“Mom, listen, this is going way too far. We agreed that you wouldn’t interfere in our affairs!” Andrei raised his voice, trying to be heard over the sound of water pouring into the kitchen sink, where Valentina Petrovna was furiously scrubbing an already spotless plate.
“I’m not interfering, Andryusha. I’m simply stating the fact that your wife is completely unsuited to normal life.” Valentina Petrovna turned off the faucet, spun around sharply, and planted her wet hands on her hips, every inch of her radiating indignation. “Apparently, she’s tired! Tired from what? She sits around all day with her little stones, poking at them with tweezers, barely seeing daylight, while there’s a layer of dust an inch thick on top of the cabinets!”
“Marina is working, Mom! Those are her clients. That’s money!” Andrei stepped backward and bumped into the corner of the table.
“Money?” Valentina Petrovna snorted, the sound dripping with contempt. “That’s not money. Those are handouts. Normal women work themselves to the bone at factories or in schools, like I did for thirty years. They don’t sit around making little pictures out of beads. Anyway, son, that’s enough. I’ve reached the end of my patience. If you don’t like my apartment or my rules, then rent a place and live wherever you want. But I’m not putting up with that lazy woman in my kitchen anymore.”
“You’re throwing us out? Because of some dust that wasn’t wiped?” Andrei stared at her in disbelief, genuinely unable to understand how the situation had escalated this far.
“I’m not throwing you out, sweetheart,” his mother suddenly said in a syrupy, sickeningly sweet voice that sent a chill down his spine. “You can stay, for heaven’s sake. There’s enough room for everyone. But that… freeloader of yours has no place here. She doesn’t appreciate you, she doesn’t respect your mother, and when it comes to running a household, she’s completely useless. Let her pack her things and get out. And you should think carefully about whether you really need that kind of burden.”
“All right, then.” Andrei suddenly straightened, and for the first time in a long while there was something firm and decisive in his posture, although Sergei Mikhailovich in the next room was, as usual, pretending not to exist. “If Marina leaves, I leave too. We’re a family. And if you don’t understand that insulting her means insulting me, then there’s nothing more for us to talk about.”
“Oh, I’m terrified!” Valentina Petrovna threw up her hands theatrically. “Go ahead! Let’s see how you two start howling after a week in some rented dump without my help, without my cutlets, and without me looking after you! Just don’t come crawling back when she ruins you with all her demands!”
Andrei left the kitchen feeling everything inside him boiling. He had hoped for understanding, for gentleness. His mother had always seemed to him like a pillar of wisdom, but today the mask had finally fallen away.
Marina stood in the hallway, pale, her lips pressed into a thin line.
She had heard everything.
There were no tears in her eyes, only a cold, piercing realization: they couldn’t stay here another minute.
The hope that her mother-in-law might eventually calm down and soften disappeared like morning fog beneath a scorching sun.
A new life was beginning—uncertain, but free from someone else’s poisonous breath constantly at the back of her neck.
The first few months in their rented apartment felt like paradise despite the Spartan conditions. The place, found through acquaintances, resembled a cave no interior designer had entered in decades, but the walls didn’t close in on them and the air wasn’t saturated with criticism.
Andrei worked hard.
His profession was unusual and required nerves of steel: he operated a deep-sea submersible during industrial diving operations. The job involved long assignments. Sometimes he would be gone for a week, sometimes two, leaving Marina alone in their small refuge.
Marina’s specialty was no less unusual—she restored antique mechanical dolls.
She enjoyed the silence.
As she arranged tiny gears, springs, and scraps of antique velvet across her table, she could feel her inner balance slowly returning. No one barged into the room demanding that she immediately wash the floors. No one criticized her because dinner hadn’t been prepared according to some official standard.
But beneath the peace and comfort, another challenge slowly emerged.
She had to endure loneliness.
The decision to take out a mortgage came naturally.
Paying for somebody else’s walls seemed foolish, especially after Marina’s orders began increasing and Andrei received a promotion for difficult underwater work at the bottom of a reservoir.
