“Touch my documents one more time, and you’ll be out of here with your things,” Polina warned, looking at her husband.
Polina met Igor in a café near her home, where she had stopped for coffee after work. He was sitting at the next table, smiling, and he was the first to start a conversation. They talked for about two hours and exchanged phone numbers. Polina was thirty-eight, divorced, with the bitter experience of her first marriage behind her. Igor was forty-two, also divorced, with two children from his first marriage.
They dated for six months before Igor moved in with Polina. He had nothing of his own — a rented room in a dormitory, an old car that he sold before moving, and child support obligations for two children. Polina owned a two-room apartment in the city center, bought with the money from selling a one-room apartment she had inherited from her grandmother, and she also had a decent car. She worked as a senior specialist at a large company and earned well.
Before Igor moved in, Polina immediately set boundaries.
“I don’t want anything to do with your children. Do you understand? They are yours, not mine. I won’t meet them, communicate with them, or take part in raising them. If that doesn’t work for you, say so now.”
Igor nodded obediently at the time.
“Of course, Polinochka. I understand everything. It’s enough for me just to be with you. The children live with my ex, I pay child support, and I visit them separately on weekends. No problem.”
They lived together for three years. They registered their marriage a year after they began living together. Igor got a job as a manager at a construction company. He earned an average salary, but Polina did not demand major contributions from him. They split utilities in half, and groceries too. They lived calmly, without scandals.
Polina suspected nothing bad until the evening Igor suddenly started a strange conversation.
They were sitting in the kitchen, having dinner. Igor was stirring his tea with a spoon and casually said:
“Listen, why don’t we register my children here? Just in case.”
Polina froze with her fork in her hand.
“Why?”
“What do you mean, why?” Igor shrugged. “So they have an official place of registration. You never know what might happen in life. Just a formality, basically.”
“No,” Polina answered briefly and returned to her food.
“Why not? Are you being greedy?”
“Igor, this is my apartment. I bought it with my own money. Your children have nothing to do with it. The conversation is over.”
Igor frowned, but did not argue. He drank his tea and went into the room. Polina felt a slight uneasiness, but decided it was simply a stupid idea that had entered her husband’s head.
A week later, Valentina Petrovna, Igor’s mother, came over. She sat at the table, drank tea, and suddenly went on the offensive.
“Polina, tell me, why are you so cruel to Igor’s grandchildren? They’re children. They need family!”
Polina was stunned.
“Valentina Petrovna, what are you talking about?”
“You don’t even allow them to come here! Igor told me. The children want to see where their father lives, and you forbid it!”
“I’m not forbidding anything,” Polina replied calmly. “We agreed before the marriage that these children would stay out of my life. Igor agreed. They are strangers to me.”
“Strangers? You’re married to their father!”
“That does not make them my children.” Polina stood up from the table. “Valentina Petrovna, let’s not discuss this topic. Igor and I had clear agreements. He accepted them.”
Her mother-in-law pursed her lips and did not bring it up again during that visit, but dissatisfaction hung in the air. After she left, Igor said:
“Mom is just worried about her grandchildren. Don’t pay attention.”
“I’m not paying attention. But if she starts telling me what to do again, she’d better not come here anymore,” Polina answered firmly.
Two more weeks passed. Polina came home about two hours earlier than usual. A meeting had been canceled, and she decided not to stay late at the office. She opened the door with her key, entered the apartment, and heard rustling from the living room.
Igor was sitting at her desk, with a folder of documents spread out in front of him. He was holding the purchase agreement for the apartment and studying it carefully.
“What are you doing?” Polina asked sharply.
Igor flinched and turned around.
“Oh, you’re home already? I was just… looking out of curiosity.”
“What kind of curiosity?”
“Well, I wanted to look at the apartment documents. It’s interesting,” he said, putting the papers back into the folder and trying to smile. “Nothing serious.”
Polina walked over to the desk and took the folder.
“Igor, these are my personal documents. You have no right to touch them. Is that clear?”
“Oh, come on, don’t freak out. I didn’t steal anything,” he said, getting up and heading to the kitchen.
Polina put the folder into the desk drawer and locked it with a key. An unpleasant feeling remained, but she decided not to blow the conflict out of proportion. Maybe it really had only been curiosity.
But ten days later, it happened again. Polina came home at lunchtime after asking to leave work for personal reasons. She entered the room and once again found Igor at her desk. The drawer was open. Obviously, he had found a key or picked the lock. Documents for the car and the apartment lay in front of him.
“Igor!” Polina’s voice sounded harsher than she had intended. “What the hell are you doing?”
He raised his head, and something wary flashed in his eyes.
“Polina, relax. I was just…”
“Just what? I told you not to touch my documents!”
“I was looking, all right? Don’t yell!”
“Explain to me why you need my documents.” Polina came closer, crossing her arms over her chest. “Why are you photographing them?”
“I’m not photographing anything!”
“Keep lying. I can see your phone lying right there. What are you planning?”
Igor stood up and pushed the chair back.
“I’m not planning anything! You’re being paranoid over nothing! What, I can’t look at documents in my own home?”
“In my home,” Polina corrected him coldly. “In my apartment. At my documents. And yes, you can’t. I’m telling you for the last time — don’t touch them.”
Igor waved his hand irritably and went into the bedroom, slamming the door. Polina gathered the papers and hid them in the safe that stood in the wardrobe. Now no one could get to them without the code.
But suspicion had already firmly settled in her mind. Igor was clearly planning something. The question was — what exactly?
The answer came late on Friday evening. Polina went to bed around eleven, but she could not fall asleep. She tossed and turned, thinking about work and about her husband’s strange behavior. Igor lay beside her, breathing evenly, apparently asleep.
