The night before what should have been a celebration, Joachim told his wife there would be no party at all. But I found a reservation in his jacket pocket—a table for five at a restaurant, paid for with my own money, booked for his entire family. My name wasn’t on the paper. I smiled quietly to myself.
“Oh, darling, you’ll remember this night for the rest of your life. ”
Annegret pushed the heavy front door with her shoulder, clutching a bulging grocery bag against her chest. The November wind pulled at her coat, and wet snow crept down her neck. She hurried into the heated hallway.
The elevator, as always, was broken. After a ten-hour day in accounting, climbing five flights of stairs felt like scaling a mountain. She paused on the third floor, leaning against the cold wall, her eyes closed. Forty-two years old, and she felt like sixty.
Her back ached, her legs throbbed, and she still had to make dinner. Joachim was, of course, lying on the sofa with his phone. In twenty years of marriage, she had never gotten him to so much as reheat food, let alone cook. The key turned in the lock with its familiar squeak.
Annegret stepped inside and heard the television in the living room. She kicked off her shoes, hung up her coat, and carried the bags into the kitchen. Joachim didn’t even look up as she passed. He sat in his armchair, eyes glued to his phone screen, mechanically chewing on a bag of potato chips.
“You’re home,” Annegret stated, setting the bags on the counter. It wasn’t a question or a greeting, just a simple fact. “Mhm,” her husband answered without lifting his gaze. She started to unload the shopping.
Chicken for meatballs, potatoes, cabbage for soup. It was Saturday tomorrow, so she could cook ahead for several days. Her hands moved automatically. For so many years, it had been the same: work, supermarket, cooking, cleaning, and then it all started again.
She put water on to wash the potatoes and suddenly caught her reflection in the dark window over the sink. A tired face, gray streaks in her hair that she hadn’t had time to dye for months. When had this happened? When had she become this exhausted woman?
“Joachim, do you want meatballs? ” she called into the living room. “Yeah, sure,” came the answer. Annegret took a knife and started peeling potatoes.
The peels fell into the sink with a steady rhythm. Outside, dusk thickened. Somewhere below, children laughed. A car door slammed.
A perfectly ordinary evening on a perfectly ordinary day. Half an hour later, she set the table. Joachim reluctantly put his phone aside and came into the kitchen, sitting in his spot by the window. Annegret served him soup and pushed the plate of meatballs closer.
“How was work? ” she asked more out of habit than genuine interest. “Good,” Joachim said, dipping his bread tiredly into the soup. He was a manager at a construction company.
His salary was average but stable. Lately, though, he complained more and more: too tired, too much work, not enough appreciation. Annegret listened and nodded. She didn’t have it easy either.
Year-end closing was coming up. “Listen, Annegret,” Joachim said, putting his spoon down and looking at his wife. “I’ve been thinking about the birthday. ”
His birthday was in a week, on November 25th.
Usually they celebrated at home or at a café with friends and family. Annegret had already started planning the menu and the guest list. “Let’s not invite anyone this year,” Joachim continued, not looking at her. “I’m tired of these gatherings.
So much noise, so expensive. Let’s just sit quietly, just the two of us. Or do nothing at all. I’m not a little boy anymore.
”
Annegret watched him silently. Something in his tone felt strange. He spoke as if it were the most ordinary thing, but his eyes darted around, and his fingers nervously crumbled bread on his plate. “Alright,” she said slowly.
“If that’s what you want, we’ll celebrate quietly. ”
“Perfect,” Joachim visibly relaxed. “Same thing every year. I’m sick of it.
”
He finished his soup and went back to the television. Annegret stayed at the table, staring at her half-eaten meatball. Strange. Joachim had always loved celebrating his birthday.
He loved the congratulations, the gifts, the toasts. And now, suddenly, he was tired. The next morning, Annegret woke before her husband. Saturday.
She could have slept in, but her body was used to waking at seven. She dressed quietly and went to the kitchen to switch on the kettle. Outside, it was still dark. November, the grayest month of the year.
Joachim got up around ten, shuffling into the kitchen in an old t-shirt and sweatpants. Annegret had already cooked the soup, checked the muesli, and cleaned the stove. “Want coffee? ” she asked.
“Pour me one,” he yawned, stretching. “I’m going to shower, then drive to my mother’s. She asked me to hang a shelf for her. ”
Annegret nodded.
Brunhilde, his mother, lived alone in a two-room apartment on the other side of the city. She’d been a widow for fifteen years. A strong woman with a strong will, who loved to decide things for both her son and her daughter-in-law. Half an hour later, Joachim came out dressed and groomed, grabbing his jacket from the hook in the hallway.
“I’m off. I’ll be back in the evening. ”
“Alright,” Annegret answered. The door clicked shut, and she was alone.
The silence in the apartment became almost tangible. Annegret drank her cold tea and went to the bathroom to hang up the laundry that had finished in the washing machine. When she pulled out Joachim’s damp jacket, she checked the pockets almost out of habit. An old habit from the days when he constantly forgot receipts and papers.
Her fingers touched something solid. Annegret pulled out a folded piece of paper, unfolded it, and froze. A reservation at the Golden Stag restaurant. Date: November 25th.
Time: 7:00 PM. Number of people: 5. Reservation name: Joachim Braun. Annegret read it three times.
Her hands trembled slightly as she turned the paper over. The back was blank, just the printed confirmation. She sank onto the stool in the middle of the bathroom, still holding the damp jacket and the paper. November 25th.
His birthday. Five people. The Golden Stag. One of the most expensive restaurants in the city, where dinner per person cost as much as her weekly salary.
“Let’s not invite anyone this year. ”
Annegret breathed out slowly. Her heart hammered in her throat. She stood up, hung the laundry with mechanical movements, and went into the bedroom.
She took out her phone, opened the banking app, and checked the last week’s transactions. Groceries, services, transport costs. Wait. There it was.
The day before yesterday, November 20th. A charge of €3,800. Payee: Restaurant Golden Stag. Payment for banquet, from her credit card.
