Vasya had been sitting on the toilet for twenty minutes now, even though he’d finished his business by the third. It’s just that out there, behind the door, in the kitchen, Marina was sitting and waiting for him for an “important talk.”

An “important talk” meant things were fucked. Vasya knew this. After eight years of marriage, he’d learned her intonations like Morse code. “Vas, we need to talk” was about money. “Vasechka, sit down” meant his mother said something again. But “We need to talk. It’s important” - that was the end.

He was trying to shit more quietly. Stupid thought, but what if she decided he’d died in here and postponed the conversation?

Phone. He needed to zone out on his phone. He opened Instagram. First photo - Lenka from the office with some dude in the Maldives. “Best day of my life.” Bitch. Scroll on. Ad for a course “How to Make a Million.” Scroll. Cats. Not helping.

Vasya tried to remember what he’d done wrong. Yesterday he came home on time. Day before too. On the weekend they went to her parents, he didn’t even get drunk with his father-in-law. For their anniversary he gave her earrings - not the ones she wanted, but similar and three times cheaper. She smiled. Seemed sincere.

Maybe she’s pregnant? No, damn it, they use protection. Though with their method… Vasya imagined himself with a stroller and felt his stomach drop somewhere around his knees.

Or did she meet someone? That gym rat with the gym selfies who likes all her photos? Vasya opened her Insta. Last photo - three days ago, their cat. 47 likes. Gym rat liked it. Bitch!

- Vas, did you die in there? - Marina’s voice through the door.

- Nope! Coming!

Had to go out. But his legs wouldn’t move. They physically didn’t want to get up from the toilet. Smart legs. They knew that out there, behind the door - the end of familiar life. Out there Marina would say something that would change everything.

Vasya flushed. For credibility - a second time. Washed his hands. Looked in the mirror. Ordinary face. Unshaven. Tired. Nothing special. Wonder if this is the face of a man being left, or a man about to become a father?

He came out.

Marina was sitting at the table. In front of her - two mugs of tea. She always made tea for important talks. Like if there’s tea, it’s not a fight, it’s a “constructive dialogue.” Bullshit.

- Sit down, - she said.

Vasya sat. The tea was Earl Grey. He hated bergamot, but he’d been drinking it for eight years. Because at the beginning of the relationship he said he loved it. To impress her. Idiot.

- Vas, - Marina began and fell silent.

Her left eye was twitching. Bad sign. Very bad. Vasya gripped the mug like a life preserver.

- Vas, - she said quietly. - Are you happy?

Vasya choked on his tea. This was worse than money. Worse than cheating. This was a question he had no prepared answer for.

- Well… everything’s fine, - he muttered. - Got a job. Got an apartment. You’re here…

- I’m not asking about “fine,” - she interrupted. - I’m asking about happiness. I look at us, Vas. We’re like two robots. Wake up, eat, work, watch shows, sleep. We even fight on schedule. I look at you and I see you don’t care. You’re just enduring. Me, work, this tea…

Vasya wanted to object. Say that he wasn’t enduring, that everyone lives like this. That Lenka in the Maldives probably fights with her gym rat too about who forgot to buy sunscreen.

But he stayed silent. Because Marina wasn’t looking at him like a wife wanting to nag. But like a person who was very tired of being lonely together.

- I met someone else, - she would have said in a cheap TV show.

- I want a divorce, - she would have said in a drama.

- I just don’t want to die like this, Vas, - Marina said. - In this indifference. I want us to either wake up or split up. Because this isn’t life. This is just waiting for the end.

She pushed her mug away.

- Tell me honestly. Do you even see me? - she asked. - Or am I just a “wife” function to you, lying next to you and occasionally annoying you?

Vasya froze. The question was enormous, sharp, and unbearably dangerous. If he answered it honestly, he’d have to admit he hadn’t seen her or himself for five years. He’d have to admit their whole life was a set piece. And if he admitted that, he’d have to change something.

Inside Vasya, an alarm siren wailed. This was too complicated. Too scary.

He looked at Marina. Her lips were trembling. She was waiting. She was giving him a chance to break everything or fix everything.

Vasya made his choice.

He reached out and took the mug of tea. That same Earl Grey tea he hated. Took a big gulp. The hot liquid that smelled like cologne burned his throat, but he didn’t even wince. This was the taste of stability. The taste of safety.

- Mar, come on, what are you starting now? - he said in his calmest, most “manly” voice. - Everything’s fine. You’re just tired. I love you, you know that.

Outside the window, tapping on the glass, rain began to fall.