The apartment looked exactly as she remembered — and yet, somehow, completely different.
The same furniture, the same pictures on the walls, yet everything felt rearranged in an unfamiliar way, as if someone had pressed their mark onto her life.
Every object seemed to tell a different story, and the memories she had grown accustomed to suddenly felt foreign.
Even the curtains had changed — heavy, wine-red velvet drapes hung at the windows, the kind Nina would never have chosen herself.
On the table, a massive floral arrangement dominated the space, the same intrusive decoration Nina had always found tacky, now asserting itself in every corner.
But what truly froze her wasn’t the altered furnishings. It was the unmistakable traces of another woman.
In the hallway, two women’s coats hung on the rack — far too elegant and youthful to match her taste.
On the coffee table in the living room lay a designer handbag, beside it in a frame, a photograph — Viktor holding a young blonde in his arms, both of them laughing at the camera.
Nina’s breath caught. Of course, she had suspected Viktor had likely moved on.
But seeing such blatant proof, so intimately placed in the room that had once been her home… it felt like a strike to the heart.
She picked up the photograph and studied the woman’s face. Beautiful — but in a calculated, artificial way that left no room for warmth.
Probably ten years younger than her. Exactly the type of woman Viktor had always admired.
“You shouldn’t be here.”
Nina spun around. In the doorway stood the woman from the photograph, wrapped in a silky robe, hair still damp from a shower. Her voice was calm, almost friendly, but her eyes were cold and judgmental.
“This is my apartment,” Nina said, surprised at how firm her voice sounded. “Perhaps I should ask you what you’re doing here.”
The woman smiled — a smile that didn’t reach her eyes.
“I live here. With Viktor. For three years now.”
Three years. Nina felt a tight knot in her stomach. She had spent five years in prison. This meant Viktor hadn’t wasted a single moment. Not even a year had passed.
“I’m Alina,” the woman continued, stepping toward her and extending her hand as if it were a completely normal greeting. “Viktor spoke about you.”
Nina ignored the outstretched hand. “Where is he?”
“At work. He’ll be back around six.” Alina measured her from head to toe with that precise, appraising gaze only women can give each other. “I didn’t expect you to come so early.”
“Apparently not,” Nina muttered, setting the photograph aside.
She took a few steps through the living room, touching familiar items — the sofa they had chosen together, the table where they had spent countless evenings, the bookshelf filled with their shared history. “So you live together.”
“Yes. As you can see. Viktor thought you would never come back. That your trial…”
“…was a setup,” Nina interrupted, anger rising inside her. “I was innocent. I always was.”
Alina shrugged — an elegant gesture of complete indifference. “That’s not my concern. The past is gone.”
Nina looked around again and noticed something. “You haven’t changed much. The furniture is the same.”
“Why would we change it? It’s good quality.”
“It belonged to me,” Nina said, emphasizing every word. “Everything here was mine. I chose it all, I paid for it all.”
“Viktor says the apartment is in his name.”
“Viktor is lying. It’s in both our names. I paid more than half.”
For the first time, Nina noticed a crack in Alina’s composed façade. A quick blink, a hesitation. Perhaps Viktor hadn’t told her everything.
“Listen,” Alina said in a softer tone, attempting to shift her voice — “I understand this is difficult. But you were gone for five years. Viktor moved on. We both moved on.”
“I sat innocent in prison,” Nina replied, tears stinging her eyes. “And you two… what? Enjoyed life in my apartment? Slept in my bed?”
“Nina, please…”
“No. I’m raising my hand. I don’t want to hear anything. I just… need to take a few things. Then I’ll go.”
Alina looked relieved. “Of course. Take what you need.”
Nina entered the bedroom — and there the shock hit even harder.
Her bed — the bed where she had shared seven years with Viktor — was now covered in pale pink linens, decorative pillows arranged artfully.
On the nightstand that had once been hers lay expensive cosmetics, high-end perfumes, and scattered jewelry.
She opened the wardrobe, almost expecting her clothes to be gone.
To her surprise, all her garments were still there — pushed aside, nearly hidden behind Alina’s extravagant wardrobe.
With trembling hands, she gathered a few items of clothing, some photographs, and small personal belongings she cherished.
She packed them into an old bag she had found at the bottom of the wardrobe. It was little, but everything she could carry in that moment.
As she left the bedroom, Alina was already in the living room, sitting cross-legged on the sofa like a queen on her throne.
“Ready?”
Nina nodded. “For now, yes. But know this — I won’t give up the apartment. I’ll get a lawyer involved.”
Alina laughed — melodic, yet entirely cold. “Really? After your release from prison? Do you think anyone will take you seriously?”
“The truth is on my side.”
“The truth?” — Alina rose and stepped closer. — “The truth is Viktor doesn’t love you. He probably never truly loved you.
The truth is, I’ve been with him these past three years. I’m the one who makes him happy.”
Nina felt a hollow ache in her stomach. She wondered if Viktor had told this woman the whole truth. If he had mentioned how Nina had ended up in prison.
“Do you really know Viktor?” she asked quietly.
Alina looked surprised. “Of course. We’ve been together for three years.”
“And do you know how I ended up in prison?”
“He told me about a fraud at your company. That you took the blame to protect someone.”
Alina shrugged. “The details didn’t interest me.”
Nina smiled sadly. “Yes, that’s one way to put it. I took the blame to protect someone. Viktor.”
Alina furrowed her brow in confusion. “What do you mean?”
“Viktor embezzled company funds. When it came out, he convinced me to take the fall. He promised to handle everything so we would both get off lightly, that he would take care of me.”
Nina laughed bitterly. “And that’s how he took care of me. He left me in prison and started a new life with you.”
Alina stepped back, shocked. “You’re lying. Viktor would never do such a thing.”
“Ask him. Look him in the eyes and see if he denies it.”
Nina walked out the door, a strange mixture of pain and relief coursing through her. Pain for the lost years, for the betrayal. But relief, too — because she had finally spoken the truth aloud.
“I’ll be back,” she said, standing in the doorway. “Tell Viktor. Tell him I know all his secrets. Every lie. And this time, I won’t keep them to myself.”
She left the apartment without looking back, leaving the door wide open.
In the stairwell, she felt the first tears slide down her cheeks. But these were not tears of despair. They were tears of rage and determination.
Outside, she pulled out her phone and dialed Tanja.
“This is Nina. I need your help. And the name of a good lawyer.”