The card Joachim had convinced her to get as a supplementary card for emergencies and joint expenses, as he put it. Annegret sat down on the bed, her ears ringing. She stared at the numbers on the screen, unable to believe it. He took her money, reserved an expensive restaurant for five people, and lied to her face, saying he didn’t want to celebrate.
Who are these five people? She tried to think logically. Joachim himself, one. His mother Brunhilde, two.
His sister Beate, three. Dennis, Beate’s son, four. And who was the fifth? Probably Aunt Helga, his mother’s sister.
His family. He was planning to celebrate his birthday with his family, at her expense, without her. Annegret stood up and went to the window. Below in the yard, a woman walked a small reddish mutt that jumped happily into puddles.
A normal Saturday scene, but inside Annegret, everything was in turmoil. Twenty years. For twenty years, she had put up with her mother-in-law, who found fault with everything. The soup was undercooked, there was dust in the apartment, or she wasn’t dressed properly for the weather.
For years, she had listened to the lectures of her sister-in-law Beate, who thought she was smarter than everyone else because she’d taken some psychology course. For twenty years, she had given gifts to her nephew Dennis, spoiled rotten by the whole family. And all that time, Annegret thought that at least Joachim was on her side, that at least he appreciated her. She went back to the phone and checked more transactions.
October 20th: €1,000 transfer to Brunhilde, note: for medication. October 15th: payment for Beate’s car repair, €700. October 3rd: €500 for Dennis’s children’s activities. Just in October, €2,200 to his family.
And that didn’t include birthday gifts, help with groceries, or taxi fares. And when was the last time she bought something for herself? Annegret looked down at her faded jeans, her stretched-out sweater she’d worn for three years. When was the last time she’d been to a café with friends?
She barely had friends left. Maybe just Gerda. They talked occasionally, but met up only every two or three months. Annegret went back to the bathroom, took the reservation out of the jacket pocket, and put it in her handbag.
She hung the jacket up to dry. Her hands moved mechanically while her mind spun. What should she do? Make a scene?
Confront him when he got back? But what would that change? He would say he was planning a surprise, that he meant to invite her, that the reservation for five included her, not excluded her. He would find some excuse, as he always did whenever she tried to talk about his family, about how they took advantage of her patience and her money.
“Annegret, it’s my mother. She’s a pensioner. She really needs the medication. ”
“Annegret, Beate has a low salary.
It’s hard for her alone with the child. ”
“Annegret, don’t be so stingy. We’re a family. ”
Family?
But she had always been an outsider in this family. At their gatherings, they clustered together, telling family stories she wasn’t part of. Brunhilde would talk about how wonderful Joachim had been as a child, what a great career he could have had if he hadn’t married so early. Her gaze would rest on Annegret, as if to say the son had ruined his life because of her.
But that wasn’t true. They’d married when Joachim was twenty-five and she was twenty-two. They both worked, rented a room. The wedding was simple, no luxury.
Later, they saved for the down payment on their mortgage. Annegret worked two jobs to save money faster. Joachim worked hard too. It seemed like everything was going to be fine.
They never had children. At first, they put it off because of housing problems, work, instability. Later, they tried, but it didn’t work. They went to the doctor.
Both were healthy, but the pregnancy never came. Eventually, they stopped trying. Joachim said once that maybe it was better this way. Children were difficult and expensive.
Annegret stayed silent, but something inside her hurt. She had wanted a child. She wanted someone who was truly hers. Maybe that was why she tried so hard with his family.
She wanted to win their love, to become one of them. She bought gifts, cooked for holidays, helped financially, listened to endless advice and criticism, and still remained the outsider daughter-in-law, never good enough for her beloved Joachim. Annegret went into the kitchen, poured herself some water, drank it in one gulp, and looked at the clock. 12:30.
Joachim wouldn’t be back before evening. He usually stayed late at his mother’s. Annegret picked up her phone and found her friend’s contact. Gerda answered on the third ring.
“Annegret, hi! How are you? ”
“Ger, can I come over? I need to talk.
”
Her voice sounded hollow even to herself. “Of course. Come over. Has something happened?
”
“I’ll tell you in person. ”
Half an hour later, Annegret sat in Gerda’s kitchen, holding a cup of hot tea. Her friend sat across from her, listening carefully. “So what are you going to do?
” Gerda asked when Annegret finished. “I don’t know,” Annegret shook her head. “Honestly, I don’t know. Make a scene?
He’ll deny it or come up with some excuse. ”
“Annegret, think about it,” Gerda leaned closer. “It’s not just about the restaurant and the money. It’s that he doesn’t respect you at all.
He didn’t even think it was necessary to invite you to his own birthday—which you were paying for. ”
“I know,” Annegret said quietly. “So what now? ”
“Now,” Gerda continued, “do you want to keep living like this?
Doing all the work and then finding out you’re being taken for a fool? ”
Annegret was silent. She looked out the window where a fine drizzle was falling. Gray sky, gray buildings, gray life.
“No,” she said finally. “I don’t. ”
Gerda took her hand. “Then something has to change.
”
Annegret nodded. “Yes. Change. But how exactly?
”
She returned home that evening. Joachim was already in the kitchen, eating the leftover soup. “Where were you? ” he asked without looking up.
“At Gerda’s. ”
“Oh. ”
Annegret went into the bedroom and lay down on the bed. Her head ached from all the thoughts.
She barely slept that night, tossing and turning while Joachim slept peacefully beside her. By sunrise, the decision was made. There would be no scene. No tears, no accusations.
She would do this differently. That morning, Annegret got up with a clear plan. Joachim was still asleep. She dressed quietly and went into the kitchen.
First, she picked up the phone and dialed the Golden Stag restaurant. Her heart pounded, but her hands were surprisingly steady. “Restaurant Golden Stag. How can I help you?
” answered a pleasant female voice. “Hello,” Annegret swallowed. “I have a reservation for November 25th at 7 PM under the name Braun. ”
“One moment, let me check.
” Paper rustled. “Yes, I see it. Table for five. The deposit has been paid.
