While shopping, Dina received a brief, seemingly routine message from her husband Vladimir: “A colleague will stop by for half an hour to discuss some work matters.” This struck her as unusual. Vladimir seldom invited collaborators home, preferring office or café meetings. Still, perhaps it was a genuine urgency.
Precisely as Dina returned with groceries, she overheard voices in the hallway. Vladimir and a female voice—warm and lively. Setting down her bags, she tuned in, sensing unease. The woman’s tone carried too many intimate undertones to be purely professional.
“Dina, come in and meet her,” Vladimir called upon hearing the door unlock.
In the living room, a young brunette woman in a light summer dress sat on the couch—around 25 years old. Admirably attractive. Vladimir stood nearby holding two cups of coffee.
“This is Elena, my colleague from marketing,” Vladimir introduced. “And this is my wife, Dina.”
Elena smiled, but Dina caught an elusive glint in her eyes—was it embarrassment or a subtle challenge? Dina couldn’t tell.
“Nice to meet you,” Dina replied with neutrality. “Vladimir never mentioned new team members.”
“Elena’s been with us for six months,” Vladimir quickly added. “I just don’t talk about work at home often.”
Six months—that triggered a recollection. Around six months ago, Vladimir began staying late at work and traveling for assignments, neither characteristic of him. Also, a new floral fragrance replaced his usual scent.
“Please, take a seat,” Dina gestured to a chair opposite the sofa.
Elena settled in effortlessly, as if a regular guest familiar with the layout—unusual. Most visitors look around, choose a spot, or ask permission before sitting.
“Would you like some coffee?” Vladimir asked his wife.
“Thanks, I’ll make it myself,” Dina responded, moving to the kitchen.
From the kitchen, she could clearly catch the conversation. Vladimir discussed a presentation; Elena responded. Yet their tones were too soft and personal for a strictly professional dialogue.
“Remember how we talked about this project last time?” Vladimir asked.
“Of course,” Elena replied, her voice carrying an undertone that froze Dina, cup in hand.
It became obvious—they weren’t just discussing work.
Bringing coffee back, Dina saw Vladimir and Elena now sitting closely on the couch, sharing a tablet. Their proximity exceeded mere collegiality. Dina chose a different chair to observe.
“Elena, could you tell me about yourself? Where did you study? Where are you from?” Dina inquired.
“I’m local,” Elena answered with a smile. “Graduated in economics, worked in advertising briefly, now marketing.”
“Interesting,” Dina nodded. “Do you have a family?”
Elena paused, then shook her head. “No, still single.” Vladimir diverted his gaze, which Dina noticed immediately.
“Vladimir, show Elena our terrace,” Dina suggested. “The flowers have bloomed beautifully this time of year.”
“Absolutely,” Vladimir agreed.
They left for the terrace while Dina remained inside, door left ajar to hear everything.
“Your terrace is beautiful,” Elena complimented.
“Dina loves flowers,” Vladimir replied.
“And you?” Elena asked.
“What about me?” Vladimir questioned.
“Do you like flowers?” Elena pressed.
There was a pause. Dina strained to listen.
“I love many things,” Vladimir answered softly.
Dina approached the window, witnessing them standing shoulder to shoulder near the railing. Elena whispered something; Vladimir nodded. Then, intentionally and tenderly, Elena brushed Vladimir’s hand.
Realization dawned upon Dina as she stepped away.
Returning to the living room moments later, Vladimir appeared tense; Elena’s cheeks were flushed.
“I need to use the restroom,” Elena said.
“Sure,” Dina replied. “The second door down the hallway.” Elena headed down the corridor without hesitation, clearly familiar with the layout.
“She’s a seasoned employee,” Dina remarked as they were alone.
“Indeed,” Vladimir confirmed without meeting her eyes.
“Have you known each other long?” Dina pressed.
“I said six months,” Vladimir replied.
“But you might have known her before.” Dina’s gaze met his.
“What do you mean?” Vladimir asked.
