The day Svetlana signed the divorce papers, she thought it would be a moment of release. But as she sat in her hallway, waiting to leave for the notary, a strange anxiety gripped her heart. She had imagined this day for so long, but the reality felt so different from the relief she expected.

Fifty-eight years old. Wasn’t that a bit too late to start over? The thought haunted her all morning, despite her attempts to ignore it.

She stood before the mirror, inspecting herself carefully. A sharp suit, minimal makeup, hair neatly gathered into a bun. She looked polished, but did she feel ready?

“Mom, you ready?” Maria’s voice interrupted her thoughts. The young woman poked her head around the door, hurriedly fastening her bag as she made her way to the stairs. “The taxi’s waiting.”

“Almost,” Svetlana replied, glancing at herself one last time. She was about to speak but hesitated. “Do you think this suit’s okay? Maybe I should have gone for something simpler?”

Maria let out a sigh.

“Mom, you’re going to the notary’s office, not a funeral. You look fine. Stop worrying about it.”

“It’s easy for you to say.” Svetlana adjusted the collar of her suit nervously. “Your father is probably going to think he’s walking out of there with the apartment and half of everything else we’ve worked for.”

Maria rolled her eyes, clearly unimpressed.

“Mom, he’s always thought money was the most important thing. Isn’t that the whole reason why you’re divorcing him?”

Svetlana fell silent, unable to respond immediately. How could she explain to Maria the years of feeling suffocated by a man who married her for the apartment her parents had left her? How could she describe the countless years spent with a husband who prioritized his “business investments” over their family, with every penny saved for vacations instead fueling his endless pursuit of unwise financial ventures?

The taxi ride to the notary’s office was a blur of thoughts and emotions, none of which she could shake. When they arrived, the cold, clinical air of the building greeted them. The sterile smell of paper, the hum of the air conditioner, and the muffled sound of murmurs from other clients all seemed to reinforce the finality of what was happening.

Svetlana spotted Alexander already sitting there, looking too comfortable in his impeccable suit, his freshly trimmed hair, and that self-assured smile—one of someone who was certain the world was about to hand him exactly what he thought he deserved.

“Ah, here’s my almost ex-family!” he said, spreading his arms with theatrical flair as they entered. “Sveta, you look… well. Divorce definitely agrees with you.”

Svetlana forced a tight smile. “Let’s skip the dramatics, Sasha. The notary is waiting.”

“As you wish, dear,” Alexander replied smoothly, sitting back in his chair with a smirk that didn’t reach his eyes.

The notary’s office was exactly how Svetlana had imagined it. Strict, old-fashioned, with heavy curtains and a smell of ink and paper that lingered in the air. A middle-aged woman with sharp eyes looked up as they entered. She offered them seats and laid the documents out with practiced precision.

“Good afternoon,” the notary began. “All documents have been prepared according to your preliminary agreement. Shall we begin?”

Alexander leaned back with a self-satisfied air, almost as if he had already won the battle. Maria, ever observant, quietly squeezed her mother’s hand under the table, offering silent support. Svetlana exhaled deeply, ready to finish what had started.

Just as the notary was about to begin, her phone rang.

“My apologies,” the notary said, glancing at the caller ID. “This is from your law firm, Mr. Sokolov. I’ll take this call quickly.”

The conversation lasted less than a minute, but when the notary returned, her expression had changed.

“I’ve just received new information, and it significantly changes the situation,” she announced. “The apartment on Leninsky, 47, will not be included in the division of property. According to a deed of gift, it has already been transferred to Svetlana and her children. All documents are in order, and it has been officially executed.”

Svetlana looked over at Alexander, whose once-confident smile was now replaced by a look of complete disbelief. His face drained of color as he leaned forward in his seat, his voice rising in disbelief.

“What deed of gift? This is absurd! That’s our main apartment!”

The notary remained calm, pulling out a copy of the document. “Donor: Igor Petrovich Korshunov, father of Svetlana Igorevna. Registration date: April 15 of last year.”

“Grandpa!” Maria gasped, eyes wide as she realized what had happened. “So that’s why he asked us to come to him last year and not say anything!”

Svetlana sat motionless, the weight of the situation slowly sinking in. A year ago, her father had made his decision clear: “I see everything, Svetochka. He’s never valued you. This apartment belongs to me, and it’s up to me who gets it.” At the time, she had tried to argue, to convince him that it wasn’t worth the trouble, but her father had been resolute. “It’s for your children and grandchildren, not for a man who’s never treated you as his equal.”