Would you like to make a change? ”
“Can you tell me the names of the guests in the reservation? ”
Annegret pressed the phone tighter to her ear. “Of course.
We have noted: Joachim Braun, Brunhilde Braun, Beate Schmidt, Dennis Schmidt, and Helga Preiss. ”
Annegret closed her eyes. So it was just as she suspected. His mother, sister, nephew, and aunt.
Five people, and not a word about her. He hadn’t even thought of including her. “Thank you,” she managed to say. “Could you confirm the menu?
What was ordered? ”
“Banquet menu number three: appetizers, main course, dessert. Plus a selection from the wine list within the paid amount. A very good choice, I must say.
”
“Understood. Thank you. ”
Annegret hung up and sat down at the table. Everything was planned.
Menu chosen, deposit paid, guests invited—all paid for with her money, behind her back. She poured herself a glass of water and drank it slowly. The anger she felt was strange: cold, calm, without hysteria or tears. Just an icy clarity.
Twenty years. She had been accommodating, hardworking, tireless, patient. She earned money and handed it over for his family’s needs. She cooked, cleaned, helped his relatives.
And for what? So that, in the end, she wasn’t even invited to her own husband’s birthday. Annegret opened the notes app on her phone and started writing. She needed a plan.
Clear, thought-out, no improvisation. One: cancel the reservation and get the money back. Two: find another venue for the celebration. Three: prepare the documents.
Four: pack her things. What venue? She needed something believable, so Joachim wouldn’t suspect, and a place where she could talk to everyone in peace, explain everything, and then leave. And then she remembered her grandmother’s house—an old wooden house in the village, about fifty kilometers from the city.
The grandmother had died three years ago. The house went to Annegret, the only granddaughter. She hadn’t been there for a long time, only once a year in summer to check on things. The house was empty but solid.
Electricity was connected, and water came from the well. The perfect place. Annegret picked up the phone and dialed the restaurant again. “Restaurant Golden Stag.
How can I help you? ”
“Hello again. This is about the reservation under the name Braun for November 25th. I need to cancel it.
”
“Cancel? ” Surprise was audible in the girl’s voice. “But the deposit has already been paid. ”
“Yes, I know.
Can the money be refunded? ”
“According to our rules, a cancellation less than seven days in advance means only 50% of the deposit is refunded. ”
Annegret pressed her lips together. She would lose €1,900, but that was still better than paying for the banquet for his precious family.
“Fine. Cancel it. To which account should the refund be sent? ”
“To the same card the payment was made from.
The refund will arrive within three business days. ”
“Perfect. Thank you. ”
She hung up and leaned back in her chair.
First step done. Now she had to plan how to organize the meeting in the village. Joachim stirred in the bedroom. Annegret heard him get up and go to the bathroom.
A few minutes later, he appeared in the kitchen, sleepy and disheveled. “Morning,” he mumbled, sitting down. “Morning,” Annegret replied in a neutral tone. “Want coffee?
”
“Yes, please. ”
She set up the coffee maker, got out bread, butter, and cheese. A perfectly normal morning, as if nothing had changed. Joachim scrolled through the news on his phone, occasionally muttering about a headline.
“What are you up to today? ” he asked without looking up. “Cleaning, cooking. I’ll stay home.
”
He nodded, and Annegret caught herself thinking he was probably going to football later. She didn’t care anymore. After breakfast, Joachim settled in front of the TV in the living room. Annegret cleared the dishes, changed, and left the apartment.
She had a few places to go. First, she went to Gerda’s. Her friend opened the door in a bathrobe with a towel on her head. “Annegret, hi!
Come in, I just washed my hair. ”
They went into the kitchen. Gerda put the kettle on and sat opposite her. “So, tell me what you’ve decided.
”
Annegret took out her phone and showed her the notes with the plan. “Seriously? ” Gerda widened her eyes. “Are you really going to do this?
”
“Absolutely serious,” Annegret nodded. “Ger, I need your help. Tomorrow afternoon, you need to call Joachim, pretending to be the manager of the restaurant. ”
“The manager?
” Gerda raised a skeptical eyebrow. “And what am I supposed to say? ”
“That there was a technical problem in the restaurant—a pipe burst or something—and the banquet has been moved to another location. You give him the address of my grandma’s house in the village.
You say it’s the restaurant’s new location in a country-house style. ”
“And he’ll believe that? ”
Annegret shrugged. “He won’t overthink it.
The important thing is to speak confidently. Can you do it? ”
Gerda thought for a moment, then nodded slowly. “For you, I’ll do it.
I can do it. But Annegret, are you sure? Don’t you want to think it over a little more? ”
“I thought all night,” Annegret said quietly.
“I’ve been thinking for twenty years. That’s enough. ”
Gerda put her hands on her shoulders. “Then we’ll take care of it.
”
At noon, Annegret went home. Joachim was still in front of the TV, now with a can of beer. She passed him to the kitchen and started preparing lunch. Her hands moved automatically.
She chopped vegetables, stirred the pot, set the table. Her mind was working. The following days, she lived in a strange duality. On one hand, everything was as usual: work, chores, dinner with her husband, trivial conversations.
On the other hand, a mechanism seemed to have been activated inside her, methodically counting down the time and preparing for the decisive moment. Annegret took an old sports bag out of the closet and started packing things gradually. Documents, passport, marriage certificate, bank cards, clothes, the essentials. Photos from albums with her grandmother, with her late parents.
Some cherished items: her mother’s earrings, her grandmother’s shawl, a postcard from Gerda. She did it little by little, when Joachim was at work or in the shower, hiding the bag in the attic. He never looked there. On Wednesday, Annegret took a day off from work and drove to the village.
The bus ride took a little over an hour, winding along country roads past fields and small woods. Mid-November, the trees bare, the sky gray with patches of snow. She got off at the stop in the village center and walked the familiar path. The village was small, maybe thirty houses.
The grandmother’s house stood at the edge of the village, right next to the woods. A one-story wooden house with the carved decorations her grandmother had loved so much. The gate creaked as Annegret pushed it open. The path to the porch was overgrown with grass.
