I refuse to believe that Matvey is gone forever. This just isn’t real. He’s only upset because of the chaos I created in the apartment. Maybe I did go too far by shredding and destroying his belongings. But he just needs time to cool off — he’ll come back. We’re a family, after all. And with a baby on the way, how could divorce even be an option? It’s simply unthinkable.
To avoid sinking into self-pity and despair, I force myself to clean the apartment. I refuse to dwell on the fight with Matvey or the fact that he filed for divorce. We’ll reconcile — of course, we will. Stressing over this won’t do the baby any good.
I push aside the negativity and throw myself into housework. I gather the shredded clothes, sweep up the broken pieces. By the time I’m done, there are several large bags of trash. Then, I visit the online store where Matvey usually shops and order him a whole new wardrobe — suits, ties, jeans, t-shirts. The courier should deliver them in a few days.
It’s late, past midnight, but I still head to the kitchen to cook. I prepare roasted meat, just the way Matvey likes, along with his favorite grilled vegetables. By 1:30 AM, he still hasn’t come home. That’s fine. I won’t call. Let him stay at a hotel tonight — he’ll be back tomorrow.
But the next day, Matvey still doesn’t return. I push aside the rising panic and continue to wait, convincing myself he just needs time. To distract myself, I take out our old photo albums and flip through our wedding pictures. We looked so happy, so in love. Our wedding was everything I had ever dreamed of — beautiful, magical. And our honeymoon on the tropical islands… Two weeks of pure bliss, never spending a moment apart. I truly believed our happiness would last forever.
As evening falls and Matvey is still not back, it becomes harder to suppress my fear. The more I think about the possibility of divorce being real, the more my skin prickles with dread. My mind refuses to accept it, this can’t be happening. It’s impossible.
By Monday, I realize I need to keep myself as busy as possible, otherwise, I’ll lose my mind waiting. I decide to cook a fresh meal for Matvey. He has work today, so he’ll probably be home around nine. I prepare borscht and several of his favorite salads, glancing at my phone every few minutes, hoping for a message. Matvey usually texts me during the day, but for the past two days, there’s been nothing but silence.
Once I turn off the stove, I fight the creeping panic by heading to a beauty salon for a few treatments. Afterward, I indulge in a shopping spree, anything to keep my mind off Matvey’s absence and the looming threat of divorce. But no matter how much I try to distract myself, my phone remains empty, no texts, no missed calls.
My heart tightens with anxiety. Desperate for a distraction, I decide to call my friends and suggest meeting up. They’re all single, so their evenings are usually free after work. Out of our university group, I was the only one who got married at twenty. The others focused on building their careers.
A few friends accept my invitation for coffee. With no evening plans, Polina, Rita, and Masha arrive almost at the same time. They look a little tired from work but are still lively and full of energy. They immediately start sharing their latest updates, Polina just got promoted, Rita traveled to Argentina for vacation, and Masha bought a new apartment.
“What about you, Yulia?” Rita asks, raising an eyebrow. “Don’t tell me you’re still the same old hen.”
I force a smile and sigh. “I’m a hen.”
The girls often tease me for choosing to be a housewife, dedicating myself entirely to my husband. “Why did you even study at Moscow State University? Just to serve a man?” they joke. But they don’t understand what it’s like to truly love and be loved because they haven’t experienced it themselves.
Masha lived with a guy for six months before they broke up. Rita had plenty of flings in college, but none turned into anything serious. Now, she’s fully focused on her career and has no interest in dating. Polina, on the other hand, has an impossibly long list of criteria for a potential partner. Honestly, I’m not even sure such a man exists.
I don’t mention my pregnancy or the possibility of a divorce with Matvey to my friends. I don’t want to deal with their questions, pity, or sympathy. Besides, maybe the divorce won’t happen at all. Matvey can’t really be considering leaving me while I’m pregnant, can he?
“Alright, girls, I need to head home. It’s getting late,” I say.
“It’s only eleven!” Polina protests.
“Late for a married woman,” I reply.
“Oh, so Matvey can’t sleep without you?” Rita scoffs.
“I hope he can’t.”
The girls roll their eyes in unison.
“You dragged us here, and now you’re the first to leave?” Masha says, raising an eyebrow.
“Because I need to be with my husband,” I reply.
“And we have to work early tomorrow, but here we are, still sitting around,” Polina adds with a sigh.
“No, girls, I really need to head home,” I quickly pull money from my wallet and place it on the table for my order. “Thanks for meeting up.”
“Alright, alright,” Rita says, dragging the words out. “We’ll stay a bit longer.”
“Yes, you stay,” I say firmly, trying to avoid any more attempts to keep me there.
Hurrying out of the café, I head straight for the exit. Once outside, I call a taxi and wait for what feels like forever. The fear of going back home grips me. The thought of entering the apartment and finding it empty, with no sign of Matvey, terrifies me.
He must have come back by now, right? He can’t possibly be staying at a hotel for this long!
A poisonous thought sneaks into my mind: What if he’s not at a hotel, but with someone else? I shake my head quickly, dismissing it. No, that’s just not possible. Matvey would never cheat on me. He promised, and I trust him.
As I step through the door, the silence in the apartment hits me like a wave. My fingers begin to tremble, and a lump forms in my throat. The reality starts to sink in, divorce isn’t just a distant thought anymore. It’s right here, looming, just a step away from becoming real.
Tears flow uncontrollably as I try to hold it all together. I press my forehead against the bedroom wall and quietly cry, the weight of it all suffocating me. I refuse to believe this is my reality, that Matvey and I could really be over. It feels impossible.
But the longer I sob, the more the truth settles in, and with it comes an overwhelming sense of loneliness. It fills me, wraps around me, and I can’t escape it. I feel utterly alone.
Matvey is gone. Matvey has left me, and I’m alone.
I bang my head against the wall in frustration, over and over, until my mind can’t grasp the truth anymore. Then I collapse onto the floor, curling into a ball, my legs tucked close to my chest. The tears come in waves, and I howl, rocking back and forth as if it will somehow make him return. I imagine the sound of the apartment door opening, Matvey walking in, telling me it was all a mistake. But instead, there’s only the silence, empty, mocking, reminding me of the reality.
Somehow, I gather the strength to crawl over to the computer. My hands shake as I log into the government services site. The screen flickers and a notification catches my eye. It’s from Matvey. He’s filed for divorce. My stomach drops. I need to confirm. This can’t be real, but it is.
I tremble uncontrollably, like a fragile leaf in the wind. Pain, panic, fear, and horror grip me all at once. A bead of sweat slides down my spine, and my temples throb with each thought: Matvey has left forever, Matvey has left forever. I press my hand over my mouth to stifle the scream threatening to escape.
This is it. This is the real end.
With shaking hands, I click to confirm the divorce. In that instant, something inside me snaps. The love I once felt for Matvey turns into something darker, colder — hatred.
