“If you don’t like something, pack your things and get out! My apartment, my rules, and you’re only here by my grace!”
Valery threw his fork onto the table so hard that it clattered against the porcelain plate and fell onto the freshly cleaned linoleum floor. The cold goulash, which had caused this evening argument, lay forlorn on the plate. Nina silently crouched down, picked up the fork, and went to the sink. Her fingers shook uncontrollably, and a familiar, suffocating lump filled her throat.
She turned on the water, trying to keep her breathing steady. Behind her, she heard heavy footsteps, the slam of an interior door, and then the TV blared to life. Valera had put on the evening news. He always did this after making her cry—hiding behind the noise, making it clear the matter was closed, that he was victorious, and that she should calm down and keep serving his needs.
Usually, Nina would wipe her face with a kitchen towel, brew him a fresh cup of tea, carry it quietly to his room, and gently place it on the nightstand. She would apologize for being late at work, for the meat being a bit tough, for daring to object when he scolded her about spending too much on fall boots.
Twenty years of their marriage had gone on like this. “If you don’t like it—there’s the door!” “No one’s keeping you here!” “We’ll see how you manage without me!” Valera knew exactly where her weakness lay. The apartment had been his, inherited from his parents before they were married, while Nina had come from a small settlement where going back to her alcoholic brother would have been like a death sentence. She never had her own place, and her husband shamelessly took advantage of that. He nurtured a deep, persistent fear in her—the fear of ending up on the street.
Every time she heard his favorite phrase, she tensed up inside. A ghostly, invisible suitcase had long lived in her mind. With each argument, she would mentally pack her sweaters, skirts, old jewelry box, and passport. She would imagine gripping its handle and stepping into the hallway. But in reality, her feet were glued to the floor. Where would she go? How could she rent a place on her clinic nurse’s salary? And so Nina stayed, swallowing her hurt and feeling oddly grateful for being allowed to live here at all.
Another fight broke out over nothing as the early November evening drew in outside. The icy wind beat hard against the window. Valera couldn’t find his house pants in their usual spot. Nina had just pulled them from the washing machine and was hanging them in the bathroom to dry.
“Have you lost your mind? Why did you wash them? I was going to the garage in those pants!” he yelled from the doorway, bursting into the tiny bathroom.
“Valera, they were dirty—there was motor oil on the knee,” Nina tried to explain, backing up toward the sink.
“I decide whether they’re dirty or not! You’re nobody here, you’ve got no right to touch my things! Parasite! If you don’t like how I live, pack your bags and get out! Tomorrow I’ll find a real woman, one who doesn’t nag all the time!”
He spun around sharply and stomped into the kitchen, noisily banging cabinet doors. Nina stayed in the bathroom. Water dripped from the wet pants onto the floor. Drip. Drip. Drip.
Suddenly her breathing evened out, and the heavy weight in her chest that had haunted her for years simply vanished. The fear of being alone dissolved, leaving behind a perfect, crystal clear sense of purpose. She just couldn’t be afraid anymore. She was tired of having to earn the right to breathe in this apartment.
Nina slowly wiped her hands on her apron, stepped into the hallway, and pulled the apron over her head. She hung it on a hook. In the kitchen, Valera flicked his lighter.
She walked into the only room, pulled a chair up to the wardrobe, and reached for the top shelf. There, under the winter blankets, was an old plastic suitcase with wheels. Nina tugged it towards herself. The suitcase came crashing down from the shelf, its wheels hitting the wooden back of the chair with a loud thud, then clattering onto the laminate floor.
“What’s all that noise?!” her husband shouted irritably.
She didn’t answer. She flipped open the metal snaps. Nina packed as if she was going on a long-planned trip. Sweaters, underwear, and her favorite house dress were neatly stacked. She folded every item with meticulous care, edges aligned perfectly. This focus on the geometry of the fabric kept her from getting distracted. She took only things she had bought herself. The gold chain Valera had given her for her anniversary five years ago—she took it off her neck and laid it on the bedside table.
