Behind the bedroom wall, her husband’s muffled voice reached her and the woman involuntarily heard him whisper into the phone, “Take everything. She’s got over a h 100,000 there.” He was giving out his own maternal code for his wife’s card, unaware that she was awake. But instead of panic or tears, a faint smile appeared on the woman’s face and she calmly closed her eyes and continued lying there.

Marina had never considered herself suspicious, rather observant. In her 37 years, she had learned one simple thing: people line not with words, but with their eyes and hands, and with those pauses, when a question is asked, and the answer has to be made up on the spot.

Rick had been lying almost constantly for the past two weeks. She first noticed it one morning when he brought her coffee in bed, just like that on a Wednesday, Marina opened her eyes, saw her husband with a cup in his hand, and felt something tense inside her, like a string pulled tight. Rick never brought coffee to bed, not even in the first year of their marriage, when they were still playing at being love birds, he would at most grunt from the doorway, “Get up! I’ve boiled the kettle.”

“Why are you up so early?” she asked, propping herself up on her elbows. He smiled, too widely, just rested well. Wanted to make you happy.

It was that pause before make you happy, a second long, barely noticeable pause that gave him away. Marina took the cup and sipped. The coffee was sweet even though she hadn’t added sugar for 5 years.

“Thanks.” “Delicious,” she said.

He went to the kitchen, whistling something cheerful, while Marina stayed sitting, staring out the window. Outside, a fine October drizzle fell, gray and dull, like her anxiety.

At work, she tried all day to distract herself with numbers. Accounting is a refuge for those who don’t want to think about life, columns, tables, reconciliation reports, the main thing is not to get distracted, but thoughts kept creeping in like persistent flies. Rick was acting strangely, not just strangely, suspiciously.

He had become too attentive, too caring. It was unusual and more frightening than if he had suddenly been rude. On Friday, he bought flowers, a bouquet of chrysanthemums, yellow and white, wrapped in crinkly plastic. Just like that, for no reason, Marina took the bouquet, thanked him, and went to find a vase.

Her hands were shaking. Rick had bought flowers twice in 5 years for her birthday and for International Women’s Day. And even then, every other time.

“Do you like them?” he asked, peeking into the kitchen.

“Very much,” she replied, trimming the stems. beautiful.

He stood in the doorway, hands in his pockets, looking as if he wanted to say something, but he only nodded and left. Marina placed a vase on the windows sill. Something was brewing. She felt it in her skin and every nerve, a kind of ancient female intuition.

By evening, Rick started asking questions. They sat in the kitchen. She was reheating dinner. He was scrolling through his phone and suddenly said without looking up, “Hey, how much have you set aside for repairs?” Marina froze, ladle in hand.

Why do you want to know? Just curious. You wanted to redo the kitchen. Enough money?

She slowly poured the soup. Enough? Definitely. Maybe you should save a bit more. Not rush.

Marina sat opposite him. Rick, I’ve been saving for three years. I’ll have enough.

He nodded, but it was clear her answer didn’t satisfy him. He was expecting something else. Numbers, specifics.

And how much do you have in total? Well, in the account, she raised her eyes to him. Enough.

He smirked, strained. All right. All right. Don’t want to say fine. I just wanted to help.

Help, from Rick, who in five years of marriage had never once offered to chip in for groceries. Marina finished her soup in silence. Inside, everything had grown cold. Yet, her face remained calm. That was her main talent, never showing what was happening inside, money.

So, that’s what it was about. Indeed, there was a substantial sum in her account, over a h 100,000. It was an inheritance from her grandmother, Judy, the only person who had ever truly loved Marina unconditionally. Her grandmother had died two years ago, leaving an apartment and savings.

Marina sold the apartment, added the money to her own savings, and decided to set it aside gradually for renovations, maybe a vacation, or simply for a rainy day. Rick knew about the inheritance. Back then, two years ago, he had even tried to suggest investing the money in some friends business. Marina had refused, softly but firmly. Since then, money had never been a topic between them. Not until this week.

On Saturday, Rick started showing interest in her handbag. At first, casually, “Has your phone rung?” Then, he needed a charger, claiming his cord had broken. Marina saw him glance at her wallet lying on the dresser. On Sunday, he asked if she wanted to open a joint account. Supposedly, it would be more convenient, saving together, spending together. Family, after all.

Marina stood at the mirror, braiding her hair, watching his reflection. He sat on the edge of the bed, still sweet, still caring, and lying, lying in a way that was almost painful to watch.

“I’m fine with mine,” she said calmly. “I’m used to it.”

He frowned. “That’s nonsense. We’ve been together so many years, and you still act like a stranger. I’m not a stranger. I’m just used to managing my own money.”

He didn’t insist, but spent the rest of the day like a cloud hanging over the house. Marina thought, remembered, analyzed.

5 years ago, she had married Rick almost by accident. He was charming, light, alive, able to say the right words at the right moment. She was tired of being alone. She was 32 and everyone around kept saying, “It’s time. It’s time. It’s time.” So, she gave in.

The first two years were ordinary. He worked as a manager. She did accounting. Evenings were for TV shows. weekends at his mother’s dacha, Carol, the mother-in-law.

She was the real engine of all the troubles in their marriage. Carol appeared in their lives with enviable regularity. Help with repairs, borrowing money, or simply saying, “I’m bored alone.” Marina tolerated it, first out of politeness, then out of habit.

Carol was tall, large, with a neat hairstyle and a permanent look of disapproval. She believed the world owed her and Rick owed her and the daughter-in-law especially. Two years ago when Marina received the inheritance, the mother-in-law suddenly became affectionate. She came over with treats, asked about her health, complimented her.

But Marina could see how she looked at the new bag, furniture, phone. Carol suddenly hinted that it would be nice to help a poor retiree. Marina sympathized but didn’t give money. The mother-in-law was offended and didn’t call for 3 months. Now, apparently, she had decided to act through her son.

Marina went to bed late. Rick was already snoring, sprawled across half the bed. She lay there staring at the ceiling, knowing something was about to happen. Inside, a strange calm was growing. Not fear, not panic, but calm. cold, firm, like ice.

