Out of my house!

I hung up the phone and sat on the edge of the bed. My hands were shaking. Not out of fear. Of disappointment.

 

– Three years. Three years in which I paid for maintenance, electricity, gas, food. Three years in which Andrei changed his car at two years old and complained that “the money is not enough for him”. Three years in which his mother looked at me from above, convinced that I was living on her son’s back.

 

I heard nervous steps around the house. Drawers slammed. Marta was grumbling alone, talking about “ungrateful” and “shameless women.”

 

I wiped my tears. I wasn’t going anywhere.

 

When the front door opened, it was already evening. Andrew rushed in, with the jacket thrown on his shoulder.

 

“Where is he?” he asked briefly.

 

“Here I am!” cried Marta from the kitchen. “I kicked her out, you know!” I no longer accept lies under your roof!

 

Andrew froze. I went into the living room, calm, with the papers in a blue file.

 

“Let’s get this straight now,” I said.

 

“What are those documents?” asked Martha, suspiciously.

 

I put the file on the table and opened it slowly. The donation contract. My name. My name. Signaifations of my parents. Date, a year before the wedding.

 

“The apartment is in my name — I said rarely.” — Intabulated. All legal.

 

Martha began to read. His eyes were moving fast, his lips tightened.

 

“Andrew… — she whispered. — What does that mean?He didn’t answer. He was looking into the floor.

“Andrew?” – raised his voice. “Did you lie?

“Mother… – he started. – I didn’t want to…

“You lied!” she screamed.—Three years?

There’s a hard silence. Then Marta looked at me. There was no more arrogance. There was shame and mixed anger.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked.

“Because you never asked me,” I replied. “You preferred to believe what suited you.

Marta took her bag.

“I’m leaving — he said dryly — but you know, Andrew, that you made me a fool of it.

The door closed behind her.

Andrew looked up at me.

“We can solve… — he murmured.

“No — I said simply. — We can’t.

The next day, I went to the notary. A month later, the divorce was complete.

Today, the apartment is quiet. The broken vase has been replaced. Coffee is no longer bitter.

And for the first time in a long time, I’m home.

This work is inspired by events and real people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters and details have been changed to protect privacy and improve the narrative. Any resemblance to real persons, in life or deceased, or with real events, is purely coincidental and is not intended by the author.

The author and publisher do not take responsibility for the accuracy of events or the way the characters are portrayed and are not responsible for any misinterpretations. This story is offered “as is,” and any opinions expressed belong to the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or the publisher.