I couldn’t breathe. The room spun around and around before my eyes. It was a blow I never expected. Never. Under any circumstances.
Then Anton said something I’ll never forget:
“You’re probably right. You made me feel bad. She… she’s not the woman I want to build a future with. I think that would change.” But right now… I’m not sure I want to continue.
My legs gave out on me. I barely managed to stay upright, clinging to the door frame.
That’s all. A sincere act. Sincere thoughts. Soberly, without emotion. If you don’t tell me, I’ll tell the person whose opinion I trust more than my own.
“Right now,” he continued, “an opportunity has arisen… well… You know.”
My voice softened, it became calmer:
“Of course I understand. I know Tanya. A good girl. Modest, thrifty. Not like…”
Don’t finish listening.
It was as if a jet of cold water had been poured over me.
Tanya.
This is Tanya, her accounting partner: quiet, discreet, the one who always smiles shyly when attending corporate events.
I backed away from the door as if I’d been punched. My whole body ached. I felt like if I stayed there one more minute, I’d collapse to the floor.
I entered the room, closed the door, slowly leaned my back against it, and let go of the floor. I felt such a tightness in my chest that it felt like I couldn’t breathe. I sat with my face hunched over the wheels, watching my ragged, shallow breathing.
This is what I decided.
That’s what they thought.
This is who I am to them.
An annoyance. A mistake. A temporary misunderstanding that “can still be resolved”.
Right now, it only tells me one thing.
There was no going back.
I felt sunk in the filth, detached from time and space. It seemed as if the world around me had ceased to exist, disintegrating into isolated sounds: the muffled voices of Anton and his mother coming from the living room; the ticking of the clock on the wall; my own fearful breathing.
I just had an idea: I had to stay. Yes. Immediately.
Why should I leave? This is my home. My apartment, bought in equal shares. My life.
If Anton is making plans for the future without me, I should tell him to his face.
And I wanted to hear it from him. Honestly. Directly. Without pretense.
I took a deep breath, washed my face with cold water, put on clean clothes, and tried to gather any documents I might need: my passport, my employment contract, my bank statements. Not because I planned to leave. I rang the doorbell because something inside me was unsettling: we were in for a conversation. One that would change everything.
About an hour later, I turned the key in the lock.
Drop me off in the field.
