Anna sat at her desk in the dusty history archive, her fingers carefully flipping through old records and documents. The faint hum of fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, the only sound in the room besides the occasional creak of the building settling. She had always loved the quiet. It allowed her to lose herself in the past, in the lives and stories of people long gone, each piece of paper a small piece of history that needed to be preserved. But lately, things had started to feel different.
Her phone buzzed again, breaking her concentration. It was the third time in an hour. The screen lit up with Mikhail’s name, and she hesitated before answering. He had been angry again when she told him she was working on a new project for the archive, and she could already sense the tension building with every conversation.
“Anna!” Mikhail’s voice cut through the phone, sharp and demanding. “Where are you? Why aren’t you home?”
“I’m at work,” Anna replied calmly, still looking at the papers in front of her.
“At work?!” His laugh was cynical, dripping with disdain. “Digging through old papers and calling it a job? Don’t you understand, Anna? You’re wasting your life on this nonsense. This isn’t a career; it’s a hobby for losers.”
Anna paused for a moment, her fingers gripping the edge of the desk. The words stung, but she had grown used to them. Mikhail had always been like this, belittling her passion, dismissing her career as insignificant.
“The history of this city is important,” Anna said quietly. “It’s a way to honor the past, to remember the lives that shaped us.”
“Don’t be ridiculous!” Mikhail snapped. “History doesn’t pay the bills. You need to get real, Anna. You’re wasting your time, and it’s embarrassing.”
Before she could respond, he hung up. Anna set the phone down with a deep breath, trying to shake off the anger and frustration that bubbled up inside her. She had always known Mikhail didn’t understand her work, but today, his words felt sharper, more cutting than usual.
Just then, the door to the archive opened. Anna looked up, expecting a colleague, but instead, a woman stepped inside. She was elegantly dressed, in her early forties, with an air of confidence about her. Her eyes were piercing, and Anna could tell she was here for something important.
“Excuse me,” the woman said, her voice smooth. “Are you Anna Viktorovna?”
Anna raised an eyebrow, surprised. “Yes, I am. And you are?”
“I’m Ekaterina,” the woman said, offering a small smile. “I’m Mikhail’s ex-wife.”
Anna blinked, caught off guard. “Oh… this is unexpected. Please, come in. I’m assuming this isn’t going to be a scene?”
“No, no scenes,” Ekaterina replied with a slight chuckle. “I just need to talk to you. It’s about Mikhail.”
Anna led Ekaterina to a small cafe nearby, where they could speak in private. As they sat down, Ekaterina ordered tea, her fingers delicately stirring in the sugar.
“So, did Mikhail ever tell you about me?” she asked, leaning forward slightly.
“Yes,” Anna said, trying to remain neutral. “He mentioned that you two didn’t exactly part on the best of terms.”
Ekaterina smiled bitterly. “That’s an understatement. We were married for six years. When we first met, Mikhail was fascinated by my intellect. I was a literature teacher. He would quote the classics, call me his ‘muse.’”
Anna raised an eyebrow, intrigued.
“But a year later,” Ekaterina continued, “he started calling me a ‘failure.’ He couldn’t understand why I didn’t want to chase money, why I wanted to spend my time on something as ‘pointless’ as literature. He told me I should do something ‘useful.’ It wasn’t long before he made me feel like I was worth nothing.”
“Sounds familiar,” Anna muttered, a touch of sarcasm in her voice. “Mikhail’s script never changes.”
“Exactly,” Ekaterina nodded. “He picks women like us. Women with education, with careers he can’t understand. He admires us at first, and then systematically breaks us down until we start to believe we are nothing.”
Anna’s heart sank as she listened. She had always felt that Mikhail didn’t fully appreciate her, but hearing it from someone who had been through the same thing made her stomach twist.
“Why are you telling me this?” Anna asked softly, though she already had an idea.
“Because,” Ekaterina said with a smile, “I don’t want you to make the same mistake I did. After our divorce, I returned to teaching. I’m now the head of my department at the university. I realized I’m not a failure. I was just with a man who convinced me I was.”
Anna looked at her, surprised. “What changed for you?”
“Everything,” Ekaterina said, her eyes lighting up. “When the toxic voice finally goes silent, you realize how much space you have to breathe. Now I’m thriving. I’m published. I’ve received grants. I’m successful. Mikhail still thinks I’m a failure, but I’ve learned to ignore him. I’ve found my independence.”
Anna’s thoughts were interrupted when she returned to the archive later that afternoon. Her boss, Pyotr Aleksandrovich, entered the room with an envelope in his hand.
“Anna Viktorovna,” he said, his tone serious. “I have a proposal for you. A regional television station is creating a documentary series on local history, and they need a consultant and scriptwriter. They want you.”
Anna opened the envelope. The pay was three times her usual salary, and the project spanned a year with the possibility of an extension.
“It’s a great opportunity,” Pyotr continued. “This could bring recognition not just to you, but to the entire archive. Your passion for history could reach a much wider audience.”
At home that evening, Anna carefully explained the opportunity to Mikhail, bracing for his inevitable reaction.
“What do you mean, a documentary?” Mikhail’s voice was filled with disbelief. “You want to put yourself on television? In front of everyone?”
“This is my profession, Mikhail,” Anna said, her voice steady. “And it’s an important one. This could bring attention to the cultural heritage of our region.”
Mikhail shook his head, furious. “This is ridiculous! People will think I can’t provide for you. They’ll think you’re just a joke on TV!”
Anna stood her ground. “I’m not a joke. This is my work, and it deserves to be recognized. It’s more than just ‘dusty papers.’”
Mikhail’s face twisted with frustration. “You’re embarrassing me!”
Anna took a deep breath, her mind made up. She wasn’t going to let Mikhail’s smallness dictate her worth any longer. “Maybe it’s time for both of us to stop pretending,” she said softly.
As Mikhail stormed out, Anna sat quietly, feeling a weight lift from her shoulders. Ekaterina’s words echoed in her mind: *”You’re not a failure. You’re just with the wrong person.”*
And for the first time in a long while, Anna believed it.