The apartment greeted her with silence and darkness.
Kiana turned on the light and walked through the rooms.
Everything was in place.
Everything was calm.
She went to bed and, for the first time in several weeks, fell asleep immediately, without anxious thoughts or nightmares.
The following week, Kiana took a day off and went to the county clerk’s office downtown.
Filing for divorce turned out to be surprisingly simple.
Darius didn’t object.
He even showed up without a reminder, signed all the papers in silence, and left without saying goodbye.
Kiana watched him walk away down the polished hallway and felt nothing.
No pity, no anger, no regret.
Just an emptiness that wasn’t oppressive or tormenting, but rather liberating.
A month later, the divorce was finalized.
Kiana received the certificate, put it in her document folder at home, and breathed a sigh of relief.
That was it.
Period.
A new chapter in her life.
In November, she signed up for English language courses at the community college.
She had long wanted to brush up on her skills but never had the time.
Now she had time to spare.
In the evenings, she sat at her kitchen table with her textbooks, listened to podcasts, and watched movies in English with subtitles.
In December, something pleasant happened at work.
Her boss called her into his office and offered her a promotion.
The senior accountant was going on maternity leave, and they needed a replacement.
“Kiana, you’re our most responsible and competent person,” he said, tapping his pen on the desk. “Can you handle it?”
Kiana smiled.
“Of course I can.”
The promotion meant a raise and more responsibility, but Kiana wasn’t afraid.
On the contrary, she wanted to dive into work head‑first to fill the void that sometimes still made itself known.
By the new year, the apartment was transformed.
Kiana finally started the kitchen renovation she had dreamed of for so long.
She hired a crew, chose cabinets and appliances.
The process was slow, with mishaps and delays, but she didn’t get stressed.
She had endless patience now.
In late December, Shauna called and invited her to an office holiday party.
“Kiki, how long are you going to stay home? Come on, let’s have some fun. My co‑workers will be there. Some great people. Meet some folks. Take your mind off things.”
Kiana initially refused, but Shauna was persistent.
Eventually, she agreed.
The party was loud and fun, held in a rented banquet room at a downtown hotel strung with fairy lights.
Kiana sat at a table drinking champagne and listening to Shauna’s colleagues swap office anecdotes.
One of them, Michael—a tall man in his forties with a kind face and pleasant eyes—sat next to her and started a conversation.
“Shauna tells me you’re an accountant,” he said, smiling. “I respect that. I’m terrible with numbers.”
Kiana chuckled.
“It’s just a matter of practice.”
They talked all evening.
Michael turned out to be an engineer who worked at a design firm, and he enjoyed hiking and photography.
He told interesting stories with a sense of humor, and Kiana found herself relaxing and even laughing several times.
At the end of the evening, he asked cautiously,
“Can I call you, if you don’t mind?”
“Of course.”
Kiana paused.
She wasn’t looking for a relationship.
She hadn’t even thought about it.
But why not?
“You can,” she replied. “I don’t mind.”
He smiled, and there was something warm and genuine in his expression.
They called each other a week later, met at a café, talked, and walked through a snow‑covered park where kids were sledding and couples held hands under streetlamps.
Michael was an attentive listener and an interesting conversationalist.
Kiana briefly told him about her divorce.
He nodded understandingly.
“I’m divorced too,” he admitted. “Three years ago. It was hard at first, but then I realized it was for the best. Life got better. It was easier to breathe.”
Kiana smiled.
So she wasn’t the only one who felt that way.
They continued to meet once a week.
No more often.
Unhurriedly, without pressure, without commitment.
Just enjoying spending time together.
In January, an unexpected encounter happened at work.
Kiana was standing at the coffee machine in the hallway when a group of people stepped out of the elevator.
Ms. Sterling was among them.
Kiana froze.
Her former mother‑in‑law noticed her too, stopped, and turned pale.
They stared at each other for a few seconds.
Then Ms. Sterling abruptly turned away and hurried toward the exit, clutching her purse.
Kiana watched her go and smirked.
Apparently, the mother‑in‑law had come to see an acquaintance in another office or to take care of some business and certainly hadn’t planned on running into her former daughter‑in‑law.
Kiana poured her coffee and returned to her office.
She felt calm inside, with no desire to argue or make accusations.
All of that was in the past, and she didn’t want to go back there.
That same evening, Darius called.
Kiana stared at the name on the screen for a long time.
Then, finally, she answered.
“Yes, Darius?”
“Hello, Kiki. Hi, it’s me.”
“I hear you. What do you need?”
A pause.
He clearly hadn’t expected such a cold tone.
“I wanted to talk. Can we… talk?”
“Go ahead.”
Another pause.
“I’m living with Mom in her one‑bedroom condo. We’re cramped. Very cramped. We’re fighting all the time. She nags me every day, saying everything went wrong because of me. She says, ‘If I hadn’t gotten involved in that card thing, we’d be living normally right now.’”
Kiana laughed quietly.
“And what do you want me to say? That I pity you?”
“No, I just… I just wanted you to know. I’m having a hard time. A really hard time.”
“Darius, I’m sorry to hear that, of course, but that was your choice. You chose your mother and her greed. Now you have to live with the consequences.”
He sighed heavily.
“Will you ever forgive me?”
“Forgive?”
Kiana considered.
Maybe someday she would forgive when enough time had passed and the pain had completely dulled.
But she didn’t want to forgive him now.
“I don’t know, Darius. Possibly. But definitely not now. And even if I forgive you, we won’t get back together. That’s impossible.”
“I understand,” he said quietly, almost in a whisper.
“Forgive me for everything.”
She didn’t answer.
She just disconnected the call and put the phone on the table.
Darius didn’t call again.
February brought news from Shauna.
Her friend called one evening, excited and joyful.
“Kiki, listen. Remember my cousin Tammy? She’s a realtor. Well, she says they’ve listed your old street’s two‑bedroom condo. Darius and his mother are trying to sell her apartment and split up. Couldn’t live together, apparently.”
Kiana burst out laughing.
“Seriously?”
“Absolutely. Tammy says they’re demanding a crazy high price, but no one’s buying. The condo is old. The building’s shaky. So they’re still sitting there arguing.”
Kiana shook her head.
So they hadn’t been able to coexist after all.
Greed and mutual blame had done their work.
“Well, let them,” she said calmly. “I don’t care.”
And it was true.
She really didn’t care.
Darius and Ms. Sterling were in the past, and she didn’t want to stir up that past.
Spring came surprisingly early that year.
By March, streams were running along the curbs, the first grass was greening, and buds were opening on the trees lining her street.
Kiana went to work with a light heart, met Michael for coffee or walks, studied English, and read books.
Life was improving.
Not immediately, not all at once, but gradually.
Day by day, she learned to wake up without anxiety and fall asleep without heavy thoughts.
She learned to find joy in small things—a morning cup of coffee, a good book, the warm spring wind blowing through an open window.
In April, the kitchen renovation was finally finished.
Kiana stood in the middle of the updated space and looked around with satisfaction.
Bright cabinets, new appliances, convenient storage.
