sips. Her hands were still shaking. At half-past eight, Dmitry said goodbye and left. Katya was alone. She sat on the sofa, hugging her knees. The apartment was quiet. Empty.
Her phone vibrated. A message from Lena: “Katyusha, Andrey and I were thinking… Maybe I could move in with you for a while? With the baby? My parents are driving me crazy. Can I?”
Katya looked at the message. Then she typed a reply: “No, Lena. You can’t. I know about you and Andrey. I know about the baby. And about your plans for my apartment. Don’t write to me again.”
She sent it. Blocked her sister’s number.
A minute later, the phone rang. Mom. Katya didn’t answer. Then another call, and another. She turned off the sound, placed the phone face down. Tomorrow there would be calls, confrontations, shouting. Her parents would side with Lena—she’s the younger one, she has a baby and nowhere to go, how could she be so cruel? Katya knew it would happen. But it didn’t matter anymore.
She got up, walked through the apartment. Turned on the lights in all the rooms. In the bedroom, she removed the bedding Andrey had slept on, put on fresh sheets. She took out the trash. Opened the windows—let it air out. Then she sat down at the computer. Opened the folder with photos. She scrolled through them: here’s their wedding, here are their trips together, holidays. Lena was in many of the pictures. Smiling, hugging Katya. Her own sister.
Katya deleted all the photos with Andrey. All of them. With Lena, she only kept the childhood ones—those taken long ago, when they were still close. She went to bed late. Lay in the dark for a long time, staring at the ceiling. Thinking about what would happen next. The divorce would be quick, Viktor Petrovich had promised. Andrey had moved out, taken his things. Lena was now living with her parents with the baby, let her stay there. And she, Katya, would start a new life. In her apartment, which her grandmother had left her. Alone.
Two weeks later, a court summons arrived. Katya went with Viktor Petrovich. Andrey was sitting on the other side of the room, looking grim. Without a lawyer—apparently, he decided he could handle it himself.
The judge read the claim:
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