“Why did you change the lock?” the father-in-law snapped. “Have you already forgotten who did the repairs in this apartment? Is all this yours now?”

“Do you see yourself from the outside?” Oleg’s voice cracked, but it wasn’t filled with anger, but rather pain. It almost sounded like a complaint. “You just stand there, silent. You don’t say a word. And now I’m to blame for everything?”

Anna stood by the window, her hands clenched in the pockets of her old gray robe. That robe had been with her almost her entire marriage. The fabric was frayed at the elbows, but she never threw it away—out of habit, memory, or simply because it still felt warm.

“Five years, Anna. Five years!” Oleg paced the room with jerky steps, like an overacting actor. “I worked hard for you. I made the repairs, bought the appliances. The bathroom faucet, the office chair, the kitchen rug—I put them all in!”

She turned slowly. She looked at him calmly, but her eyes held neither agreement nor submission.

“Is that what you call ‘us’?” Her voice was low but firm. “I, pregnant, painted the walls alone while you went away for the weekend. Have you forgotten?”

“And then… I lost the baby. Because of my nerves, because of the nightly arguments, because of the silence that remained, which sounded louder than any scream. Do you remember that? Or did you erase it like an awkward page?”

“Of course, everything is yours now,” he said, annoyed. “And what am I? A temporary tenant?”

“Yes,” she replied calmly. “Exactly that.”

He froze. In that moment, perhaps for the first time, he understood: this wasn’t pain. It was a decision.

“So you really decided to end it all?”

“I’m done.”

He went to the coat rack and put on his jacket. Pause. He looked up at her.

“But don’t even think about changing the lock, did you hear me?” His voice was cold, unfamiliar. “This was my life too. I have the right, at least, to one last conversation.”

Anna didn’t reply. He closed the door gently—almost restrainedly. But behind that click, it felt like something was breaking inside, something lived-in, worn-out.

She stood in the hallway for another minute. Then she approached the door and, silently, as if sealing something inside her forever, turned the lock.

The next morning she woke up before the alarm went off. The room was silent, and that silence wasn’t frightening, but cautious, as if the house didn’t yet know if it was ready to relax.

Anna sat on the edge of the bed, rested her feet on the cold floor. She went to the kitchen, turned on the kettle, and then returned to the hallway. She stared at the door. That same door through which irritation, dissatisfaction, and heavy silences had entered so many times.

She took out her phone, opened a delivery page. She typed: “mortise lock with recoding.”

Three hours later, a technician arrived—young, polite. She just nodded, pointing to the door. While he worked with his tools, she stood in the hallway, as if on the threshold of something unknown.

When the new lock clicked, she felt no relief. Only a pause. Like between chapters—a brief silence, not yet knowing how everything would continue.

That evening, Anna made tea and sat by the window. For the first time in a long time—not out of routine, not because she “needed to rest,” but because it came to her. Outside it was October. The trees stretched their branches toward the sky as if searching for something.

On the table lay an old notebook. On the first page, a note she’d written herself:
“Just live. Without fear. Without guilt.”

Thus began her new chapter. Without shouting. No explanations. No one came in—no questions asked.

The third day after Oleg left, there was a knock on the door. A soft knock, as if the person knocking wasn’t sure what to do.

Anna looked through the peephole—it was him. Carrying a box. No jacket, a wrinkled sweatshirt. As if he’d come “just for a moment.”

“Hello,” he said calmly, almost softly. “I came for my things. My headphones and the kitchen rug are still in the hall closet. And the chair. Remember? The one I ordered online.”

“You took everything you considered yours right away.” She didn’t open the door all the way. “This is already part of my house. Of my life.”

“I’m not arguing,” she smiled faintly. “But can’t we at least behave like people?”

The phrase “behave like people” struck softly, but precisely.

“Behaving like a person,” she repeated, “is not shouting at three in the morning, not accusing, not staying silent for weeks. If you wanted to be a person… you were late.”

He looked at her—and something flickered in his eyes. He felt hurt. But he didn’t leave.

“Anya, do you understand that this… isn’t normal? It was all so sudden. We’re not strangers.”

“Yes, we are,” she replied calmly. “Completely.”

He stood for a moment, lowered his gaze, and then said quietly:

“You’re making a mistake. You won’t make it alone.”