She had learned this as a child when her parents drank and shouted until they were horsearo. Back then, she realized, “Don’t cry, don’t scream, just wait. Wait for the storm to pass and then do what needs to be done.” Now, the storm was only approaching and Marina knew she had to be ready.

The next morning, she got up early, got dressed, and quietly left the house without waking her husband. Outside, it was chilly, the wind tugging at the hem of her gray coat. She walked quickly, almost on autopilot.

The bank opened promptly at 9:00. Marina was third in line. The consultant, a young woman with a tired face, listened to her and nodded. “Yes, of course, we can change your pen. It’ll be quick. Could I add one more service?” Marina asked so that any attempt to withdraw a large sum would trigger a notification to the security service.

The young woman looked at her carefully, afraid of fraudsters. Something like that. 20 minutes later, it was done. The pin on the main card where over a 100,000 lay had been changed. The old pin 3,86 remained on the backup card, the one with exactly $3 on it. Marina had once opened it for small purchases, but had since neglected it. Now that card might come in handy.

She stepped out of the bank and paused on the steps, breathing in the cold air. People moved around her, some rushing to work, others carrying bags of groceries. An ordinary morning in an ordinary city. Yet inside everything had shifted. She was ready.

That evening, Rick brought up money again. This time more cautiously, skirting around the sharp edges.

“Hey, have you thought about opening a deposit?” he asked, poking at his pasta with a fork. The interest adds up. It’s worth it.

Marina shrugged. I’ve thought about it, but I haven’t decided yet.

“What if the card is stolen or the account hacked? There are so many scammers nowadays.”

She smiled faintly. It won’t be stolen.

How can you be so sure?

I know because Rick, the one planning to steal it, is your dear mother, she wanted to say, but she stayed silent. Only gave him a long, calm look. He looked away first.

The night was quiet. Marina lay listening to the trees rustle outside the window, a distant car humming somewhere. Rick breathed evenly, almost silently. She knew he wasn’t asleep. She could feel it. She knew that very soon everything would change.

Over 5 years of marriage, she had learned to read him not only by his eyes and inonation. She had learned to anticipate. And now the premonition was so clear, she felt like laughing. Well, let them try. She would wait.

Morning began with a phone call. Marina had just stepped out of the shower when she heard Rick’s phone ringing in the hallway. He grabbed the receiver quickly, too quickly, and his voice sounded tense.

Yes, Mom. Hi.

Marina wrapped herself in a robe and listened. The walls in their crush gi were thin. Almost everything could be heard. today.

Well, I don’t know.

Rick paused, listening to his mother. All right, fine. Come around 6.

Marina stepped out of the bathroom, towel drying her hair. Rick was standing by the mirror, buttoning his shirt, pretending not to notice her gaze.

Mom’s coming? She asked calmly.

He shrugged. Yeah. Wants to talk about some of her things.

I see.

She went to the kitchen and put the kettle on. Her hands were steady, but inside everything had tightened into a knot. So it begins.

At work, Marina tried to focus on reports, but her thoughts scattered. She imagined coming home that evening, opening the door, and seeing her mother-in-law on the threshold, fake smile in place, and that special look, greedy, appraising.

Carol knew how to play the victim. A poor lonely woman abandoned by everyone except her beloved son. In reality, she had a decent pension, a one- room apartment in the city center, and perfectly healthy legs to avoid dragging Rick every weekend to a dacha 20 km out of town. But Rick believed, or pretended to.

Marina closed another file and leaned back in her chair. Outside, gray rooftops, bare tree branches, and the sky the color of old asphalt stretched before her. A dull October day. Only today felt different. She sensed it in every cell of her body.

That evening, Marina arrived home at exactly 6. She climbed to the fourth floor, unlocked the door, and immediately heard voices. Rick and his mother were in the kitchen drinking tea. On the table sat a box of store-bought pastries, chocolate aclair’s, sticky and overly sweet.

“Ah, Marina, come in. Come in.” Carol waved as if inviting her into her own home. Rick and I are having some tea. Join us.

Marina hung up her coat and walked into the kitchen. Mother-in-law looked immaculate. A light blouse, dark trousers, hairstyled in neat waves, fresh manicure, beige, understated. A classic 60-year-old woman who takes care of herself and very much wants it to be noticed.

“Hello, Carol,” Morirana said.

She sat on the edge of a chair and poured herself tea from the teapot.

“How are you, dear?”

Her mother-in-law smiled, but her eyes were cold, scrutinizing. working a lot, tired as usual.

Yes, your job is stressful. Numbers reports I’d go crazy.

Carol took a bite of an aclair and dabbed her lips with a napkin. Rick says you’re planning to redo the kitchen.

Morana looked up at her. I am.

Must be expensive now. Everything’s gotten so pricey. Furniture, appliances. It’s terrible.

It’s fine. I can manage.

Her mother-in-law shook her head with the air of a life expert. Good for you, of course. But you know, Morirana, maybe you shouldn’t rush. Money in the account is good. It’s a safety net. And the kitchen is fine as it is. You can wait.

There it was. It had begun. Morana stirred sugar into her tea slowly. I don’t like the kitchen. I want to update it.

Sure, that’s understandable.

Her mother-in-law leaned closer, smelling of cheap floral perfume. But think, what if you need the money for something more important? For medical treatment, for example, or something else?

Rick sat silently, staring into his cup. His face was tense, as if he were waiting for an explosion.

If I need it, I’ll use it, Morirana replied evenly. But I don’t need it right now.

Carol sighed theatrically in a way that made you want to applaud. For example, I’ve been saving all my life. Penny by penny. And what now? I’m retired and barely make ends meet. Utilities are expensive. Medicines are expensive. Good thing Rick helps.

Morirana raised an eyebrow. He helps.

Rick flinched. Well, sometimes I give him some money. bring groceries.

Morirana nodded. Interesting.

She had thought her mother-in-law got at most $50 a month from Rick. So Rick was helping from his own funds, which theoretically he didn’t really have considering his constant debts.

I’m thinking, Carol continued, inspecting her nails. Maybe I should sell my apartment. My onebedroom in the center probably worth a lot. I could sell it. Buy something simpler on the outskirts and live off the difference.

