Oleg slammed the refrigerator door so forcefully that the shelves rattled inside. One of the magnets detached with a dull thud, falling to the floor.
Standing opposite him, Lena appeared pale, her fists clenched tightly.
“Is that all? Feeling better now?” she exhaled, lifting her chin with a hint of challenge.
“You’re just driving me crazy,” Oleg’s voice cracked despite his attempts to lower it. “What kind of life are we living? No joy, no prospects.”
“So, it’s my fault again?” Lena laughed, but her laughter carried bitterness. “Of course, nothing is like in your fantasies.”
Oleg wanted to respond but merely waved his hand and opened a bottle of mineral water, sipping straight from the neck before placing it back on the table.
“Oleg, don’t stay silent,” Lena’s voice quivered slightly. “Just say plainly what’s going on.”
“What is there to say?” he sneered. “If only… but you wouldn’t understand. I’m sick of this all. Sick to death!”
For a few moments, they regarded each other in silence. Lena finally took a deep breath and left for the bathroom, while Oleg sank onto the sofa. The sound of running water from the sink followed, probably her way of masking her tears. Yet, Oleg caught himself feeling indifferent.
Key Insight: Conflicts often fester when communication breaks down, leading to emotional distance between partners.
Oleg and Lena had been married for three years, residing in the apartment Lena had inherited from her parents. Upon retirement, her parents moved to the countryside, leaving the city flat in her name. The apartment was spacious yet modestly maintained, furnished with pieces reminiscent of Soviet times.
Initially, Oleg was content; the flat was near the city center, close to his workplace in a decent neighborhood. However, daily life soon wore him down. While Lena found comfort in their familial nest—with its familiar brown wallpaper and grandmother’s old buffet—Oleg perceived everything as dull and outdated.
“Lena, please explain,” he frequently insisted during their talks. “Don’t you want to replace that awful yellow linoleum? Or redo the wallpaper? Make it modern and stylish?”
“Oleg, we don’t have extra money for a full renovation right now,” she replied gently. “Of course, I wish things were different, but let’s wait for bonuses or save a bit first.”
“Waiting? That’s your entire life — waiting and enduring.”
Lena remembered the early days fondly. She was a modest student whose blue eyes and endlessly kind smile had captivated him. He once told friends, “I see a flower bud in her—soon it will bloom and amaze everyone.” Yet now, disappointment crept in. He thought, “She never bloomed but withered before her time,” watching her dust fragile vases, feed a stray kitten with sour cream, or straighten framed children’s photos lining the walls.
Meanwhile, Lena didn’t view herself as a ‘gray mouse.’ She lived according to her values, delighted by small pleasures: a new napkin, quiet evenings with books, a cup of mint tea, or the warm glow of a desk lamp. Oleg saw only stagnation.
Despite frequent quarrels and dissatisfactions, Oleg had no desire to divorce; secretly, he feared being forced to leave the apartment and move back with his parents—relations with whom were always tense. His mother, Tamara Ilyinichna, tended to side with Lena in disputes.
“Son, you’re wrong,” she often said. “Lena is a wonderful girl. You live in her apartment—be happy.”
“Mom, what do you know?” Oleg grumbled. “You’re stuck in your stone age, just like Lena.”
Tamara sighed, aware of the growing chasm with her son. His father, Igor Sergeyevich, familiar with Oleg’s temperament, simply advised, “Let him handle it himself, Tamara, don’t interfere.”
Increasingly, Oleg grew resentful, thinking, “Lena is like a shadow, a drab mouse, and she has tied me down with this apartment.” One heated argument culminated with him shouting, “I once saw a beautiful flower in you! And now? I live with a frozen bud…” Lena’s tears came for the first time in months.
On a sweltering day—the day their troubles began—they finally discussed divorce seriously. Oleg stood by the window, watching neighbours across the street lay out belongings on their balcony.
“Lena, I’m tired,” he said quietly, still gazing through the glass.
“Tired of what?” she asked, striving to keep her voice steady.
“Of this life, of our endless fights. You’ve locked yourself in your pots and napkins. Do you think I want to waste my years like this?”
Lena was silent for a moment, then grabbed a garbage bag and headed to the hallway. Oleg heard the door slam. He hoped she would return shortly, perhaps to explain. Instead, she vanished for over half an hour, coming back calmer.
