The husband blurted out that she was “nobody” to him when he was with his mistress. And a year later, he got such a surprise that he couldn’t believe his eyes.

Olya’s words echoed in Lena’s mind long after they parted.

“Think about yourself.”

Such a simple sentence — but to Lena, it felt like rebellion. Treason.
She had always believed that love meant sacrifice, that being a good wife, a good mother, a good daughter-in-law meant giving everything — even when nothing came back.

But now, standing on that street, tears drying on her cheeks, Lena felt something stir deep within her — something she hadn’t felt in years.

Anger.

Not at others, but at herself — for forgetting who she was. For accepting a life that had slowly erased her.

She took a deep breath. The stranger who had stopped to ask if she was okay was gone now. The crowd had moved on. But she hadn’t.

Not this time.

That night, she came home and did something she hadn’t done in years — she sat down at the kitchen table and did nothing. No dishes. No dinner. Just silence.

Sergey barked from the couch:

She didn’t shout. She didn’t cry. She simply stood up, went to the bedroom, and for the first time in years — locked the door behind her.

That night, Lena slept for seven full hours.

And the next morning, she woke up before the alarm, not because she had to — but because she wanted to.

She stood in front of the mirror, looked into her tired eyes, and whispered to herself:

It wasn’t a revolution. Not yet.

But it was a beginning.
Her beginning.