Vera stood in the kitchen, her hands gripping the dish towel as she wiped the counter with mechanical precision. The sharp slap that had echoed through the room still rang in her ears, but the sting in her chest was far more painful. She had raised her hand in anger—something she had never imagined doing to her daughter. But the words Liza had spoken, the truth behind them, had cut through her like a blade. She felt betrayed not just by her husband, but by her own silence.
For years, Vera had played the role of the perfect housewife: cooking, cleaning, running errands, always waiting for Victor to return home. She had believed it was her duty, and Victor had insisted on it. He wanted her to stay at home while he worked, making sure everything in their lives was in order. At first, she resisted. She had been independent once, had a career, a purpose outside of their home. But over time, she had given it up. Her friends had slowly disappeared, pushed away by Victor’s disapproval. And now, she was left with a life she hardly recognized, a role that had grown so familiar that she couldn’t imagine living any other way.
But the truth was too clear to ignore anymore. Victor wasn’t just working late or going on business trips—he was with someone else. Liza had seen it long before she did, and though the teenager’s words had been harsh, they had been accurate. Vera had closed her eyes to it for too long, telling herself that he would change, that he still loved her, that it was just a phase. But with each passing day, she felt herself slipping further into a quiet, loveless existence, wondering if this was all there was.
Vera’s thoughts were interrupted by the sound of Liza’s door slamming shut. The house felt too empty now, too quiet. She looked around, the weight of the silence pressing down on her chest. How had it come to this? She had spent so many years putting others first, ignoring her own needs, and now she didn’t know how to fix it.
Her heart ached as she thought about the love that had once been between her and Victor, the way they had laughed together, built a life together. But that seemed like a lifetime ago, and in its place was an unspoken tension, a growing distance that neither of them acknowledged. She had always told herself that she had no other choice, that it was easier to live in denial. But Liza’s words had shattered that illusion.
She looked up as the front door creaked open, Victor’s footsteps sounding in the hallway. Vera’s breath caught in her throat. She wasn’t ready to face him, to pretend everything was fine when it was far from it. But she had no choice. She couldn’t stay locked away in her own misery forever.
Victor appeared in the doorway, his face betraying nothing. “I’m home,” he said, his voice casual, as if nothing had changed. As if he hadn’t just spent the day with someone else. As if he hadn’t been lying to her for years.
Vera met his gaze, and for the first time in a long while, she didn’t look away. “You’re late,” she said, her voice steady, though her insides churned. “Again.”
He shrugged, brushing past her. “You know how work is. You can’t expect me to be on time every day.”
“Every day?” she repeated, her voice rising despite herself. “How many times have I told you that I don’t want to sit here alone every night, waiting for you? You think I don’t know what’s going on?”
Victor stopped in his tracks, turning to face her with a look of feigned confusion. “What are you talking about?”
Vera’s pulse quickened, her words tumbling out before she could stop herself. “You think I don’t know about her? About the woman you’ve been seeing?”
His expression flickered for a moment, a brief flash of guilt crossing his face before it was replaced with defensiveness. “This is ridiculous, Vera. I’m working hard to provide for this family, and this is how you repay me?”
She took a step closer, her voice quiet but firm. “You stopped providing for this family a long time ago, Victor. You stopped being a husband years ago.”
There was a long pause. He said nothing, and Vera’s heart sank as she realized that this moment was the one she had been avoiding for so long. The truth, raw and undeniable, was out in the open now. But it didn’t bring the relief she had expected. Instead, it left her feeling hollow, like a piece of her had been stripped away.
Finally, Victor spoke, his tone cold. “You don’t understand. This is just how things are. Life isn’t as simple as you think.”
Vera shook her head, tears stinging her eyes. “No, Victor. Life is simple. You just made it complicated.”
He turned away, walking to the living room, but Vera didn’t follow. She stood in the doorway, watching him with a mixture of anger, sadness, and resignation. This was it. This was the life she had built, the life she had sacrificed everything for. And now, it was crumbling around her.
For the first time in years, Vera allowed herself to feel something for herself, something that wasn’t for Victor or Liza. She felt the weight of the years, of the choices she had made, but she also felt the flicker of something new, something small but growing—a spark of courage.
Maybe it was time to start living for herself.