The Crossroads of a Shattered Marriage
The realtor scrutinized the documents once more, his brows knitting in worry. “Are you absolutely sure about this? A gift deed carries weight. Undoing it someday could be nearly impossible.”
Unfaltering, Yana signed the papers, her hand steady, her decision irrevocable.
That serene May morning, sunlight filtered through the notary’s office windows, mingling with the soothing hum of the air conditioner and the inviting scent of brewing coffee from the reception. Though it appeared like any other day, monumental choices were quietly unfolding.
“My mother understands the path forward,” Yana whispered, tucking a copy of the documents into her bag. “A safeguard, should everything fall apart.”
Reflecting back a year, before Dima’s habitual late nights took hold, before the faint trace of another woman’s perfume clung to his shirts, before the suspicious phone calls at odd hours began.
Yana was no naive soul. Raised amidst a family of legal experts, she learned early to anticipate several moves ahead. The apartment was bought with her inheritance—funds bequeathed by her grandmother. Meanwhile, Dima was still early in his career, grappling with a car loan.
“Honey, you should put the apartment under my name,” her mother advised firmly. “It’s not about anticipating divorce — it’s about security. Life is unpredictable.”
Without hesitation or protest, Yana consented. Transferring the apartment’s ownership to her mother was a calculated move. Lawfully executed, it served as a safety net — an escape plan.
Her phone chimed with a message from Dima: “Got to work late tonight. Big meeting.”
A faint, bitter smile curved Yana’s lips. Those “important meetings” had been regular occurrences lately. She opened the photo sent by their private investigator: Dima, arm in arm with a blonde, laughter lighting their faces as they entered a restaurant.
“Would you care for some coffee?” the assistant offered.
“No, thank you,” Yana replied, rising. “Is everything set?”
“We’ll have all the documents ready in about an hour.”
She stepped outside, breathing in the cool May air infused with fragrant lilacs. This same month, six years ago, she and Dima had met—then, he was reliable and devoted, and she trusted him deeply.
Her phone buzzed again: “Sorry, I’ll be late again tonight. Don’t wait.”
“Fine,” she answered. “I’ll be late too. Some things to handle.”
The café basked in the quiet lull after lunch. Yana chose the spot by the window, pulling out a folder holding the evidence. Their usual refuge—warm and familiar, with pastries reminiscent of her childhood.
“Did you bring everything?” her mother asked as she settled in, removing her jacket.
Elena Sergeevna, fifty-five yet youthful in appearance, was a seasoned family law attorney who had led many clients through divorces, well-aware of every legal nuance and pitfall.
Yana spread the documents out. “Yesterday, he emptied almost all of our joint account.”
Her mother nodded, understanding the implication. “Preparing, I see? And these?”
“Detective’s reports covering three months—dinners, hotels, jewelry shops.”
Her mother arched an eyebrow. “Jewelry? Did he buy you anything recently?”
Yana’s smile was tinged with bitterness. “No. But his new girlfriend sports a Cartier bracelet—the exact same one appearing on his bank statements.”
The lavender tea arrived, which Yana stirred with two teaspoons of sugar, her attention distant.
Key Insight: Strategic foresight and legal expertise provided Yana with a crucial edge as she prepared for the inevitable confrontation.
“Here’s the plan,” her mother began, unfolding a planner. “The apartment’s been in my name for a year—clean title, no entangled debts. The car? It’s his to keep. But the finances require attention.”
“Mom, I don’t care about the money.”
“You do,” Elena asserted firmly. “It’s not just about finances—it’s your time, your dedication. You’ve worked hard and saved diligently. As for him…”
Yana clasped her cup tightly. “I overheard him yesterday, negotiating with a lawyer about dividing assets—including the apartment.”
“Let him say what he will,” her mother smiled knowingly. “Does he realize the apartment is legally gifted?”
“No. He thinks claiming half is possible—maybe even more.”
“Are you sure about this divorce?”
Outside, a young couple was holding hands—a painful reminder of the love Yana once shared with Dima.
“Remember when you taught me to drive?” she redirected the conversation. “You said, ‘Don’t just watch ahead—keep an eye on the mirrors. That’s where danger lurks.’”
“I do,” Elena replied, placing a comforting hand over Yana’s.
“What do you see in those mirrors now?”
“Betrayal. Deception. A double life,” Yana said, revealing her phone. “There— a week ago at ‘Sky’ restaurant. Three days ago at the cinema. And this one…”
“That’s enough,” her mother interrupted softly. “I understand.”
“Tonight, he’ll be home late again,” Yana remarked. “Everything’s ready.”
“The paperwork?”
“In your office safe. I’ve packed the essentials; I’ll gather the rest later.”
Another message from Dima read: “Want me to buy dinner?”
“No, thanks,” she replied. “We have serious things to discuss.”
Back in the apartment by seven, the fresh fragrance of opened windows, freshly changed curtains, and rearranged flowers filled the space. This would be her last tidy-up here.
Their wedding photo rested on the table. She wore a simple white dress; he donned a gray suit. The intimate ceremony included only family. “The wedding is not what counts,” Dima had once said. “It’s what follows.”
Yana traced the glass frame’s edge. Six years spent believing in a future that never truly belonged to her.
Her phone buzzed again—a new image from the detective. Dima kissing the blonde shamelessly on the street, clad in the shirt Yana had gifted him for his birthday.
“Thanks,” she messaged. “No more photos necessary.”
The front door rattled sooner than usual. Yana set the photo aside, sinking into her armchair.