They found an apartment—a two-room place in a developing neighborhood, bright and spacious, with a large balcony where Marina dreamed of setting up her workshop.
Moving day felt like a celebration.
As Andrei carried boxes inside, he joked that he was finally a real homeowner, and Marina laughed while watching him heroically struggle with their enormous sofa.
But the idyll didn’t last long.
The mortgage demanded money.
A lot of money.
Andrei began taking extra shifts and leaving for job sites more and more frequently. Sometimes he was gone for days at a time.
Marina understood.
He was doing it for them.
For their future.
She kept telling herself to be patient, to wait.
But the silence in their new apartment became different.
It echoed.
It felt hollow.
The evenings stretched endlessly.
Sometimes Marina caught herself talking to the dismantled dolls scattered across her worktable and wondered whether she was beginning to lose her mind.
One evening, Larisa showed up.
Her childhood friend, now a successful groomer who styled expensive Pomeranians and Yorkshire terriers, burst into the apartment in a whirlwind of shampoo scents and dog hair.
“Marinka, hey! Why do you look so miserable? Is your Ichthyander off swimming again?” Larisa dropped onto the only chair and crossed one leg over the other.
“He’s away on assignment, Lar. There’s a lot of work. You know, the mortgage.” Marina tried to sound cheerful, but her voice betrayed her.
“The mortgage, the mortgage… We’re all slaves to something.” Larisa narrowed her eyes as she studied her friend’s face. “Listen, are you sure he’s away on assignment?”
Marina looked at her.
“What do you mean?”
“I was driving past Gorky Street on Saturday. You know, where those new high-rises are. I was dropping off a client with her poodle. And suddenly I see your Andrei standing there. Right outside one of the apartment buildings. Holding a bag from the supermarket. At first I thought, wow, he must have come home early and decided to surprise you. Then I see some pretty woman coming out with a stroller. He holds the door for her, grinning from ear to ear, and the two of them walk off together.”
Larisa’s words dropped into Marina’s mind like heavy stones.
Marina froze, clutching the fragile porcelain arm of a doll in her hand.
“You must have mistaken someone else for him, Lar. Andrei is at a job site two hundred kilometers away. They barely even have phone reception there.”
“Well, maybe I did,” Larisa agreed easily, although mischievous curiosity flickered in her eyes. “It’s just that the man’s jacket was pretty distinctive. It had a ‘Glubina-Service’ patch on it. And he walked exactly like Andrei, you know, that slightly rolling walk of his. But forget about it. Lots of men wear jackets, right?”
Larisa left behind the smell of dogs and a sticky, icy fear.
Marina tried to return to work, but her hands refused to cooperate.
The image wouldn’t leave her mind.
Andrei.
Gorky Street.
Another woman.
A stroller.
Inside her, in the place where hope for understanding and a happy future had once lived, disappointment began to grow.
Bitter.
Caustic.
Like acid.
She had trusted him completely.
She had tolerated his absences, his exhaustion, the irritability he brought home from work.
And he?
Doubt is a terrible worm.
It gnaws slowly but relentlessly.
Marina called her husband.
“The subscriber is unavailable.”
Of course.
He was underwater or somewhere in the wilderness.
Or…
Had he simply turned off his phone while sitting in some cozy kitchen on Gorky Street?
Marina spent the entire night awake, staring at the ceiling.
By morning, whatever softness remained inside her had given way to anger.
She had to know the truth.
Not for the sake of creating a scandal.
For herself.
So she wouldn’t have to live a lie.
The next several days became hell.
Marina found out exactly where Larisa had seen Andrei—Number 18 on Gorky Street.
On Saturday, Andrei was once again supposed to be “away on assignment.”
Marina told him that she was going to visit her mother, who lived in another city.
Instead, she put on an inconspicuous gray windbreaker, pulled the hood low over her head, and went to keep watch.
She sat on a bench in a neighboring courtyard, feeling like the heroine of a cheap detective story.
Time moved like thick molasses.
People walked past.
Children ran around.
Somewhere in the distance, construction machinery rumbled.
The sun was mercilessly hot, yet Marina was shivering.
