“Roma, is that you?” Alice asked when she heard the key turn in the lock.
She sat in the kitchen in a new silk dress. The table was set for two: warm steak, salad, two glasses of wine, thin candles casting trembling shadows. Ten years. She had convinced herself that this date had to matter.
Roman walked in, tossed his keys onto the stand without turning on the light, and headed straight for the fridge. Only then did he notice the set table—and Alice. Instead of surprise, irritation flickered across his face.
“And what’s this supposed to be?” he muttered.
“Happy anniversary,” Alice said with a strained smile. “Ten years.”
“Yeah. Ten.” No emotion.
He sat, glanced at the food—not at her—and took out his phone. She waited for a word, any word, but he scrolled in silence.
“Do you remember what today is?” she finally asked.
“Thursday. Report day. I’ve got an investor meeting tomorrow.”
“I made your favorite steak… I thought we’d celebrate.”
He looked at her as if she were interrupting something far more important.
“Alice, seriously? It’s half past midnight. I’m exhausted. I need sleep, not… this.” He waved his hand at the table, the candles, her dress.
Something inside her cracked.
“Want to know the truth?” he said, leaning closer, voice icy. “That romantic guy you’re whining about? He never existed. I just needed a place to live back then. So yeah, I acted. But that’s over.”
That night he slept on the sofa. Alice didn’t sleep at all. By morning, her decision was made.
Roman left for work without an apology, telling her to “get over it.” When he closed the door behind him, the silence that followed felt like hers at last.
She called a locksmith.
An hour later, the locks were changed. Five new keys. None of them his.
That evening, Roman came home and couldn’t get the door open. He called her.
“Alice, what the hell is wrong with the lock?”
“Nothing,” she replied calmly. “Your keys don’t fit anymore.”
“What? Did you change the locks? Open the door!”
“You don’t live here anymore.”
He exploded, threatening to break the door down, to ruin her life. She listened to the pounding without fear. The anger, the pain—everything had burned out the night before.
His work laptop was still on the table. She opened it. His presentation for the investors was on the screen—Project Sirius. She knew enough to guess where he was lying.
Alice wrote one calm, precise email to the investors, describing “serious discrepancies” in the financial data and concealed risks. No drama, no emotion. Just the truth as numbers.
She hit Send.
Outside, Roman kept screaming and hammering at the door, trying to reclaim a life he had already destroyed. He didn’t know that with one email, she had just destroyed his future in return.
