The Husband Went Away for the Weekend, and the Neighbors Saw Who Was Accompanying Him
Larisa was busy with the flowers on the windowsill when she noticed her husband carrying a bag to the car. It was strange: he hadn’t said anything about going away.
“—Andriy, where are you going?” she called from the kitchen.
“—To Serhiy’s dacha. To help with the roof,” he replied without looking up. “I’ll be back on Sunday evening.”
Larisa wiped her hands with a towel and went to the window. Andriy had already started the engine, but for some reason he wasn’t in a hurry to leave, as if he were waiting for someone.
“—Maybe I should come with you? I haven’t seen Maryna in a long time,” she suggested.
“—No need. It’s men’s work—dust, dirt. And there’s no space in the car, I’m taking tools.”
Larisa shrugged. Indeed, the tools filled the entire trunk. Andriy waved his hand and drove away. She returned to her violets, not suspecting that in half an hour the phone would ring.
“—Lara, it’s Valentyna from the third floor,” her neighbor’s voice sounded uncertain. “Can you come over? I wanted to ask about seedlings.”
“—Of course, I’ll be right there.”
Valentyna opened the door in a house robe, her face worried.
“—Come in, sit down. Want some tea?”
“—Thank you, I’ll have a little. What about the seedlings?”
Valentyna set the kettle down and fell silent, clearly choosing her words carefully.
“—Lara, I don’t know if I should say this… Maybe I was mistaken.”
“—Valya, what happened? You’re scaring me.”
“—I saw your Andriy when he was leaving. He… wasn’t alone.”
Larisa felt a chill in her chest.
“—Not alone? Was Serhiy with him?”
“—No, Lara. He was with a woman. Young, slim. They were kissing near the car, and then she got into the front seat.”
The cup trembled in Larisa’s hands. She set it down on the table, afraid of spilling the tea.
“—Are you sure you didn’t mistake it? Maybe it was…”
“—Lara, I’m not blind. I was on the balcony hanging laundry. They were right under the windows. She hugged him around the neck, and he stroked her back. It wasn’t a friendly gesture, you understand.”
Valentyna sat across from her and took Larisa’s hand.
“—I’m sorry to tell you. But I would want someone to tell me if I were in your place.”
Larisa nodded, although everything inside her was spinning. Twenty-three years of marriage. Twenty-three years believing Andriy was a reliable and honest man.
“—Describe her,” she asked quietly.
“—Tall, brunette. Shoulder-length curly hair. A red or burgundy dress. About thirty years old, at most.”
Larisa closed her eyes. Yes, she knew this woman. Inna, the new accountant at Andriy’s company. He had talked about her: young, talented, recently divorced.
“—Lara, are you okay? Let me walk you home.”
“—No, thank you. I need to think.”
At home, Larisa sat on the couch staring at the wall. Her thoughts tangled, refusing to form a clear picture. She remembered the last few months: how Andriy spent more time at work, bought new shirts, started taking better care of himself.
Suddenly the phone rang, making her flinch.
“—Hi, Mom! How are you?” her daughter Katya’s voice sounded cheerful.
“—Katya, dear… Everything’s fine.”
“—Mom, you sound strange. What’s wrong?”
Larisa couldn’t hold it in. The words burst out: about Andriy, about the woman, about not knowing what to do.
“—Mom, wait. Breathe. Maybe it’s a misunderstanding?”
“—What misunderstanding, Katya? The neighbor saw everything with her own eyes.”
“—Okay, but what are you going to do?”
“—I don’t know. I just don’t know. I’m fifty-one years old, Katya. Where do I go now?”
“—Mom, don’t say nonsense. Fifty-one is not a sentence. You’re beautiful, smart, you have a job. But first you need to clarify everything.”
Katya was right, Larisa thought. She needed to clarify, not surrender to despair.
The next day she met Maryna, Serhiy’s wife, at the store.
“—Maryna, hi! How are you? Are the guys managing the roof?”
Maryna looked at her in surprise.
“—What roof? Serhiy is at home watching football. Why are you asking?”
“—Because Andriy said he was going to your dacha to help.”
“—Lara, we sold the dacha last year. Did you forget?”
Larisa felt the ground fall out from under her. So Andriy had lied. Simply and boldly, to her face.
“—Sorry, Maryna. Maybe I was mistaken.”
At home Larisa paced back and forth, unable to find peace. She wanted to call Andriy and say everything she felt. But the phone was silent; he wasn’t calling.
In the evening the neighbor downstairs, Aunt Zina, came by.
“—Larisa, can I come in? I brought borscht. I made a lot.”
“—Thank you, Aunt Zina. Come in.”
The older woman looked her over carefully.
“—You look pale. Are you sick?”
“—No, just a headache.”
“—And your husband? I haven’t seen him in a while.”
“—He went to the dacha. With friends.”
Aunt Zina shook her head.
“—Listen, Larisa, I’ve seen a lot in my life. Men at a certain age go crazy. They think youth will return if they get involved with a young woman.”
Larisa shuddered. Did Aunt Zina know something too?
“—What do you mean?”
“—Yesterday I saw your Andriy with a girl. I thought maybe she was a niece or some relative.”
“—What did she look like?”
“—Young, pretty. They were in a café at a table by the window. Holding hands. I was passing by on my way to the pharmacy.”
Larisa lowered her head. So they weren’t just going somewhere; they were meeting in the city, going to cafés, not hiding.
“—Larisa, sorry if I said something wrong. But we women understand each other. If something happens, don’t stay silent. You need to speak up.”