“Nothing particular. Just curious.”
Elena returned from the restroom, carrying herself confidently. Dina noticed the hand towel shifted from morning’s placement—used by Elena, who knew exactly where it hung.
“Excuse me, where is the sink for washing hands?” Elena inquired.
Too late—Dina had already pieced things together.
“In the bathroom,” Dina answered calmly.
“Oh, right,” Elena looked slightly embarrassed.
Back in the living room, Vladimir offered more coffee, and Elena agreed. Dina watched as Vladimir prepared the drink — no sugar, with milk—just as Elena preferred. He knew this perfectly.
“How do you take your coffee?” Dina asked Elena.
“Without sugar, with milk,” Elena replied.
“Vladimir, how did you know?” Dina challenged.
Vladimir froze, coffee pot in hand.
“What?”
“How did you know Elena likes her coffee this way and immediately prepared it like that?”
“I… she mentioned it at work,” Vladimir stammered.
“To your whole department?”
“No, just in passing,” he murmured.
Dina nodded; the pieces fit.
- Elena’s ease around the apartment
- Her knowledge of household details
- Vladimir’s secretive behavior and unfamiliar fragrance
“Elena, do you often visit colleagues’ homes?” Dina asked cautiously.
“Rarely,” Elena’s voice faltered.
“But you’ve been here before?” Dina pressed.
“This is the first time,” Elena answered suddenly.
“Strange,” Dina noted. “Yet you know exactly where the bathroom towel hangs.”
Elena blushed deeply. Vladimir abruptly set the coffee pot on the table.
“Dina, what are you implying?” Vladimir questioned sharply.
“I’m merely stating what’s apparent,” Dina replied, voice trembling. “You brought Elena here under false pretenses. She’s used our bathroom, knows our routines, and sits like she owns the place.”
Silence fell. Elena’s eyes were downcast. Vladimir shifted gaze between his wife and Elena. Dina’s chest tightened—seven years of marriage collapsing before her eyes.
“Maybe it’s just intuition,” Elena offered weakly.
“Perhaps,” Dina conceded, trying to maintain composure, “or maybe experience.”
Clearing his throat, Vladimir stated, “Dina, you’re exaggerating.”
“Am I?” Dina stood. “Then let’s clarify. Elena, is this truly your first visit here?”
Elena’s desperate gaze met Dina’s.
“You don’t have to answer; I already know,” Dina interrupted.
She moved to the window, observing the lively summer street outside—a stark contrast to the turmoil within this apartment. Clenching her fists, she battled growing fury.
“Vladimir,” Dina called without turning.
“Yes?”
“How long has this been going on?”
“What?”
“Don’t play dumb. How long has your affair lasted?”
Vladimir exhaled heavily; Elena stifled a sob. His face was pale and remorseful.
“Dina, it’s not what you think,” he said.
“Then what is it?”
“It’s complicated,” Vladimir started.
“Try explaining,” Dina folded her arms, anger surging.
“We never planned this,” Vladimir said. “Elena started working here, we just connected…”
“Connected,” Dina echoed coldly. “For how long?”
“Four months,” Elena confessed quietly.
“Four months,” Dina’s voice shook. “And during all that time, you never thought to tell me the truth?”
“I didn’t know how,” he murmured.
“You didn’t know,” Dina laughed bitterly. “But you did know how to bring her home pretending she’s a colleague.”
“I wanted you to meet Elena,” Vladimir muttered. “I thought she was a good person.”
“A good person,” Dina sneered, fury boiling. “Who sleeps with someone else’s husband.”
“Dina, please don’t be harsh,” Elena pleaded.
“Don’t be harsh?” Dina spun towards Elena. “Don’t call things by their names? Or not ruin your mood?”
Elena rose.
“I’m leaving,” she declared.
“Good,” Dina said, voice strained. “And don’t come back.”
“Dina, don’t make a scene,” Vladimir begged.
“A scene?” Dina’s rage ignited. “What exactly should I do? Host a tea party for your mistress?”