Then she slipped off her wedding ring. It had become tight over the years as her fingers swelled with age. A white, indented line remained on her skin—a mark that would soon disappear forever. The ring joined the chain.
Zipping up the suitcase, she pulled out the handle. The wheels whispered across the floor. The sound brought Valera out into the hallway. He stopped, leaning his shoulder against the doorframe. His eyebrows shot up, then his face twisted into a condescending smirk.
“What’s this show all about?” he snorted. “Trying to prove a point? Well, well. Where do you think you’re heading this late at night? Off to sleep under a bridge or at the train station?”
Nina calmly put on her coat, adjusted her knitted scarf in the mirror, and slipped on her autumn boots. As she looked at her husband, for the first time in her life she didn’t see the intimidating master of her fate—just an aging, perpetually dissatisfied man in a stretched out t-shirt with yellow fingers from tobacco. How had she been afraid of him for so many years?
“Are you deaf?” Valera’s tone became more irritated. “Put that bundle down and go heat up dinner. Stop this drama, I’m not in the mood.”
Nina grabbed the handle of the front door and pulled it open.
“I’ll give you an answer, Valera,” she said, her voice level and calm. “I’m going exactly where you’ve been sending me for the past twenty years. Out.”
“What?” he stepped forward. “Have you lost your mind? You’ll never make it without me! Tomorrow you’ll come running back, begging for forgiveness! Just leave the keys—I’m telling you, I won’t let you back in!”
She took the set of keys from her pocket and placed them on the shoe shelf.
“Don’t let me back in,” Nina said, smiling warmly and sincerely, like someone who just shed a heavy burden. “Thank you.”
“Thank me?” her husband was taken aback.
“Thank you for teaching me the way to this door for so long. I’ve finally learned the route. Goodbye.”
She stepped over the threshold and closed the heavy metal door behind her. Her heart was pounding—not from panic, but from the anticipation of something new.
Valera stayed standing in the hallway. He was absolutely convinced this was just a bluff, another bout of female moodiness. She’ll sit outside on the bench, shiver in the wind, cry, and come back. Where else could she possibly go?
He went into the kitchen, turned on the stove, and set the pan with the cold goulash to heat up. The only sound in the apartment was the steady hum of the old refrigerator. No one was clattering dishes or moving bottles in the bathroom. Valera ate straight from the pan to avoid dirtying a plate, then lay down on the couch. As he drifted off to sleep, he was sure he’d hear those familiar footsteps in the hallway in the morning.
Continued in the comments.
But neither the next morning nor in the days that followed did Nina appear. She didn’t call or write. At first Valera was angry, but soon confusion took over as he watched his apartment get rapidly buried under dust, the sink fill with dirty dishes, and his supply of clean shirts mysteriously run out.
Continued in the comments.
When weeks had passed, he decided to be gracious. He thought, all right, he would forgive her. He put on a wrinkled jacket and went to the clinic, planning to grandly tell his wife to come home. At the reception, an elderly employee looked at him over her glasses in surprise:
“But Nina Alexeyevna quit almost a month ago.”
“Quit? Where did she go?” Valera was taken aback.
“She transferred to the regional cardiology center, as the head nurse. They’ve been inviting her there for ages—the pay is excellent, but it was always too far away. Now she’s got an apartment nearby, took out a mortgage, and moved. She left so happy, treated us all to cake as a farewell.”
Valera stepped out onto the clinic’s porch, where a cold wind hit him in the face. Only then, standing on the icy steps, did he understand the awful truth. Nina hadn’t vanished into nowhere that night. She had been preparing for this meticulously for a long time. Saving money, negotiating at work, looking for options. Her show of submission and tears these last months were nothing but a convenient smokescreen so he wouldn’t suspect anything until the bank approved her loan.
Continued in the comments.
He returned to his dirty, empty apartment. Nina’s gold ring was still lying on the nightstand where she’d left it. And Valera suddenly realized: for all these twenty years, it wasn’t her clinging to him. He had been the convenient, well-kept accessory to her care. Now, left alone with his “rules” and his “apartment,” he had absolutely no idea how to live from here.