“Please don’t let it be him. Please let Larisa have been wrong,” she begged silently, although deep down she already knew the answer.
Around noon, a man approached the entrance.
That familiar walk.
Those broad shoulders.
That same jacket with the company logo.
Andrei.
He was carrying a large bag of groceries. A loaf of bread and a package of diapers stuck out from the top.
He entered the code into the intercom and disappeared inside.
Marina didn’t move.
Her legs felt glued to the pavement.
She waited.
About twenty minutes later, the entrance door opened again.
Andrei stepped out first, holding the heavy metal door.
A stroller appeared behind him—modern, expensive, bright blue.
A pretty young woman with loose hair and a light summer dress was pushing it.
She was saying something to Andrei, laughing and looking up into his face.
Andrei was smiling.
It was that warm, open smile Marina hadn’t seen directed at her in months.
Something inside Marina snapped.
Disappointment turned into rage.
She stood and walked quickly toward them.
Neither of them noticed her until she was only a few steps away.
Andrei had just leaned over the stroller to adjust its canopy.
“Made yourself comfortable, have you, ‘submariner’?” Marina’s voice rang out loudly and sharply, cutting through the noise of the street.
Andrei straightened as if he had been electrocuted.
His face went slack and his eyes widened in horror.
“Marina? What… what are you doing here? You’re supposed to be at your mother’s…”
“And you’re supposed to be at the job site!” she interrupted, stepping closer. “Saving the world at the bottom of the sea! But instead you’re carrying diapers for other women?”
The woman with the stroller recoiled in fright, pressing her hands to her chest.
“Andrei, who is she? What’s going on?” she stammered in a thin voice.
“Be quiet!” Marina snapped without even looking at her.
All her anger was focused on her husband.
“I’m not talking to you. I’m talking to this liar who’s been feeding me fairy tales about assignments, exhaustion, and the mortgage! So I sit at home saving every last penny and waiting for him like faithful Penelope while he’s built himself a second family here?”
“Marina, wait. You’ve misunderstood everything…” Andrei began, reaching toward her.
That was the final straw.
Seeing his confused, guilty face—still desperately trying to wriggle out of the situation—made something explode inside Marina.
She swung her hand and slapped him as hard as she could.
The sound was sharp and dry.
Andrei’s head jerked sideways, and a red mark immediately appeared on his cheek.
“Don’t you dare touch me!” she screamed, no longer caring about the passersby beginning to turn and stare. “Don’t you dare lie to my face! I saw everything! The groceries, the diapers, the smiles! Did you think I was stupid? Did you think I’d sit at home and wait while you finished having your fun?”
“Marina, just listen to me!” Andrei raised his voice and tried to catch the hand she was preparing to swing again. “It’s not what you think!”
“I don’t care what it is!” Marina pulled away, breathing heavily. “I don’t care about your excuses! You betrayed me. You lied to my face every single day. Consider this notice that I’m filing for divorce. Today.”
She spun around and walked away without looking back, her hands trembling.
Behind her, she could hear the baby in the stroller crying after being awakened, along with the confused voice of the young woman.
But Marina no longer heard anything.
Only one thought pounded inside her head.
It was over.
The cold decision had been made.
That evening, Marina sat in the kitchen staring blankly at an empty cup.
Her belongings were already packed.
Two suitcases stood beside the door.
She had no intention of spending another night in the apartment.
The sound of the lock turning made her flinch, but she didn’t move.
Andrei entered the hallway.
He wasn’t alone.
With him was Vitka, his longtime friend and colleague, a man who worked with him on diving operations.
Vitka looked terrible.
Pale and thin, with sunken eyes, he could barely remain standing and leaned against the doorframe for support.
“Marina, we need to talk,” Andrei said.
His voice was firm, almost harsh.
The mark from the slap had nearly disappeared, but there was heaviness in his expression.
Marina slowly raised her head.
“We have nothing to talk about. I’m leaving.”
“No. You’re going to listen.” Andrei walked into the kitchen, practically dragging Vitka along with him. “Sit down, Vitka. Tell her.”