At around two in the morning, Polina heard him carefully get out of bed. She closed her eyes, pretending to be asleep. Igor left the bedroom, closing the door behind him. Polina waited a minute, then quietly got up and crept to the door.
The light was on in the living room. She looked through the crack and saw Igor near the wardrobe. He was standing in front of the open safe — apparently, he had watched her enter the code — and he was holding the folder of documents. He had placed his phone on a stand, turned on the flash, and was methodically photographing every page.
Polina flung the door open and entered the room. Igor turned around, and the look on his face made it clear: he had been caught.
“Touch my documents one more time, and you’ll be out of here with your things,” she hissed through clenched teeth.
Igor flinched, but instead of apologizing, he tensed up and raised his voice.
“Why are you yelling? I told you — I’m just looking!”
“At two in the morning? Secretly? Photographing them?” Polina stepped toward him. “Do you think I’m stupid?”
“Listen, enough with these scenes already!” Igor put the folder on the table and straightened up. “I wanted to register the children here, so I was looking for information!”
“Without my permission? Behind my back?”
“Would you have allowed it?” he barked. “Of course not! Because you’re selfish! Children are family! They have the right to live here!”
“Children are your family,” Polina replied coldly. “Not mine. I never agreed to this. You knew the conditions perfectly well.”
“Conditions, conditions!” Igor waved his arms. “For three years I’ve put up with your heartlessness! You don’t even want to know them!”
“That’s right. I don’t want to. And I won’t. I’m not obligated to love someone else’s children or provide them with housing.”
“So you refuse?”
“Yes. Finally and irrevocably.”
Igor froze in place, and his face twisted with anger mixed with desperation.
“Then what use are you at all? If you can’t give us anything, why are you even needed?”
The words hung in the air. Polina felt everything inside her tighten into a cold knot. She looked at her husband and suddenly understood everything.
“Repeat that,” she said quietly.
“Repeat what?”
“What you just said. What use am I?”
Igor swallowed, realizing he had let too much slip.
“That’s not what I meant…”
“No, that is exactly what you meant.” Polina nodded. “You married me for the apartment. For the property. That’s why you were digging through the documents. That’s why you wanted to register the children here. So later you could take everything from me.”
“Don’t talk nonsense!”
“It’s not nonsense. It’s the truth,” her voice became icy. “For three years, you pretended to love me. You agreed to my conditions, smiled, played the role of a loving husband. And all the while you were planning how to take the apartment.”
“Polina…”
“Shut up.” She raised her hand. “Don’t you dare say another word. Pack your things. Right now.”
“You can’t throw me out! I’m your husband!”
“I can. And I will. This is my apartment, and I decide who lives in it.”
Igor tried to approach her, but Polina stepped back.
“Don’t come near me. Go pack your things. You have ten minutes.”
“Are you crazy? It’s two in the morning! Where am I supposed to go?”
“I don’t care. To your mother, to a hotel, to the street. That’s your problem. Pack.”
Igor realized the conversation was over. He went into the bedroom, slamming doors, and began throwing his things into a bag. Polina stood in the living room, holding her phone in her hand. If he tried to use force, she would call the police.
Fifteen minutes later, Igor came out with two bags, red with anger.
“You’ll regret this!”
“No, I won’t,” Polina said, opening the door. “Get out.”
“I’ll file for division of property! You owe me!”
“The apartment was bought before the marriage. So was the car. I don’t owe you anything. Get out.”
She practically pushed him into the hallway and slammed the door, turning the key in the lock. Igor pounded on the door for another two minutes, shouting something, but then he fell silent and left.
Polina leaned her back against the door and slowly slid down to the floor. Her hands were shaking. She hugged her knees and sat that way until dawn began to break.
In the morning, she called a lawyer and made an appointment for a consultation. On Monday, she filed for divorce. There was nothing to divide — the apartment was registered in her name, the car too, and they had made no joint purchases. Igor tried to file a counterclaim, demanding compensation for three years of marriage, but the court rejected him.
Two months later, the divorce was finalized. Polina’s second marriage had ended as sadly as the first. Lies again, calculation again, being used again.
She sat in the kitchen of her apartment, drank coffee, and looked out the window. Her soul felt bitter, but it did not hurt as much as after the first divorce. Polina realized that she had recognized the danger in time. If she had not caught Igor, he would have continued his game. He would have registered the children, then started demanding a share in the apartment, manipulating and pressuring her.
She had protected herself. The apartment remained hers. The car too. Her savings were untouched. Polina had made the right choice, even if it had been painful.
Igor tried to call several times. He sent messages, asking her to come back. He said she had misunderstood everything and that he loved her. Polina read the messages and deleted them without replying. She no longer believed a single word he said.
Valentina Petrovna also called, shouting into the phone that Polina had ruined her son’s life. Polina calmly listened and blocked the number.
Six months passed. Polina enrolled in Spanish courses — she had long wanted to learn the language. She started going to the swimming pool in the evenings. She met with friends and drove out of town on weekends. She lived her life calmly and steadily.
One day, a friend asked:
“So, are you going to get married again?”
Polina thought for a moment, then shook her head.
“No. Enough. I can be happy alone.”
“Seriously?”
“Absolutely. I don’t need a man who will use me. I’m independent. I have everything I need. Why do I need these games?”
Her friend looked at her with respect.
“You know, I envy you. You really do have a backbone.”
Polina smiled. Yes, she had a backbone. And an apartment. And a car. And freedom from manipulators who saw her only as a source of benefit.
She began a new life. There was no longer any room in it for liars and greedy people. Only herself, her goals, her plans, and her happiness.
And that was enough.