“Forgery!” Alexander snapped, jumping to his feet, his face flushed with anger. “You put your senile father up to this! Svetlana, this is fraud!”

“Please, sit down,” the notary replied calmly. “The documents are in order. If you don’t believe it, you can go to court. For now, this deed is legally binding, and there is nothing to be done.”

“So, what’s left to divide?” Alexander’s voice trembled with rage. “The dacha plot? The ten-year-old car?”

The notary proceeded to list the remaining joint property, and with every item mentioned, Alexander’s face grew darker, his self-assuredness cracking.

“You arranged this on purpose,” he said, glaring at Svetlana. “I’ve carried this family for thirty years! I’ve worked myself to the bone!”

Svetlana suddenly felt something inside her snap—a realization, a final release. Her voice rose with the same anger that had been building up for years.

“Carried it?” she scoffed. “And who paid off the loans after your ‘brilliant’ business ventures? Who stayed home with our daughter while you disappeared for days with your ‘partners’? Who kept everything from falling apart while you were out chasing some fool’s dream?”

Maria, sensing the tension, tried to intervene, but it was too late. Svetlana’s words had cut through the years of resentment she had buried inside her.

“No, Masha, enough!” Svetlana stood tall, her eyes now fixed firmly on her husband. “For thirty years, I listened to your constant criticisms—how I wasn’t good enough, smart enough, pretty enough. For thirty years, I was scared of losing the house and you. But you know what, Sasha? That house was never yours. My father saw through you the entire time.”

“Say something, Masha!” Alexander turned to his daughter, his voice now desperate. “You can’t approve of this! This is a robbery!”

Maria’s gaze was soft, but firm as she looked at her father. “Dad, Grandpa did the right thing. We all knew about Veronika, about the money you withdrew from Mom’s account. We knew.”

The silence that followed was heavy, suffocating. Alexander’s face seemed to collapse in on itself as he realized there was no one left to support him.

“If all the formalities are in order,” Svetlana said quietly, turning to the notary, “let’s proceed.”

The notary nodded, sliding the next document toward them.

The rest of the procedure passed in a heavy silence, broken only by the rustling of papers. Alexander signed them mechanically, his once-confident posture now hunched, as though each signature drained him further. Meanwhile, Svetlana felt a strange lightness. Each signature lifted an invisible weight from her shoulders.

When everything was finally done, the notary looked up.

“Congratulations. The divorce procedure is complete. You will receive your certificate of dissolution in ten business days.”

Alexander stood up sharply, nearly knocking over his chair. “This isn’t over,” he hissed, his voice low and venomous. “I’ll challenge the deed of gift. Your father wasn’t in his right mind when he signed it.”

“Dad!” Maria protested, looking at her mother. “Grandpa is completely fine! He beats his friends at chess every week.”

“He’s not defending you!” Alexander barked at his daughter, his fury rising again. “Your mother has always been calculating. Quiet, with her calculator, but she’s always been plotting behind my back!”

Svetlana slowly gathered her bag, feeling the peculiar sense of liberation that had been slowly building inside her. Not anger, not vengeance—just freedom.

“Sasha,” she said, her voice cold but steady, “you know what’s the saddest thing? I loved you. I really did, for a long time. But if you had asked me even once how I felt, instead of only worrying about the bank balance, maybe we wouldn’t be sitting here now.”

“Spare me your melodrama,” he sneered, but the flicker in his eyes betrayed a hint of regret.

“Already spared you,” she said, turning toward the door.

When they left the building, Alexander stormed out ahead of them, eager to leave.

“Do you want to stop by a café?” Maria asked, looking at her mother with concern. “You look tired.”

“No,” Svetlana replied with a soft smile. “I want to go home. To our apartment.”

The ride back home was silent, with only the hum of the car’s engine filling the space. As they entered their apartment, Maria spoke up.

“Strange, isn’t it? The apartment feels different now. As if it’s sighing with relief.”

Svetlana laughed unexpectedly. “You sound just like my father. He always said houses have souls.”

They entered the kitchen, and Svetlana mechanically went to make tea.

“You know, I really did think he married me for the apartment,” she mused, pouring hot water into the teapot. “We met when Dad had just gotten the order for this place. A three-room apartment in the center of the city—it was a big deal back then.”

“And what about now?” Maria asked gently.