Morirana sipped her tea. It was hot, burning her lips. Not a bad idea.

Her mother-in-law’s eyes widened. Do you really think so?

Of course. If you need money, it’s the logical option.

Carol fell silent, clearly expecting something else. Then she smiled crookedly. Yes, that’s what I thought for now. Maybe I don’t need to sell. Maybe there’s another way.

She trailed off, looking at Morirana expectantly. Rick watched too. They both waited for the daughter-in-law to offer help herself to say, “Don’t sell. Here’s some money. Live in peace.”

Morirana finished her tea and stood up. I’ll go change. I’m tired after the day.

She left the kitchen feeling two eyes on her, one confused, one angry. In the bedroom, she closed the door and sat on the edge of the bed. Her hands trembled slightly, not from fear, but from anger. Cold, quiet, relentless.

They wanted her money. That was obvious. Carol hadn’t come just like that. She had come to probe the situation to see if her daughter-in-law would succumb to pity. and Rig knew. He sat nearby, silent, waiting.

Morirana listened. Voices sounded again from the kitchen, now quieter, muffled. She stood up, walked to the door, and opened it a few centimeters. Words came through in fragments.

She doesn’t want to see greedy. Mom, come on. Don’t say that. She’s just cautious.

Cautious. She’s got a h 100,000 just lying there and I’m riding in retirement. Quiet. She’ll hear.

Let her hear. I raised you all by myself. Your father left when you were three. I worked two jobs. And now you married this cold one and you can’t even help me properly.

Rick muttered something unintelligible. We need to act. Carol hissed. Do you understand? Otherwise, we won’t get anything. She’s no fool. See how she dodged it? Sell, she says. The apartment. Easy for her to say. She’s got everything herself.

And what do you suggest?

Pause.

Mirana held her breath.

I was thinking maybe you could find out the pen for her card. You have access to her purse, right? Look inside. There’s the card. Then I’ll withdraw the money quickly at night so she won’t notice. In the morning, we’ll say the card was stolen. In the subway, for example, or at a store, silence so thick that Morirana could hear her own heartbeat.

Are you serious?

Rick’s voice was tense, but not indignant. More interested.

Absolutely. Listen, she won’t even notice at first. She’s used to it. She’s got more savings in there. So, what if some money is taken? We’ll split it later. Half for you, half for me. Fair, right?

Another pause.

I don’t know, Mom. It’s risky.

Risk? What risk? She won’t even guess. And if she does, so what? You’ll say you didn’t know. Fraudsters hack accounts all the time now. It’s normal. And if she goes to the bank, so what? The bank will shrug. The card was with her. No one knew the pen except her. It’s her own fault for not being careful. Trust me, it’ll be fine.

Morirana slowly closed the door. Inside, everything stiffened. She wasn’t surprised. For some reason, she wasn’t surprised at all. She knew Carol was capable of a lot. But the fact that Rick supported it, that was a blow. Not a strong one, but precise.

Morana sat on the edge of the bed. She needed to think. Weigh her options. Decide what to do next. But the decision, in fact, had already been made. Earlier that morning when she left the bank, Morirana smiled thinly, almost imperceptibly. Let them try.

About 10 minutes later, she left the bedroom. There was no one in the kitchen. Carol was standing in the hallway pulling on her jacket. Rick was helping zip it up.

You’re leaving already, Carol? Morirana asked, leaning against the door frame.

Her mother-in-law turned. Her face was tight, unfriendly. Yes, I have things to do. Thank you for the tea. Thank you for the pastries.

Morirana replied politely.

Carol nodded, adjusted her jacket, and headed for the door. At the door, she turned back. Morirana, just think about what I said. Family is important. We have to help each other.

Mirana looked her straight in the eyes. Of course, I’ll definitely think about it.

The door closed. Rick returned to the kitchen, turned on the TV, and sat on the couch. Morirana took the cups from the table and carried them to the sink.

Listen, Rick began without taking his eyes off the screen. Mom really is in a tough spot. Maybe we should help after all. Well, a little. Maybe 20,000.

Morana washed the cup and placed it on the drying rack. Why does she need 2,000?

He shrugged. Well, for living expenses to feel more secure.

Rick, your mother has a pension and an apartment. If she really needs money, she can sell the apartment, as she herself said. Or find some side work.

Morana turned, drying her hands with a towel. She’s 62. Plenty of women that age are still working.

Rick frowned. You’ve become kind of harsh.

Not harsh. Realistic.

No response. The whole evening passed in tense silence. Morirana read a book. Rick watched some show. Before bed, he lingered in the bath, then lay down and buried himself in his phone. Messaging probably with his mother. probably planning.

Morana turned onto her side, staring at the wall. Inside, she felt an astonishing calm. Almost indifference.

5 years of marriage could be erased in one conversation. One decision to steal money from your wife and collusion with your mother. She remembered how they met. A typical story. Mutual friends, a party, talking until dawn. Rick had seemed interesting, lively. He joked, listened, seemed warm, then flowers, walks, the first kiss in the rain. Romance, of course, always first romance.

A dull rustle came from the kitchen. Rick was searching for his jacket. The zipper clattered too loudly for the night. Then the sound of keys. A small set, two keys on it, one for the apartment, one for the intercom. metal rattled in his hand.

Morirana slowly opened her eyes. That was it. Her heart beat calmly, almost lazily. No fear, no rage, only clarity.

As if she were watching everything from a distance, she got up slowly, walked to the window, and drew back the curtain. The yard was shrouded in semi darkness. A single lamp by the entrance scattered a circle of yellow light on the asphalt.

Within that circle, in a couple of minutes, Rick appeared. He walked quickly, slightly hunched, like a school boy about to do something forbidden, but already decided. He stopped at the ATM by the pharmacy. The ATM was old, worn by time, with a peeling green panel.

Rick glanced around and inserted his card into the slot. Morirana didn’t even blink. She knew what would happen next. Entering the PIN 3806. A large amount. Confirmation requested. The security service was already alerted.

