Andrey glanced at his wife, as if for the first time in years. Her strength, dignity, and affection were all things that had once piqued his interest, but had since become habitual and imperceptible.
“I don’t deserve you,” he whispered.
– Perhaps, – Marina smiled weakly. – But it’s up to you. Now go. And don’t call me this week. I want you to think, and not look for easy ways.
Andrey nodded. He slowly approached the suitcase, which was still standing in the corridor, and picked it up.
“See you in a week,” he said, standing at the door.
“See you later,” Marina replied.
