We decided to part with Julia by mutual consent. She knew that I had cooled down and had plans to work abroad, and she had a new love interest. It just so happened that we were destined to get divorced. We bought the apartment together, but it was registered in Julia’s name because her parents paid for most of the repairs and wanted protection for their daughter, insisting that she was in charge of everything. I didn’t care eight years ago, and love blindsided me, not allowing me to think ahead and assume that one day our marriage would fall apart.
While the papers were being prepared, we both lived in our old apartment. We practically didn’t run into each other because of work. There was another moment when I thought that all was not lost between me and my wife, that there was still a chance to get together-she made a great dinner, said nice things to me, encouraged me about the impending transfer. The sly vixen had been playing around so she could set me up.
I had to fly to France on business, so I left everything to Julia, and when I arrived, my guests were already waiting for me in my apartment. To be more precise, I was the guest. While I was gone, Julia quickly sold the apartment, didn’t even wait until the day the divorce papers were signed and ran away. It’s impossible to reach her, I’m afraid she’s been out of the country for a long time, and I have a deadline, a flight is imminent. I hoped that I would get something from the sale of the apartment, but now there is nowhere to look for this floozy. Her alleged lover has no idea where she is, says they broke up about a month ago. I can’t involve the police, really … And by right, she is the owner, she can do what she wants.
But if I see her anywhere, I’ll kill her on the spot.
