Without me, you’re nothing, Anna. Don’t forget that,” Igor’s words cut through the quiet apartment as he hastily packed his belongings into a suitcase. His voice carried a finality that echoed through the room. Anna stood still in the doorway, her hands clenched into fists, nails digging into her palms. She wasn’t silent out of fear, but rather out of a strange, almost hypnotic numbness, as if she were watching a disaster unfold—terrifying, yet inevitable.
“Nothing to say?” Igor straightened up, his eyes filled with superiority. “For ten years, I supported you. For ten years, you lived in my shadow. And now what? You think you can manage without me?”
Anna finally lifted her gaze. No tears, no pleading—only the soft glow of the table lamp reflecting in her eyes, revealing something Igor hadn’t seen before.
“I already am,” she said, her voice calm yet resolute.
Igor let out a hollow laugh, his confidence shattered. “We’ll see,” he muttered, throwing the bag over his shoulder. “A month. That’s how long I give you before you come crawling back.” The door slammed behind him, and a picture frame on the shelf cracked in two, as if reflecting the break between them.
The days following Igor’s departure were surreal. The silence in the apartment wasn’t peaceful—it was suffocating. Every little sound, from the creaking of the hallway floorboards to the distant hum of the elevator, seemed to amplify the emptiness around her.
Her hands betrayed her most. Each morning, she found herself instinctively preparing two cups of coffee, cooking meals for two. The realization of her routine hit her like a wave, and her hands shook as she set the table for no one but herself.
“You are nobody without me.” His words haunted her, clinging to every quiet moment. And the worst part was, a part of her feared they might be true. Who was she now? The wife of a successful man, the perfect hostess, the woman behind a facade. But now that facade was gone. What did she have left?
The reality of her finances hit hard. Six months ago, Igor had taken their savings and invested them in his business, leaving her with only a small amount of personal funds—enough to last three months, maybe less. The job market was grim. Her resume felt outdated, her skills no longer relevant. “Expert in stain removal” and “proficient in ironing” wouldn’t open any doors.
The friends she thought she had disappeared, as they were all Igor’s friends to begin with. Invitations stopped coming, and calls went unanswered.
She spent her evenings by the window, watching people rush by, heading to places, pursuing goals. She felt lost, adrift, with no direction of her own.
One night, unable to sleep, she rummaged through the attic and discovered an old portfolio filled with sketches and student projects. Designs she had abandoned long ago. As she flipped through the pages, a spark of something long forgotten ignited within her.
“It’s too late,” she told herself, closing the folder. But the next day, she opened it again.
A week later, fate intervened in a supermarket aisle. “Anna? No way!” A familiar voice called out. Marina, an old university friend, looked almost the same, except for the new short haircut and the confidence in her eyes.
They hugged and exchanged pleasantries, before Marina asked, “Are you still designing those incredible interiors?”
Anna hesitated. “No… life happened. I got married.”
Marina’s face darkened with understanding. “Igor, right? That arrogant guy from third year? Let me guess—he didn’t take it well when you started thinking for yourself.”
Anna’s lips parted in surprise. “We… we separated.” Saying it out loud felt different, like unlocking a door she hadn’t known she’d kept bolted.
Marina didn’t ask more, but instead handed her a business card. “We need an intern at our design studio. It’s mostly paperwork, but it’s a foot in the door. If you want it.”
Anna held the card tightly. A thread of hope began to weave itself into her chest.
She called the next day.
Walking into the “Contrast” studio was like stepping into a new world—high ceilings, sunlit windows, the buzz of creativity in the air. Anna hesitated at the door, her fingers cold, her heart pounding. She didn’t belong here. Not anymore.
“Be brave,” she whispered to herself and stepped inside.
The first week was brutal. The design software felt foreign, her colleagues exuded confidence, and every mistake she made seemed magnified by her own self-doubt. Each night, she collapsed onto her couch, exhausted and alone with her quiet tears.
“You are nobody without me.”
The words lingered in her mind. But by Friday, she realized something—she hadn’t quit. Marina invited her to a company outing, and for the first time in years, Anna laughed freely. It wasn’t just the drinks or the lively debates about design—it was the realization that here, she wasn’t “Igor’s wife.” She was just Anna.
Months passed. She worked tirelessly, learning, improving, rediscovering her passion. Then, the unexpected happened—her first independent client. A small café in need of a makeover. The owner was a former university acquaintance who had always admired her work.
“You are nobody without me.”
No. She wasn’t nobody. She was someone, and she proved it.
She poured everything into the café project, and when it opened, her name was proudly displayed on the door as the interior designer. It was a small inscription, but to her, it meant everything.
Opportunities began to multiply. A year later, she was offered a partnership in the firm. Two years later, she launched her own studio—ASdesign.
She had built something entirely her own.
Then, one day, fate came full circle.
“Anna Sergeyevna, the candidate for the manager position is here,” Svetlana, her assistant, announced. “Tall, blue jacket.”
Anna walked into the meeting room—and froze.
Igor sat across the table.
Shock flickered across his face. He looked different—worn, older, with a sense of defeat in his eyes.
“You?” he breathed out.
“Yes,” she replied, her voice smooth. “You’re here for the project manager role?”
He nodded. “I didn’t know this was your company.”
“My initials,” she smiled. “Anna Sokolova.”
His business had collapsed. A partner betrayed him, debts piled up, and he had been hopping from job to job since.
He hesitated before speaking. “Anna, I owe you an apology. For everything.”
Once, she had longed to hear those words. But now, they meant nothing.
She closed his resume without a second thought. “Unfortunately, we’re moving in a different direction.”
Igor stiffened. “Is this revenge?”
“No. Just business.”
His face darkened. “You’ll regret this.”
Anna simply smiled. “Good luck, Igor.”
As he stormed out, she let out a deep breath. No triumph, no bitterness—just a sense of freedom.
She returned to her desk, to her empire, to her future.
“You are nobody without me.”
No.
She was everything without him.