«Mom, why do you need this?» Her daughter looked at Olga as if she were about to jump out of a plane. «You’re already fifty-two!»
«That’s exactly why I need it,» Olga buttoned her gray blouse and looked at herself critically in the mirror. «I have no intention of sitting at home, just waiting for retirement.»
«But Dad’s against it! He said…»
«Your dad says a lot of things,» Olga adjusted her collar. «But I want to feel needed. And some extra money wouldn’t hurt, you know.»
Lena sighed and fell silent. Olga knew her daughter was worried, but the decision was made. Ever since she was laid off from the library a year ago, she’d been pacing the house like a caged animal. Viktor worked, earned well, and there was enough money. But Olga felt useless. Empty.
«I have to go,» she grabbed her purse. «The interview is at 2 o’clock.»
«Where exactly?»
«At the café on Sadovaya. They need an administrator. I called yesterday and the manager set up a meeting with me.»
Lena nodded, but Olga could tell her daughter didn’t approve. That was fine—she’d understand in time.
Outside, it felt like spring even though it was only mid-April. Olga walked quickly, nerves fluttering. The last time she’d job-hunted was twenty years ago. The world had changed. Now there were all these online resumes and websites. But she’d spotted a simple ad in the newspaper, with just a phone number. She called, and they invited her in.
The café was small and cozy. The sign read «The Mill.» Olga knew the place—she’d passed by hundreds of times but had never gone in. Viktor didn’t like cafés and always preferred to eat at home.
She pushed open the door and stepped inside. The place was bright, smelling of coffee and fresh pastries. A young woman was behind the counter, with a few customers seated at tables. Olga looked around, trying to spot who she should approach. The manager was supposed to meet her.
And then she saw him.
Sitting at a table by the window, back to her, was Viktor. Her husband. In his favorite blue shirt. Olga would have recognized him anywhere—broad shoulders, neatly trimmed graying hair, the mole on his neck.
And sitting across from him was a woman.
Olga froze. Her heart dropped to her feet, her legs suddenly felt as heavy as lead. The woman was young, around thirty-five, with long red hair. She was laughing, leaning in towards Viktor. Her hand was resting on the table, very close to his.
Far too close.
Olga stood by the entrance, unable to move. Her thoughts were jumbled, her heart was pounding so loudly she was sure everyone in the café could hear it. What should she do? Go over? Turn around and leave? Cause a scene?
«Good afternoon, are you Olga Sergeyevna?» A man in his forties, wearing a white shirt, appeared beside her. «I’m Denis Petrovich, we spoke on the phone.»
Came to a café for a job interview and saw my husband there with another woman
Olga turned to him, but the words stuck in her throat. She nodded automatically.
«Please, let’s sit over there,» he pointed to a table. A table that was in full view of where Viktor was sitting.
«Maybe it would be better…» Olga started, but her voice trembled.
«It’s quieter over there,» the manager was already walking toward the table. Olga had no choice but to follow.
She sat down with her back to her husband so she couldn’t see him. But it didn’t help. Inside, everything was twisted into a tight knot.
«So, you want to work as an administrator,» Denis Petrovich opened his planner. «Tell me about yourself, please. Where have you worked before?»
Olga tried to focus on his words, but all she could think was: «Viktor is here. With another woman. Viktor. With another.»
«I… I worked in a library. For twenty years,» she heard her own voice as if from far away. «I was the head of the reading room.»
«That’s great experience working with people,» the manager nodded. «Why did you decide to change fields?»
«Layoffs,» Olga swallowed. Her mouth was dry. «The library was reorganized.»
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a waitress approach Viktor’s table and place something down. She could hear the woman’s laughter—clear and young.
«Do you have any experience working with a cash register?» Denis Petrovich asked.
«Yes, I have,» Olga nodded, not even sure what she was saying.
She needed to turn around. To look. To make sure it really was Viktor. Maybe she was mistaken? Maybe it was just a man who looked like him?
But she knew. Knew it deep down. It was her husband.
«Can you start work next week?» the manager’s voice pulled her back to reality.
«What?» she blinked.
«I’m asking, when can you start?»
Olga opened her mouth, but at that moment she heard Viktor’s voice. He was saying something to that woman, his tone soft, almost gentle. He hadn’t spoken to Olga like that in years.
«Excuse me,» Olga stood up so abruptly she nearly knocked over her chair. «I need to… use the restroom.»
Without waiting for a reply, she rushed off in the direction the sign indicated. She barely had time to close the door behind her before the tears hit—bitter, burning. She grabbed tightly onto the sink, staring at her reflection in the mirror.
Fifty-two years old. Gray streaks in her chestnut hair. Wrinkles by her eyes. A tired face. And that woman—so young, vibrant, beautiful.
