The rain tapped against the wide living room windows, tracing silver rivers across the glass. Inna stood there, her arms folded, her reflection ghosted in the pane. Fifteen years. Was that a lifetime, or just a chapter? She could still recall every anniversary, every hurriedly bought bouquet, every whispered promise when the world felt new. And now, with the drizzle outside, it all seemed to melt away like water slipping down the glass.

Behind her, a chair creaked. Alexey’s voice carried through the silence:

“We need to talk.”

Inna didn’t move. The only reply in the room came from the solemn tick of the old wall clock — his mother’s gift, a relic that had watched their marriage grow and fracture.

“With Natasha,” he added. His tone was steady, almost rehearsed.

Inna finally turned, her expression unreadable. “The student from your faculty?”

“Yes.” He straightened his tie as if formality would soften the blow. “You must understand. My feelings have changed. I want new emotions, a new life. You’re an intelligent woman. Surely, you see this.”

For a moment, Inna simply studied him, then let the corners of her lips rise. “Are you certain?”

“Certain,” Alexey nodded. “I’ve packed already.”

He walked toward the cabinet, pulled out a heavy bottle of wine — the one he had vowed to open on a “special occasion.” He set it on the table with a dull thud.

“Well,” he said, trying for levity, “if this isn’t special, what is? Let’s open it tonight.”

Inna tilted her head. “A farewell dinner?”

“Yes.” He hesitated. “You mean… you actually want a party? To mark our divorce?”

“Why not?” Her smile widened, as cool as the rain outside. “Let’s say goodbye properly. Invite our families, your friends. I’ll cook your favorites. After all, fifteen years is no joke. And do invite Natasha. I’d like to meet the girl who accomplished what I never could — sparking new passion in you.”

Alexey blinked. No tears. No screaming. No begging. Just calm acceptance. It rattled him more than anger ever could.

The following morning, Inna rose before dawn. The kitchen was quiet, but her phone was not. She spoke in clipped tones to the bank, met a lawyer in a café, reviewed papers at the dining table. By noon, her decisions were sealed, her course set.

At dusk, the apartment filled with the aroma of roasted meats, herbs, and warm bread. Inna laid out their most expensive porcelain, the china his mother had gifted them on their wedding day. She moved with precision, her face pale but composed.

Her mother, Vera Pavlovna, wrung her hands by the stove. “Innochka, maybe there’s still time to fix this. Maybe he’ll come to his senses.”

Inna shook her head softly. “No, Mama. Sometimes the bravest choice is to let go.”

One by one, guests began arriving. Coats rustled, voices hushed. They gathered at the long table as though for a holiday, though no one quite knew what they were celebrating.

“Sit, please,” Inna said, guiding them to their seats. She stood at the head, lifted a glass, and the room fell into stillness.

“My dear friends,” she began, her voice clear. “Tonight is not an ordinary night. Tonight, we mark the end of one story — and perhaps, the beginning of another.”

Her eyes slid to Alexey. “Lesha, I thank you for fifteen years. For the laughter and the tears, the lessons and the lies. You taught me many things. For example, how love can wear many faces.”

An uneasy murmur rippled through the crowd. Natasha stared at her napkin, hands trembling.

“And you also taught me,” Inna continued, reaching into a folder, “the importance of paying attention to details. Especially the financial ones.”

She placed papers on the table, one after another.

“Here — the loan for your car, taken from our joint account. Here — unpaid taxes from your company. And here…” she held up a page with a bitter smile, “the bills from restaurants and jewelry shops. Rather expensive, for a man who claims to be seeking new emotions.”

Alexey’s complexion drained. Natasha looked up, eyes wide.

“But this—this is the most fascinating.” Inna pulled a final document free. “Do you remember signing our prenuptial agreement without reading it? You should have. It contains a clause for infidelity. A very costly clause.”

The silence thundered.

“The house is mine,” Inna declared. “The accounts are frozen. And the divorce papers were filed yesterday.”

She turned her gaze on Natasha. “So, my dear — are you ready to share your life with a man who owns no home, no savings, and quite a mountain of debt?”

Natasha rose slowly, her chair scraping the floor. “Excuse me… I have to go.” Her voice was barely a whisper as she hurried out.

“Lesha!” Vera Pavlovna gasped. “How could you? We raised you better.”

“Mother, you don’t understand—”

But his father cut in, voice hard. “No, son. It’s you who doesn’t understand. Fifteen years of marriage, and you destroyed it for a fling? Shame.”

At the far end, Mikhail — Alexey’s oldest friend — muttered, “Lesha… you really did it this time.”

Inna lifted her glass again. “Do you know what’s ironic? I believed our love was rare.

That we were like those old couples who stay side by side until the end. I ignored your excuses, your late nights, the sudden new shirts. But then I began reading the receipts. Jewelry. The White Swan restaurant. Spa packages. The very places you once took me, you now took her.”

The guests shifted in discomfort. No one dared meet Alexey’s eyes.

Then, Natasha returned — only to stand at the doorway, clutching her purse like a shield. “Alexey Nikolaevich,” she said, her voice breaking, “you told me you were already divorced. That you lived apart. That you were buying us a flat.”

“Natashenka, I’ll explain—”

But she was already gone. The door slammed behind her.

Alexey collapsed into his chair, gripping his temples. “Inna… why are you doing this?”

Her laughter was cold. “Why? Did you expect me to sob? To crawl at your feet? I loved you, Lesha. I loved your gray hairs, your snores, the life we built.

I was ready for grandchildren, for growing old together. But you? You mortgaged all of it for lies.”

She tossed another document onto the table. “And this—do you remember asking me to sign some papers three months ago? You said it was for the Treasury.

It wasn’t. You used my car as collateral for a loan.”

Alexey’s father stood, shaking his head. “Enough. Call us when you regain your senses.” He left with Vera, who whispered apologies to Inna as she went.

Now the room was quiet, save for Alexey’s shallow breathing. His expensive suit hung on him like a cheap disguise.

“You know,” Inna said softly, “I could have destroyed you the moment I learned the truth. I could have slashed your suits, exposed you at work. But I chose something else.

Tomorrow, I’m flying to the Maldives. The trip you always called a waste. I’ve sold the apartment. Don’t bother reaching for the accounts. They’re closed.”

Alexey lifted his hollow eyes. “What am I supposed to do now?”

“That’s no longer my concern.” Her voice was firm, steady. “In a way, I should thank you. You made me wake up. You reminded me that my life is not tied to you.”

She picked up her bag, turned to the door. For a moment, she looked back — her figure framed against the rain-streaked glass.

“Goodbye, Lesha. I hope she was worth it.”

The door shut with a final, merciless click.

Alexey sat alone, the wine untouched, the table still laden with dishes meant to celebrate his downfall. The laughter of the guests had long vanished, replaced only by the steady tick of the old clock.

And Inna? She stepped out into the night, the drizzle on her face no longer resembling tears, but the first drops of freedom.