The key turned with difficulty. The door opened with a heavy sigh. Inside, it smelled of dampness and old wood. Everything was in its place: the old table in the middle of the room covered with a faded tablecloth, the stove in the corner, the worn sofa by the window, faded photos on the walls, her grandmother’s dishes on the shelves.
Time seemed to have stopped here on the day her grandmother had closed that door for the last time. Annegret sat down at the table. She had spent all her childhood summers here. Her grandmother had taught her to bake pies, told her fairy tales, stroked her head when she cried about her parents’ arguments.
There had been warmth and peace here. This was where she had always felt at home. She took out her phone and opened the task list. She had to prepare the house.
Turn on the electricity, wipe the dust, check the lights, bring water from the well. She spent the whole day there. She cleaned the table and chairs, swept the floor. She found some old candles in the shed, just in case.
She checked the fuse box. Everything worked. The bulbs were dim, but they lit. As dusk fell, the house looked decent.
Annegret sat on the porch, looking out at the darkening woods. The silence was almost absolute, just the wind in the branches and a raven cawing in the distance. Here, she would tell them everything. Here, this story would end.
On Friday, the day before Joachim’s birthday, Annegret went to a lawyer. She’d found one online and made an appointment. A young woman around thirty listened to her story and asked a few questions. “Do you have children?
”
“No. ”
“Joint property? ”
“The apartment has a mortgage. Nearly paid off, one year left.
”
“Good. You need to file a petition for divorce. I’ll prepare the documents. You sign them and bring them to the family court.
The property division will be separate, but generally, without children and disputes, it’s resolved fairly quickly. ”
Annegret nodded. The lawyer printed the form, filled it out, and gave it to her to sign. “Are you sure?
” she asked, looking Annegret in the eye. “Divorce is always emotionally and financially complicated. Wouldn’t it be better to resolve this amicably? ”
“I tried that,” Annegret took the pen.
“For years I tried. That’s enough. ”
She signed clearly and decisively. The lawyer nodded and placed the documents in a file.
“Good. After the holidays, you should go to the court. The process usually takes two or three months if there are no disputes over property. ”
Annegret left the office with the file under her arm.
She felt strange—heavy and light at the same time, as if a huge weight had been lifted from her shoulders, but a hollow feeling remained. That evening at home, Joachim was unusually lively, humming to himself while packing some things. “Tomorrow I’ll leave early for my mother’s,” he said during dinner. “I’ll help her with the shopping for the party.
”
“What party? ” Annegret asked innocently. “A friend from out of town is coming. They’re meeting up,” he lied with ease.
“You know, the old ladies like to sit together and drink tea. ”
Annegret nodded silently. He didn’t even bother to come up with a believable lie. He was just sure she wouldn’t find out anything.
“Okay,” she said. “Fine. Help her. ”
Joachim smiled contentedly and continued eating.
Annegret watched him, thinking that she was seeing this person for the last time as her husband. Tomorrow, everything would change. That night, she barely slept. She stared at the ceiling, listening to Joachim’s calm breathing beside her.
Twenty years sharing a bed, twenty years together, and all that time she’d been alone. On the morning of November 25th, Annegret got up before everyone else. She dressed, took the bag she’d prepared, and wrote a short note: “I’m going to Gerda’s for a few days. Don’t worry.
” She left it on the kitchen table. She left the apartment in silence, closing the door without looking back. Walking down the stairs and out into the street. The morning was cold and clear.
The first winter day. Annegret took the bus to the station, then another bus to the village. The ride seemed endless. She watched the fields and villages passing by, thinking that today her life would split into a before and an after.
She arrived at the village around noon. It greeted her with silence and a winter sun breaking through scattered clouds. She walked the familiar path to her grandmother’s house, the bag of her belongings in hand. The snow crunched under her feet.
The house was just as she’d left it three days ago. Annegret opened the door and stepped inside. It was cold, but not as damp and penetrating as she’d expected. She went straight to the stove and knelt in front of it.
There was enough firewood in the shed; she’d brought in a pile on Wednesday. Annegret had known how to light a stove since childhood. Her grandmother had taught her. First small twigs, then thicker ones, then logs.
Soon the fire crackled cheerfully. The warmth began to spread through the room. Annegret took off her coat, hung it on the hook by the door, and looked around. Everything was ready.
The table clean, the chairs set. On the table lay the file with documents: the divorce petition, bank statements, printouts of the transfers to his family. Everything needed to show that she knew everything, understood everything, and had made her decision. She took out her phone and looked at the time.
12:30. Gerda would call Joachim at 3 PM, four hours before the planned banquet at the restaurant. That would be enough time for him to gather his family and come here. Annegret paced the room, sat on the sofa by the window, got up, and paced again.
Anxiety was building. Her hands were trembling slightly. She clenched them into fists and breathed deeply. No.
She wasn’t going to change her mind. Just a little nervous. That was normal. To calm herself, she got out a thermos with hot tea she’d brought from home.
She poured a cup and took a sip. Hot, sweet, just how she liked it. She sat at the table with the phone in front of her. Time passed agonizingly slowly.
She stared at the screen. 1:00. 1:10. 1:30.
Each minute felt like an hour. She stood up and went to the window. Outside, the snowy garden glowed white. Beyond it, the woods fell silent and dark.
No one knew that here, in this small house, the fate of a whole family would be decided today. Although, what sort of family? Annegret smiled bitterly. Family meant being together, caring for each other, respecting each other.
And what did she have? A façade of family, the habit of living near each other, convenience for him and endless patience from her side. At 2 PM, Gerda called. “Ready?
” her friend asked. “Ready,” Annegret swallowed. “Do you remember what you have to say? ”
“Yes.
A broken pipe. The banquet is moved to the restaurant’s countryside branch. New format, everything paid for. Address such and such.
I’ll be as confident and professional as possible. ”
“Thank you, Ger. Really, thank you. ”
Gerda laughed.
“Come on, that’s what friends are for. Hang in there, Annegret. You’re doing the right thing. ”
Annegret hung up and paced again.
