Trying to take my apartment and money? Too bad I turned out to be smarter, huh, Maxim? I smiled at my husband.
Elena woke up first, as always. Maxim was sleeping next to her, his arms spread out on the blanket. The sun filtered through the thick curtains, illuminating the familiar contours of the bedroom. Three years ago, she had brought her husband into their home. Now, sometimes she felt like Elena was the one living like a guest.
Getting out of bed, Elena went to the kitchen. She turned on the coffeemaker and took out her favorite mug. Outside, the avenue was noisy with people rushing to work. And she had another day ahead of her at the office, where every hour brought in good money.
“Len, did you forget Mom’s application?” came a voice from the bedroom.
Elena froze by the refrigerator. Yesterday, Zinaida Petrovna had called, asking for twenty thousand for treatment. The third time in six months. The previous debts still hung in the air.
“What request?” the wife asked, feigning innocence, returning to the bedroom with her coffee.
Maxim stretched and yawned.
“Well, you promised to think about it. Mom really needs money for her procedures.”
“I promised to think about it. And I did,” Elena sat on the edge of the bed. “Maxim, your family asked us for 100,000 this year. And not a penny has come back.”
“Oh, come on, we’re family!” her husband leaned on his elbow. “You have enough money; you earn much more.”
That sentence cut like a knife. Elena placed the cup on the nightstand.
“I’m the one who earns,” he said calmly. “And we spend together. Mostly on your relatives.”
“Here we go again,” Maxim lay back on his pillows. “I’m not forcing you. You agreed to combine our finances. And I didn’t transfer any money without your consent.”
Combine. What a lovely word. Except there was almost nothing to combine—Maxim’s salary barely covered his own expenses. But spending Elena’s money, they did that together.
“Okay,” Elena stood up. “But this time, Mom should ask for the money officially. We’ll make out a promissory note.”
“Are you serious?” her husband frowned. “Ask your own mother for a promissory note?”
“Very serious. Or there’s no money.”
Maxim remained silent, but his face darkened. Elena noticed it, but decided not to give in. She had given in too many times already.
At the office, the workday moved slowly. Meetings, calls, reports. By lunchtime, a fatigue was mounting that had nothing to do with work—but with the fact that the same conversation about money awaited her at home.
Around three, Elena got ready for a meeting with a client. As she left the office, she decided to stop at a nearby café—she wanted a good coffee in a quiet atmosphere.
The café was half empty. Elena ordered a cappuccino and settled into a far corner. A huge plant surrounded her, creating an illusion of privacy. She took out her phone and scrolled through her news feed when, out of the corner of her eye, she saw a familiar figure.
Maxim was sitting at a table. With a woman.
Elena froze. Her husband must be at work. At least, that was her plan for the morning. And Elena didn’t know the woman with him. A pretty blonde, about thirty-five, tastefully dressed.
Her heart began to beat faster. Elena pressed herself against the back of the chair. From there, her table was clearly visible, but they probably wouldn’t notice her.
“Everything is going according to plan,” Maxim was telling his companion with a smile. “Only the last stage remains.”
“And she doesn’t suspect anything?” the woman leaned toward him.
“Lena? She’s too busy with work. The main thing now is not to scare her.”
Elena tensed. What were they talking about? And why was her husband talking about her with a stranger?
“Are the documents ready?” the blonde continued.
“Almost. I need to give him a couple of papers to sign. I’ll say they’re for the tax office or something. He won’t read them carefully, trust me.”
Elena held her breath. What documents? What did those words mean?
“And then?” the woman sipped her cocktail.
“Then it’s simple. Divorce by mutual consent. The apartment will be completely mine. Plus the savings. In total—around seven million, at least.”
“Not bad for three years of work,” the blonde laughed.
“Three years of patience,” Maxim corrected. “Do you know how hard it is to pretend to be a loving husband? But the result is worth it.”
Elena gripped the edge of the chair. The world blurred around her. So, all this time… All those tender words, plans for the future, family life—a lie?
“And what about love?” the woman asked mockingly.
“The love of money—that’s all there was between us,” Maxim hugged her shoulders.
