I Will Answer Betrayal with Divorce and a Wedding

I scream inside, but I make not a sound. What is happening to me cannot be described in words—one would not wish it even on an enemy. But here it is—my enemy, right nearby. That “meter with a cap” is celebrating behind the door, while my husband is discussing how I’m supposed to live from now on.

— It’s a pity you. Don’t humiliate yourself, Liza! Go. You’ll still meet your happiness!

He said it in vain. I can’t stand pity. I straighten my shoulders, gather up the last shreds of pride into a fist, do everything I can to hold back tears, and stubbornly believe every word:

— Yakovlev, you’d better pity yourself. I’ll take what’s mine back!

My numb lips barely form a smirk. A requiem for love smells not of roses.

— Get ready: from the apartment they took from me, you’ll go to that same little country cottage!