“She’s not a mistress,” Vladimir objected.
“Who, then? Friend? Colleague? Or a distant relative?”
“We love each other,” Elena whispered.
Dina froze. Those words landed like a slap—love means it’s no longer a mere fling.
“Love,” Dina repeated slowly. “Understood.”
She crossed to the dresser, pulling out papers—marriage certificate, apartment ownership documents. Placed them firmly on the table, steadying trembling hands.
“Listen carefully,” Dina said with surprising calm. “This apartment was mine before marriage, bought with my money. Vladimir, pack your things. Elena, you can take your beloved away right now.”
Vladimir paled.
“Dina, what are you doing?”
“I’m restoring order in my home,” Dina replied. “Sweetheart, this apartment belongs to me since before marriage. So pack your shoes, and out you go.”
Elena grabbed her bag.
“I’m really leaving,” she confirmed.
“Good,” Dina nodded. “And bring this one along.”
She motioned toward her husband.
“Dina, stop,” Vladimir pleaded. “Let’s talk calmly.”
“Calmly?” Dina raised her eyebrows. “You bring your mistress home under the guise of a colleague? Or lie to me for months?”
“I didn’t lie,” Vladimir whispered.
“Didn’t lie? And the business trips? Late nights? That unknown perfume?”
Vladimir lowered his head as Elena lingered near the door, indecisive.
“Elena,” Dina called, “leave already. The play is over.”
“Vladimir,” Elena summoned her partner, “are you coming?”
Vladimir glanced first at Dina, then at Elena.
“Maybe we should discuss this?” he suggested.
“There’s nothing to discuss,” Dina answered firmly. “The decision is made.”
“What decision?”
“I’m filing for divorce.”
“Dina, wait,” Vladimir attempted to hold her hand, but she pulled away. “Don’t rush. Let’s think this over.”
“Think it over?” Dina barely held back tears. “You’ve been thinking about cheating on me for months. Now it’s my turn.”
“But divorce… it’s serious,” Vladimir murmured.
“So is betrayal,” Dina replied. “Elena, are you staying or waiting for me to escort you out?”
Elena looked at Vladimir, then back at Dina.
“I really am leaving,” Elena said quietly.
“No, stay,” Vladimir urged. “Dina, she’s not at fault.”
“Not at fault?” Dina’s heart twisted. “Interesting perspective. Then who is?”
“I am,” Vladimir confessed. “I take full responsibility.”
“That’s fine,” Dina said with a nod. “If you’re to blame, you’ll pay the price.”
She pulled out another folder.
“This is the purchase agreement for the apartment,” she said, waving the papers. “Signed a year before our wedding. Buyer: me. Seller: the developer. Everything legal and clear.”
Vladimir studied the documents attentively.
“I know the apartment is yours,” he said. “But we can negotiate. After seven years together, there’s a lot – a car, a summer house, investments.”
“Negotiate?” Dina realized he wanted to bargain. “About what?”
“Give me time to consider,” he asked. “I’ll end things with Elena and we’ll try to start fresh.”
“End things?” Dina glanced at Elena. “Did you ask her? You say you love each other.”
Elena stood by the door, uncertain.
“I don’t want to destroy another family,” she whispered.
“That family was destroyed four months ago,” Dina declared.
“Dina, please,” Vladimir slumped on the sofa, burying his face in his hands. “I understand. I was wrong. Give me a chance to make it right.”
“A chance?” Dina faced him. “How many chances did you give our marriage when you met Elena? When you started seeing her? When you first brought her here?”
“First time?” Vladimir asked.
“Not the first,” Dina asserted. “Elena knows this house too well—towels, rooms, placement. How many times have you met here?”
Vladimir was silent; Elena turned away towards the window.
“Doesn’t matter,” Dina said tiredly. “The main thing is this ends now.”
Dina stood, grabbing a large travel bag from the closet.
“Here,” she said, handing it to Vladimir. “Pack your things. You have until tomorrow morning.”
