“Did you think I’d end up on the street without you? That I’d beg you to come back?” I watched my ex-husband’s face twist.
Alina wiped her hands on her apron, glancing at the clock. Twenty minutes until Viktor came home. The stew was almost ready, the salad was sliced.
“Mein Gott…” Alina froze with the ladle in her hand, repeating the grammar rule to herself. She had not used her knowledge in practice for a long time. She did not want to lose the skill.
The lock on the front door clicked. Viktor had come home from work earlier than usual.
“Hi, I’m home!” her husband called from the hallway.
“You’re early today. What happened?” Alina came out of the kitchen, trying to hide her anxiety. Over the past year, Viktor had often been coming home after midnight.
“A client canceled a meeting,” Viktor walked into the kitchen and kissed his wife on the cheek. “It smells good.”
They sat down to dinner, and Alina, as usual, began asking her husband about work.
“How did it go today? Did they sign that contract?”
“Yes, everything’s great,” Viktor said, chewing actively without lifting his eyes from his plate. “We’re expanding production, just like I planned.”
Alina smiled. She remembered how, ten years ago, they had sat in the kitchen of a rented apartment. Viktor had spread sheets of his business plan in front of her, passionately talking about his ideas, while she, exhausted after endless lessons, had still listened attentively.
“Do you remember how we started?” Alina moved closer and took her husband’s hand. “You said that one day we would have our own house, and I wouldn’t have to work at all.”
“Of course I remember,” Viktor awkwardly freed his hand to pick up his fork.
“I’m so happy for you. For us,” Alina placed her palm on her husband’s shoulder. “You kept all your promises.”
Viktor stopped chewing. His face became strangely distant.
“Alina, we need to talk.”
Alina shivered. That phrase never meant anything good.
“About what?”
“I filed for divorce today.”
Alina blinked several times, as if trying to shake off a hallucination.
“What are you talking about?” Her voice went hoarse and she coughed. “Is this some kind of joke?”
“It’s not a joke,” Viktor pushed his plate away. “I met another woman. We’ve been together for six months.”
“Six months?” Alina grabbed the edge of the table. “But what about… what about all our plans? Our house, our business? Everything we built together?”
“The house has been in my name for a long time. And the business too,” Viktor looked Alina straight in the eyes. “You always said those papers didn’t interest you.”
“But we… I helped you all these years! I worked two jobs so you could invest in your business!” Alina jumped up, knocking over her chair.
“I’m grateful to you for that, truly,” Viktor also stood up. “I’m even willing to give you the car. Although it’s registered in my name too.”
Alina stood there, unable to move. Everything inside her went numb.
“What about ten years of our life?” she whispered.
“Listen, we had a good time together, but I have different plans for the future,” Viktor looked away and shoved his hands into his trouser pockets. “You have to understand.”
“Understand?” Alina clenched her fists. “What am I supposed to understand? That you used me all these years?”
Viktor suddenly turned sharply toward the door.
“I’ll spend the night at a friend’s place today. And you should pack your things. I’m giving you a week,” he stopped in the kitchen doorway. “And don’t worry about the documents. My lawyer has prepared everything. All you’ll have to do is sign.”
“How could you…” Alina was on the verge of bursting into tears.
“Oh, stop it, Alina,” Viktor pressed his lips together. “You’re thirty-five. You have no prospects ahead of you. An ordinary schoolteacher isn’t exactly an enviable option.”
The door slammed, and Alina remained standing in the middle of the kitchen. The apartment had never felt so foreign before. So cold. Viktor owned everything. The money, the documents, even the credit cards. She was left without a penny.
“This is the end,” Alina whispered, sinking to the floor.
For three days, she did not leave the apartment. For three days, she cried into her pillow, tore up their photos together, and screamed into the emptiness.
Alina woke up with swollen eyes. A strange calm had settled inside her. She got out of bed, washed her face with cold water, and opened the wardrobe. On the top shelf lay a folder. She took it down, wiping the dust off with her palm.
“A diploma with honors,” Alina smirked, looking at the document. “Two foreign languages. And what have I been doing with all this for the past years? Cooking for my husband and cleaning.”
Alina opened her laptop and began writing her résumé. She sent it to a dozen schools and private education centers.
At the same time, she began packing her things. Alina praised herself for the small stash of money she had hidden between books. It was enough to rent a one-room apartment on the outskirts.
A week later, she was reluctantly hired by a small school on the edge of the city. The principal, Marina Pavlovna, looked at Alina doubtfully.
“We have difficult children,” Marina Pavlovna warned. “The parents are demanding. Can you handle it?”
“I can,” Alina answered firmly.
Alina immediately began using a method from a scientific journal. The children looked at her with wide-open eyes. After all, Alina had started the lesson with a song in English.
“You’re not like other teachers,” the boldest boy in the class told her after the bell.
A month later, Marina Pavlovna looked into her classroom.
“Alina Sergeyevna, other classes are asking for you. The parents are demanding that it be you specifically.”
Soon Alina had a full teaching load, plus private students. She developed her own teaching method, combining English and German. Her students began winning city olympiads.
