The living room was dark, and Linda sat on the edge of the couch. She could hear the washing machine on the other side of the wall hum softly.<\/p>\n
Like many nights in the last two years, this one went on and on.<\/p>\n
David wasn\u2019t in a rush to get home.<\/p>\n
She was sure he would walk in soon, leave his bag by the door, and go right to the bathroom. He wouldn\u2019t even look at her. If he wanted to, they could eat dinner alone. He would then sit down at his computer and say, \u201cI\u2019m tired\u201d if she tried to talk to him. We\u2019ll talk again soon.<\/p>\n
This wasn\u2019t how things were before. When they first moved in together, they would talk about movies and plan trips for hours in the kitchen. David would praise her on her new clothes and walk along, stroking her back gently. His voice didn\u2019t sound tired or angry; it was full of life. Even though the radio was on, the house was now very quiet.<\/p>\n
The door clicked shut, and then there were footsteps in the hallway.<\/p>\n
\u201cAgain in the dark?\u201d he asked, his voice flat and lifeless.<\/p>\n
\u201cThinking,\u201d was her answer.<\/p>\n
He didn\u2019t inquire about her thoughts.<\/p>\n
He took off his shoes and coat, walked around her without looking at her, and headed for the bedroom. The sound of water running into the tub was immediately audible.<\/p>\n
Linda closed her eyes. She didn\u2019t need to look at him to imagine his displeased expression if she dared to speak about his \u201cnonsense.\u201d It had been a long time since he had asked her how her day had been. She had loved that she wasn\u2019t fussy or demanding; now she was annoyed that she no longer fit his image of \u201cthe wife of a successful man.\u201d<\/p>\n
She got up, went into the kitchen, and turned on the light. Dinner was in the refrigerator, but she hadn\u2019t even warmed it up.<\/p>\n
\u201cWe\u2019re having dinner at my parents\u2019 house tomorrow,\u201d David said, entering the kitchen as he buttoned his shirtsleeves. \u201cAnd please don\u2019t wear\u2026 that.\u201d He vaguely gestured to his old cardigan. \u201cYou know, the image, right?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat\u2019s wrong with it?\u201d she asked.<\/p>\n
\u201cI can\u2019t seem to buy you decent clothes,\u201d he blurted out bluntly.<\/p>\n
For the first time in a long time, Linda wanted to respond with something hurtful, something cutting\u2026 but the words wouldn\u2019t come out. She just nodded.
\n\u201cOkay,\u201d she murmured.<\/p>\n
Satisfied, David grabbed a bottle of water from the refrigerator and returned to the bedroom. She stood there, the weight of his words spreading like a dense fog.<\/p>\n
The next morning they left the house together. In the elevator, David was engrossed in his phone, answering emails, while Linda stared at her reflection in the mirror. She hadn\u2019t updated her wardrobe in years, not because she couldn\u2019t, but because she couldn\u2019t find a reason to. Comfortable and practical clothes were enough for her.<\/p>\n
But that morning, remembering the night before, she took a dress out of her closet that she hadn\u2019t worn in a while. When David looked at her, for a moment he seemed to approve of her choice. But, as always, he said nothing.<\/p>\n
When they got to the car, he said:<\/p>\n
\u201cCome on, I\u2019ll take you.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI prefer the subway,\u201d she replied.<\/p>\n
He looked at her, confused.<\/p>\n
\u201cBut you hate the subway.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cToday I want to walk.\u201d<\/p>\n
She didn\u2019t insist.<\/p>\n
That evening they arrived at David\u2019s parents\u2019 house. A spacious living room, expensive curtains, and photos of David everywhere: as a child, at professional events, at awards shows\u2026 None of them showed Linda.<\/p>\n
\u201cOh, Linda, finally you\u2019re wearing something decent!\u201d her mother-in-law commented, examining her with a fake smile.<\/p>\n
Linda didn\u2019t respond.<\/p>\n
During dinner, they talked about business, about David\u2019s achievements. Linda felt like a tolerated guest, not part of the family.<\/p>\n
\u201cAre you still working in that little office?\u201d David\u2019s sister asked as she poured herself some wine.<\/p>\n
\u201cYes,\u201d Linda said calmly.<\/p>\n
\u201cDon\u2019t you think it\u2019s time you joined a \u201creal\u201d company? With a husband like David, you shouldn\u2019t have to worry about money.\u201d<\/p>\n
She looked at her husband. He said nothing. He didn\u2019t defend her, he didn\u2019t even look at her.<\/p>\n
\u201cI like where I am,\u201d she said, barely audible.<\/p>\n
\u201cWell\u2026 if you\u2019re content with being a little gray mouse,\u201d her sister-in-law murmured, shrugging.<\/p>\n
Linda remained silent.<\/p>\n
And then David said it. Without affection. Without looking at her. In a mocking tone.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou\u2019re nothing to me.\u201d<\/p>\n
The table fell silent. But no one seemed surprised.<\/p>\n
Her mother continued cutting the meat. Her sister sipped the wine. Her father was on his cell phone.<\/p>\n
Linda understood: to all of them, she had never been more than that. Nothing.<\/p>\n
He calmly put down his cutlery and stood up.<\/p>\n
\u201cEverything okay?\u201d David\u2019s mother asked distractedly, without looking up.<\/p>\n
Linda didn\u2019t answer. She grabbed her purse and headed for the door.<\/p>\n
\u201cLinda?\u201d David finally looked up. \u201cWhere are you going?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cHome,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n
\u201cBut we haven\u2019t finished dinner.\u201d<\/p>\n
She looked at him.<\/p>\n
