Veronika stood at the door, her fingers trembling as she reached for the handle. The overwhelming weight of the past three years pressed on her chest like an unbearable burden. But today, today was different. Today, she would not let him have power over her.
The door swung open, and there he stood—Boris, her ex-husband. He didn’t even bother to knock anymore, just barged in as if he still owned the place. His eyes scanned the apartment, his lips curling into a smirk as he made himself at home on the new sofa.
“Well, look at you, all settled in!” he sneered, his voice dripping with sarcasm. Even though his child support payments barely covered anything, his arrogance was unshakable.
Veronika sighed and closed the bathroom door behind her, the sound of Timofey’s excited voice echoing through the thin walls.
“Mom, Dad’s here!” Timofey called out cheerfully, his innocence untouched by the complexities of their adult world. He had no idea how deeply Boris’s presence cut her, how much she longed for a life free from these constant battles.
“Just five minutes of silence,” Veronika whispered to herself, pressing her palms to her eyes as if she could push the world away for just a moment.
After taking a deep breath, she opened the door and walked into the living room. Timofey, oblivious to the tension, eagerly showed Boris his new toy. Veronika couldn’t help but notice how Boris had slipped back into his old role as if nothing had changed. He was still acting like the king of the castle, while she was merely a guest in her own home.
“Hi,” she said quietly, trying to maintain some semblance of peace.
Boris gave her a pointed look, as if noticing her every imperfection. “Well, you’ve made yourself comfortable,” he said sarcastically. “I see you’re not struggling at all. And here you keep complaining about child support.”
Veronika’s fists clenched, but she held herself back. Not now. Not in front of Timofey.
“Tim, get ready. Take a book to read, okay?” she said gently to her son, sending him off to his room before facing Boris once again.
“Quite the apartment,” Boris said, inspecting the space with a judgmental eye. “Who’s footing the bill? Or is all this really coming from child support?”
“None of your business,” Veronika replied coldly, refusing to let his jabs hit their mark. “Five thousand a month isn’t help—it’s a joke. And you know it.”
He shrugged dismissively, the years of resentment still fresh between them. “You wanted a divorce—now live with it.”
Her voice trembled as she spoke, but she steadied herself. “Please, no drama today. Timofey’s been looking forward to this weekend.”
Boris’s smile was cold as he stepped closer to her, his expensive cologne filling the space between them. “What did you expect? That I’d smile politely while you destroy my life?” he sneered. “You ruined everything.”
Veronika stood tall, though her heart ached. “Ruined? The home where I was humiliated? The place where I was never allowed to speak, where your night absences were blamed on me?”
“I loved you!” His shout sent a ripple of fear through her, but she didn’t back down.
“You loved me?” Veronika laughed bitterly. “You loved the control. The power. You loved having me afraid.”
Before the tension could escalate further, the door opened, and Timofey came running out, his backpack slung over his shoulder.
“Dad, I’m ready!”
Boris immediately shifted gears, his rage dissolving in an instant as he plastered on a forced smile. “Good job, champ! We’ve got a great day ahead.”
Timofey rushed to Veronika, hugging her tightly. “Bye, Mommy!” he said brightly, not sensing the storm that had just passed.
“See you tomorrow, sweetheart,” she whispered, kissing his head. “Be good.”
As she watched them leave, Veronika noticed the lingering look Boris gave her. It was full of silent threats, as though he was warning her that this wasn’t over. But she wasn’t afraid anymore. She had made up her mind.
The door slammed shut, and Veronika collapsed against the wall, letting out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding.
“He’s unbearable,” Anna, her best friend, said over the phone, clearly frustrated with the whole situation. “How did you live with him for so many years?”
Veronika leaned back in her chair at their usual café, allowing herself a brief moment of peace. “He used to be different,” she said, her voice low and reflective. “But I didn’t realize how much I was drowning until I was already too deep.”
“But you got out,” Anna said with a grin. “And many never do.”
“I left for Timofey,” Veronika said quietly. “I didn’t want him growing up in a house where his mother was too afraid to speak and his father controlled every move.”
“And now this ‘father’ is taking revenge with meager child support,” Anna scoffed. “You can demand more, right?”
“I could,” Veronika said, the words weighing heavily in her chest. “But legally, he’s practically broke. He claims to earn almost nothing. If I take him to court, he threatens to split custody.”
“That’s blackmail,” Anna replied firmly.
“He’s Timofey’s father,” Veronika whispered. “And Timofey loves him.”
Anna’s gaze softened as she watched her friend. “Are you afraid of him?”
Veronika hesitated. She wanted to deny it, but a lump formed in her throat. It wasn’t fear for herself—no, it was the fear of what Boris might do next, the fear of his never-ending control. “Maybe,” she whispered. “He holds me in the past. And I’m still there.”
“Stop being afraid—and he loses control,” Anna said with certainty. “I’ve been there. While I was trembling, he was strong. Then I just stopped reacting.”
Veronika felt a flicker of something new—hope. Could she really stop being afraid?
“Start living for yourself,” Anna urged. “Buy a lamp. Go to a stylist. Take classes. Do it for yourself, not to prove anything to him.”
That night, after Timofey returned with his new fire truck, Veronika made a decision. When Boris arrived to pick up their son, she didn’t flinch at his mocking gaze. Instead, she stood tall, a smile forming on her lips.
“Yes,” she said firmly. “I’m living well now. And it will only get better. Because I deserve it.”
Boris was taken aback. “You—”
“Thanks for bringing our son,” she cut him off calmly. “See you in two weeks.”
And with that, she slammed the door.
As she returned to the living room, Timofey beamed, holding up his fire truck. “Look, Mom! It has a siren!”
Veronika smiled, the first genuine smile in a long time. “Amazing truck! Dad picked out a great gift for you.”
And in that moment, she realized: she had taken control. She was no longer bound by the past.