I decided to test my husband and he said:

 

I decided to test my husband and told him, "Honey, you fired me!" even though I'd actually been promoted. He yelled at me and declared me useless. The next day, I overheard your conversation with my friend. What the hell!… I was horrified

On my way home, an extraordinary feeling suddenly washed over me. Is Anton unhappy with my promotion? Does it irritate him, or worse, cause him pain? After all, I now earn more than he does. Could that be another reason for him to distance himself? I knew that for my husband, being the breadwinner, the protector, had always been important.

Although we both worked and contributed almost equally to the family budget, he felt the need to emphasize that he was the one supporting the family. He had a certain patriarchal pride in that regard, perhaps instilled by his mother, an old-fashioned woman. That's when the idea came to me.

How can I gauge your reaction?  And if I say they didn't abandon me, does that mean they just let me go? Observe your reaction: will you support me in this difficult time? And now, seeing your genuine compassion and support, I admit it was a joke, and I actually have good news. It probably wasn't the smartest decision on my part. Petty, even stupid.

But I wanted to make sure my husband would still be by my side, ready to support me in any situation, just as I promised him at the altar. For better or for worse, in sickness and in health. When you get home, you'll find Anton with his laptop…

“I’m fired.”  Your reaction was completely different from what you expected. Instead of compassion and support, his face contorted with anger.

He slammed his laptop shut and jumped up from the sofa.
"Fired. You're fired." And I've had to say so many times that I need to be more responsible at work. But no, you always know everything, you always do things your way.

I was so stunned by your reaction that I couldn't say a word.
He continued, his voice growing louder, with a sneer of contempt I'd never heard before.

What's the point of all this?  Who's going to pay the bills? What do you think of the situation you're putting me and our whole family in? You're useless, Lena. Completely useless.
Sitting there at your company, shuffling papers around, and in the end, you can't do a thing.

I felt a lump in my throat and tears welled up in my eyes. But they weren't tears of resentment, but of revelation.
It was as if someone had suddenly stopped me from blindfolding myself, and I saw the true face of the man I had lived with for so many years. In that moment, I understood that I couldn't tell the truth. I couldn't admit that it was a test and that, suddenly, I had been promoted.

Something inside me resisted. My intuition whispered that it was better to call and wait to see what happened. And I listened to that whisper.

I simply got up and left the room in silence, leaving him screaming into the void. I locked myself in the bathroom and sat under the hot water like a giant mouse, trying to wash away the humiliation and bitterness. How strange, how far removed the man I once considered closest to me had become. We didn't speak again that night.

Anton defiantly slept on the living room sofa, and I found myself alone in our bedroom, staring at the ceiling and wondering how it was possible that our seemingly solid marriage had become so fragile.

In the morning, I was woken by the noise at the door. Anton left for work without saying goodbye, without leaving a note, without ever waking me up, like a lonely day.

I lay in bed, feeling a strange emptiness inside. The anger, the resentment, the disappointment with Ayer… it all seemed to have evaporated, leaving only a cold mental clarity.

You have to go to work. After all, I had a new task, new responsibilities. But something was keeping me at home.

A kind of premonition, intuition, whatever you want to call it. I called my partner, Masha, and asked her to cover for me, claiming I had health problems. She agreed, though I noticed a certain interest in her voice.
Masha had always been a bit of a gossip, but now I didn't have time for explanations. Alone, I didn't know what to do. Mechanically sorting the laundry, washing it, setting the scene. All these routine actions helped me think about the previous day, about what was happening with our marriage, with us.

It was almost noon when the door opened. I froze, holding a rag. Anton never came home that day.

Never. My first thought was that something had happened.

But after the lock clicked, there was no voice, no doorbell. The second sound was all too familiar. It was my sister's voice, Natalya Viktorovna.

I sneaked down to the basement and hid behind the back door. I knew I shouldn't eavesdrop, but something about the way they were talking, so casually during the workday, gave me the creeps

…Hold your breath. My heart was pounding so hard I thought it would burst through the wall. Anton and his mother came into the room and looked toward the door. Obviously, don't wait.

There could be someone at home.

“I told you so,”  Natalya Viktorovna’s familiar, cold voice echoed. “I’m not your rival. I don’t want family or children. I only think about your career.”

It was like an electric shock. What career? What are you? Never… in a word… gave Nobody any reason to think she didn't want a family.

Anton sighed deeply.

“Mom, let’s not do this. Now’s not the time.”
“Perfect time!” she said. “Look how it all ended. She got fired. And she was still so cocky, thinking she was smarter than everyone else. Did you warn her? I did. And what good did it do?”

I cover my mouth so I don't give it away myself. I say I was fired. How did you present it? As if it were my fault, as a failure, as if I knew I was right.

“I don’t know what to do about this,” Anton muttered. “I didn’t even apologize. I just went to the bathroom and locked the door.”

“Exactly!” My voice turned sharp, like boiling water. “You still want to talk to your children? To a mother like this? I don’t support you in anything; I always have your attention. You need to think, Antosha. Think carefully. Before it’s too late.”

It gives me goosebumps. CHILDREN?! You're talking to your mother… about the possibility of having children… and you're wondering if I can be a mother?!

I couldn't breathe. The room spun around and around before my eyes. It was a blow I never expected. Never. Under any circumstances.

Then Anton said something I'll never forget:

“You’re probably right. You made me feel bad. She… she’s not the woman I want to build a future with. I think that would change.” But right now… I’m not sure I want to continue.

My legs gave out on me. I barely managed to stay upright, clinging to the door frame.

That's all. A sincere act. Sincere thoughts. Soberly, without emotion. If you don't tell me, I'll tell the person whose opinion I trust more than my own.

“Right now,” he continued, “an opportunity has arisen… well… You know.”

My voice softened, it became calmer:

“Of course I understand. I know Tanya. A good girl. Modest, thrifty. Not like…”
Don’t finish listening.

It was as if a jet of cold water had been poured over me.

Tanya.

This is Tanya, her accounting partner: quiet, discreet, the one who always smiles shyly when attending corporate events.

I backed away from the door as if I'd been punched. My whole body ached. I felt like if I stayed there one more minute, I'd collapse to the floor.

I entered the room, closed the door, slowly leaned my back against it, and let go of the floor. I felt such a tightness in my chest that it felt like I couldn't breathe. I sat with my face hunched over the wheels, watching my ragged, shallow breathing.

This is what I decided.
That's what they thought.
This is who I am to them.

An annoyance. A mistake. A temporary misunderstanding that "can still be resolved".

Right now, it only tells me one thing.

There was no going back.

I felt sunk in the filth, detached from time and space. It seemed as if the world around me had ceased to exist, disintegrating into isolated sounds: the muffled voices of Anton and his mother coming from the living room; the ticking of the clock on the wall; my own fearful breathing.

I just had an idea: I had to stay. Yes. Immediately.
Why should I leave? This is my home. My apartment, bought in equal shares. My life.

If Anton is making plans for the future without me, I should tell him to his face.

And I wanted to hear it from him. Honestly. Directly. Without pretense.

I took a deep breath, washed my face with cold water, put on clean clothes, and tried to gather any documents I might need: my passport, my employment contract, my bank statements. Not because I planned to leave. I rang the doorbell because something inside me was unsettling: we were in for a conversation. One that would change everything.

About an hour later, I turned the key in the lock.
Drop me off in the field.