“— Are you being unfaithful to me?” he asked, his gaze dropping to the floor.
She didn’t hurry to reply. Quietly, she walked to the mirror, adjusted her earring, and ran her fingertip across her lips, subtly smudging her lipstick. Then, she turned to face him.
“— Do you remember how you betrayed me first?”
Those words struck him harder than if she had simply said “yes.” They carried truth, vengeance, and a confession all in one.
Igor and Marina lived together for thirteen years. They had two children, a mortgage, a small country house, and a car loan. They led what is commonly called a “typical” life.
Work, school, extracurricular activities, shopping, and evening movies before bed.
There was love between them once. Undoubtedly, there had been.
At twenty-two, Igor adored Marina. He chased after her as if possessed. He wrote her poems and would stand for hours near her apartment building. Then he proposed, there was a wedding. A daughter came, then a son.
There were moments of true happiness, bright and memorable.
They were a complete family, a united team. But over time, everything began to turn into everyday routine, a dull monotony.
Igor worked hard. His career was advancing by leaps and bounds. At thirty-five, he was already heading a department at a major company.
He constantly repeated:
“— I’m doing this for our family, for us.”
But the higher he climbed the career ladder, the further he drifted from home.
Constant delays at the office, frequent business trips, and a perpetual state of exhaustion. He returned home irritable and worn out.
Marina shouldered everything: the children, the household, daily chores, and her own work. Gradually, she ceased to be a woman in his eyes. He no longer found her interesting as a partner.
At work, Lera appeared. She was ten years younger.
With her vivid makeup, impeccable hairstyles, high heels, and always a cheerful mood.
She laughed at his jokes, admired his ideas, brought him coffee, and in the evenings sent messages like “did you forget about the presentation?”, hinting at something more.
At first, he regarded her indifferently.
Then he allowed himself a light flirtation.
After that, the messaging began.
Then secret meetings ensued.
And then came the night at a hotel “under the pretext of an offsite training.”
He cheated.
And he kept doing it again and again, following the same pattern:
“— It doesn’t mean anything. I just got a little distracted. I won’t tell my wife, so as not to hurt her.
I’m not doing anything terrible; my wife won’t find out, and I’m not planning to get a divorce.”
He never entertained the thought that the truth might surface.
Lera did not aim to destroy someone else’s family.
She was convenient, fun, passionate, young.
Next to her, he felt like a real man, not “a father of two children with a mortgage hanging over his shoulders.” He became interesting, confident, desirable.
With Marina, things were different.
He would return home late, haggard and irritable.
Before him was a woman with her hair tied up, in an old T-shirt, with dinner on the table and a children’s cartoon playing on the TV.
He began to nitpick, finding reasons to reproach her:
“— Why have you stopped taking care of your appearance? — Why do you no longer long for intimacy? — Why are you so cold with me?”
She tried to explain her feelings:
“— I’m constantly exhausted, no one helps me. I barely sleep at night, and I have to handle everything on my own. You’re physically here, but it seems like you’re not here at all.”
Yet her words reached him only as background noise. His life had long been split in two—between two existences.
But Marina knew everything. She saw every passionate message he exchanged with Lera.
It was then that something inside her broke. Her husband began to elicit disgust from her, as if he had completely sunk into filth and now radiated it.
She did not throw tantrums or put on a scene. She simply watched what was happening, pretending not to notice anything. Deep down, she hoped that one day he would confess everything, admit to the affair. But that never happened. He continued to play the role of the exemplary husband and father before friends and relatives.
And then Marina began to distance herself. As if her life had separated from their common existence.
She focused on her roles as a mother and a homemaker. Yet she also began to pay attention to herself—only this time, not for his sake.
Her smile changed. She started asking fewer questions. She spent more time on her phone. And she was coming home later and later.
Igor reassured himself: “She’ll get through it, it’ll pass—as long as she doesn’t suspect anything.”
But he didn’t understand that Marina had already figured everything out and made her decision.
A year passed.
He gradually cooled toward Lera. Everything began to seem monotonous. And then he decided to pay more attention to his wife.
Marina had transformed: stylish clothes, flawless makeup, expensive perfume, elegant hairstyles.
He thought: “Is she trying to win me back?”
And he allowed himself to relax.
Until one day he accidentally noticed an SMS on her phone: “Waiting for you at the hotel. Today, as usual?”
His blood ran cold.
He decided to ask directly:
“— Marina, who is texting you?”
“— Do you really want to know? Honestly?”
“— Of course!”
“— Then tell me about your lover first.”
He tensed:
“— That is not important right now. I’m asking you.”
And then she took a deep breath and said very calmly, almost in a whisper:
“— Do you want to know if I’m cheating on you?”
“— And do you remember how you betrayed me yourself? Perhaps we should start with that?”
He was at a loss.
He wasn’t prepared for such a turn. He expected to be the one who would suffer, repent, and beg for forgiveness. He wanted to win her back!
But reality turned out to be nothing like he had imagined.
Marina went into the room, and he remained standing in the corridor.
Suddenly, it struck him how ridiculous his excuses sounded. How long he had lied, hidden the truth, and humiliated her with his silence.
And now, when she perhaps allowed herself the same, does he feel like the victim?
He expected an argument, demanded answers, but received only… silence.
In the evening, they sat down to talk.
“— Is there someone in your life?” he asked.
“— Yes, there is. He said that I’m beautiful. He listened to me, did not cheat, did not lie, just was there.”
“— Was that revenge?”
“— No. I wanted to feel desirable again. I liked him. And then… you became indifferent to me.”
He looked at her and suddenly realized that she had left his life for good.
All this time he was sure he had everything completely under control.
That he was “the one in charge,” “a real man,” “someone allowed to make mistakes.”
He never supposed that his wife was capable of answering him in kind.
Six months passed. They separated and finalized the divorce. He sees the children according to a schedule.
Marina smiles when she comes to pick them up. There’s a sparkle in her eyes, as if she has found a new life—without him.
And he… He tries to find her in other women. He writes messages at night with words like “forgive me.”
He re-reads old dialogues. And he remembers that one singular phrase she uttered that night:
“— And do you remember how you cheated on me?”
His act came back to him like a boomerang.
One short affair destroyed what appeared to be an unbreakable family.
He thought he had everything under control, but reality changed dramatically.