“Until tomorrow?” Vladimir looked up. “Dina, be reasonable. We need to discuss division of property, paperwork…”
“A lawyer will handle that,” Dina cut in. “Tomorrow morning I file for divorce.”
“Where will I go?” Vladimir asked.
“Not my problem,” Dina replied. “Go to your parents, to Elena, or a hotel.”
“Dina, have some mercy,” Vladimir begged. “We’ve been together seven years. Does that mean nothing?”
“Seven years,” Dina repeated. “Four months of double life. Who knows how much longer if I hadn’t found out.”
Vladimir took the bag and stood.
“Fine,” he said. “I get it. But give me time to find a lawyer, sort things out. The summer house is jointly owned, as is the car and deposits…”
“We’ll sort it through court,” Dina said firmly. “You get what you’re entitled to.”
“Dina,” Elena interjected. “Maybe we shouldn’t be so drastic?”
“You’re still here?” Dina asked, surprised. “I thought you were gone.”
“I… don’t know what to do,” Elena stumbled.
“Go home,” Dina said. “Think over what you’ve done. Tomorrow, decide if you can live with someone capable of such betrayal.”
Elena nodded, collected her bag, and left, saying, “I’ll call you tomorrow, Vladimir.”
Now alone, Vladimir stood uncertain.
“Pack only your personal things,” Dina instructed. “Don’t touch shared equipment; we’ll handle that in court.”
“Dina,” Vladimir called from the bedroom.
“What?”
“I want you to know I didn’t want this to happen.”
“You didn’t want it, but it did,” Dina replied. “Sometimes things just happen.”
“Will you ever forgive me?” Vladimir asked.
“I don’t know,” Dina answered honestly. “Maybe in years. Maybe never.”
“I’ll try to win you back,” Vladimir promised.
“Don’t waste your time,” Dina advised. “Focus on your new life.”
Vladimir went to pack while Dina called her friend Svetlana.
“Svetlana, it’s Dina,” she said, voice steadying. “Can you talk?”
“Sure,” her friend replied. “What happened? You sound strange.”
“Vladimir is cheating on me,” Dina admitted through tears. “I’m kicking him out.”
“What?!” exclaimed Svetlana. “Are you sure?”
“Completely,” Dina said. “He brought his mistress home pretending she’s a colleague, thinking I wouldn’t notice.”
“How bold! What now?”
“I’m filing for divorce tomorrow,” Dina said. “Good thing the apartment is mine.”
“That’s right,” affirmed Svetlana. “But divorce takes time, legal battles. Need help with a lawyer?”
“Thanks, I’ll manage,” Dina replied. “Just wanted to let you know.”
“Hang in there,” Svetlana encouraged. “Call anytime.”
After hanging up, the sounds of Vladimir packing rose from the bedroom.
About an hour later, Vladimir returned with his bag.
“I packed only the essentials,” he said. “Will take the rest later.”
“Give me a heads up,” Dina nodded. “Leave the keys on the table.”
Vladimir placed the keys down.
“Dina,” he began again. “I didn’t want this.”
“Already said that,” Dina cut him off.
“Will you ever forgive me?” he whispered.
“Don’t know,” Dina said. “Right now, I barely understand my feelings.”
“Thanks for seven years,” Vladimir said.
“Thanks for the lesson,” Dina answered.
He left. The door closed softly behind him. Silence settled. Dina sank onto the couch and let the tears flow.
The next morning, she awoke on the couch. Her head ached; eyes swollen. Yet her resolve remained firm. She contacted a legal consultation.
“Good day,” Dina told the secretary. “I need a divorce consultation.”
“When are you available?”
“As soon as possible,” Dina replied.
“Is two hours from now alright?”
“Perfect,” Dina agreed.
After meeting with the lawyer for over an hour, Dina discovered that the divorce process would be more complicated than anticipated. Shared assets such as car, cottage, and bank deposits would necessitate division. Still, her premarital ownership of the apartment was undisputed.