“Hey, I’m home!” Dima announced, scented with wine and another woman’s perfume. “Surprise!”
“Yeah?” she replied quietly, observing him pull out a champagne bottle, swaying slightly.
“I got promoted! Director of Development now—salary doubled and…”
“More time for your ‘meetings’?” Yana interrupted softly.
His smile faded as he froze, bottle in hand.
“The meetings at ’Sky’ restaurant, the cinema, ‘Riviera’ hotel…”
Dima lowered the bottle, his grin evaporated.
“You’ve been spying on me?”
“Not me—a detective,” Yana replied, showing her phone. “Want to view the pictures? Like the one with you kissing her outside the restaurant? Or the car one?”
“Wait—let’s talk. This isn’t how you see it.”
“And how else should I see it?” Yana stood. “That my husband cheats, lavishes gifts on another woman, and empties our joint accounts?”
“How do you know—”
“It doesn’t matter,” she said, moving toward the window. “What counts is that I’m aware. And have been for some time.”
“Sweetheart,” he stepped closer. “It’s a mistake. Lena is just a colleague…”
“Lena?” Yana scoffed. “I thought it was Sveta—your phone contacts say so.”
“Yana…”
“Don’t touch me,” she snapped sharply. “No explanations. My mind’s made up.”
“What decision?”
“Divorce.”
“Divorce?” Dima chuckled nervously. “Over a few meetings? You’re serious?”
“A few meetings?” Yana opened her gallery. “March 15, restaurant. March 20, theater. March 25, restaurant again. April had four hotel visits. May already has eight.”
“You tracked all this?”
“The detective did—dates, times, places, photos. Plenty of evidence.”
Dima sagged onto the couch, tie askew, dark circles under his eyes. The confident man in the pictures was gone.
“So, what now?” he murmured, wiping his face. “Are you going to blackmail me?”
“Why?” Yana shrugged. “I only want a divorce. You started this—why else drain the account?”
He winced. “How do you…”
“Bank records. Yesterday, you withdrew nearly everything—four million. Preparing to divide assets?”
“So?” he snapped, suddenly belligerent. “It’s our money! The apartment belongs to us—legally, I’m entitled to half!”
“The apartment?” Yana smiled coolly. “It’s not mine. It’s my mother’s now. You’re welcome to file for divorce.”
She handed him the land registry papers. His hands trembled while reading them.
“When… how?”
“A year ago—a legal gift. Mom’s a lawyer. Everything was done properly.”
“You planned this?” he paled. “You were prepared?”
“I protected myself,” Yana said, fetching her packed bag from the closet. “Mom taught me to always think ahead. Especially when your husband comes home late.”
“Bitch,” he spat.
“Keep your insults,” she replied, donning her coat. “I’ll get my remaining things later. Leave the keys to Mom—it’s her apartment. You can stay here until the divorce. She doesn’t mind.”
“Are you mocking me?”
“No. It’s game over. You lost.”
“Wait!” He jumped up, blocking the door. “Let’s talk. We can fix this!”
“Fix what?” she asked calmly. “Your hotel stays? The three hundred-thousand bracelet? Your lies about working late?”
“I’ll explain! Lena and I are done, I swear!”
“Really?” She revealed a photo. “This was taken an hour ago. That passionate kiss was ‘we’re finished’?”
He clutched his head. “Yana, listen—I’m confused. It was a mistake. Let’s start over.”
“Start over?” She smiled sadly. “Ironically, I truly loved you. I believed you. Mom suggested changing the apartment ownership, and I resisted, saying, ‘We’re family.’”
She lifted their wedding photo. “Remember how you promised forever? To never betray me?”
“I love you!”
“No, Dima. You love only yourself. Now, facing the loss of the apartment, you scramble for appearances.”
“That’s not true!” he said, pale. “I really love you!”
“Then why empty the account?” she countered, setting the photo down. “Why talk to lawyers about dividing assets? Why look for a new place?”
“How do you know about…”
“The realtor you contacted Monday? An old client of mine called me. You searched for a two-bedroom downtown apartment. For you and Lena.”
Dima fell silent. The ticking clock, a wedding gift, echoed in the room.
“I thought it through,” he muttered finally. “I was going to be honest, split things fairly.”
“And take half the apartment,” Yana finished. “But you miscalculated. It belongs to Mom now. As for the money, keep it. Consider it compensation for six wasted years.”
She moved toward the door. Dima grabbed her hand.
“Don’t go! I’ll fix this!”
“Too late,” she said, gently pulling away. “The divorce papers will be ready tomorrow. Sign them—you’re free. Live with Lena and buy her gifts. But with your money, not ours.”
“I’ll sue!” he shouted. “I’ll prove the gift deed is forged!”
“Try it,” Yana answered, turning around. “Mom misses the courtroom challenge.”
The door closed behind her. Though trembling, she maintained her composure. Her mother waited in the car.
“How did it go?”
“Just as you predicted. He denied, pleaded, then threatened legal action when he found out about the apartment.”
“Typical,” Elena started the engine. “Going home?”
“No. To you. I don’t want to be alone tonight.”
The car moved forward, the cityscape passing by. Somewhere, Lena awaited Dima—dreaming of a future and gifts.
“You handled it well,” her mother noted at a stoplight. “Many stay too long, trapped by fear.”
“I realized just in time. Better alone than with a traitor.”
“And ahead is your entire life,” Elena smiled. “Without lies, without pain. You will be fine.”
Yana nodded silently as her phone chimed with another message from Dima. She silenced it without a glance. Tomorrow marked a fresh start—a new chapter.