A year later, the phone rang.
“Alina Sergeyevna? This is Kirill Andreyevich, director of the Polyglot language center. We’ve heard about your success. We would like to invite you for an interview.”
At Polyglot, they offered her a salary three times higher than the school’s. Alina almost burst into tears right there at the interview.
“I agree,” she simply said.
Six months later, Alina was earning more than one hundred thousand rubles. She saved half of it. Alina dreamed of only one thing: her own apartment. She visited many banks. And finally, she received the answer she had been waiting for:
“Your mortgage has been approved! Congratulations on your new apartment, Alina Sergeyevna.”
Five years flew by before Alina even had time to look back.
The fried eggs sizzled in the pan, spreading an appetizing smell through the kitchen. Alina carefully divided them into two equal portions and placed them on plates. She set out two mugs — a blue one and a green one — and reached for the milk.
“Forgot again,” Alina opened the refrigerator and sighed in disappointment. The milk was gone.
She looked at the clock. There was still half an hour before it was time to wake up. She could easily make it to the corner store and back.
Alina threw her coat right over her pajamas, slipped her feet into comfortable loafers, and hurried out the door. The morning was fresh and sunny. In moments like these, she especially loved her new neighborhood — quiet, green, with neat houses and well-kept courtyards.
Turning the corner, Alina almost bumped into a tall man in an expensive suit. They both recoiled, and only then did she raise her eyes.
“Viktor?” Alina froze in place, unable to believe her eyes.
Her ex-husband looked older. Wrinkles cut across his forehead, crow’s feet had appeared around his eyes, and silver strands glimmered in his dark hair. Only his smug smirk remained the same.
“Alina?” He looked her up and down appraisingly. “Well, what a meeting.”
“What are you doing here?” Alina instinctively wrapped her coat tighter around herself.
“Business,” Viktor waved vaguely. “And you, I see, are still teaching?”
He emphasized the word as if he were talking about something shameful. Alina frowned.
“I ran out for milk,” she pointed toward the store ahead.
“Well, well,” Viktor smirked, looking at her pajama pants sticking out from under her coat. “Look at yourself. Five years have passed, and you’re still just as sloppy. Running out for milk in the morning in your pajamas.”
Alina flushed brightly. But not from shame — from anger.
“What’s wrong with that?” she lifted her chin. “Unlike you, I don’t need to prove anything to anyone.”
“Sure, sure,” Viktor gave her a condescending look. “Don’t get angry. I told you back then that no one would need you, didn’t I? So that’s how it turned out, right? All alone.”
A satisfied smile spread across his face.
“By the way, have you heard that my company has gone international? I opened a branch in Europe. Bought a house on the coast. And you’re still wandering from one rented apartment to another?”
Alina suddenly smirked. All at once, she found his smugness funny, along with his desire to hurt her. There was no pain anymore, only mild surprise that she had once loved this man.
“You know, Vitya,” she pulled her right hand out of her coat pocket, “I have never been more grateful to fate than I am for the fact that you showed your true face five years ago.”
On her ring finger, a ring with a large diamond surrounded by small sapphires sparkled. Viktor’s eyes involuntarily shifted to the jewelry, and his smugness faltered.
“That’s…” he stopped short, not knowing what to say.
“My wedding ring,” Alina smiled. “For three years now.”
She pulled a keychain with a famous car brand’s logo from her other pocket and pressed the button. Nearby, a black premium SUV beeped and flashed its headlights.
“Did you think I’d end up on the street without you?” Alina smirked. “That I would beg you to come back?”
Viktor stood there, blinking. His arrogance dissolved, replaced by confusion.
“I… I’m happy for you,” he tried to regain his swagger. “So you found some rich old man?”
“No, Vitya,” Alina shook her head. “I found a person who sees me as an equal partner. Someone who supports my ambitions and rejoices in my success. And I also head an education center, with my own original method of teaching languages.”
Alina watched her ex-husband’s face stretch in shock. She added sincerely:
“I have never been as happy as I am now. And I’m grateful to you for that. If not for your betrayal, I would have continued living someone else’s dreams, giving myself away piece by piece.”
Viktor shifted from one foot to the other, clearly unable to find the right words.
“Your… husband… who is he?” he finally forced out.
“A wonderful person,” Alina smiled. “Caring, intelligent, and very talented. And most importantly, he loves me as I am. Even in pajama pants under a coat.”
She tossed the keys from one hand to the other.
“Sorry, I need to run and buy milk. Our breakfast is getting cold.”
Alina easily walked around the frozen Viktor and headed toward the store. Her stride was springy and confident — nothing like five years ago, when she had left their shared home hunched over, with her head lowered.
“Who is he?” Viktor’s voice reached her. “What does he do?”
She turned around, still smiling.
“What difference does it make to you? You don’t know him.”
Alina waved her hand and entered the store. It had been amusing to see her ex-husband’s face. But it would be even more amusing to tell the story of this meeting over breakfast. She could already imagine how they would laugh at the coincidence. How warm the eyes across from her would be when she described the scene.
She bought the milk, and also picked up their favorite croissants with almond cream. The day had definitely started well.