Two hours. One more until the call. She couldn’t stand still. She went to the window, came back to the table, straightened the file of documents, moved away again.
At exactly 3 PM, Gerda’s call went through. Annegret knew her friend was now dialing Joachim. She imagined him sitting somewhere, maybe already at his mother’s, preparing for the evening. Five minutes passed.
“It’s done,” Gerda said. “He swallowed it. First he was surprised, asked again for the address. I told him it was an exclusive place, countryside format, very trendy.
I said they’d get a complimentary bottle of champagne as compensation for the inconvenience. He was pleased and said he’d contact the guests. ”
Annegret exhaled. “Excellent.
Thank you. ”
“Good luck, Annegret. Call me after. ”
“Of course.
”
Annegret sat down at the table. Everything was going according to plan. Now Joachim was calling his mother, his sister, his aunt, telling them the venue had changed. They’d have to drive out to the countryside.
They were probably surprised, but since it was all paid for and the restaurant had suggested it, why not? The countryside format sounds interesting. She imagined them preparing. Brunhilde would put on her best dress, the dark blue one she wore to all the celebrations.
She’d do her makeup, fix her hair. Beate would get ready too, choosing her outfit. Dennis would probably be unhappy about having to go to the countryside instead of a restaurant in the center. Aunt Helga would hurry to pack her bag.
And Joachim would be pleased that everything had worked out, that he’d organized his celebration at his wife’s expense—the wife he hadn’t even dared to invite. Annegret stood up and went to the stove. The fire was dying down. She added a few logs.
The flames greedily licked the dry wood. 4 PM. About an hour left until their arrival, maybe a little more. The road wasn’t short, especially if they all drove in Beate’s car or called a taxi.
Annegret returned to the table, opened the file, and read the divorce petition again. Dry, formal words: “I request the dissolution of the marriage. A joint life is impossible due to … ” She’d cited irreconcilable differences.
She didn’t mention the infidelity, though it had been a betrayal too. Not with another woman, but a betrayal of her, of their marriage, of what should have been. Another paper: the agreement on property division, prepared by the lawyer. The apartment to be sold, the money split in half.
No claims against each other. Clear, simple, without unnecessary emotion. Annegret put the papers back. Everything was ready.
All that was left was to wait. She went to the window again. The sun was setting, the sky coloring into a pale pink. Beautiful.
Her grandmother always said the sunsets in the countryside were special, nothing like the city with its smoke and dust. Here the sky was clean, and the sun went down slowly, as if saying goodbye until tomorrow. 5 PM. Annegret put on her coat, stepped out onto the porch, and paused for a moment, breathing in the icy air.
It smelled of snow and smoke from the chimneys. Evening was falling in the village. A dog barked, a door slammed, voices carried. She went back inside, took off her coat, paced the room, straightened the chairs around the table, though they were already in perfect order.
She just needed to keep her hands busy. 5:30. The phone was silent. Annegret picked it up and checked it.
Signal there, battery full, everything in order. They just hadn’t arrived yet. She sat down on the sofa, placed the phone beside her, closed her eyes, and tried to calm herself. Her heart was beating fast, and she could feel her pulse in her temples.
“Breathe,” she told herself. “Just breathe. Everything will be fine. You are doing the right thing.
”
From outside came the sound of an engine. Annegret jumped up and ran to the window. A gray car, similar to Beate’s, was coming up the road toward the house. The car stopped at the gate.
It was beginning. Annegret stepped back from the window and stood beside the table. Her hands crossed in front of her chest by themselves. She lowered them to her sides.
“Calm,” she whispered to herself. “You are strong. You have planned everything. ”
A car door slammed, then another.
Female voices, male. The gate creaked. “Are you sure this is the place? ” came Brunhilde’s irritated voice.
“This looks like a shack, not a restaurant. ”
“Mama, I’m telling you, that’s what they told us,” Joachim answered. “A countryside branch. I’m sure it looks different inside.
”
“It better be,” Beate grumbled. “And I wore my new shoes, and the snow is ankle-deep here. ”
Dennis snorted. Aunt Helga remained silent.
Footsteps on the path, on the porch steps. The creak of boards. The door opened. Joachim entered first, in a dark suit, white shirt, and tie, groomed and smelling of some pleasant festive cologne.
Behind him, Brunhilde in that blue dress with large earrings. Then Beate—tall, bleached blonde, in a tight red dress. Behind her, Dennis, a skinny young man in jeans and a jacket. Finally, Aunt Helga, a stout woman in a brown suit.
They all came in together, talking loudly, and froze. Annegret stood beside the table, lit by the dim ceiling light. She wore simple jeans, a sweater, her hair in a ponytail—nothing festive about her. Her face was calm.
“Annegret? ” Joachim paled. “What are you doing here? ”
“I’m expecting you,” she said firmly.
“Come in. Take off your coats, or shall we stay like this? ”
“Where’s the restaurant? ” Brunhilde wondered, looking around, expecting waiters and set tables.
“Joachim, what is going on? I don’t understand. ”
Joachim took a step towards Annegret. “What the hell?
We were called and told the banquet was here. ”
“Were you called? ” Annegret corrected him. “Actually, my friend called in the name of the restaurant, to get you to come here.
”
Silence fell. The family exchanged glances. Beate was the first to understand. “You set us up.
” She stepped forward, her eyes blazing with outrage. “Who do you think you are to… ”
“I am Joachim’s wife,” Annegret interrupted her. “The same one you forgot to invite to your husband’s birthday.
The same one who was supposed to pay for your banquet. Well, who would have had to pay for it, but didn’t. ”
“What are you talking about? ” Joachim tried to regain control.
“What banquet? ”
Annegret pulled a folded paper from her pocket—the same one from his jacket—unfolded it, and showed it. “Reservation at the Golden Stag restaurant. November 25th, 7 PM.
Five people. Paid €3,800 from my card. Guests: Joachim Braun, Brunhilde Braun, Beate Schmidt, Dennis Schmidt, Helga Preiss. My name is not on it.