Morirana didn’t see the screen itself, but she saw Rick flinch. His shoulders tensed. He leaned closer to the screen, pressing buttons several times. Hurry. Panic. Hands trembling.

And at that exact moment, in the quiet of the night in their building, right in their apartment, her phone vibrated on the hall table. A short insistent signal. Like a premonition, Morirana turned, walked over, and picked up the receiver.

Bank security service. A calm male voice said, “An attempt to withdraw a large sum has been detected. Please confirm. Do you authorize this transaction?”

Morirana looked out the window. Rick was still at the ATM now. He slammed the keypad with his fist. Very quietly, almost in a whisper, Morirana answered, “No, I do not confirm. Thank you.”

The card is temporarily blocked. You will receive a call shortly to clarify the details. Click.

Morirana put the phone back in its place. The world was quiet like a winter night. Although winter was still far away outside, Rick cursed. She didn’t hear the words. She only saw the movement of his lips and the sharpness of his gestures. He pulled out the card, shoved it into his pocket, and quickly walked back toward the house. Nervousness, almost anger, had crept into his gate.

Morirana calmly sat down at the table. The tea in her mug had cooled, but she took a sip anyway.

A key turned in the door and that was when it began. When the door opened and Rick came in, her gaze was calm, clear, even. Rick froze in the doorway as if he hadn’t expected to see her awake.

Why aren’t you sleeping? He asked. His voice was sharp. Hoor.

Morirana slowly put down her mug.

And you? She asked.

The silence was sharp. It rang between them like a talk string, the click of the bathroom lock.

Morana opened her eyes. The darkness was dense, but she could make out the shapes of the furniture, the windows, the wardrobe, the walls. Her heartbeat steadily, almost calmly, only her hands trembled slightly as she raised them and clenched them into fists.

A muffled voice came from the bathroom. Rick was speaking quietly in a low voice, but the walls were thin. Very thin.

Mom, are you ready?

Pause.

He listened to what Carol replied.

Write down the pen. 3,86. The card is in her purse. Black Spurbank. Withdraw everything. She has over 100,000 there.

Morirana closed her eyes. There it was. that very thing she had been waiting for. Right now, in this moment, everything was decided for good. There were no more doubts, hesitations, or pity. Only cold, clear certainty.

Only at night, so she doesn’t have time to block it in the morning, Rick continued. I’ll say tomorrow that the card was stolen in the subway. We’ll split it in half. Deal.

Another pause. Then he said shortly, “Good luck.” Click. The conversation was over.

Morana lay back staring at the ceiling. Inside it was surprisingly quiet. No pain, no disappointment, only a light, almost ironic curiosity about what they would feel when everything went wrong.

Rick returned a couple of minutes later, carefully laid down, pulled the blanket over himself, breathing unevenly, nervously, clearly anxious. Morirana smiled in the darkness. It was okay. Soon he would be even more worried.

She turned onto her side, settling comfortably. She didn’t want to sleep, but she needed to pretend. She closed her eyes, relaxed her shoulders, slowed her breathing. Let him think she hadn’t heard anything. Let him hope. Time crawled slowly.

Morirana listened to the faucet dripping somewhere behind the wall, the wind creaking in the window frame, Rick shifting under the blanket. He clearly couldn’t sleep. He was probably running through the plan in his head, imagining his mother withdrawing the money, them splitting the loot. how he would feain shock and outrage tomorrow. Morirana, the card was stolen. Scammers, you need to go to the bank immediately. A pathetic performance, but apparently they believed it would work.

30 minutes passed, maybe 40. Morirana had just begun to doze off for real when Rick’s phone suddenly vibrated furiously on the nightstand. He jumped as if stung, grabbed the handset, staring at the screen. Even in the dark, Morirana could see his face go pale, almost gray.

The screen showed his mother. The message was long. The text flashed by, but Morirana clearly saw the beginning. Son, she knew everything.

Rick froze. Then he sharply turned to look at his wife. She lay motionless, eyes closed, breathing steadily and deeply. He looked for about 10 seconds, then jumped out of bed and rushed out of the bedroom without even closing the door behind him.

Morana opened her eyes. The light in the hallway came on. She heard Rick pacing through the apartment, muttering to himself. Then the click of a lighter, the smell of cigarette smoke. He was smoking inside, even though he always went out to the balcony.

She got up, threw on her robe, and walked into the hallway. Rick was standing by the window, holding his phone in one hand and a cigarette in the other. His face was pale, drops of sweat glistening on his forehead.

“What happened?” Morirana asked, calmly, leaning against the door frame.

He flinched and turned sharply. “Nothing. Everything’s fine.”

It’s just you look completely pale and you’re smoking inside the house.

He swallowed, looked away. My mom texted, “She has problems.”

“What kind of problems?” Pause.

Rick took a drag and exhaled smoke out the window. “I don’t know exactly. Something with the bank.” She went to an ATM, tried to withdraw money, and her card got blocked. They called security. I don’t understand what’s going on.

Morana stepped closer, looking at him carefully. Strange. Why did she go to the ATM in the middle of the night?

How should I know? Maybe she needed the money urgently. It’s all messed up, he added, nervously stubbing his cigarette out on the window sill.

Morirana, I don’t know. She said it was some kind of misunderstanding that they accused her of attempted fraud. Sounds ridiculous.

Morirana nodded. I see.

And whose card did she try to use?

He froze, staring at her for a long, studying moment. Something flickered in his eyes. Fear, suspicion, desperation. Her own. Probably who’s else. I don’t know. You probably know better.

The paws stretched. They stood facing each other, and the air between them felt so dense it could be cut with a knife.

I don’t know anything. Rick finally forced out. Nothing at all. It’s some kind of mistake.

Morirana gave a small humorous smile. A mistake, of course.

She turned and walked to the kitchen. Turned on the light, set the kettle to boil. Her hands were steady, firm.

Rick followed and stopped by the table. Morirana, he began cautiously. You didn’t happen to change the pin on the card, did you?

She turned, raised an eyebrow. I changed it the day before yesterday. Why?

His face lengthened. Why would you do that?

For security. You yourself said we should be more careful. So I decided to make things safer.