“You know,” she said leaning on the wall, “maybe it’s really better if you live alone. Move out.”
“No way,” Oleg answered sharply, as if wounded. “I never planned on leaving my home.”
“Oleg, it’s not your home. It’s my parents’ apartment,” Lena smiled bitterly. “Let’s be honest: we’ve failed. It’s time to admit it.”
Unsure of what to say, Oleg retreated to the room, settling at his laptop. Yet his thoughts gnawed at him: “Where will I go? To my parents—where relations are strained.” The argument lingered in the air, repeating in minor disputes, but beneath every clash was the same root cause—a blend of indifference toward his wife, who he saw as a ‘gray mouse,’ mixed with fear of losing his shelter.
Eventually, Oleg’s frustration peaked and he initiated the divorce himself. “I’m the one deciding, not her,” he stubbornly muttered. “After all, I have parents and a place to go.” Packing his bags, he moved in with Tamara Ilyinichna and Igor Sergeyevich, albeit without much enthusiasm. Lena accepted the divorce calmly. Legal papers followed, and soon they officially ceased to be husband and wife.
Three years went by with Oleg living under his parents’ roof. Initially, he believed he would take a short break, then restart life by renting an apartment and finding a new partner who shared his ideals. However, he found himself stuck in a mire. Work remained bleak; money only sufficed for modest pleasures. Prospects did not materialize. His parents complained that at over thirty, he was still dependent on them.
One chilly spring evening, after meeting a friend, Oleg walked past a small cozy café illuminated by glowing lamps. He decided to step inside for warmth. Approaching the entrance, he froze—there stood Lena. The same Lena he had left behind three years ago, yet undeniably transformed: confident posture, neat hairstyle, formal yet elegant attire, and a composed gaze. She held car keys—apparently to a luxury vehicle.
“Wow…” Oleg thought, unknowingly stepping closer.
“Lena?” he called out.
She turned around, didn’t recognize him immediately but soon smiled—a smile different from the timid and embarrassed one before, now truly calm and self-assured.
“Hi Oleg,” she greeted warmly. “Good to see you! How are you?”
“Not bad…” he adjusted his scarf, feeling a mix of confusion and growing envy. “Looks like you’re doing well.”
“Let’s say I’m living the life I always dreamed of,” Lena replied devoid of any pretension.
“Is that so…” Oleg swallowed, trying to push down the lump in his throat. “Do you still work where before?”
“No, I changed fields. I opened my own floral studio. At first, I was afraid, but…” she smiled. “Someone believed in me.”
“Who?” the words slipped out before he could stop himself.
Before Lena answered, a tall man in a coat appeared from inside the café. He approached Lena and put his arm around her shoulders.
“My love, a table’s available now. Let’s go,” he said.
Lena turned to Oleg, introduced the man: “This is Vadim. Nice to meet you, Oleg.” She smiled at Vadim, touched by his care. “Anyway, Oleg, I was glad to see you. I hope things go well for you too.”
Oleg nodded, an inner storm igniting. Looking at Vadim, he realized clearly: Lena was no longer the ‘gray mouse’ he once dismissed. She had blossomed, the flower he once idealized now thriving with someone else.
“Lena…” he wanted to apologize, but words caught in his throat. “Really happy for you.”
“Thank you, Oleg,” she said quietly but confidently. “Take care.”
Vadim smiled gently to Oleg, nodded, and they disappeared through the café’s glass doors. A cold breeze pierced Oleg through and through. He closed his eyes for a moment, recalling his cruel words: “I live with a frozen bud…” Now the bud had blossomed, while he remained shut out, literally and figuratively.
Through the large café windows, he watched Lena and Vadim converse and laugh. Observing their genuine expressions and gestures, he felt the evening spoiled and a growing void inside. Once, he could have been Lena’s source of confidence, encouraging and supporting her dreams. Instead, he chose a very different path.
Lowering his head, Oleg walked away from the café. If he could see himself now, he would recognize the green hue of envy, frustration, and the painful awareness of a missed chance.
In conclusion, this story reveals the deep consequences of emotional disconnect and unspoken grievances within relationships. It highlights that personal growth and happiness often demand courage to change and support, which, when absent, can lead to regret and loss.