”
Brunhilde gasped. Beate looked away. Dennis stared at his phone, pretending this had nothing to do with him. Aunt Helga blinked in confusion.
Joachim opened his mouth and closed it again. His face reddened. “Annegret, this isn’t what you think. It’s not…
” he began. Annegret smiled ironically. “Oh, I see. A surprise for me.
Were you planning to invite me at the last moment? Or were you planning to surprise me by coming home drunk and happy after the banquet with Mama and your sister? ”
“Annegret,” Brunhilde interjected, “you don’t talk to your elders like that. ”
“I’m talking to people who have used me for twenty years,” Annegret said quietly but firmly.
“You took my money, my time, my patience, and not once did you say thank you. ”
“How dare you! ” Beate exclaimed. “We don’t owe you anything.
”
“Right,” Annegret agreed. “You don’t owe me anything. Because I’m not going to give you anything anymore. ”
She took the file from the table and pulled out the bank statements.
“Look at this. October—Brunhilde, medication, €1,000. Beate—car repair, €700. Dennis—courses, €500.
September—Brunhilde, new TV, €1,500. Beate—clothes, €800. August… ”
“Enough!
” Joachim stepped toward her, trying to snatch the papers. “No, it’s not enough. ” Annegret stepped back, holding the file to her chest. “Listen.
In the last year, I transferred €18,500 to your family. That’s without counting gifts, groceries, and household help. Do you know what that means to me? That’s four of my monthly salaries.
”
“We didn’t ask for it,” Brunhilde began, but her voice trembled. “You did ask,” Annegret said forcefully. “Constantly you asked. ‘Annegret, help me.
The pension is small. ‘ ‘Annegret, help me. It’s hard alone with a child. ‘ ‘Annegret, you won’t refuse me.
‘ And I didn’t refuse, because I thought it was the right thing, that family means helping each other. ” She looked at them all. “But the one who always helped was only me. And when I needed support?
When I was in the hospital three years ago with appendicitis? Who came? Gerda. A friend.
Not my husband, not his mother, not his sister. When I was discharged and looked for work for two months, who helped me? Gerda again. She came, without asking why or when I’d pay her back.
And you didn’t even call to ask how I was doing. ”
“This is all nonsense,” Joachim tried to take control again. “Annegret, stop this hysteria. We’re going home, and we’ll discuss this calmly.
”
“No. ” Annegret shook her head. “I’m not going home. Well, I will go, but not with you.
I’m taking my things. I’m leaving, and I’m filing for divorce. ”
She placed the petition on the table. “You can read this in peace.
I’ve already signed it. You just need to sign it, or wait for the court process. The apartment will be sold, the money split in half. No claims.
”
Joachim picked up the paper and scanned it. His face contorted. “You’ve lost your mind. Divorce?
Why? Because I wanted to celebrate my birthday with my family? ”
“Because I’m not your family,” Annegret said quietly. “I understood that when I saw that reservation.
You didn’t even think to invite me. You didn’t even think about me, because I’m just a wallet to you. Convenient, reliable, always nearby, always available. ”
“Annegret, this is nonsense.
”
“No, Joachim. It’s the truth, and I finally see it. ”
Brunhilde stepped forward. “Joachim, don’t let her talk to you like that.
You’re a man, the head of the family. ”
“The head of the family? ” Annegret laughed. “You couldn’t even defend me when they hurt me.
You stayed silent when they criticized my cooking, my clothes, my work. Silent when they hinted I was a bad wife because we didn’t have children. Always silent, because it was convenient for you. Mama happy, sister happy, wife brings in money—everyone’s happy.
”
“You’ll regret those words,” Beate hissed. “You’ll be alone. No one will need you. ”
“Better alone than with you,” Annegret replied.
She took her coat from the chair, put it on, and picked up her bag. “I’m leaving. The divorce will go through the courts if you don’t sign amicably. The apartment papers are with the lawyer.
You’ll contact me only through him. That’s all. ”
Joachim blocked her path. “You’re not going anywhere.
We’re going home now. ”
“Step aside. ” Annegret looked him in the eye. “Step aside before I call Gerda.
She knows everything and is waiting for my call. If I don’t call in ten minutes, she goes to the police. ”
“You’re bluffing. ”
“Try me.
”
They stood there, looking at each other. Twenty years together, and now they were strangers. Annegret saw anger in his eyes, confusion, resentment—but no love. Maybe there never had been any.
Joachim stepped back. Annegret walked past him toward the door, then turned around at the threshold. “By the way, I canceled the reservation. The money is back on my card.
Only half of it, actually—the restaurant kept a cancellation fee. But that’s your problem now. Celebrate here if you want. The house is mine, but I grant you this night for free.
”
She stepped out onto the porch. The cold evening air burned her face. Annegret breathed deeply and walked down the steps. Behind her, Brunhilde’s voice rose: “Joachim!
You’re just going to let her walk away? ” Joachim said nothing. Annegret reached the garden gate, stepped out onto the road, took out her phone, and called a taxi. The dispatcher answered quickly.
“I need a car from village road number 12 to the city. ”
“It’ll be there in twenty minutes. ”
“Perfect. ”
She leaned against the fence and looked at the house.
The light was on, the silhouettes inside—Joachim’s family—were gesturing and talking among themselves. Probably shouting and arguing about what to do. She didn’t care. She had done what she should have done long ago, and she felt relief.
Not joy, not sadness. Just relief, like after a long illness. Twenty minutes later, the car arrived. Annegret got into the back seat and gave the address of Gerda’s apartment.
“Let’s go. ”
The car pulled away. The village fell behind. Ahead, the city lights glimmered.
Gerda opened the door as soon as Annegret rang the bell. Her friend’s face was worried, her eyes anxious. “Well, how did it go? ” She pulled Annegret inside and took her bag.
Annegret went into the kitchen and sat down on a chair. Her hands were still trembling slightly. The adrenaline from the conversation hadn’t left her blood yet. “It’s done,” she breathed out.