He was silent. Morana could see him frantically trying to piece together what went wrong. The kettle boiled.

She poured water into her mug dropped in a tea bag. And I left the old pin on another card, she continued, stirring her tea calmly.

On a spare one? It has what? Three rubles on it, but the card’s active.

Rick went even paler. Three rubles.

And that card is connected to a security service. Actually, you know, the kind where if someone tries to withdraw a large sum, the bank immediately blocks the transaction and call security. Convenient, isn’t it?

Silence. A silence so heavy one might open a window just to let air in. Rick stood with his mouth slightly open, staring at her like she was a ghost. Then he swallowed and ran a hand over his face.

You You did it on purpose.

Morirana took a sip of her tea. Of course I did.

You thought I didn’t hear your little conversation with your mother in the kitchen about how to get my pen and withdraw my money.

He stepped back as if she had struck him. We It’s not what you think. It’s not.

Morirana laughed softly. Rick, I heard every word. Your brilliant plan to steal my money, split it, and blame scammers. Very elegant, really.

He tried to say something, but his voice broke. Morirana, it was my mom’s idea. I was against it. I swear she was pressuring me, saying she had nothing to live on, that you’re stingy.

Stop.

Mirana raised her hand. Don’t Don’t try to blame everything on your mother. Did you agree? You yourself dictated the pen to her just half an hour ago. I heard everything. So don’t lie.

Rick slumped into a chair, burying his head in his hands. My god, what’s going to happen now?

Morirana finished her tea and set the mug in the sink. Now your mother is sitting in the bank, explaining to security why she tried to withdraw 100,000 from someone else’s card. They might even pass the case to the police if they want. It depends on whether I decide to file a report.

He lifted his head. Please don’t file it. It’s mom. She’ll get in trouble.

Morirana steadied him for a long moment. Here he was, pathetic, frightened, begging her to spare his little mommy, the same one who had tried to rob his wife just an hour ago.

I don’t know, she said finally. Haven’t decided yet.

Rick jumped up and stepped toward her. Morirana, come on. It’s just a stupid thing. We didn’t mean to hurt you. We just needed money.

You always need money. She cut him off. But normal people earn it. They don’t steal it from their wives.

He fell silent, standing with his hands down, his face written over with complete despair. Deep inside, Morirana felt a faint twinge of pity, but only faint. Very faint.

“Go to sleep,” she said tiredly. “We’ll talk in the morning.”

In the morning?

Yes, in the morning. I’ll tell you what I’ve decided. For now, just go.

Rick nodded, stunned, and shuffled back to the bedroom. Morana remained in the kitchen, looking out the window. Outside, the sky was beginning to lighten. The gray pre-dawn sky showed through the darkness. The city was waking slowly, reluctantly.

Rick’s phone vibrated again in the hallway. Morana went to pick it up from the floor. Another message from Carol.

Rick, they’re interrogating me. They say it’s an attempted theft. What should I do?

Morirana smiled faintly and put the phone back. Let Rick deal with his mother himself. She had played her part.

She returned to the kitchen, sat by the window. Street lights had turned on, though the sky was already lightning. A few pedestrians hurried along. Somewhere in the distance, a truck rumbled. A normal morning, a normal day. Only for her, this day had become a turning point.

Morirana pulled her phone from her robe pocket and typed a message to her friend Olivia. Hi, can I come by today? Need to talk.

The reply came almost instantly. Of course. What happened?

I’ll tell you when we meet. I’ll be there around 10:00.

Morirana put the phone away and leaned back in the chair. Inside, it was calm, not joyful, not sad, just calm. Like after a long illness, when the crisis has passed and all that’s left is to wait for recovery, she had lived with Rick for 5 years. 5 years of hopes, habits, compromises. 5 years of illusions that everything would somehow work out.

But now the illusions were gone. Only facts remained. Fact one, her husband and his mother planned to steal her money. Fact two, they didn’t feel an ounce of guilt. Fact three, that means it’s over.

Morirana stood and walked to the window. The sky outside had brightened completely, turning a pale pink. A beautiful sunrise. A shame that the night before had been so vile, something crashed in the bedroom. Rick, apparently unable to sleep, was tossing and turning. Morirana listened. Then muffled sobs reached her. He was crying.

She smiled faintly. Self-pity was all he was capable of. Not for her, not for their ruined marriage, only for himself.

Morirana returned to the kitchen and began packing her bag, documents, keys, phone, charger, everything essential. She would stay with Olivia only for a short time, about 3 days, until she decided what to do next. The apartment had been bought before the marriage with her grandmother’s money, so she wouldn’t have to kick Rick out. He would leave on his own or his mother would take him and then she would see.

Around 8:00 she heard the alarm in the bedroom. Rick got up and went to the bathroom. The faucet gurgled.

Morirana sat in the kitchen drinking her second tea of the morning, watching the window. About 20 minutes later, Rick came out dressed but rumpled with red eyes and a drawn face. He sat opposite her, poured coffee from the s she had prepared.

Morirana, he began quietly. I’m guilty. I understand. Forgive me. Please forgive me.

She remained silent.

It was stupidity. Terrible idiotic stupidity. My mom persuaded me. I didn’t think, but I didn’t want to betray you.

Honestly, Rick, she interrupted calmly. You dictated the pen of my card to your mother and told her to withdraw all the money. That is betrayal, plain and simple.

He gripped the mug with both hands, staring into the dark coffee. What are you going to do?

I don’t know. Probably file for divorce.

He flinched. Divorce, Morirana. Wait, let’s talk this through. I’ll change. I swear.

She shook her head. You won’t change. You are the way you are and your mother is the way she is. I don’t need a family that treats me like a cash cow.

Rick opened his mouth to argue, but his phone vibrated again. He grabbed it, looked at the screen, and went pale. Mom, he whispered. “She’s calling.”

Morirana nodded. “Answer.”

He pressed the button, and brought the phone to his ear. “Hello, Mom. Where are you?”

Carol’s voice was hysterical. loud. Morana heard every word. Rick, they held me in the bank for three hours. Three hours interrogating me like a criminal. They said they might pass the case to the police. This is all your wife’s doing. She set this up on purpose.