Elena closed her eyes. She wanted to get up, run to them, and release everything she’d been pent up with. But her legs wouldn’t let her.
Part 1: The Quiet Betrayal
It had always been a quiet morning routine in the Belov household—Maxim sleeping in, Elena bustling around the apartment, her mind already racing ahead of her long workday. But this morning felt different. There was an odd weight in the air, a gnawing feeling in her chest that she couldn’t shake off. The apartment was too silent, and the echo of her husband’s presence seemed like a ghost, just out of reach.
Maxim had never been an overly involved partner, at least not emotionally. Their marriage had been founded on convenience, mutual understanding, and a certain comfort. He wasn’t someone who demanded attention constantly, and neither was she. At first, that was enough.
But something had shifted after they had moved in together.
It was subtle at first. The little things that made her wonder—like when he stopped showing interest in her life, her work, her thoughts. The quiet comments, always dismissive, about her work “taking too much of her time.” The unspoken weight of her unpaid emotional labor that she always carried alone. But she brushed it off. After all, she had a life, she had her work, and she was earning good money. Why complain?
That morning, the conversation about her mother’s request for money had felt like the final straw. She had promised her mother a loan for treatment, but she had already given too much. The money was never enough.
“I can’t keep doing this,” she muttered under her breath as she set the coffee down on the nightstand, her fingers trembling ever so slightly. Maxim doesn’t even care.
His voice broke through her reverie, calling from the bedroom. “Len, did you forget Mom’s application? We need to take care of it. She really needs the money.”
Her heart twisted, her anger bubbling up. She had been giving her mother money for the past six months—more than she could afford—but every time she turned around, the debts piled higher. She could feel the weight of her own sacrifices pressing down on her chest. But what really got to her was Maxim’s nonchalance, his insistence that she should take care of his family’s demands when he barely lifted a finger for hers.
She walked into the bedroom, forcing a neutral expression onto her face.
“What request?” she asked, sitting at the edge of the bed. She tried to keep the frustration from seeping into her voice, but it was difficult.
Maxim stretched out, his voice casual. “You promised to help, Lena. She really needs the money for the procedure.”
Elena clenched her fists, but she didn’t let her anger show. She had learned to hide it, to bury it beneath layers of patience and understanding. But now, it felt like everything was catching up with her.
“You’ve already given her enough,” she said quietly, almost too calmly. “She’s taken more than her share. And what about the money you owe me, huh? You promised we would set aside money for ourselves—for us—but that hasn’t happened either.”
Maxim sighed, leaning back against the pillows, an absent look in his eyes. “You know how I feel about all this. It’s family, Lena. You can’t just abandon them. We have the money; just help.”
His tone was flat, indifferent. And in that moment, Elena realized how much she had given up for this marriage. The moments of happiness, the gestures of love—all of it had been swept away by his endless need for approval, his laziness, his expectations.
“I’m tired of giving everything and getting nothing in return, Maxim,” she said softly, more to herself than to him.
Maxim didn’t respond. He simply sat up, his movements sluggish and indifferent, his focus already shifting away from her.
As he turned on the TV to watch a football game, Elena’s heart sank. She had long stopped trying to make him understand. He was too wrapped up in his own world, and she was just a background player in his narrative.
That afternoon, as Elena sat in her office, the walls of the high-rise building pressing in on her, she could feel the weight of the world pressing down on her chest. She wasn’t tired of the work—she was used to it—but it was everything else that had become too much to handle. Her mother’s unrelenting requests for money, Maxim’s indifference, and her own aching loneliness that grew deeper every day.
She glanced at her phone, half-expecting a text from him, something trivial, perhaps asking about dinner or offering a quick excuse. But there was nothing.
The silence was like a heavy fog.
By the time evening came, Elena returned home to a still and lifeless apartment. The only noise was the hum of the refrigerator, the soft ticking of the clock. Maxim had gone out again, and she knew he wouldn’t be back for hours. She took a long shower, the hot water doing little to ease the tension in her muscles. The reflection in the mirror, the dark circles under her eyes, the hollow look on her face, seemed like a stranger. She barely recognized herself anymore.