Vitka coughed into a handkerchief and looked guiltily at Marina.
“Marina… listen, I’m sorry. This is all because of me. That woman outside the building is Oksana. My wife.”
Marina blinked in confusion, looking from one man to the other.
“Your wife? Then what does Andrei have to do with this?”
“I spent a month in the hospital,” Vitka rasped. “Pneumonia. Complications. I nearly died. Thought that was it, my diving days were over. And Oksana was alone. We live on the eighth floor, and the elevator’s been broken since May. Nobody can be bothered to repair it. She has the stroller, the baby, groceries… I asked Andrei to help. As a brother. I told him, help her out while I’m stuck in there dying.”
“I went over whenever I could,” Andrei added, crossing his arms. “I carried the stroller up and down the stairs and brought groceries. Vitka asked me not to tell anyone he was in the hospital in that condition. He didn’t want anyone at work to find out. He was afraid he might fail the medical examination afterward. So I told you I was away on assignment. That way you wouldn’t ask questions.”
Silence filled the kitchen.
Marina stared at her husband, processing what she had heard.
The pieces fit.
The strange woman.
The stroller.
The bags.
Helping a friend.
Nobility.
“So you were just helping?” she asked quietly.
“Yes,” Andrei exhaled, a note of triumph entering his voice. “I was just helping my friend. And you… you created a whole circus. You came charging in, humiliated me in front of Oksana and everyone else. You hit me.”
He walked up to the table and slammed his palm against it.
“I forgive you for the slap. Nerves, jealousy, female stupidity—I understand. But you owe Oksana an apology. She’s still in shock. She thinks she destroyed our family. You’ll go there tomorrow and apologize. And right now, go make some dumplings. I’m hungry. Vitka and I haven’t eaten.”
Andrei sat down, apparently expecting Marina to throw herself into his arms, sobbing with relief and remorse.
But Marina didn’t move.
She looked at her husband, and instead of the warmth he expected, an icy fire of contempt began to burn in her eyes.
“You forgive me?” she repeated in an oddly calm voice. “You forgive me? For what?”
“What do you mean, for what?” Andrei looked surprised. “For not trusting me. For your hysterics. For doubting your husband.”
“Did it ever occur to you to apologize to me?” Marina stood up. “For lying directly to my face? ‘I’m away on assignment, Marina.’ ‘I’m at the job site, there’s no signal.’ You lied to me for weeks! You invented an entire story! You made me worry, made me believe you were risking your life underwater, while in reality you were carrying strollers around downtown!”
“I already explained it!” Andrei flared up. “I was protecting Vitka! That’s male friendship. You wouldn’t understand!”
“Friendship?” Marina gave a bitter laugh. “Friendship isn’t built on lies. You could have told me the truth: ‘Marina, Vitka is sick, and I’m going to help his wife.’ I would have understood! I would have gone with you and helped Oksana myself! But you chose to lie. You chose lies because they were more convenient for you. You don’t care about my feelings or my nerves. All that matters to you is playing the hero for your friends. Your wife can just put up with whatever you decide.”
“You’re making a mountain out of a molehill!” Andrei jumped to his feet. “I was doing something useful!”
“You were lying!” Marina shouted.
Vitka shrank back in his chair.
“And if you can lie so easily and so enthusiastically about something like this, then you’ll keep lying. About anything. Money. Women. Your life. You showed me who you really are, Andrei. You’re not a man. You’re a coward who hides behind lies.”
“Where do you think you’re going?” Andrei roared when he saw her picking up her handbag. “Stop right there! Who’s going to cook the dumplings? Who’s going to apologize?”
“Apologize?” Marina turned around in the doorway. “You should apologize. To Oksana, for dragging her into your lies. And to me. But I don’t need your apology anymore. I’m not leaving because you slept with someone else. I’m leaving because I could never sleep with you again. You disgust me.”
“Then get out!” Andrei screamed after her, red with rage. “Go! Let’s see who wants you! You’ll come crawling back in a week!”
The door slammed.
Vitka sat with his eyes lowered toward the floor.
