Shards in the Glass — A Tighter Version, Beyond the restaurant’s massive panoramic windows, the city lights glowed like scattered embers: hot, indifferent, impersonal. Marina sat at the table, twisting the edge of the linen napkin between her fingers. She had arrived early. She wanted to prepare.
Seven years of marriage weren’t just a dinner — they were a system, a construct, a world built together.At least, that’s what she had believed.“Would you like anything while you wait for your husband?” the waiter asked softly.“Water. Lots of ice.”
Marina didn’t take her eyes off the entrance.Pjotr was known for his punctuality. A lawyer, one of the city’s most prominent. He wore a Swiss watch because he liked feeling as if time worked for him.Tonight, time was late.The door swung open.
Pjotr entered.He wasn’t alone.His arm rested on the waist of a young woman—possessively, naturally, as if it had always belonged there. The girl laughed. Pjotr laughed too. That restrained, elegant laughter now sounded sharp, foreign.Marina froze.
A psychologist needed only a glance: posture, distance, eye contact, hand movements. This wasn’t a misunderstanding.This was a relationship.And it wasn’t hers.Her husband walked past her, oblivious. The decorative plants hid them. They took a seat in the VIP section.
Something in Marina snapped.Pain didn’t come first. Not tears.Anger did.Pure. Cold. Precise.No scene. A public scandal would have been a gift to Pjotr: “hysterical wife.” No. Marina stood, leaving the untouched glass of water on the table, and stepped into the night.
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Revenge isn’t an emotion—she thought.Revenge is an operation.The apartment was silent. Spacious. Elegant. Perfect. Every detail her work: years of study, practice, long nights, patience.Pjotr always said she invested in his career.In reality, Marina paid for their life.
Two hours later, a lock clicked.Pjotr entered. The scent of a foreign perfume lingered.“Why are you sitting in the dark? And why weren’t you at the restaurant? I invited you.”“I was there.” Silence.Pjotr paused, then shrugged.“Then it’s simple. Move out for a few weeks. I need the apartment.”
Marina turned on the light.“For the girl in the red dress?”Pjotr smiled.“Don’t dramatize. You’re a psychologist. Midlife crisis, male nature, that sort of thing.”“Get out.”“Marina… legally, this apartment is in my name. Remember the parental gift? Your money isn’t officially part of it.”
Marina rose slowly.“How kind. I paid for it, and yet you get it?”“Exactly. I’m a lawyer. You signed what I gave you.”A pause.Then Marina’s voice exploded.“YOU THINK I’LL CRY?!”The laptop smashed into the corner.— TEN YEARS OF WORK IN THIS APARTMENT! THIS IS MY HOME!
Her anger wasn’t uncontrolled.It was directed.Pjotr stepped back. He wasn’t used to this. A man of logic. Chaos frightened him.“You’re a psychopath!” he shouted, and fled.The door slammed.Silence.Marina immediately stopped yelling.She went to the safe.
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Anger is good fuel.But you have to drive with your head.In the following weeks, Marina didn’t argue.She worked.Collected documents. Bank statements, transfers, contracts. Found the “creative” ways Pjotr had used company information for personal gain.
Meanwhile, he grew more confident. Appeared at events with the young lover, showing her off to the circle.He thought he had won.Until the anniversary banquet.The ballroom was packed. Colleagues, partners, executives.Pjotr stood alone when the company head stepped onto the stage.
“Integrity and transparency are our core values,” he began. “That is why today we must part ways with a colleague.”The door opened.Marina entered.In black. Calm. Quiet.The leader continued:“Pjotr Arkadyevich. Misuse of internal information for personal purposes, fictitious constructions, concealment of assets.
Severe violation of the Code of Ethics.We hereby terminate your partnership immediately.”Pjotr turned to Marina.“You ruined me.”Marina stepped closer.“No. You ruined yourself the moment you thought I was just furniture in your life.”She turned and walked out.
Her heels clicked in the hall.That evening, she sat on the pier.Her phone beeped:“The mortgage transfer is complete.”The apartment was hers.Marina drew a deep breath.Her chest felt empty.But not from loss.From freedom.A new day would begin tomorrow.
And in that day, there would be no lies.No fear.No Pjotr.Only her.And her life.