The morning before the presentation began with me spilling coffee on a white blouse. At another time, this would have thrown me off, but today I just laughed. What could be worse than losing a husband and an apartment?
“Anna Viktorovna,” called Alexey Petrovich, our director, as I was heading to the conference room. “A moment of your time?”
My heart seemed to drop. Was he about to cancel the presentation? Or worse, did he already know about the project’s failure?
“I reviewed your materials last night,” he began, as we entered his office. “I have a suggestion.”
I braced myself for the worst.
“How do you like the idea of heading a new department?”
“Excuse me… what?” I blinked, sure I had misheard.
“The new strategic development department,” he continued, smiling. “Your project is exactly what we need. And judging by how you prepared it, you are the perfect person to implement it.”
“But… what about Mikhail Stepanovich? Wasn’t he supposed to get this position?” I asked, still in shock.
“He was supposed to,” nodded Alexey Petrovich. “However, he accepted an offer from competitors. And you know what? I’m glad. Your approach is much more interesting.”
By the end of the day, I still couldn’t believe the reality of what was happening. The presentation went off with a triumph, the promotion contract was in my bag, and my phone was literally exploding with congratulations from colleagues.
“I told you so!” Marina triumphed over a glass of champagne in our favorite bar. “You were always smarter than all of them, just letting that guy overshadow your light.”
“Don’t call him that,” I replied mechanically, then laughed. “Though you know, you’re right. He really is a fool, took everything we had together and left.”
“And now what?” she winked at the waiter, and a new bottle appeared before us.
“Now?” I pondered. “Now I’ll buy myself an apartment. One that I want, not Sergey. And you know what? I’ll hang pink curtains. Sure, I’ll take out a mortgage, but with the new position, I’ll manage.”
“He hated pink!”
“Exactly why!” I raised my glass. “To pink curtains and a new life!”
The next six months flew by. The new position demanded full dedication, but I enjoyed every moment. For the first time in my life, I felt like I was doing what I really loved.
My new apartment (with pink curtains) accumulated details that made it truly mine. No compromises, no “what will Sergey say.” Only what I liked.
“You’ve changed,” Marina noticed once over lunch, examining me. “And it’s not just the new haircut and wardrobe.”
She was right. I really had changed. The uncertain woman who constantly looked to her husband was gone. Now I made decisions independently—and was responsible for their consequences too.
“You know what’s funny?” I asked, stirring sugar in my coffee. “I’m grateful to him. Grateful for opening my eyes. Now I live my life.”
“To whom? Sergey?” Marina choked on her salad, nearly spilling the sauce.
“Exactly. If not for his betrayal, I would have continued living in his shadow, content with the role of ‘successful husband’s wife.’”
That day started as usual: a meeting with the CEO, then the way back through the reception. As I passed by, I inadvertently overheard a conversation:
“…Confirmed from the head office. The entire department is moving under her leadership.”