Rick stayed silent, clutching the phone with pale fingers.

Do you hear me? She framed us, deliberately changed the pen, and left that cursed card with $3. She knew we’d try to withdraw the money.

Mom, calm down. Calm down.

How can I calm down? They almost arrested me. Barely let me go and only because your precious wife hasn’t filed a report yet. But they said, “If she does, I’ll be held responsible.”

Morirana listened without taking her eyes off the window. Her mother-in-law’s voice sounded pathetic and vicious at the same time. She screamed, accused, demanded protection.

Mom, calm down. Rick tried to interrupt her. I’ll come over now. We’ll talk.

Don’t come. Better tell that snake not to file a report. Hear me? Don’t let her.

Morirana stood and walked to the table, reaching out. Give me the phone.

Brick looked at her fearfully, but handed it over.

Morirana brought it to her ear. Hello, Carol.

Carol sputtered midward. You this is all your fault.

I’m at fault for protecting my money, Morirana answered calmly. Interesting logic.

You set us up on purpose.

You set yourselves up when you decided to steal my money. I just took precautions.

I didn’t want to steal. It’s a misunderstanding.

Of course, Morirana said calmly, almost mockingly. You just happened to go to the ATM at night with my card and my pen. A coincidence?

Carol gasped indignantly.

You’re heartless. I have a tiny pension, nothing to live on, and you have over 100,000 just sitting there. You could have helped, could have.

Morirana agreed if you had asked properly. But you tried to rob me at night, conspiring with my husband.

Silence.

Then her mother-in-law spoke more quietly, almost pleading. Morirana, please don’t file the report. I’ll never ever just don’t file it.

Morirana stayed silent, weighing whether to file or not. On one hand, she wanted to teach this brazen woman a lesson to show that not everything is forgiven. On the other hand, dealing with the police investigations, testimonies, was it worth it?

Fine, she said finally. I won’t file, but on one condition, which you and Rick never appear in my life again. No calls, no visits, no requests. I’m filing for divorce, taking care of everything quickly and quietly, and you’ll disappear forever.

Carol sniffled. All right, all right, as you say. Just don’t file the papers.

Agreed.

Morana hung up and handed the phone to Rick. He took it with trembling hands and looked at her, lost.

Are you really not going to file?

I won’t, she replied. But on the condition that you move out today, take your things, leave, and never show up again.

He nodded without looking up. “I understand.”

Morirana turned and went to the bedroom to pack her bag. Behind her, she heard him get up, go into the room, and start packing his things into bags.

Half an hour later, he was standing in the hallway with two bags, pale and bewildered.

“Mirana,” he said quietly. “I’m sorry. I really didn’t mean to.”

She raised her hand, stopping him. No need. Just go.

He nodded, opened the door, and left. The door closed quietly, almost silently.

Morirana stayed in the hallway, staring at the closed door. Inside, it was empty. Not painful, not sad, just empty. like after a long illness when the fever subsides and only weakness remains.

She returned to the kitchen and sat by the window. Outside, the wind rattled, driving gray clouds across the sky. The day promised to be gloomy.

Morana took out her phone and typed a message to Olivia. I changed my mind. I won’t come. Everything resolved itself.

A reply came almost immediately. Are you okay?

Yes, perfectly.

She put the phone away and looked out the window. Life went on. People hurried to work. Buses rumbled at the stops. Somewhere in the distance, children were laughing. An ordinary day. The first day of a new life.

Morirana smiled weakly but sincerely. Now she knew for sure justice doesn’t always come through the police or revenge. Sometimes it comes on its own through $3 on a card, a mother’s greed, and your own foresight.

The morning after Rick left was surprisingly quiet. Morirana woke up late, around 10, and the first thing she felt was an unusual lightness. The apartment was empty. The silence was so thick that she could hear pigeons cooing on the windowsill outside.

She got up and walked through the rooms. Rick’s presence was gone everywhere. His jacket wasn’t on the hallway rack. His sneakers were gone from under the shoe cabinet, and the shaving items weren’t scattered in the bathroom. Even the scent of his cologne had vanished.

Morana stopped at the living room window and looked down at the yard. Children were kicking a ball between the garages. A woman with a stroller walked slowly along the path. An old man was walking his ducks hund. Ordinary life in which her personal drama meant absolutely nothing.

She went back to the kitchen, made coffee, and sat at the table. She needed to think, plan, decide what to do next, file for divorce, change the locks just in case. Though Rick had left the keys on the cabinet, erase five years from her life as if they never existed.

But for some reason, she didn’t want to think. She just wanted to sit, drink hot coffee, and watch the clouds drift by outside.

The phone rang around noon. Olivia.

Morirana pressed the green button. Hello, Morirana. Why are you silent? What happened yesterday? You said it was resolved and then disappeared.

Morirana smirked. Sorry. I didn’t have the strength to explain.

Then explain now. I’m dying of curiosity.

Morirana sighed and began telling the story briefly without unnecessary details. Olivia listened silently, occasionally gasping. When Morirana finished, her friend exhaled long and low.

Holy would appear. both mother and son. Well, now it doesn’t matter. The main thing is it’s all over.

Over? Morirana, are you filing for divorce?

Of course. Next week, I’ll go to the registry office and see what’s needed.

Won’t he resist?

Morirana shook her head, though Olivia couldn’t see her. He won’t. He’s actually relieved that I didn’t file a complaint against his mother. So, we’ll handle everything quietly and quickly.

Tell me, how do you feel right now? You’re alone there. Are you sad?

Morana thought for a moment. You know, strangely enough, I’m not sad. More like relieved, as if a weight has been lifted off my shoulders. For 5 years, I felt like something was wrong. Now, I understand. It wasn’t me who was wrong. It was him and his mother.

Olivia was silent for a moment, then said softly, “Come over to my place tonight. We’ll have some tea and chat. It’s lonely sitting by yourself.”

Thanks. I’ll come.

After the call, Morirana got dressed and went outside. She needed a walk to clear her head and distract herself from her thoughts. She wandered through familiar streets, looking at shop windows and observing people. Everything felt new, as if she were seeing the world with fresh eyes.

