I sold my share. You’re moving out tomorrow!” The phrase sounded completely casual as romised we would just get divorced and put the apartment up for sale. I put the money from my gVadim disdainfully sorted through hangers with his shirts.
The sound of the plastic zipper on the travel bag seemed unnaturally loud. Nina stood by the bedroom doorframe, feeling the cold laminate floor beneath her bare feet. Damp air and exhaust fumes drifted in through the half-open window from a garbage truck passing along the avenue.
“Vadim… are you joking?” Nina swallowed with difficulty. “What share? We agreed. You prandmother’s house into it.”
Vadim jerked his shoulder irritably. He reeked of a heavy, sweet perfume he had bought a month earlier on the advice of his new young lover.
“Nina, stop whining. On paper, I’m the owner. Whatever you invested back then is your personal problem. You should have used your head instead of playing the perfect wife. I found a buyer. I already have the money. And you can pack up your belongings and go to your mother’s. Or rent a room. I don’t care.”
He slammed the bag shut, threw it over his shoulder, and, without even looking at his ex-wife, stepped into the hallway. The heavy metal door slammed. Nina remained standing in the middle of the room, staring at the empty shelves in the wardrobe. Her heart felt unbearably heavy, as if something cold and hard had settled inside her.
That evening, the old refrigerator hummed in the kitchen. Zhanna, who had been Nina’s friend since university, sat across from her and furiously scraped at a dried stain on the oilcloth with a teaspoon. Strong black tea, smelling of cheap bergamot, grew cold in their cups.
“Here’s what’s going to happen,” Zhanna said, raising her eyes. There was not a drop of pity in them, only dull irritation. “You are not going to sit here and fall apart. He did this on purpose so you’d completely break down. He started an affair with his underage intern and now imagines himself the master of life. You are not moving out, do you understand? This apartment is just as much yours as it is his. Let the new tenant come. We’ll see who drives whom out.”
“Zhanna, what if they’re… you know, some kind of lowlifes?” Nina’s voice trembled. “I won’t be able to sleep. I can’t even change the lock. He sold the share legally.”
“You’ll buy a bolt for your bedroom door. We’ll install it ourselves tomorrow. Nina, stop being convenient!”
The new neighbor appeared two days later. It was early Saturday morning. The doorbell rang briefly but insistently. Nina threw on a thick terrycloth robe, found her slippers with her feet, and, feeling everything inside her tighten with nerves, went to open the door.
A man stood on the threshold. Tall, stooped, wearing a thick khaki windbreaker. In his hands he held a huge backpack, the kind people take on long hiking trips. He smelled sharply of a train vestibule, damp wool, and tobacco.
“Good morning. Gleb,” the man said, holding out a thick folder of documents. “I bought half of the place. Don’t worry, I’m only here in transit. One month on shift work, two weeks here. I’ll say it right away: I don’t meddle in other people’s business, we’ll split the fridge, and I won’t occupy the bathroom for ages.”
Nina silently stepped aside, letting him in. Gleb took off his heavy boots, carefully placed them on the rubber mat, and went into Vadim’s former room.
The first week passed in tense silence. Nina flinched at every creak of the floorboards. She was used to Vadim constantly demanding attention: his shirt wasn’t ironed, dinner was too bland, she breathed too loudly while he watched television. She kept waiting for a catch.
But Gleb turned out to be almost invisible. He woke up at six, made noise in the shower for a long time, then clicked the kettle on in the kitchen. By the time Nina came out to make oatmeal, the table was perfectly clean, the sink was wiped dry, and the window was slightly open for ventilation.
On Thursday, Nina returned from work late. A nasty autumn rain was pouring outside, and her coat was soaked through. When she entered the kitchen, she saw a cast-iron frying pan on the stove. Next to it lay a yellow sticky note: “Fried potatoes with mushrooms. Eat them before they spoil.”
She hesitantly lifted the lid. The appetizing aroma of wild mushrooms with garlic and fresh dill filled the kitchen. Nina served herself a little, sat down at the table, and suddenly realized her lips were trembling. The last time someone had cooked for her was… never. Vadim believed the kitchen was exclusively a woman’s responsibility.
When Gleb came in for a glass of water, she was still sitting over her plate.
“Thank you,” Nina said hoarsely. “It’s very tasty.”
“You’re welcome,” Gleb said, leaning his shoulder against the doorframe. He was wearing a simple gray T-shirt, and an old scar from a workplace accident was visible on his right arm. “There’s no point cooking for one person. It just wastes food.”