When Aunt Zina left, Larisa picked up the phone and dialed Andriy’s number. Long rings, then voicemail.
“—Andriy, it’s me. Call me when you can.”
He called back only late in the evening.
“—Lara, hi. What’s wrong? You called.”
“—How are you? And how’s the roof?”
“—Fine. Lots of work. I’m very tired.”
“—Say hello to Serhiy from me.”
“—Of course.”
Larisa paused, gathering courage.
“—Andriy, who was that woman with you in the car?”
Silence. Long and heavy.
“—What woman? What are you talking about?”
“—The neighbors saw. Brunette, curly. They were kissing.”
“—Lara, what are you saying? What neighbors? I was driving alone.”
“—Andriy, don’t lie. I already know. Maryna said Serhiy was home and there is no dacha. Aunt Zina saw you at the café.”
Silence again. Then a sigh.
“—Lara, we’ll talk when I return.”
“—No, now. Who is she?”
“—I said when I return. Goodbye.”
He hung up. Larisa stared at the phone, feeling tears rise. Twenty-three years. Twenty-three years of faith in the family. And he…
She spent all Saturday at home, not going out. Katya called, offering to come, but Larisa refused. She wanted to be alone and organize her thoughts.
In the evening Valentyna came.
“—Lara, how are you? I’m worried.”
“—No reason to worry. You were right. He was with her.”
“—Did he admit it?”
“—Not exactly. But he didn’t deny it either. He said we’d talk when he returned.”
Valentyna sat beside her on the couch.
“—Tell me, what do you feel? Besides pain.”
Larisa thought. What did she feel?
“—You know, Valya, it’s strange. I thought I would cry, scream. But I’m… angry. Very angry. Not just at him, but at myself.”
“—At yourself? Why?”
“—Because I didn’t see it. Or I didn’t want to see it. He didn’t start this yesterday. Probably long ago. And I justified it: work, fatigue, age.”
“—Lara, it’s not your fault. He chose deception.”
“—And do you know what annoys me the most? That he lies. Even now, when everything is obvious, he keeps lying. As if I’m stupid.”
Valentyna nodded.
“—Men are like that. They think we’ll believe any nonsense.”
“—And what would you do in my place?”
“—Honestly? I would kick him out. Immediately and forever. But that’s my opinion. You have to decide.”
Sunday dragged on endlessly. Larisa cleaned, cooked, tried to read, but her thoughts kept returning to one question: what to say to Andriy when he returned.
He came back late, when it was already dark. Larisa heard the car door close and the lock click.
“—Hi,” he said quietly as he came in.
“—Hi.”
Andriy entered the living room and sat in the armchair. Larisa sat across on the couch.
“—So?” he asked.
“—Lara, it’s not what you think.”
“—Then what is it?”
“—Just… we talked. Mostly about work.”
“—Andriy, I’m not an idiot. People don’t kiss at work and go away together for the weekend.”
He rubbed his face with his hands.
“—Alright. Yes, there is something between us. But it’s not serious. It’s just…”
“—Just what?”
“—Just that I needed to feel like a man. You understand?”
Larisa laughed bitterly and angrily.
“—So with me you don’t feel like a man?”
“—Lara, we’ve been together for so many years. Everything became routine. And then…”
“—Then a young, beautiful woman. Of course.”
“—It will pass. I know it will pass.”
“—And I don’t want to wait for it to pass.”
Andriy looked at her in surprise.
“—What do you mean?”
“—I want you to leave. Today.”
“—Lara, don’t say nonsense. Where would I go?”
“—To your Inna. Or rent an apartment. That’s not my problem.”
“—Lara, let’s talk calmly. Like adults.”
“—We are already talking calmly. I’m not screaming, not crying. I’m just stating a fact: I don’t want to live with someone who lies to me.”
“—But the apartment is ours. We bought it together.”
“—Then we sell it. Split the money. Or you pay me my share.”
Andriy stood up and began pacing the room.
“—Lara, this is our family. Twenty-three years. Are you really ready to destroy everything for…?”
“—I’m not destroying it. You already destroyed it. I’m just drawing conclusions.”
“—Think again. Don’t make hasty decisions.”
“—I already thought. Pack your things.”
Andriy paused for a moment, then went to the bedroom. Larisa heard him packing, the closet creaking.
“—Lara,” he called from the room. “What if I stay at Serhiy’s tonight? We can talk tomorrow.”
“—No, Andriy. It’s too late to talk.”
He came out with a suitcase in his hand.
“—I’ll call tomorrow.”
“—Call.”
When the door closed, Larisa sat on the couch and suddenly felt… relief. As if a weight had been lifted from her shoulders.
She picked up the phone and dialed Katya.
“—Mom, how are you? And Dad?”
“—Katya, your dad is gone. We’re getting divorced.”
“—Mom, are you sure?”
“—Absolutely. You know what I realized? I don’t want to live with someone who doesn’t respect me. Who lies to my face.”
“—Mom, I support you. Whatever you decide.”
“—Thank you, dear. I will survive.”
And Larisa truly knew she would survive. For the first time in many years she felt free. Painful, frightening, but free.
The next morning Valentyna called.
“—Lara, how did the conversation go?”
“—He left.”
“—Seriously? And how are you?”
“—You know, Valya, I’m fine. Even good. It’s like I walked out of prison.”
“—Lara, you’re brave. Not everyone would dare.”
“—What did I have to lose? Staying as a deceived wife? Pretending nothing happened? No, thank you.”
Larisa walked to the window and looked out at the street. The sun was shining. A new week was beginning. A new life.
