She was wide awake, sitting on the couch in her robe, a cup of tea in her hand. But something was different—her usual calm demeanor was gone. Her eyes were sharp. Her hair was loose and wild around her shoulders, and there was a strength in her posture that caught him completely off guard.

“Couldn’t sleep,” she said, her voice calm, but with a tremor beneath the surface. “Soup was weird tonight. Bitter.”

“I followed your location. I’ve known about her for weeks. Tonight just confirmed everything.”

He stammered, trying to explain, to lie, to soften the blow—but Larysa didn’t give him the chance.

“You thought I’d be asleep,” she said. “You drugged me. That’s what hurts the most—not the cheating. Not even the lies. It’s that you saw me as something you could silence. Erase. Just… disappear for the night.”

She laughed.

“I should thank you,” she said, stepping back. “Because tonight, I saw you for who you really are. And more importantly, I saw myself again. Not the version you kept in the kitchen, in routine, in silence.”

Larysa walked past him, calm and steady. “I packed a bag. I’ll be staying with my sister. Don’t worry, I’ll call a lawyer.”

He reached out, desperate, ashamed, begging her to stay, to talk, to forgive. But she simply said, “Goodnight, Kirill,” and walked out the door.

For the first time, he saw what he had done. Not just the betrayal, but the blindness. He had fallen for the illusion of excitement, chasing a thrill, while ignoring the quiet beauty and strength of the woman who had stood by him for years.

And now she was gone. And the worst part? He knew she would never come back.