“You shouldn’t have done that, Andrei,” he said quietly. “She’s right. You could have told her. Why did you lie about being away on assignment?”
“Shut up!” Andrei snapped. “All women are idiots. She’ll calm down and come back. Where’s she going to go with the mortgage hanging over her?”
Marina did not come back.
She filed for divorce a week later.
Andrei was convinced it was a bluff, an attempt to make herself seem important.
He ignored calls from the court and failed to appear at the hearings, believing this would somehow demonstrate how tough he was.
But the court granted the divorce without him.
The apartment had to be put up for sale. Andrei couldn’t afford the mortgage on his own, and the court ordered the property and debts to be divided.
Vitka—the very friend for whose sake the whole thing had supposedly started—unexpectedly distanced himself from Andrei.
After that evening, he and Oksana had an unpleasant conversation at home.
Oksana kept asking why Andrei had lied to Marina about being away on assignment.
“It’s strange, Vitka,” Oksana said while rocking the baby. “If he was just helping me, why did he have to deceive his wife? Maybe he was interested in me? Or maybe he just wanted an excuse to get out of the house? There’s something shady about him.”
The suspicion Oksana planted began to grow.
Vitka remembered how Andrei had made a couple of jokes about Oksana’s figure, and how he had always seemed a little too eager to help.
Eventually, when Andrei called again asking to borrow money—his finances had become difficult after the divorce—Vitka answered coldly that he had no money to lend and asked him not to bother their family again.
“You created this mess yourself, brother. Now clean it up yourself. And you shouldn’t have treated Marina like that. She’s a decent woman. Better than you deserve.”
Alone in the empty apartment, surrounded by boxes as he prepared to sell it, Andrei felt genuine fear for the first time.
The creditors were pressuring him to pay off the mortgage.
Part of the money from the sale had to go to Marina as her share.
After all the payments were made, the pathetic amount remaining in Andrei’s hands wouldn’t have been enough even to buy a room in a communal apartment.
He tried to find comfort with his mother.
Valentina Petrovna reacted to the news of the divorce with malicious satisfaction.
“I told you! I warned you! She cleaned you out and abandoned you! That snake made sure she got what she wanted!”
But when Andrei mentioned that he intended to move back in with his parents—and that he had almost no money—his mother’s tone changed instantly.
“What did you do with all the money? Drink it away? Blow it on women?” she shrieked as she paced around the apartment. “You’re a grown man, and now you want to live off your mother? Your father is a sick man. He needs peace and quiet, and now you’re bringing all your problems here!”
Andrei listened to her shouting and understood.
The trap had closed.
He had driven himself into the corner.
The proud “captain” who imagined himself in control of everyone’s fate had become a failure living in his childhood bedroom.
On the day he handed the keys of the sold apartment to its new owners, he saw Marina.
She had come to collect her share of the money.
She looked wonderful—calm, confident, wearing a new coat.
There were no traces of tears or suffering.
“Well, are you happy now?” he spat bitterly while signing the documents. “You destroyed our family and left a man without an apartment. Satisfied?”
Marina carefully placed the documents into a folder and looked at him as if he were an empty space.
“I didn’t destroy our family, Andrei. There was no family. There was an illusion you created with your lies. I simply stopped participating in it.”
She turned her back on him and headed for the exit.
“Wait!” he shouted, choking on his helpless rage. “Do you even understand what you’ve done? I only went to Oksana because…”
He stopped.
Oksana was standing in the doorway of the bank.
She had come with Marina to support her.
It turned out the two women had met, talked, and finally uncovered the entire truth.
Oksana had known that Andrei had been trying to flirt with her under the pretense of helping, but she had kept quiet because she was afraid of upsetting her sick husband.
Now that everything had come out, she simply despised him.
Oksana linked her arm through Marina’s, and the two women walked outside together, leaving Andrei alone with his anger and loneliness.
He stood in the middle of the bank, clutching a bundle of cash that could fix absolutely nothing.
And finally he understood:
Punishment isn’t when someone hits you.
Punishment is when you become unnecessary to everyone.
Even to yourself.
