“Listen, Anna. We need to clear something up. What you saw yesterday…
— Your mistress? — I was surprised by my own calm.
— Olesya isn’t a mistress. She’s a promising specialist; she works with me on a new project.
— And that’s why you didn’t come home to stay overnight? — I asked, looking my husband straight in the eyes.
— She’s from Moscow. I showed her the city,” he paused. “But it’s not about that. It’s about you, Anna.
— About me?
— Yes. Look at yourself,” he traced me with his gaze like a product in a shop window. “How can I show up in society with you? I’m ashamed to be seen with you, understand? Do you know why I’m still with you? Out of pity. I pity you, Anna. Who needs you besides me? Forty-three years old, no prospects, your appearance is fading…”
— We can get a divorce,” I said in an even voice.
— Don’t make me laugh,” my husband scoffed. “You exist only because of me. Without me, you’re nobody…”