“I told them everything. I handed over the divorce petition and left. ”
Gerda put the kettle on, sat down across from her, and took her hand. “You’re incredible.
Truly incredible. I’m proud of you. ”
“Yeah,” Annegret smiled weakly. “But I’m scared, Gerda.
Really scared. Twenty years of life ended in one night. So what now? ”
“Now starts a new life,” Gerda said firmly.
“You’re free. Do you understand? Free from him, from his family, from this whole nightmare. Yes, it’s scary, but that will pass.
”
The kettle whistled. Gerda made tea and got out cookies. They sat in the kitchen, drinking hot, sweet tea, and Annegret slowly calmed down. The warmth, the light, the silence, her friend’s company—it all brought her back to reality.
“Stay with me,” Gerda said, “as long as you want. I have a two-room apartment. There’s room. ”
“Thank you,” Annegret squeezed her hand.
“Really, thank you. But I don’t want to be a burden. A few days, and then I’ll rent a room or a small apartment. ”
“You’re not a burden,” Gerda said with a dismissive wave.
“It’ll actually make me happy. Living alone is boring. ”
That night, Annegret barely slept. She lay on the fold-out bed in Gerda’s room, staring at the ceiling, replaying that moment in her grandmother’s house over and over.
The faces of the family—confused, angry, offended. Joachim’s face—first surprised, then furious, and finally somehow lost. But she also remembered the good times. Were there any?
The early years, when they were newly married? Joachim had been attentive then, loving. He brought her flowers, called at noon to ask how she was. They went for walks in the evening, went to the cinema, made plans.
When had it all come to an end? When had he become indifferent, and she just someone convenient? Probably gradually, year by year, habit by habit. He got used to her enduring everything, understanding everything, always at his side.
And she got used to not asking for anything, not demanding anything, settling for little. And this was the result. In the morning, Annegret woke up exhausted with a headache. Gerda had already gone to work, leaving a note on the table: “Coffee is ready, bread in the breadbox, butter in the fridge.
Rest. We’ll talk tonight. ”
Annegret made coffee and drank it standing at the window. Outside, a fine, stinging snow was falling.
The city was waking up: cars, people, bustle. A perfectly ordinary Monday. Only this Monday was the start of something new for her. She picked up her phone.
Several missed calls from Joachim. He’d called in the night, but she hadn’t answered. A few messages from unknown numbers—probably Brunhilde or Beate. She didn’t open them, just blocked them immediately.
But there was a message from the lawyer. “Ms. Braun, the documents are ready. You can file the claim any day.
Call when you are ready. ”
Annegret dialed the number. “Hello, this is Braun, regarding the divorce. ”
“Yes, good morning,” the lawyer’s voice was brisk and professional.
“Are you ready to file? ”
“Yes, I am. ”
“Perfect. Come by at noon to pick up the documents and take them to the family court.
I’ll send you the address. ”
“Good, thank you. ”
At 2 PM, Annegret stood in the courthouse building with a packet of documents in her hands. The line moved slowly.
She looked at the people around her. Some were filing claims, others picking up verdicts, some just waiting—ordinary people with ordinary problems. Finally, it was her turn. The woman at the counter took the documents, checked them briefly, and stamped them.
“Application received. A hearing will be scheduled within a month. The summons will be sent by mail. ”
“Thank you.
”
Annegret left the building. The snow was still falling, but not as heavily. She breathed in the cold air deeply. The process had begun.
There was no turning back. The next few days passed in a strange sense of suspension. Annegret lived with Gerda, went to work, came back, helped with the chores, and tried not to think about what Joachim was doing, where he was, what he was saying. The phone stayed silent; he didn’t call again.
Apparently, he’d understood it was pointless. A week later, the summons arrived. The hearing was set for January 20th. Annegret marked the date on the calendar.
Two months to freedom. She started looking for an apartment, scrolling through listings online, visiting rooms and flats. Most didn’t fit—too expensive, too far, in bad condition. But finally, she found a one-room apartment on the outskirts.
Cheap, clean, furnished. The landlady, an older woman, agreed immediately. “I like you,” she said. “Serious, quiet.
Live here, but keep it tidy and pay on time. ”
“Of course,” Annegret promised. She moved in early December. Gerda helped, bringing her things in her car, helping unpack and set up.
The apartment was small but cozy. The windows faced the courtyard with the playground. Quiet. Peaceful.
“Well, Gerda looked around. Now you have your own nest. How do you feel? ”
“Strange,” Annegret admitted.
“Free, but also kind of empty. ”
“That’ll pass. ” Gerda hugged her shoulders. “You’ll get used to it.
Now you decide how you live, what you do, and what you spend your money on. ”
Annegret nodded. Yes. For the first time in twenty years, she could take charge of her own life.
December passed slowly. Work, housework, occasional meetings with Gerda. Annegret learned to live alone. She cooked what she wanted, not what Joachim liked.
She watched movies she enjoyed, read books, slept in on weekends as long as she wanted. Gradually, the emptiness began to fill. Not with joy yet, but with a certain calm. She woke up in the morning without feeling a weight on her chest.
She came home without expecting her husband’s disapproving look. She went to sleep without replaying everything she’d done wrong that day. Before New Year’s Eve, Gerda called. “Annegret, let’s go somewhere to celebrate.
A spa hotel or a mountain hut. We’ll have a good time. Just the two of us. ”
“Let’s go,” Annegret agreed.
“I want to go somewhere. ”
They found a cheap hut in the neighboring region. Small cabins in the woods, a sauna, skiing. They celebrated the New Year by the fireplace, drinking champagne, laughing.
Annegret didn’t think about Joachim or about how she usually spent the holidays in his mother’s house, surrounded by his family. Now it was different. Light, simple, just her own. In January, the summons for the court hearing arrived.
January 20th, 10 AM. Annegret took a day off from work, arrived at the courthouse early, and met her lawyer in the corridor. “Everything will be fine,” the lawyer reassured her. “Joachim has agreed to the divorce without contesting the property division.
It’s basically a formality. ”
Annegret nodded. She felt a pang of something—pity, maybe. Now she would see Joachim for the first time since that night in the village.