Her thoughts were interrupted by a knock at the door. She opened it, startled to find her neighbor, Nadia, standing outside with a bag of groceries.
“I saw you were home alone,” Nadia said, her voice full of concern. “I thought you might want some company.”
Elena smiled faintly. She didn’t know what was wrong with her lately—her anger, her exhaustion, her feeling of being completely unmoored—but Nadia’s kindness felt like a breath of fresh air.
“Thanks, Nadia. You’re the only one who’s ever checked in on me lately,” she said, feeling a pang of guilt. She should be doing more, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that no one really cared. Not even Maxim.
Nadia shrugged. “Everyone gets busy, Elena. But you’ve got to take care of yourself, you know?”
That night, after they ate dinner together, Nadia left. Elena felt a rare sense of calm wash over her as she sat on the couch, her thoughts quiet for the first time in weeks. She had put so much energy into trying to make Maxim happy, into trying to fix things that weren’t meant to be fixed, that she had forgotten what it felt like to take care of herself.
She stared at her phone again, wondering if she should text Maxim. But she stopped herself. What would she say? Would it even matter?
Instead, she turned off the phone and closed her eyes, letting the silence of the apartment wash over her. And for the first time in a long time, Elena allowed herself to dream, to imagine a life outside of the suffocating marriage she had built with Maxim.
Part 2: The Quiet Storm
The days following the conversation with Maxim about her mother’s request for money were unbearably still. Elena could feel the weight of the words they had exchanged, settling between them like a thick fog. Maxim’s disinterest in her concerns, his unwillingness to address the strain in their relationship, had become too much for her to ignore. His attempt to blame her for their financial troubles—blaming her for her family’s demands—was the final straw.
Elena had spent weeks, maybe months, feeling the creeping sensation that something was broken in their marriage. But now, after everything, she knew that it wasn’t just the money that had caused the fracture—it was Maxim’s indifference. He no longer cared about her needs, her desires, her aspirations. His eyes, once warm with affection, had become cold, dismissive. She wasn’t his partner anymore. She was just a woman who had served her purpose.
The days at the office seemed to drag on forever. Elena worked with a quiet intensity, throwing herself into her job to avoid thinking about her marriage. But even at work, the stress of her home life weighed heavily on her. The hours felt longer, the fatigue more profound. Her colleagues could see the exhaustion in her face, in the way she carried herself, but no one asked.
And then, at the end of one particularly long day, the realization hit her with a gut-wrenching force: she wasn’t in this marriage alone anymore. She was drowning. And Maxim was watching her sink.
Her eyes burned from exhaustion as she trudged back home. The walk from the bus stop to her apartment was a long one, but she didn’t mind the solitude. The streetlights flickered dimly, casting shadows that seemed to swallow her whole. The apartment was quiet when she walked in—too quiet. It was as though the walls themselves had given up on her.
Maxim was sitting on the couch, the television casting a blue glow across his face. His attention was focused on the screen, but the silence between them spoke volumes. She walked past him, not bothering to greet him, not caring if he noticed. She went straight to the kitchen, her thoughts swirling like a storm inside her head.
“Lena,” Maxim called from the living room. “Did you talk to your mother about the loan?”
Elena paused, her hand hovering over the coffee pot. How could he ask her that? How could he be so indifferent to what she was going through? She turned slowly, her heart pounding with frustration and anger. The exhaustion of her workday was nothing compared to the weight of this conversation.
“I spoke to her,” Elena replied, her voice low. “But I’m not giving her any more money. Not until she pays back what she owes.”
Maxim’s eyes flicked to her, but his expression remained unchanged. “Lena, you don’t understand. She needs help.”
“And so do I!” Elena snapped, her voice rising. She took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. “I’ve been carrying the load of this family for far too long. I’ve been giving everything—my time, my energy, my money—and you… you just sit here and expect me to do more.”
Maxim’s face tightened, but he didn’t move. He didn’t respond. The silence that followed was suffocating. Elena’s chest felt tight, as though the weight of everything had settled inside her, pressing down on her ribs.