“Why did you… well, buy a share?” Nina did not expect herself to ask the question. “It’s a problematic property.”
Gleb shrugged and sat down on the stool across from her.
“A year ago, I came back from the North a day earlier. And there… well, my wife wasn’t alone. She had started an affair. We divorced. I left her the apartment so I wouldn’t have to go to court. And the money I had saved, I decided to invest somewhere. I couldn’t afford a whole apartment, so I bought a share. I just need a corner where I can drop my backpack and get some sleep.”
He spoke plainly, without drama, looking at his large calloused hands. Nina listened, and her fear of this large stranger gradually began to dissolve.
They started talking. Not long heart-to-heart conversations, just short phrases over morning tea. Gleb fixed the leaking kitchen faucet that Vadim had ignored for six months. In return, Nina started making soup for two. In the apartment, where the air had once been thick with constant complaints and reproaches, things suddenly became calm.
A month passed. Gleb was packing his backpack for another shift. The hallway smelled of shoe polish and travel fuss. Nina stood nearby, not knowing what to do with her hands. She did not want him to leave. With him, she felt safe.
“I’ll be back in four weeks,” he said, throwing the backpack over his shoulder. “I changed the lock on the front door yesterday. The new keys are on the cabinet. If anything breaks, write to me. I’ll call a repairman.”
He left. The apartment became empty again, but now the loneliness no longer crushed her. For the first time in a long while, Nina bought herself a new dress — a simple dark blue one, instead of her usual shapeless turtlenecks. She began noticing the pleasant smell coming from the bakery near the metro, the way leaves rustled under her feet in the square. She was bringing herself back to life.
On Wednesday evening, while Nina was watering the ficus on the windowsill, the doorbell rang insistently. The lock clicked, and she opened the door slightly, leaving it on the short chain.
Vadim was standing on the landing. He looked terrible. His fashionable jacket was wrinkled, dark shadows lay under his eyes, and his gaze was nervous and restless.
“Open up,” he muttered, trying to pull the handle. “What’s this circus with the locks?”
“What do you want?” Nina looked at him through the crack and was surprised to realize she was no longer afraid. He seemed pathetic to her.
“I came for the winter tires. They’re on the balcony. And anyway…” Vadim faltered and looked away. “How are you doing here? Are the neighbors driving you out? I told you they would.”
Nina understood: nothing had worked out for him. His new life had cracked. His young lover had most likely drained him of all his spare money and thrown him out as soon as everyday difficulties began. He had come here hoping to see Nina broken and tearful, so he could feel powerful again.
“I put the tires out by the garbage chute on the landing yesterday,” Nina answered calmly. “Someone already took them. And I’m doing perfectly well.”
She wanted to close the door, but Vadim managed to stick the toe of his boot into the gap.
“Listen, don’t get too bold. Let me into the apartment. I need to sort through my things,” his voice turned shrill.
At that moment, the elevator stopped on the floor with a hum. The doors slid open. Gleb stepped out onto the landing. He was supposed to have left only yesterday, but the flight had been canceled because of a snowstorm, and he had decided to return without warning.
Gleb slowly approached Vadim. The stairwell became very quiet.
“Man, move your foot,” Gleb said in a low voice, but the tone made Vadim’s Adam’s apple twitch reflexively.
“Who the hell are you?” Vadim turned around, trying to look confident, but next to Gleb, in his salt-stained windbreaker and with his heavy gaze, he looked like a guilty teenager.
“I live here. But you’ve got the wrong door,” Gleb said, simply stepping between Vadim and the door, pushing him back with his shoulder. “Move your foot. Turn around. And go to the elevator.”
Vadim swallowed convulsively. He looked at Nina, searching for support, but she only crossed her arms over her chest. No pity. No fear.
“To hell with both of you,” Vadim spat, then hunched over and quickly went down the stairs without even waiting for the elevator.
Gleb watched him go, then turned to Nina. His face softened.
“The flight was canceled,” he said simply, taking off his backpack. “Will you let me in?”
Nina removed the chain and opened the door wide.
“Come in. I made borscht.”
She watched as he took off his shoes and placed his boots on the mat, and she felt something warm and alive blooming inside her. Vadim had thought he had destroyed her life by selling those square meters. But in reality, without realizing it, he had given her the most precious gift.
He had made room.