“Infidelity doesn’t affect property division,” the lawyer explained. “Divorce on grounds of irreconcilable differences can proceed swiftly if uncontested. Otherwise, expect three to four months in court.”
“What about the apartment?” Dina asked.
“It’s solely your property,” the lawyer confirmed. “Bought before marriage, legal documents in order. Your husband has no claim.”
“Good,” Dina nodded. “Let’s start the process.”
That evening, Dina arranged to change the locks.
“Can you come today?” she asked the locksmith.
“Certainly,” he replied. “Be there in an hour.”
New locks symbolized a fresh start.
One month later, Vladimir signed the divorce papers, seemingly realizing reconciliation was impossible. However, property disputes dragged on.
“I want half the value of the summer house,” Vladimir demanded over the phone. “And the car. We bought them together.”
“I know,” Dina answered. “The lawyer explained. We’ll divide it in court.”
“Can we settle amicably?” Vladimir pleaded.
“You took that chance from us four months ago,” Dina replied.
The legal battle lasted six months. Vladimir insisted on his share of joint assets. Dina accepted the lawful outcome, including selling shared property and dividing the proceeds.
“So infidelity counts for nothing?” Dina asked the lawyer after the last hearing.
“Unfortunately, it does not,” the lawyer responded. “But at least you kept your apartment.”
Dina agreed; her apartment remained hers—the shelter she bought herself with her own money. No one could take that away.
Three months post-divorce, Vladimir and Elena registered their marriage. Dina learned through mutual acquaintances. It stung but not deeply.
“They’re quick,” noted friend Svetlana. “Less than a year.”
“At least they’re honest,” Dina said. “No more hiding.”
“Don’t regret?” Svetlana asked.
“Regret what?” Dina shrugged. “Finding out the truth? No. Wasting seven years? Sometimes. But that’s past.”
“Thinking about remarrying?”
“Not rushing,” Dina said. “I want to understand what I want first, get used to living alone.”
Life improved. Dina renovated her apartment, rearranged furniture, and refreshed the decor. She erased traces of their shared past, enrolled in language courses, and began traveling. Freedom wasn’t so bad.
One year later, Dina encountered Vladimir and Elena at a mall with a stroller—likely a child. Vladimir looked older, with wrinkles; Elena appeared exhausted.
“Hi,” Vladimir said, noticing Dina.
“Hi,” Dina responded. “Congrats on your baby.”
“Thanks,” Elena smiled. “A little boy.”
“How are things?” Vladimir inquired.
“Good,” Dina replied. “Living, working, enjoying life.”
“Not remarried?” Vladimir asked.
“Not yet,” Dina smiled. “Not in a hurry.”
They chatted briefly about weather and work—a typical conversation between ex-spouses, devoid of hostility or blame. The past remained where it belonged.
“Let’s go,” Elena told Vladimir. “The baby’s hungry.”
“Right,” Vladimir agreed. “Dina, wishing you all the best.”
“Same to you,” Dina replied.
As they departed, Dina reflected on family, responsibilities, and happiness. Perhaps Vladimir was happy; perhaps not. It was no longer her concern.
Back home, in her own space, Dina brewed tea and sat by the window. Outside, the sun shone and life went on.
Often, Dina would share her story with younger friends, ending with advice:
- Secure property ownership in your name, whether before or during marriage.
- This ensures financial independence no matter what life brings.
- A home isn’t just shelter—it’s dignity, leverage, and security.
Indeed, Dina’s premarital apartment became her anchor. It represented more than a roof—it was her safeguard against humiliation and dependence. She could stand firm because she knew she would never be homeless.
Meanwhile, Vladimir, having lost his home, found himself vulnerable, forced to rent apartments, move in with Elena, and build a new life from scratch at 35.
Was this fair? Dina believed so. Everyone gets what they deserve. Betrayal carries its own cost, and it’s just when the betrayer must pay it.
Ultimately, this ordeal revealed the value of independence and truth, reminding us that self-worth begins with standing on our own ground—both literally and figuratively.