Lena heard the laughter while she was still on the landing. It was loud, male laughter, with a false note to it. She stopped in front of the door, keys in hand, and tried to gather her thoughts. The day had been hell: two urgent projects, a dispute with suppliers, and a delay in paying her employees that she had covered out of her own pocket. All she wanted now was a hot shower and some quiet.
When she opened the door, she found the three of them inside. Andrei sat sprawled in an armchair, a can of beer in his hand. His friends Sergei and Dima were on the sofa. Both were men in their forties who looked worn down by life, and Andrei had been spending more and more time with them since losing his job six months earlier.
“And here’s the lady of the house!” Andrei announced without getting up. “Guys, meet my Elena. I told you she was beautiful.”
Lena nodded and went into the entryway to take off her shoes. Her feet ached after a ten-hour workday. She hoped to slip quietly into the bedroom, but Andrei called after her.
“Len, could you put something together for us to eat? The guys and I are discussing business.”
She turned around. Three pairs of expectant eyes were fixed on her. Empty beer cans and chip crumbs covered the coffee table.
“Andrei, I’ve just got home from work. Could you find something in the kitchen yourselves? There’s sausage. You could make sandwiches or cook some dumplings.”
Sergei gave a little laugh. Dima smirked behind his hand. Andrei’s face reddened.
“What are you standing there for? Get moving! I’ve got guests! Do you expect me to set the table?” he shouted at his wife.
Something inside Lena snapped. Perhaps it was the last straw after the day she’d had. Or perhaps it was months of exhaustion from being the family’s only source of income while still being expected to do all the housework.
“You know what, Andrei?” she said evenly, surprised by the sharpness of her own voice. “I work from morning till night to pay for this apartment, our food, and your beer. And you sit here with your friends demanding that I wait on you too.”
“Len, what are you—” Andrei began, but she cut him off.
“You haven’t found a job in six months. I’ve supported you for six months. You don’t clean, you don’t cook, you don’t do anything around the house. And you have the nerve to shout at me in front of other people?”
Dima stopped smiling. Sergei stared at the floor. Andrei opened and closed his mouth like a fish stranded on shore.
“You want your friends to think you’re a real man?” Lena went on, astonished at the words coming out of her mouth. “Then start by supporting yourself. Find a job—any job. Sweep streets if you can’t do anything else. But stop living off me and acting like the master of my apartment.”
“Your apartment?” Andrei repeated quietly.
“Yes, mine. I inherited it from my grandmother. I pay the bills, I buy the food, I pay for everything. What do you do besides drink beer with men who are just as lost as you are?”
Sergei got up from the sofa.
“We should probably go,” he muttered.
“Yes, you should,” Lena said with a nod. “And you too, Andrei. Go stay with your mother until you find work. Though I won’t stand by while you live off her pension the way you’ve lived off me.”
“Lena, what are you doing?” Andrei finally found his voice. “We’re husband and wife!”
“We were. Tomorrow I’m filing for divorce.”
The guests hurried into their coats and rushed out, mumbling something about urgent things they had to do. Andrei remained in the middle of the room, staring at his wife in confusion.
“Are you serious?” he asked.
Lena looked at him. This was the man she had once loved: successful, confident, someone she would have followed to the ends of the earth. He had courted her with flowers and plans for their future. He had promised to stand by her and protect her.
Now a hunched man stood before her, with overgrown stubble, a wrinkled T-shirt, and the smell of beer on his breath. For six months, he hadn’t even managed to put together a decent résumé. He was angry at the world for his failures and blamed everyone but himself.
“Completely serious,” she replied. “Pack your things.”
Andrei stood there a little longer, then sighed heavily and went into the bedroom. Lena heard him open the wardrobe and toss things into a bag. She sat down on the sofa among the empty cans and crumbs and suddenly felt a weight lift from her shoulders.
For the first time in months, she could breathe easily.
Half an hour later, Andrei came out with a travel bag.
“Len, could we talk about this?” he tried one last time.
“No.” She shook her head. “I need time to think.”
“What if I find a job?”
She studied him for a long moment.
“Andrei, it isn’t only about the job. You stopped being the man I fell in love with. You became… someone else.”
“I’m going through a hard time! There’s a recession. There’s no work!”
“Yes, you’re going through a hard time. But instead of dealing with it, you decided the world owed you something—especially me. You started taking it for granted that I’d work, earn the money, support you, and still cook, clean, and do the laundry.”
“I looked for work!”
“For a week. Then you gave up and hid behind me. You shouted at me so you could look impressive in front of your friends.”
Andrei said nothing.
“Go,” Lena said softly. “I need to be alone.”
The door closed behind him with a quiet click. Lena sat in the silence, listening to her heartbeat. Then she got up and cleared the cans and crumbs from the table.
The apartment was very quiet. She put on some light music she hadn’t listened to in ages, took a hot shower, made tea, and sat by the window.
Her feelings were strange. On one hand, there was emptiness. Eight years together had ended in half an hour. On the other, there was something close to relief, as though she had taken off a heavy backpack after a long climb uphill.
An hour later, her phone rang. It was Andrei.
“Len, I’m at Mom’s. She says you’re a fool.”
“Maybe I am.”
“But I know you’re right. I really have become… someone I wasn’t before.”
Lena said nothing.
“Tomorrow I’ll look for work. Anything. You were right—even sweeping streets.”
“Good.”
“And us… do we have a chance?”
Lena looked out the window. The streetlights were coming on, and evening was settling over the city. Somewhere out there, other people were living with their own problems, decisions, and hopes.
“I don’t know, Andrei. Honestly, I don’t.”
“I’ll change. I’ll find a job and become the man I used to be.”
“It isn’t about becoming who you used to be. It’s about becoming better.”
“I’ll try.”
“Then try.”
A week later, he sent her a message: he had found work as a laborer at a construction company. The pay was small, but it was a start. Another week later, he wrote that he had become an assistant site supervisor, and that his mother was proud of him now.
Lena read his messages without knowing how she felt.
A month later, he came to see her. His hair was cut, his face was shaved, and he wore a clean shirt. He rang the bell like a visitor.
“May I come in?”
She let him in. He sat on the edge of the sofa instead of sprawling across it as he once had.
“How have you been?” he asked.
“All right. And you?”
“Working. I got my first paycheck last week. It wasn’t much, but I earned it.”
They sat in silence for a while.
“Len, I’ve realized something. When everything fell apart for me, I decided the world owed me something. That you owed me something. But no one owes me a living.”
“No.”
“I felt weak. Instead of admitting it and doing something to change, I got angry at everyone else.”
“You did.”
“I’m sorry.”
She looked at him. There was something in his eyes she hadn’t seen for a very long time, something she remembered from their first years together.
“I want to come back,” he said. “But I don’t want us to go back to the way things were. I want us to do it differently—as equals.”
“Andrei…”
“I’m not asking you for an answer now. I just want you to know that I’ve changed, and I’ll keep working on myself.”
He stood up.
“I’d better go. I don’t want to pressure you.”
At the door, he turned back.
“And I promise my friends won’t show up without warning again.”
Lena was alone once more. She sat by the window with a cup of tea and thought about love, forgiveness, and whether people deserved second chances.
Night fell beyond the window, and the city lights looked like stars scattered across the earth. Every light belonged to someone’s life, someone’s story, someone’s choice.
She picked up her phone and stared at the screen for a long time. Then she began typing a message.
She deleted it.
She typed another.
Deleted that one too.
On the third try, she wrote: Come over tomorrow. We’ll talk.
She sent it, turned off her phone, and went to bed. Tomorrow would be a new day—and a new choice.