«Calm down,» she told herself. «Maybe she’s a coworker. Maybe just an acquaintance. Or a relative.»
But coworkers don’t usually look at each other like that. And they definitely don’t rest their hands so close on the table.
Olga splashed her face with cold water and fixed her makeup. Her hands still shook. She needed to go back and finish the interview. Or maybe she should just leave? Should she approach Viktor and ask what was going on?
She left the restroom, her legs feeling unsteady. Denis Petrovich was sitting at the table, looking through some papers. But the table by the window was empty. Viktor and that woman were gone.
Olga felt everything inside her collapse. She didn’t know whether to be relieved or not.
«Are you alright?» the manager asked as she sat down. «You look very pale.»
«Yes, I’m just… a little nervous,» she tried to smile.
«No need to be. The interview is almost over. I think you’re a great fit for us. Do you have any questions?»
Olga mechanically asked a few questions about the schedule, salary, and responsibilities. She listened to the answers, nodded along. Inside, she was on fire. She wanted to run home, to turn back time, to have never come here today.
«Great,» Denis Petrovich extended his hand. «I’ll see you Monday at nine in the morning. Deal?»
«Deal,» Olga shook his hand and stood up.
As she left the café, she looked around. Viktor was nowhere in sight. Olga walked down the street, barely noticing where she was going. Her thoughts fluttered like birds trapped in a cage.
Maybe it really was a coworker? Viktor worked at a construction company, as a sales manager. He had plenty of business meetings. He often had lunch with clients.
But then why didn’t he say he’d be at this café? And why a café at all, when he doesn’t even like them?
And that look from the woman. That laughter. That closeness.
Olga pulled out her phone and dialed Viktor’s number. The phone rang. Once, twice, three times.
«Yes,» her husband’s voice was calm.
«Hi, it’s me,» Olga could hear the tremble in her own voice. «Where are you?»
«At work, why?»
«No reason. How’s your day?»
«Fine,» he sounded a bit annoyed. «Olya, I’m busy right now. I’ll call you back later, okay?»
«Have you had lunch yet?»
A pause. It was brief, but Olga noticed it.
«Yeah, at the office. Listen, I really can’t talk. We’ll chat tonight.»
He hung up. Olga stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, staring at her phone screen. He lied. Viktor lied to her. For the first time in twenty-eight years of marriage, he had told her a direct lie.
Suddenly, she sat down on the nearest bench because her legs couldn’t hold her anymore. People hurried past, busy with their own lives. And her world had just turned upside down.
Olga didn’t get home until late. She wandered the city, trying to collect her thoughts. Viktor wasn’t home—he’d told her that morning he’d be late. Before, she had always trusted everything he said. Now, every word made her doubt.
Lena was already asleep, and the apartment was quiet. Olga made some tea and sat by the window. Her mind was racing with possibilities. What should she do? Ask him directly? Start a fight? Pretend nothing happened?
Viktor came home past midnight. He looked tired, rumpled.
«You’re still up?» he asked, surprised, when he saw her.
“I can’t sleep,” Olga said, wrapping her hands around her cup. “How’s work going?”
“I’m dead tired,” he said as he entered the kitchen and opened the fridge. “It’s been a nightmare of a day.”
“Did you have meetings?”
“Yeah. One after another.”
Olga looked at his back. Her husband’s familiar back. So painfully familiar. How many years had she seen that back, those shoulders, those hands?
“Vitya,” she called softly.
“Hm?” he turned around with a piece of sausage in his hand.
“Do you love me?”
Her question hung in the air. Viktor froze, staring at her in confusion.
“What kind of question is that? Olya, are you crazy?” he tapped his finger against his temple. “Twenty-eight years married, our daughter’s grown, and you’re asking this?”
“Just tell me. Do you love me?”
He paused, chewing the sausage.
“Of course,” he finally said. “We’re family.”
That wasn’t the word she was hoping for. Not the tone. Olga turned away to the window.
“You’re acting strange today,” Viktor walked closer. “How did your interview go?”
“It was fine. I got the job.”
“Good. You wanted to work, so go ahead. I’m going to bed, I’m tired.”
He went to the bedroom, and Olga stayed sitting by the window. Outside, the spring night grew darker, cars hummed below, streetlights glowed. Just an ordinary life. Only her life suddenly stopped feeling ordinary.
In the morning, Viktor left early as usual. Olga lay in bed for a long time, staring at the ceiling. Something needed to change. She couldn’t just sit and wait. But what?
She got up, got dressed, and left the house again. She took the subway, not really knowing where she was going. Then she realized—she was headed to Vera’s. Her friend lived on the other side of the city. They didn’t see each other very often, but Vera was the only person Olga could truly trust.