\u201cFor a \u2018nothing,\u2019 dinner\u2019s over.\u201d<\/p>\n
He frowned, surprised.<\/p>\n
That night, she walked aimlessly. She just moved forward, without thinking, without feeling. The city hummed around her, but everything sounded muffled, distant\u2026 as if she were moving inside an invisible cocoon that isolated her from the world.<\/p>\n
Somehow, she ended up in front of a modest building, familiar since her childhood: the apartment of her aunt, the only one who had ever been kind to her.<\/p>\n
\u201cLinda?\u201d her aunt asked, coming out into the hallway in her bathrobe. \u201cWhat\u2019s up?\u201d<\/p>\n
Linda didn\u2019t answer. She just stood in the doorway.<\/p>\n
\u201cWant to come in?\u201d<\/p>\n
She nodded.<\/p>\n
The apartment was the same. Cozy. But this time, it didn\u2019t seem warm, but alien. Temporary. As if she were only there passing through.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou haven\u2019t called me once in six months,\u201d her aunt said.<\/p>\n
Linda knew. She didn\u2019t say anything.<\/p>\n
\u201cThen it must be serious.\u201d<\/p>\n
Her aunt didn\u2019t insist. She just went to the kitchen, leaving her in silence.<\/p>\n
The next morning, while her aunt was organizing some papers, Linda grabbed her bag and left without saying goodbye. She knew her aunt would understand.<\/p>\n
In front of the door of the old home she shared with David, she felt a strange emptiness. She went in.<\/p>\n
Everything was the same. David\u2019s coat, his computer, his perfume in the air. Linda went to the closet, took out her suitcase, and began packing. Without rushing. What she took or left didn\u2019t matter anymore. The important thing was to leave.<\/p>\n
The lock turned.<\/p>\n
\u201cAre you here?\u201d<\/p>\n
David appeared in the doorway, surprised.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou came back?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNo,\u201d she said, closing her suitcase.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat are you doing? About last night?\u201d<\/p>\n
Linda didn\u2019t answer.<\/p>\n
\u201cDon\u2019t be childish, Linda.\u201d<\/p>\n
She picked up her suitcase, walked past him, and headed for the door.<\/p>\n
\u201cAre you serious?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cIt\u2019s not the first time you\u2019ve said that,\u201d she replied calmly.<\/p>\n
He tried to say something, but couldn\u2019t. She opened the door and left.<\/p>\n
Six months passed.<\/p>\n
Linda adjusted to her new life. It wasn\u2019t easy. The first few weeks she operated on automatic: home \u2013 work \u2013 home. She rented a small apartment. She slept with the window open: the total silence was unbearable.<\/p>\n
Until one day, everything changed.<\/p>\n
When she arrived at the office, the secretary, Elena, was nervously playing with her pen.<\/p>\n
\u201cLinda Sergeyevna, you have an interview in fifteen minutes.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cInterview?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cA new candidate for senior specialist.\u201d<\/p>\n
Linda nodded. Her schedule was so tight that she no longer checked every meeting.<\/p>\n
The door opened.<\/p>\n
David.<\/p>\n
He walked in confidently, but when he saw her, he froze. He didn\u2019t know. He had no idea she would be there.<\/p>\n
\u201cTake a seat,\u201d Linda said, without raising her voice.<\/p>\n
He did so, trying to maintain control, even though his lips were trembling.<\/p>\n
\u201cUh\u2026 I\u2019m looking for a job,\u201d he said finally. \u201cMy company closed.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI see,\u201d Linda said, without emotion.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou work here?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI don\u2019t work here. I\u2019m the CEO.\u201d<\/p>\n
He looked at her as if seeing her for the first time. Linda closed the folder with her resume.<\/p>\n
\u201cThanks for coming. We\u2019ll call you.\u201d<\/p>\n
David stood up slowly, stunned. He left without a word.<\/p>\n
From the window, Linda watched him leave. She felt neither revenge nor joy. Only peace.<\/p>\n
A few minutes later, Mikhail, her partner, walked in without knocking.<\/p>\n
\u201cWas he your ex-husband?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cSo what now?\u201d<\/p>\n
Linda looked at the resume.<\/p>\n
\u201cHe\u2019s not right for us.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou could have hired him. Let him work for you.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019ve seen him \u201cwork\u201d before.\u201d<\/p>\n
As she left the building, Linda saw him standing by the gate, hands in his pockets.<\/p>\n
\u201cSomeday everything had to change,\u201d she said.<\/p>\n
\u201cI never thought I\u2019d come here,\u201d he murmured.<\/p>\n
\u201cMe neither,\u201d she replied.<\/p>\n
\u201cAre you really not going to hire me?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cIf I were sitting across from you, would you hire me?\u201d<\/p>\n
He didn\u2019t answer.<\/p>\n
She turned and left without looking back.<\/p>\n
That night, the open windows let in the breeze. On the bookshelves, the books she hadn\u2019t had time to read before. On the table, a new contract for a major project.<\/p>\n
Her phone vibrated. It was a text from Mikhail:<\/p>\n
\u201cDinner at eight. I won\u2019t accept no.\u201d<\/p>\n
Linda smiled, shut down her computer, and got up from her chair.<\/p>\n
A part of the past remained: that Linda who waited, who kept quiet, who settled for little.<\/p>\n
She was different now.<\/p>\n
And she had no intention of going back.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
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