They entered the courtroom. Joachim was already sitting on the other side, next to a man—probably his lawyer. He looked up as she entered, looked at her, and then looked away. The hearing didn’t last long.
The judge read the petition, asked if both parties insisted on the divorce. Both answered yes. The judge announced a recess to make a decision. They went out to the corridor.
Joachim approached Annegret. “Can we talk? ”
“What do you want to say? ” Annegret crossed her arms.
“I didn’t think you’d actually leave,” he said quietly, looking at the floor. “I thought you’d calm down, that you’d come back. We were together for so many years. ”
“Twenty years,” Annegret nodded.
“For twenty years, I was convenient for you. And when I wasn’t anymore, you didn’t even try to stop me. ”
He didn’t know what to say. He raised his eyes.
“You were right. You were right about everything. I behaved like a jerk. ”
“Yes, you did,” she agreed.
“But I don’t want to talk about it. It’s all over. ”
“Could we try again? ” There was hope in his voice.
“I’ll really change. I’ll be a different person. ”
“No,” Annegret shook her head. “We won’t try.
I don’t want that anymore. I’m sorry. ”
She turned away and sat on a bench far from him. Joachim stood there for a moment, then returned to his lawyer.
Half an hour later, they were called back into the courtroom. The judge announced the decision. “The marriage is dissolved. The property will be divided according to the submitted agreement.
The apartment will be sold, the money split in half. ”
That was it. They were no longer a married couple. Annegret left the courthouse feeling good.
It was cold and cloudless. The sun was blinding. She took out her phone and called Gerda, who answered immediately. “It’s done.
The divorce is finalized. ”
“Congratulations. ” Joy was evident in her friend’s voice. “Now you’re officially free.
How does it feel? ”
“Good,” Annegret smiled. “Really good. ”
February brought news of the apartment sale.
Joachim had found buyers. The transaction was handled quickly. Annegret received her share: €150,000. The money they’d earned together.
The first thing she did was pay back the loan Gerda had given her when she was looking for work. Gerda protested, but Annegret insisted. “Take it. It’s important to me.
I want to start a new life without debts. ”
After that, she rented a good one-room apartment in a nice area—renovated, furnished, close to work. She bought new clothes, not from the discount store like before, but quality and beautiful. She joined a swimming club at the gym.
She started taking English classes. An old dream she’d never had the time or money for. Life gradually fell into place. At work, she got promoted to senior accountant with a raise.
At the gym, she met women her age. They started swimming together and sometimes went to cafés after training. One day in March, Gerda insisted she go on a blind date. “Annegret, come on,” she said.
“I’ll introduce you to a nice man, a colleague of my brother’s. He’s divorced. Totally normal, sensible. ”
“Ger, it’s too early for me,” Annegret declined.
“What do you mean too early? Life is just beginning. Come on, at least meet someone. If you don’t like him, we won’t see him again.
”
She agreed. They met at a café. Gerda with her husband, and this colleague. Andreas, a man around forty, an engineer, calm and with a sense of humor.
The conversation was easy, without pressure. Andreas talked about his work; Annegret talked about her English classes. They laughed, joked. At the end of the evening, he asked for her number.
“Can I call you? Maybe go somewhere, just the two of us, if you don’t mind? ”
“Of course,” Annegret smiled. They started seeing each other slowly, without pressure.
They went to the cinema, to exhibitions, or just walked around the city. Andreas was attentive but not pushy. He asked about her life, listened without interrupting, shared his own stories, never pushed her into decisions. By summer, Annegret realized she felt good with him.
It wasn’t passion or a storm. It was simply good, calm, and safe. In July, they went on holiday together to the sea, to a small town. They rented a little house right by the water, swam, sunbathed, cooked dinner together.
Annegret watched the sunset and thought about how good she felt, how easily she breathed. One evening, sitting on the terrace with a glass of wine, Andreas asked, “Are you happy? ”
Annegret considered. “You know, I’m not sure happiness is what we usually mean.
But I’m calm. I live how I want. I do what I like. I’m surrounded by people who value me.
That means a lot. ”
“That is happiness,” he smiled. “We often think happiness is fireworks and butterflies in the stomach. But really, it’s when you feel peace in your heart.
”
Annegret nodded. “Yes. I suppose it is. ”
In autumn, she returned to the village, alone on a day off.
She wanted to check the house, see if everything was in order. She stepped inside and looked around. Everything as always: the table, the stove, the sofa. In one corner, a candy wrapper was lying on the floor, probably from that night.
Annegret picked it up and threw it away. She sat down at the table and remembered how, almost a year ago, she’d sat there waiting, how they’d come in, dressed up and cheerful, and how their faces had changed when she told them the truth. She laughed softly. It had seemed like the end of the world then.
It turned out to be the beginning of a new life—one where she was the master of herself. She stood up, crossed the room, and ran her hand over the old table. “Thank you, Grandma. Thank you for leaving me this house.
Here I found the strength to start over. ”
Before leaving, Annegret closed the door and hid the key under the porch. Maybe one day she would come back, maybe with Andreas. She’d show him the house, tell him the story, and they’d laugh together about how sometimes you have to destroy everything to rebuild it.
For now, she returned to the city, to her new life, to the work that gave her satisfaction, to the friends who valued her, to the man with whom she felt calm and happy, to herself—the woman she had finally found. The bus drove along the country road. Fields and woods flashed briefly past the window. Annegret looked at the road ahead and smiled.
So much lay ahead: the English she would soon master, the travels she dreamed of, maybe a new job. She thought about switching fields, trying something new. The important thing was, she was no longer afraid. She wasn’t afraid of change, of being alone, of being herself.
For years she had lived for others. Now she lived for herself. And it was the best decision of her life. That night in the village, facing her husband and his family, had been a turning point.
She had said then, “Oh, darling, you’ll remember this night for the rest of your life. ” And it was the truth. Joachim would remember it, and so would she. Only for him, it was a night of loss.
For her, it was a night of finding herself.
