Olga didn’t understand that her marriage was over when Vadim packed his suitcase.She understood it when he started sorting the spoons.
He didn’t shout. He didn’t accuse.He simply stood in the kitchen and counted.“This set was a wedding gift from my mother,” he muttered as he wrapped the dull-shining cutlery in newspaper.
“And I bought the multicooker with my bonus. You can keep the old iron. It has a loose contact anyway.”Olga sat on a low stool, staring at the opposite wall. Yesterday, the TV had been hanging there.
Today, only four ugly holes gaped in the wallpaper. Vadim had even removed the mounting bracket, as if afraid Olga might profit from the screws.
Seven years of shared life fit into three cardboard boxes and two plaid market bags.“We’re selling the house,” Vadim threw over his shoulder as he put on his coat.
“The buyers are already lined up. I’m bringing them tomorrow to see it. Make sure it’s clean. And by noon, you’re gone. Leave the key under the doormat.”
“Vadim… I have nowhere to go,” Olga said quietly. “My paycheck comes in a week. Give me a few days—I’ll find a room.”Vadim smiled, but his eyes stayed cold.
“You should’ve thought about that earlier, when you walked around the house with that sour face. I have a new life now. With a normal woman. Not a frozen fish.”
The door slammed shut.The house immediately grew cold. Olga was alone in it—a house the bank would still be paid for over the next three years.
The evening was damp and windy. November gusts slapped wet leaves against the windows, and the chimney hummed strangely with the draft. Olga couldn’t sleep.
Without her husband’s things, the house felt too big, too empty. As if it no longer belonged to her.Around midnight, the neighbor’s dog began barking frantically.
Olga sat up in bed, then went to the window. A dark figure was moving by the gate. Someone was clumsily trying to open the latch, but their hand kept slipping.
Olga threw on her coat over her pajamas and ran out onto the porch.“Who’s there?! I’m calling the police!”The figure froze—then slowly collapsed beside the gate.
Olga ran over. An elderly man was lying on the ground. He wore a good-quality coat, now muddy, and no hat. His gray hair was plastered wetly to his forehead; his face was ashen.
“Sir, are you alright?” she asked, shaking his shoulder.“Lida…” the old man whispered. “I went to get bread… The shop was closed. Where’s the stairwell?”
There was no smell of alcohol. Only cold, rain, and expensive tobacco.Olga understood. He had set out… and gotten lost. She couldn’t leave him outside in this weather.
With great effort, she helped him into the house. He was light—almost weightless, as if already hollowed out from within.The man said his name was Matvey Ilyich.
Olga made tea with honey and wrapped him in a blanket. Sometimes he spoke clearly; sometimes he asked like a child where his mother was. Olga called emergency services, but they told her to wait until morning.
She spent the night sitting in the kitchen, flinching at every sound.In the morning, Vadim called.“Is everything ready?” he shouted instead of greeting her. “I’ll be there in half an hour with the realtor!”
“Vadim… there’s a man here. An elderly man. I found him last night—he almost froze to death…”“Get rid of that vagrant!” Vadim yelled. “This is *my* house!”
Thirty minutes later, Vadim burst in. The realtor followed him, visibly grimacing. Vadim saw the old man on the couch—and lost control.
“Get out!” he shouted, yanking the blanket off him.Olga stepped between them. Vadim shoved her aside. The old man fell to his knees on the porch, straight into the cold mud.
“Kostya…” he whispered.At that moment, a large black SUV rolled up to the gate.The man who stepped out had a trembling voice.“Dad.”
Vadim recognized the face instantly.Konstantin Sergeyevich Gromov.The owner of the company.The consequences were swift and merciless.
A month later, Olga signed the house papers alone.Just before Christmas, a courier arrived. A new TV. A small card:“Thank you for the tea. Matvey Ilyich.”
Below it, in a different handwriting: “Dad invites you to dinner. He says it doesn’t taste the same without you.I’ll pick you up at seven. Konstantin.”
Olga looked at herself in the mirror, adjusted her hair—and for the first time in a long while, she truly smiled. Her life… was only just beginning.