“Diana Will Live Here Now,” Her Husband Announced After Returning from Vacation
Today was a special day.
Andrey was coming back from vacation. He had been gone for two whole weeks — he had gone to the sea, to Sochi, “to take a break from everything,” as he put it. From work, from the city, and, probably, from her too. Marina did not take offense. The man was tired. Let him rest.
She stayed home — work, errands, and the apartment needed to be put in order while he was away. She washed the windows, sorted through the closets, even cleared out the balcony. All so that when her husband returned, he would see that home was cozy and warm.
The door slammed.
“Andrey?” Marina peeked out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron.
He was standing in the hallway. Tanned, rested. In his hands were a suitcase and a bag with some souvenirs. He was smiling. But somehow strangely.
“Hi,” he said casually, taking off his sneakers.
“How was the trip?” Marina asked, coming closer. She wanted to hug him, but he had already walked past her into the room.
“It was great,” he answered from behind the door. “The sea, the sun. I met some interesting people.”
Marina went back to the stove. She turned off the burner. Then she called her husband to dinner.
He sat down at the table. He ate in silence, not raising his eyes.
“Why are you like this?” Marina asked carefully. “Did something happen?”
Andrey put down his fork.
He looked at her.
And said:
“Marina, Diana will live here now.”
Marina froze.
“What?”
“Diana. I met her in Sochi. She’s in a difficult situation. She has nowhere to live. I invited her to stay with us. Temporarily.”
“You…” Marina could not find the words. “You invited a strange woman to live in our apartment?”
“She’s not a stranger,” Andrey objected calmly. “We became friends. She’s a good person. You’ll understand once you meet her.”
“I’m supposed to understand?!”
“Marina, don’t complicate things. It’s temporary! A couple of weeks, a month at most. Until she finds a job and rents a place.”
Marina looked at her husband and did not recognize him.
This man, with whom she had lived for seven years, who had promised to always be by her side. This man had just told her he was bringing an unfamiliar woman into their home. And she was supposed to understand.
“When is she arriving?” Marina asked quietly.
“Tomorrow,” Andrey replied. “In the morning.”
Marina got up from the table. She cleared the plates. Washed the dishes. Her hands were trembling.
And inside her, a wave was rising — cold, dark, terrifying.
Diana arrived at ten in the morning.
She came with two suitcases and a huge bag over her shoulder. Bright, well-groomed — tanned skin, shiny shoulder-length hair, a snow-white smile. Her jeans fit her figure like a second skin. Around her neck was a gold chain.
Marina stood in the hallway and watched as her husband helped the guest take off her jacket. How carefully he took her things. How he smiled.
“Come in, make yourself comfortable,” Andrey said. “Marina, meet Diana.”
“Hi!” Diana held out her hand. Her handshake was firm and confident. “Thank you for agreeing to take me in. I really won’t be here long!”
Marina nodded silently.
Agreed. As if anyone had asked her.
“The room is here,” Andrey opened the door to the small room next to the living room. “The sofa folds out, the sheets are clean. If you need anything, just say.”
“Oh, everything is wonderful!” Diana stepped inside, looking around the space. “So cozy! Can I hang up one of my paintings later? For atmosphere?”
Marina felt something tighten inside her.
“Of course,” Andrey answered. “Make yourself at home.”
And now came the most interesting part.
Diana really did start acting as if she were at home.
From the very first day.
She got up early — earlier than Marina. She came into the kitchen in short shorts and a top, poured herself coffee, and sat across from Andrey at the table. They talked. They laughed.
About something of their own.
Marina would come in — and the conversation would fall silent.
“Good morning,” Diana would say with a smile. “You don’t mind that I used your cezve, do you? Your coffee is so delicious!”
Marina would nod silently. Then leave for work.
She would come home in the evening — and Diana was already there. Sitting in the living room, watching TV. Her legs thrown up on the sofa.
“Marina, could you wash this blouse for me?” she asked once.
Marina looked at her.
“The washing machine is over there,” she said evenly. “You can wash it yourself.”
Diana blinked. Her smile turned a little colder.
“Okay, okay. Sorry.”
But then it got worse.
Diana began cooking. In the kitchen. She spread her groceries across all the shelves, took over the pots, and the stove too.
“Andryusha, try this!” she would call to Marina’s husband. “I made you pasta, just like in Italy!”
Marina stood in the doorway and watched as her husband ate and praised her.
And he did not even look at Marina.
“Marina, do you want some?” Diana asked, holding out a spoon to her.
“No,” Marina replied. “Thank you.”
And she went to the bedroom.
About a week and a half later, the talk began.
Their neighbor, Aunt Lyuda, stopped Marina near the entrance.
“Listen, who’s this guest you’ve got? So young and pretty. Your husband brought her back from vacation?”
Marina swallowed.
“She’s staying temporarily. A friend.”
“A friend, you say,” Aunt Lyuda narrowed her eyes. “Well, well. Be careful. Friends can be different.”
Have you ever had that feeling — that everyone around you is discussing you, but staying silent to your face?
Marina felt it.
She would meet an acquaintance at the store — and the woman would look at her with pity. A colleague at work would suddenly ask, “How are things at home?” with such an undertone that Marina wanted to sink through the floor.
And at home, Andrey spent more and more time with Diana. Sometimes they watched movies together. Sometimes they sat in the kitchen late into the night, talking about something.
Marina tried to speak to him.
“Andrey, maybe it’s time already? She said it was temporary. Three weeks have passed.”
“Marina, give her a little more time. She’s looking for work, for an apartment. We can’t just throw her out onto the street!”
“But you can throw me out?”
He looked at her in surprise.
“What are you talking about? What do you have to do with it?”
“I have everything to do with it. This is my home! And I never agreed to this!”