And he left. He didn’t slam the door. He didn’t look back.

The next morning there was a phone call. Unexpected—the number wasn’t familiar.

“Anna? It’s me, Artyom Sergeyevich.”

“What did you do there? Have you gone crazy? Did you change the lock? Nadezhda and I treated you like a daughter, we were expecting a grandchild, we helped with the repairs… And now we’re strangers to you? How did we bother you?”

(To be continued…)

Part 1: The Quiet Before the Storm

The morning after Oleg left, the apartment felt unnervingly quiet, like the world outside had slowed to a standstill. The silence was not deafening, but it was thick, filling every corner of the room, making each breath feel heavier than the last. The familiar hum of the refrigerator, the tick-tock of the wall clock, and the distant sound of traffic were the only noises breaking the stillness.

Anna stood in front of the window, the curtains drawn back, her gaze fixed on the city outside. It was an October morning, overcast and gray, and the trees lining the avenue seemed to stretch their branches towards the sky in desperate, almost pleading motions. There was a stillness in the air, as if nature itself was holding its breath, waiting for something to happen.

She wasn’t sure how she had ended up here. Was it truly her decision to end the marriage, or was it just a culmination of years of exhaustion? Of feeling unseen and unheard? The questions swirled in her mind, but they didn’t bring clarity. It wasn’t that she regretted the divorce. There was relief in the silence of the apartment, in the absence of Oleg’s presence. But it was a kind of emptiness, too—one that Anna had long been afraid of. She had grown used to the absence of love, to the quiet resignation that had settled between them over time. But now, without him, the silence felt like an open wound.

She turned away from the window and walked into the kitchen. The soft click of the kettle turned her attention to the task at hand. Coffee. She needed something to keep her steady.

As the water boiled, her thoughts drifted back to the conversation that had shattered everything.

Oleg’s words, his dismissal of her feelings, his insistence on continuing with the status quo despite everything falling apart—it had become too much. He wasn’t a bad person, Anna reminded herself. He was just a person who had stopped trying. And so had she, in a way. She hadn’t left him because she wanted to—she had left because she was suffocating. The thought of another year of silent dinners, of passive-aggressive remarks, of pretending that everything was fine—it felt unbearable. And that was when she realized it had to end.

As the steam from the kettle rose into the air, she felt a pang in her chest. She had wanted more. She deserved more. But could she truly stand on her own? Could she live without the safety net that her marriage had provided, even if it was just a facade?

The sound of the phone ringing broke her from her thoughts. She grabbed it, not recognizing the number.

“Hello?”

“Anna? It’s me, Artyom Sergeyevich.”

She froze, her fingers tightening around the phone. Her father-in-law. The man who had been so close to her, the man who had always treated her like family, like his own daughter. But now… everything was different. She hadn’t expected him to call her, especially not so soon after the divorce.

“What is it, Artyom Sergeyevich?” she asked, her voice tight.

“I’m sure you’ve heard about Oleg,” Artyom Sergeyevich said, his tone uneasy. “We can’t just pretend like everything is fine. You can’t do this to us, Anna. This isn’t how a family behaves. Do you realize what you’ve done?”

Anna’s stomach turned at the sharpness of his words. “What do you mean?” she asked, her voice steady but quivering on the inside.

“Don’t you know what you’ve done to Oleg? Do you know how badly this is affecting him?” Artyom Sergeyevich continued. His words were accusatory, but it wasn’t just anger in his voice—it was pain. A deep, biting pain that Anna had never expected to hear from him.

She could feel the weight of his judgment, but something inside her shifted. She wasn’t going to defend herself anymore. She had spent years justifying her choices, but not today. Not now.

“I don’t want to get into a debate, Artyom Sergeyevich,” she said calmly, though her insides were a storm of emotions. “I’ve made my decision. And honestly, I don’t owe anyone an explanation.”

The silence that followed was thick and heavy.

“I know I’ve disappointed you, and I’m sorry for that,” she continued, her voice softer. “But I can’t stay in a marriage that’s become nothing more than a shadow. It’s not fair to either of us.”

“I’m not asking you to stay for Oleg’s sake, Anna,” he said, his voice quieter now, though still laced with disappointment. “But don’t you think you owe him more than just a sudden exit? We treated you like family. And now you’ve changed the locks like we’re strangers.”