“I’m not doing this anymore,” Elena said finally, her voice thick with emotion. She stood tall, trying to summon the strength she had buried inside herself. “I can’t keep pretending everything’s okay. I can’t keep pretending that you care.”
Maxim’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean, you can’t? What are you saying?”
“I’m saying that I can’t stay in this marriage anymore, Maxim,” Elena replied, her voice steady despite the storm raging inside her. “I’ve given you everything I have, but it’s never enough. I’m not happy. And I don’t think you are either.”
Maxim’s face darkened. “So what, you’re just going to walk away? After everything I’ve done for you?”
Elena’s heart sank. “You’ve done nothing for me. You’ve just taken.”
The words hung in the air between them, sharp and bitter. Elena stood there, her pulse racing, but she felt a strange sense of relief. The decision had been made. There was no going back.
The following days were a blur of emotional exhaustion and cold silences. Elena moved through the motions of her life—work, meals, the occasional text to her mother—but everything felt like it was happening in slow motion. It wasn’t just the breakdown of her marriage. It was the slow realization that she had been living in a relationship where she was constantly sacrificing herself for someone who didn’t care. The hurt had become so deep that it no longer stung—it was simply there, lingering.
But even in the midst of her pain, Elena didn’t let it defeat her. She had always been strong. She had survived things far worse than this. And now, she would survive this too.
Part 3: The Final Break
It was a rainy evening when Elena made the decision. She had been in the apartment alone for a few hours, pacing, her thoughts swirling. She needed closure. She needed to do what she should have done a long time ago: face Maxim, tell him the truth, and take control of her life.
She sat on the couch, staring at the blank television screen, the rain tapping softly against the window. She couldn’t stop thinking about the way he had treated her, the way he had never truly been there. She could hear his voice in her head, always blaming her for everything that went wrong. She had been trying to fix things for so long, but now, she realized something—she didn’t have to fix him.
Maxim came home late that night, as expected. He didn’t bother with small talk, didn’t even glance at her when he entered. His face was tired, his shoulders hunched as though he had been carrying a weight for too long.
“I’m leaving,” Elena said suddenly, her voice clear, unwavering.
Maxim froze, looking at her as if he had never heard her speak those words before. “What?”
“I’m leaving, Maxim. I’m done. I’ve been done for a while, but I haven’t had the strength to admit it.” Her voice was steady, though her heart pounded in her chest. “I need to live for myself now.”
“You can’t be serious,” he said, his voice laced with disbelief.
“I am serious,” Elena replied. “I’ve given you everything I have, and it’s never been enough. I can’t keep living like this.”
Maxim’s face twisted with anger. “You think you can just walk away? You think you can just leave everything behind?”
“Yes, I do,” she said, standing up. “I’m taking control of my life now. I deserve better than this.”
Maxim didn’t say anything for a long moment. He stood there, his eyes searching her face, as if trying to find something that would convince her to stay. But there was nothing left.
He finally spoke, his voice bitter. “I hope you find what you’re looking for, Elena. Because it won’t be with me.”
With those words, he turned away and left the room. Elena watched him go, her heart heavy but resolute.
She didn’t cry. She didn’t scream. She just stood there, knowing that this was the end. The decision had been made. She was free.
The Shocking Twist
Two weeks later, Elena was standing in the kitchen when she received an unexpected phone call. It was from Maxim’s lawyer.
Her hands shook as she picked up the phone. “Hello?”
“Elena, we need to talk,” the lawyer’s voice was stern. “Maxim has filed for divorce.”
Her stomach dropped. “I know that. We’ve already discussed it.”
“There’s more to it, though,” the lawyer continued. “Maxim’s been hiding something from you. And I believe you should know the full truth.”
Elena’s heart pounded in her chest. “What truth?”
“The house… the apartment,” the lawyer said, his voice low. “Maxim transferred ownership of it to you—just before he filed for divorce.”
Elena froze. “What do you mean?”
“There’s more,” the lawyer said. “Maxim wanted to make sure you were taken care of. He wanted you to have the house. And he didn’t want you to ever find out, but… he’s been keeping it from you.”
The End
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