“You’re too jealous,” Andrey cut her off. “Diana is just a friend. You’re making everything complicated.”
Marina understood: he did not see the problem. Or did not want to see it.
And that was not all.
One evening, Marina came home earlier than usual. She opened the door — silence. She walked into the kitchen.
Andrey and Diana were standing by the window. Close. Too close.
He was saying something to her. Quietly. She was laughing.
And then Andrey put his hand on her shoulder.
Marina froze.
“What is going on?” she asked.
They turned around.
“Oh, Marina!” Andrey removed his hand. “You’re early today.”
“What is going on?” she repeated.
“Nothing is going on,” he answered irritably. “We were just talking.”
Diana said nothing. She looked down at the floor.
Marina turned around and went into the bedroom.
She could no longer tolerate this.
Marina did not sleep all night.
She lay in the darkness, staring at the ceiling, listening as Andrey moved around in the bathroom, then came into the bedroom and lay down beside her. He did not even try to hug her. He simply turned onto his side, facing away from her.
By morning, she had made a decision.
“Andrey,” she said while he was drinking coffee in the kitchen. “We need to talk. The three of us.”
He looked up.
“About what?”
“About everything. Tonight. And tell Diana.”
“Marina.”
“Don’t argue. Just do it.”
That evening, they sat at the table. All three of them.
Marina had set the table.
“Thank you for inviting me,” Diana said, smiling uncertainly. “I didn’t expect it.”
“I didn’t expect many things either,” Marina interrupted her. “But now let’s speak honestly.”
She looked at her husband. Then at Diana.
“I want to ask one question. Directly. And I expect a direct answer.”
“Marina, what is this about?” Andrey began.
“Be quiet.” Marina’s voice was calm, but firm. “Diana, who are you living here as? A tenant, a relative, or his second wife?”
Silence.
Diana turned pale. Andrey froze with a glass in his hand.
“I…” Diana began.
“Answer honestly,” Marina insisted. “Because I’m tired of pretending. I’m tired of watching you whisper in corners. Watching you make him breakfasts. Watching you use my things, my kitchen, my apartment — and act as if you are the mistress of this house!”
“Marina, calm down,” Andrey tried to intervene.
“No!” Marina slammed her palm on the table. The glasses clinked. “I have tolerated this for an entire month!”
Diana lowered her eyes.
“I didn’t want to.”
“Didn’t want what?!” Marina leaned forward. “Didn’t want to live here? Didn’t want to take my place?!”
“I’m not taking your place.”
“You are!”
And then Diana raised her head, looked Marina in the eyes, and said:
“Fine. You want the truth? Here it is. Andrey and I are having an affair. We have been since Sochi. And he didn’t just invite me to stay — he asked me to come. Because he loves me.”
The words hung in the air.
Marina felt something inside her collapse.
She slowly turned to her husband.
“Is that true?”
Andrey was silent.
He stared at the table.
“Yes,” he finally exhaled. “Yes, Marina. It’s true.”
Marina leaned back in her chair.
Her hands were shaking. Her heart was pounding so hard that it felt as if it would burst out of her chest.
“So all this month you lied to me? Told me she was ‘just a friend’? That I was ‘making everything complicated’?”
“I didn’t want to hurt you.”
“Didn’t want to?!” Marina laughed. Hysterically, bitterly. “You brought your mistress into our home! Forced me to live with her under the same roof! And you ‘didn’t want to hurt me’?!”
“Marina, forgive me.”
“Shut up.” She stood up. “Just shut up.”
Diana stood up too.
“Marina, I understand how hard this is for you right now.”
“You understand nothing!” Marina screamed. “You came into my home! Slept in my apartment! Ate from my dishes! All this time you played the poor unfortunate victim, while you yourself…”
She did not finish.
She turned and went into the bedroom.
Andrey followed her.
“Marina, let’s talk calmly.”
“Talk?” Marina opened the wardrobe. She began pulling out his clothes. “Now we’ll talk. Take your things. And hers too. And leave. Both of you. Right now.”
“Marina, you can’t.”
“I can!” She threw his shirt onto the floor. “This is my apartment! I bought it! And I decide who lives here!”
“But—”
“No ‘buts’!” Marina looked at him with hatred. With pain. With contempt. “You betrayed me. And now — leave.”
Andrey stood there, confused and helpless.
“Marina…”
“I said leave!”
He slowly began packing his things.
Diana stood in the doorway, silently watching.
Half an hour later, they left.
With suitcases, bags, and the painting Diana never had time to hang.
For the first week, Marina barely left the apartment.
She lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, crying. Then she stopped crying — she simply lay there. The emptiness inside was so heavy that even breathing was difficult.
Andrey called. Sent messages. She did not answer.
Diana also tried to contact her — apologizing, explaining, asking for forgiveness. Marina blocked her number.
Then one morning, she got up.
She looked at herself in the mirror — pale, with dark circles under her eyes, her hair disheveled.
And thought: “Enough.”
Enough living in this pain. Enough giving power over herself to people who had betrayed her.
Marina took a shower. Changed clothes. Made coffee. Opened the windows and let in fresh air.
And began a new life.
A month later, the divorce papers arrived. Marina signed them without regret. The apartment remained hers — she had bought it before the marriage. Andrey had no rights to it.
He tried to meet with her, to talk. Marina refused.
“We have nothing to talk about,” she wrote to him. “You made your choice. Now live with it.”
Later she found out that Andrey and Diana had moved in together. They rented an apartment for the two of them. But it seemed they did not find happiness — six months later, they broke up. Diana moved to another city. Andrey was left alone.
And Marina learned to live for herself.
She traveled. For the first time in many years, she felt that her life belonged to her.
Was it frightening to be alone? Yes.
But she did not regret it.