She lingered in a bookstore for about 20 minutes, flipping through the new arrivals, and bought a detective novel and a collection of short stories. She had long wanted to read something light, something not too taxing.

Stepping back outside, she ran nosetonose with her neighbor, Aunt Gwen. She lived a floor above and was notorious in the building for her love of gossip.

Hello, Morirana. Aunt Gwen smiled broadly. Long time no see. How are you? How’s your husband?

Morirana returned a polite smile. Hello. Everything’s fine, thank you.

Oh, did your Rick leave with bags yesterday? I saw from my window. Did you have an argument?

Morana restrained his sigh. The gossip would spread through the building at the speed of sound.

“We’re getting a divorce,” she said calmly. “We just didn’t match.”

Aunt Gwen gasped, clutching her chest. “Oh my, I thought you two were such a strong couple, young and beautiful. Sometimes it happens.”

Morirana shrugged. “It’s nothing serious. Life goes on.”

She said goodbye and walked on, feeling the neighbor’s curious gaze on her back. By evening the whole building would know the millers were divorcing. Well, let them. It didn’t matter to her.

That evening she did go to Olivia’s. Her friend greeted her with open arms, seated her in the kitchen, and brewed fragrant time tea.

Tell me everything from the beginning. Olivia demanded settling across from her. And don’t even think about hiding anything.

Morana recounted the story in detail without rushing. Olivia listened with her mouth open and at the end just shook her head.

Wow, you’re amazing Morirana. If it were me, I’d have screamed, caused a scene, called the police. But you calculated everything calmly and handled them perfectly.

I didn’t handle them. I just took precautions, Morirana replied.

You’re a genius. Olivia laughed. $3 on a card classic. I can only imagine how your mother-in-law freaked out when they caught her at the bank.

Morirana smirked. Yeah, picturing that was actually funny.

You know, I’m not even angry at them, she admitted. More like I feel sorry for them. Such a waste. 5 years of your life on someone capable of that.

Olivia reached across the table and covered her hand. Don’t feel sorry. Five years isn’t that long. The important thing is you realized it in time and left. Some people live their whole lives with people like that and suffer.

Morirana nodded. Olivia was right. The main thing was she hadn’t closed her eyes, endured, or forgiven. She had simply left. And that was the right choice.

They talked until midnight about all sorts of trivial things. work, vacation plans, a new series Olivia was binge watching. Morirana listened, laughed, sipped honey tea, and felt the tension of the past few days gradually release.

She returned home late. The apartment greeted her with silence and darkness. Morirana turned on the lights and walked through the rooms. Everything was in place. Everything was calm.

She went to bed and for the first time in weeks fell asleep immediately without anxious thoughts or nightmares.

The following week, Morirana took a day off and went to the registry office. The divorce process turned out to be surprisingly simple. Rick didn’t resist. He even came without reminders, signed all the papers silently, and left without saying goodbye. Morana watched him go and felt nothing. No pity, no anger, no regret, just emptiness, which however didn’t weigh on her or torment her, but rather freed her.

A month later, the divorce was finalized. Morana received the certificate, put it in her document folder, and exhaled in relief. Done. Period. A new chapter of life.

In November, she enrolled in English courses. She had long wanted to improve her skills, but there was never enough time. Now she had all the time in the world. In the evenings, she sat with textbooks, listened to podcasts, and watched movies in English with subtitles.

In December, something pleasant happened at work. Her boss called her into his office and offered her a promotion. The senior accountant was going on maternity leave, and they needed a replacement.

Morirana, you’re the most responsible and competent among us,” he said, tapping his pen on the desk. “Can you handle it?”

Morirana smiled. “Of course I can.”

The promotion meant a higher salary and more responsibility, but Morirana wasn’t afraid. On the contrary, she wanted to dive into work to fill the emptiness that sometimes still made itself felt.

By the new year, the apartment had transformed. Morana finally started the kitchen renovation she had dreamed of. She hired a team, chose the furniture and appliances. The process was slow with some setbacks and delays, but she didn’t get nervous. She now had plenty of patience.

At the end of December, Olivia called and invited her to a company party. Morirana, how long are you going to stay at home? Let’s go have some fun. My colleagues will be there. Nice people. You’ll meet them. Get distracted.

Morirana refused at first, but Olivia was persistent. In the end, she agreed. The party turned out to be loud and fun. Morana sat at a table sipping champagne, listening to Olivia’s colleagues share funny office stories.

One of them, Dave, a tall man in his 40s with a pleasant face and kind eyes, came over and struck up a conversation.

“Olivia says you’re an accountant?” he asked, smiling. “I admire you. I’m hopeless with numbers.”

Morirana smirked. “It’s a matter of habit.”

They talked all evening. Dave was an engineer working for a design firm, and he enjoyed hiking and photography. He told stories in an engaging and humorous way. Morana gradually relaxed and even laughed several times. At the end of the evening, he asked cautiously, “Can I call you?”

“If you don’t mind, of course.”

Morirana hesitated. She wasn’t looking for a relationship and hadn’t thought about it at all. “Why not?” She said, “Really? I don’t mind.”

He smiled and there was something warm and sincere in his smile. They spoke a week later, met at a cafe, talked, and strolled through a snow-covered park. Dave was an attentive listener and an interesting conversationalist.

Morana briefly told him about her divorce. He nodded understandingly.

“I’m divorced, too,” he admitted 3 years ago. It was hard at first, but then I realized it was for the best. Life got better. It became easier to breathe.

Morana smiled. So, she wasn’t the only one who felt that way.

They continued to meet once a week, no more, unhurriedly, without pressure, without obligations, just enjoying each other’s company.

In January, an unexpected encounter happened at work. Morirana was at the coffee machine in the corridor when a group of people came out of the elevator. Among them was Carol. Morirana froze. The mother-in-law noticed her too, stopped and went pale.

They stared at each other for a few seconds. Then Carol abruptly turned away and walked toward the exit. Morana watched her go and smirked. Apparently, Carol had come to see someone she knew or had business to attend to, and running into her former daughter-in-law was clearly unplanned.