Svetlana took a deep breath. “I don’t know. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe in the beginning he did love me, but then… things changed. People change.”

The kettle clicked, signaling the tea was ready, and in the silence that followed, Maria’s phone rang.

“It’s Dad,” Maria said uncertainly, looking at the screen.

Svetlana nodded. “Answer it. He’s still your father.”

Maria stepped into the hallway, and Svetlana heard the soft murmur of her conversation—first tense, then gradually more emotional. Svetlana didn’t listen on purpose, instead focusing on the quiet sound of the tea pouring into cups. A strange emptiness was starting to settle in her chest. It wasn’t a painful emptiness, but more like space opening up for something new.

When Maria returned to the kitchen, she looked bewildered. “Mom, he wants to come by tomorrow to pick up his things. He also wanted me to tell you that he’s sorry for what happened at the notary’s.”

“He’s apologizing?” Svetlana raised an eyebrow, surprised. “That’s new.”

“He… seems genuinely upset. Really,” Maria explained. “He said he didn’t expect things to turn out like this.”

“And how did he expect it to go?” Svetlana asked, setting a cup in front of Maria. “That I would beg him to stay? Or that we’d be left on the street?”

“Mom,” Maria said softly, touching her mother’s hand, “you didn’t expect the apartment to be transferred either. Admit it, filing for divorce without knowing that for sure was risky.”

Svetlana thought for a moment, then nodded. “I was ready to lose everything, Masha. But I couldn’t keep living like that. Waking up each day and wondering, ‘Will he be kind today, or will he start another fight? How much money will go missing this month?’”

Maria squeezed her hand tightly. “I never understood why you put up with it for so long. Even when I was little, I saw how he treated you.”

Svetlana shrugged. “For you, Masha. I thought it was the right thing to do. And then it just felt like it was too late to change anything. Too late to start over.”

“Now, though, aren’t you scared?” Maria asked, her voice gentle.

Svetlana looked around the kitchen, where so many painful memories had been made. It felt different now—empty in a way, but also full of possibility. For the first time in years, she felt the weight of the past lifting.

“I’m scared,” she admitted softly. “But in a different way. It’s like standing at the edge of something vast and unknown. But this time, it’s my choice. I’m not afraid of that.”

Just then, the doorbell rang, making them both jump.

“Is it Dad?” Maria asked in surprise. “He said tomorrow.”

Svetlana stood up, feeling an unexpected knot tighten inside her. She wasn’t ready to see Alexander today. She needed more time to process this new chapter.

But when she opened the door, it wasn’t Alexander standing there.

It was her father, Igor Petrovich, smiling with a twinkle in his eye, leaning on his cane.

“Well, daughter, will you receive your guest?”

Svetlana ran to him, wrapping him in a warm hug. “Dad! What are you doing here?”

“Grandpa!” Maria echoed, running up behind her.

Igor Petrovich pulled them both into his embrace before stepping back, taking a long look at his daughter.

“So,” he said with a sly grin, “how did it go? Your ex called me earlier—shouted something about deceit and meanness. Looks like the deed of gift worked out?”

Svetlana burst out laughing, her tears finally coming. “It worked! But you could have warned me!”

“Warn you? And spoil the fun?” Igor Petrovich chuckled. “No way. I’ve watched that leech use you for too long. Enough is enough!”

They went into the kitchen, and Svetlana poured another cup of tea.

“I thought I’d be starting over alone,” she mused softly, “but it turns out I still have you. I still have a family.”

“You’ve always had a family,” her father replied, resting his wrinkled hand on her shoulder. “You just got too caught up in being the martyr-wife. Now, you get to be just Svetlana. How does that sound?”

Svetlana paused, thinking back to the woman she used to be—full of dreams and ambitions. Where had all of that gone? Buried under the weight of years spent in a toxic marriage.

“I don’t even know who this ‘just Svetlana’ is,” she admitted. “But I’ll have to get to know her again.”

“I’m sure she’s great,” Maria said with a smile. “And now, she has so much time for herself.”

As the day faded into evening, they sat together, toasting to a new life. There would still be challenges ahead—court battles, awkward conversations with Alexander—but Svetlana felt sure of one thing: the hardest part was already behind her.

She had stepped into the unknown and hadn’t fallen.

“To a new life,” her father raised his cup, a gleam of satisfaction in his eyes.

“To a new life,” Svetlana and Maria echoed.

And for the first time in many years, Svetlana felt like herself. Free. Imperfect. Real.