That day was supposed to be completely different. Sergey and I had planned to spend a quiet weekend at the dacha—grill some shashlik, putter around in the garden beds, and just laze in the hammock. But those plans crumbled to dust in an instant, the moment I walked into the house. As always, the first … Read more
Alexey stood in front of the door to his apartment, his keys trembling in his hand. Three days ago he had slammed this very door shut to teach Irina a lesson. Three days of proud absence at his ex’s dacha. Three days that were supposed to make his wife understand how deeply she had … Read more
Olga sat in the kitchen, mindlessly poking at a salad with her fork. It had already darkened, turning into some pathetic mix of yesterday’s optimism and today’s exhaustion. Sergey was rushing around the apartment like someone who hadn’t lost his keys, but the meaning of life. Galina Petrovna sat in the armchair by the … Read more
The scrape of a key in the lock sounded at the exact moment I finished arranging the vases with the chrysanthemums I’d just bought. Autumn flowers filled the apartment with a special scent—sharp, slightly bitter, the kind that brings back memories of walks through the park with fallen leaves rustling underfoot. I wasn’t expecting visitors. … Read more
Mom, well, not so abruptly. We need to prepare… yes, I understand we can’t drag it out, but you know Ksyusha. You can’t just swing the axe with her—you have to be careful, gradually…” Ksenia froze in the hallway, the key still not fully turned in the lock. Dima’s voice—her husband’s—came from the bedroom, muffled … Read more
Sergey slammed the door and exhaled. That was it. He’d taken him. Legally. The court had sided with him—so it must be the right thing. Dima’s briefcase stood by the refrigerator, his jacket was lying on a chair. The boy stared at the floor and stayed silent. “Dim, well? You hungry? We’ll eat properly now.” … Read more
Marina froze in the middle of the kitchen with a towel in her hands. She had just finished making dinner—stewed chicken with vegetables, her husband’s favorite. Plates were already on the table, the cutlery neatly laid out. She had tried to create a cozy atmosphere after a long day at the medical center, where … Read more
Anna parked her black BMW by the gates of the country house and let out a long breath. It had been a brutal day—an audit meeting, urgent reports for her father, a tense call with the bank about the loan to expand the warehouse. All she wanted now was a glass of dry red wine, … Read more
“Irina, I wanted to talk to you about something important,” Igor tapped his fingers nervously on the table, avoiding his wife’s eyes. Irina tore herself away from her laptop and looked at her husband closely. Something in his voice put her on guard. “About what?” she asked, closing the lid. “You see, my mom needs … Read more
Marina’s kitchen was exactly the kind every woman over thirty dreams of: spacious, spotless, the tiles gleaming, a tablecloth on the table—not stained with borscht—and food in the fridge that you wouldn’t be ashamed to serve even your mother-in-law. Though, of course, for Tatyana Petrovna you could serve it on a golden tray and she’d … Read more