She poured herself a coffee and returned to the office. Inside, there was calm with no desire to confront or make claims. All of that belonged to the past, and she had no wish to return there.

That same evening, Rick called. Morirana stared at the name on the screen for a long time before finally answering.

Yes, Morirana. Hi, it’s me. I hear you wanted to talk.

There was a pause. Apparently, he hadn’t expected such a cold tone.

I wanted to talk. Can I?

Go ahead.

Another pause.

I’m living with my mom in her one-bedroom apartment. It’s cramped. really cramped. We argue all the time. She nags me every day. Says everything went wrong because of me. That if I hadn’t gotten involved with that car thing, we’d be living normally now.

Morirana smirked. And what do you want me to say? Feel sorry for you?

No, I just wanted you to know. It’s hard for me. Very hard.

Rick. I’m sorry, of course, but it’s your choice. You chose your mother and her greed. So now live with the consequences.

He sighed heavily. You will never forgive me?

Yes.

Morirana thought for a moment. Forgive? Maybe someday she would. When time dulled the pain completely. But right now she didn’t want to forgive.

I don’t know, Rick. She said, “Maybe someday, but definitely not now. And even if I forgive, we won’t get back together. That’s impossible.”

I understand.

He spoke softly, almost in a whisper. Forgive me for everything.

She didn’t answer. Simply hung up and set the phone on the table. Rig never called again.

February brought news from Olivia. One evening, her friend called, excited and joyful. Morirana, remember my cousin Betty? She works as a realtor. Well, she says there’s a two- room apartment for sale on your street. Nice. With renovations. Rick and his mother are trying to sell their apartment and split up. They couldn’t handle it apparently.

Morana laughed. Seriously?

Absolutely. Betty says they’re asking an outrageous price, but there are no buyers. The apartment is old. The building’s decrepit. So they’re still stuck arguing.

Morirana shook her head. So they still couldn’t get along. Greed and mutual resentment had done their work.

“Well, let them,” she said calmly. “I don’t care.”

And that was true. She really didn’t care. Rick and Carol were in the past, and she had no desire to dig it up.

Spring came unexpectedly early. By March, the streams were running. The first grass turned green, and buds appeared on the trees. Morana went to work with a light heart, met with Dave, studied English, and read books.

Life had settled. Not immediately, not all at once, but gradually, day by day, she learned to wake up without anxiety, fall asleep without heavy thoughts, and enjoy small things. A cup of morning coffee, a good book, the warm spring wind.

In April, the kitchen renovation was finished. Morirana stood in the middle of the renewed space, looking around with satisfaction. Bright furniture, new appliances, convenient cabinets. It turned out exactly as she had dreamed.

She invited Olivia over for a housewarming. Her friend arrived with a bottle of wine and a bouquet of tulips.

Morana, this is gorgeous,” she exclaimed, admiring the kitchen. Just like in a magazine.

They sat late into the night, chatting, laughing, reminiscing. Olivia suddenly asked, “Do you ever regret how it all turned out with Rick?”

Morirana thought, staring into her glass of wine. “You know, sometimes I regret the time I spent, but I don’t regret leaving. If I had stayed, it would have only gotten worse. They would have drained me for the rest of my life. But now I’m free.”

Olivia nodded. That’s right. You’re amazing. Not every woman would have had the courage to do that.

Morirana smirked. I just realized one thing in time. You can’t live with people who see you not as a person, but as a wallet. You can’t forgive betrayal, even if it’s your husband, even if you regret the years wasted.

Olivia raised her glass to you, to your strength and wisdom. They clinkedked glasses and Morirana felt something quietly finally heal inside her.

A week later, Aunt Gwen called. Morirana was surprised. Her neighbor rarely phoned. Usually just ran into her in the building and started chatting.

Hello, Morirana. Listen, I happened to see your ex. He was standing near the store asking for cigarettes. He didn’t look greated, haggarded.

Morirana politely thanked her for the information and hung up. She didn’t feel sorry for Rick. He had chosen his own path. Now he could walk it.

She went to the window and looked out at the street. Spring had fully arrived. The trees were covered in fresh leaves. Children were riding bikes in the yard. Someone was planting flowers in a flower bed. Life went on, ordinary, simple, without drama or betrayal. And it was wonderful.

That evening, Dave called and suggested a weekend trip out of town to see an old estate and stroll through the park. Morirana gladly agreed. They went on Saturday. The estate was beautiful and well-kept with a pond and centuries old oaks. They walked slowly, talked, laughed.

Dave told stories from his hikes, showed photos. Morirana listened, thinking how easy it was with him. No tension, no misunderstandings, just warmth and calm.

On the way back, Dave suddenly asked, “Morana, have you thought about the future? about what’ll happen in a year or two.”

She looked out the window at the fields and woods passing by. I’ve thought about it, but I don’t make plans. I live in the moment. It’s simpler and calmer that way.

He nodded wisely. They fell silent, and the quiet felt light, comfortable.

By summer, Morirana had fully settled into her new position. Work was going well. Her boss praised her. Colleagues respected her. She even considered signing up for advanced training courses. She wanted to move forward, develop, not stand still.

In June, Olivia brought news again. Listen, Betty says Rick and his mother finally sold the apartment for practically nothing, of course, but they sold it. They’ve split up. He rents a room somewhere on the outskirts, and she moved to her sister’s village. They didn’t divide anything, just argued one last time.

Morirana smirked. Justice has been served, then.

Exactly. Olivia nodded. You know the saying, you reap what you sow. They swed greed and cruelty, and that’s what they reaped.

Morana finished her tea and looked out the window. The bright summer sun shone. Birds sang. Flowers in the flower beds bloomed.

Justice doesn’t always come through the police. Sometimes it comes through $3 on a card, a mother’s greed, and your own foresight. And then life itself puts everything in its place.

Morana smiled. She was free, happy, and calm. Ahead lay summer, new plans, new opportunities. while the past remained where it belonged in the past. She stood, approached the window, and threw it wide open. Fresh air rushed into the room, carrying the scent of cut grass and warm asphalt. Life went on and it was wonderful.