The mention of the locks made her pause. He was right in a way. She had acted quickly, almost recklessly. But hadn’t she already been a stranger to him for years? Hadn’t they both been living in a house full of silences?

“I’ve already changed the locks,” she said, her voice now firm. “And I’m not changing them again. I’ve made my decision, Artyom Sergeyevich. And I know it’s hard, but this is what I need.”

There was another long pause, and then Artyom Sergeyevich’s voice came through, softer now. “I just don’t understand, Anna. What happened to the woman I once knew? You were everything to Oleg. You were family.”

“I still am,” Anna replied, her voice steady. “But that’s not enough anymore.”

After a few moments of silence, Artyom Sergeyevich hung up without another word.

The Next Day: The Breaking Point

The next morning, the phone rang again. This time, it was Oleg. She could feel the tremor in her stomach as she reached for the receiver. The reality of the situation was starting to sink in—there was no going back now. She had already made her choice, but hearing his voice again made it all the more real.

“Anna,” Oleg said, his voice hoarse. “Can we talk?”

She didn’t hesitate. “Yes, of course. Where are you?”

He told her he’d be at the café down the street in twenty minutes.

When she arrived, he was sitting at the corner table, his head in his hands. He looked so different from the man she had married. The sharpness in his eyes was gone, replaced by an exhaustion that seemed to age him. For the first time, she felt a pang of sympathy for him.

“I didn’t want it to end this way,” he said, his voice strained. “I never wanted you to leave.”

“I know,” Anna replied softly, sitting down across from him. “But this is the way it is. Oleg, we’ve been living in silence for too long. I’m sorry, but I can’t pretend anymore. I’ve already made my decision.”

Oleg looked up at her, his eyes searching, as if hoping she’d change her mind. “But the apartment… you’re taking everything, Anna. It’s mine too. Don’t you think that’s unfair?”

Anna shook her head. “I’m not taking everything. I paid for that apartment long before we got married. And the things that matter to me, they’re already packed away.”

He looked at her, his expression unreadable. “I thought we were a team, Anna. I thought we were building a life together.”

“We were, but that life didn’t include either of us anymore,” she said, her voice cracking with the weight of her words. “You were never there when I needed you, Oleg. You never saw me. And that’s why I can’t stay.”

Oleg looked down at the table, his fingers tracing the rim of his cup. For a long moment, neither of them spoke. The air between them was thick with the weight of everything that had been left unsaid for years.

Finally, Oleg spoke again, his voice quiet. “I don’t know how to fix this. I’ve tried, Anna. But I don’t know how to make it right.”

Anna swallowed hard, feeling a finality settle into her chest. “Maybe it’s not about fixing it anymore, Oleg. Maybe it’s about accepting that it’s over.”

The finality of her words hung in the air, and Oleg sat back in his chair, defeated. He didn’t say anything more.

Anna stood up, leaving a few bills on the table for their coffee. She took one last look at him—the man who had been her partner, her lover, her husband—and walked out of the café, her heart heavy but resolute.

The Final Revelation

The days that followed were filled with a strange sense of peace. She had made the decision to walk away from her marriage, and while it was difficult, it was the right thing. She had nothing left to prove to Oleg, to his family, or to herself.

But life had a way of throwing curveballs when you least expected them.

A week after her final conversation with Oleg, Anna returned home from work to find a letter waiting for her. It was from a lawyer. Her stomach dropped as she opened it, her hands shaking.

The letter was short, to the point:

Dear Ms. Belov,

I regret to inform you that your husband, Oleg Belov, has contested the divorce on the grounds of a financial dispute regarding the apartment. We have also discovered significant discrepancies in the ownership of various assets tied to his company.

Anna’s breath caught in her throat. He was fighting for the apartment?

But it was more than that. The letter went on to state that the company Oleg had worked for—one she had always thought was legitimate—had been under investigation for fraudulent activities. It appeared that Oleg had been hiding something from her: debts, illegal business deals, and financial discrepancies that had put them both at risk.

But what truly shocked her was the final sentence:

We have reason to believe Oleg Belov was involved in activities that may have a direct impact on your life. You are advised to remain vigilant.

The End.