“Wow, look who’s here!” Vera threw open the door and hugged her. “What happened? You look so upset…”
Olga told her everything. About the café, the red-haired woman, Viktor’s lies. Vera listened in silence, pouring tea.
“So what are you going to do now?” she finally asked.
“I don’t know,” Olga put her hands on her head. “Vera, I honestly have no idea.”
“Maybe it really was just a business meeting?”
“No. I saw how he looked at her.”
Vera was quiet, stirring sugar into her tea.
“You know, Ol, maybe you should have approached him right there?”
“I couldn’t. I was too shocked.”
“I understand. Hey, let’s go back there together? See if he shows up often?”
Olga looked up at her friend. The idea was strange, but…
“Like in a detective story?” she gave a bitter smile.
“Well, why not? We need to find out the truth.”
The next day, they sat in that same café, ‘Melnitsa,’ at a corner table. Olga felt foolish and pathetic. Fifty-two years old, and here she was, following her husband like a schoolgirl.
But when, exactly at one o’clock, Viktor walked into the café, all her emotions dulled. He was alone. He sat at the same table by the window and ordered coffee. Took out his phone.
“What a bastard,” Vera hissed. “He’s waiting for someone.”
Olga stayed silent. She watched her husband, who sat five meters away, completely unaware she was there.
A few minutes later, the door opened. That same red-haired woman entered. Light-colored coat, shoulder bag. Beautiful. Well-groomed. Young.
She smiled as she saw Viktor and he stood up to greet her. He hugged her—not for long, but Olga could see the tenderness in that embrace. She watched as he pulled out her chair, saw how they sat across from each other, holding hands on the table.
“That’s it, I’m going over there,” Vera suddenly jumped up, but Olga grabbed her hand.
“Don’t.”
“What do you mean, don’t? Olya, are you seeing what’s happening?”
“I see,” Olga’s voice was surprisingly calm. “That’s why you shouldn’t go.”
They sat there for another half hour, watching Viktor and the other woman talk, sip coffee, laugh together. They saw them get up, pay the bill, and leave together.
“So now what?” Vera asked when they were left alone.
“Now I know the truth,” Olga got up. “Thank you for staying with me.”
At home, she took a large travel bag from the closet and began packing Viktor’s things. Methodically, calmly. Shirts, pants, socks—everything folded neatly. Then his razor, deodorant, toothbrush. Documents from the desk drawer.
Lena came home from college and froze in the doorway.
“Mom, what’s going on?”
“Your father has another woman,” Olga said, still packing his things. “I’m packing his suitcase.”
“What?!” her daughter turned pale. “Mom, what are you saying?”
“The truth. I’ve seen them together. More than once.”
Lena sat down on the bed.
“But maybe…”
“No ‘maybe’,” Olga zipped the bag shut. “I’ve lived with this man for twenty-eight years. I know when I’m being lied to.”
Viktor came home in the evening, saw the bag in the hallway, and stopped in his tracks.
“What’s this?”
“Your things,” Olga stood in the doorway of the room. “You can take them.”
He turned pale.
“Olya, what are you talking about?”
“About the red-haired woman from the ‘Mill’ café. About how you lied to me. About your affair.”
The silence was deafening. Viktor stood there looking at her. Then he slowly sank onto a chair in the hallway.
“How did you find out?”
“I saw. Myself. More than once.”
He covered his face with his hands.
“Olya, it’s not what you think.”
“Is that so? Then what is it?”
“We just… I didn’t want you to find out like this.”
“So you didn’t want me to find out at all,” Olga was surprised by how calm she sounded. Inside, she was burning, but her voice was steady. “Who is she?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“It matters to me.”
Viktor lifted his head. His face looked exhausted.
“Her name is Marina. We met six months ago at a conference. She’s a designer. Olya, I didn’t plan any of this. It just happened.”
“Six months,” Olga repeated. “You’ve been living a double life for six months.”
“I didn’t want to destroy our family.”
“But you already have.”
He stood up, tried to get closer, but Olga stepped back.
“Don’t.”
“Olya, let’s talk. Maybe…”
“No,” she shook her head. “No ‘maybe’. Take your things and go.”
“What about Lena?”
“Lena’s grown up. She’ll deal with it.”
Viktor stared at her for a long while. Then he nodded, picked up his bag, and left. The door closed quietly, without a sound.
Olga stood in the hallway, listening to his footsteps fade away on the stairs. She listened as the front door downstairs slammed shut. Only then did she sink to the floor, her back against the wall.
Lena came out of her room, sat down next to her, and hugged her mother. They sat there for a long time, saying nothing at all.
A week later, Olga started her new job at the “Mill” café. She put on her uniform, pinned on her name badge, stood behind the counter, and smiled at her very first customer.
Life went on. A different life. Her own.
