Husband Declared a Divorce and Demanded Wife to Leave the Apartment — But In the End He’s The One Who Ended Up on the Street
Linda slowly turned the pages of a weathered leather-bound album she had treasured for decades. Her fingers brushed tenderly over each photograph, lingering on the ones where her adopted daughter, Emily, beamed with joy: at school concerts, her graduation, her first day of college, birthdays. Twenty years of motherhood had flown by like a heartbeat, leaving behind memories carved into Linda’s soul. She remembered every tear on the girl’s face, every moment of happiness, every victory. After Emily’s biological mother had vanished without a trace, Linda became more than just a guardian — she became her true mother.

By the sofa stood a pair of crutches — a grim reminder of her slip on icy steps and the grueling knee surgery that followed. Her leg was held together by metal rods, a sight too painful to look at. Doctors assured her that she would walk again, but recovery dragged on painfully slow. It was during this time — when Linda could barely rise from the couch without help — that her husband, Mark, began disappearing at night.

At first, she convinced herself it was work. But the truth soon became clear: there was another woman. Young, beautiful, whole — everything Linda, in her broken state, was not.

The shrill ring of the phone cut through the silence. On the screen flashed the name of her daughter.

“Mom, how’s your leg?” Emily’s voice carried warmth and worry.
“All right, sweetheart, don’t concern yourself with me. Tell me about the wedding. Did Daniel book the restaurant? Are the plans all set?”
“Yes, everything’s finalized — even the menu. But Mom, do you know where Dad is? I haven’t been able to reach him in days. His line’s always busy or he doesn’t pick up.”

Linda froze. To tell her daughter the truth would crush her, right on the eve of the happiest day of her life.
“He’s… just buried in work,” she forced herself to lie. “Quarter-end deadlines.”
“I understand. But promise me — Wednesday at eleven, you’ll be at the courthouse. I need you there, Mom. I’ll be too nervous without you.”
“Of course, darling. Nothing will stop me from standing by your side that day.”

After the call, Linda sank into the pillows. She still didn’t know how to explain that her father was living with Christina, a 25-year-old from his office who could have been his daughter.

The sound of a key turning in the lock startled her. Mark entered without a greeting and walked straight to the bedroom.
“Mark, please, let’s talk calmly—”
“There’s nothing to discuss,” he cut her off harshly. “The decision’s final. No sense dragging this out.”

Struggling onto her crutches, Linda forced herself to stand.
“Emily keeps asking about you. The wedding’s in three days. She’s expecting her father.”
“My daughter, not yours,” he said icily. “And I know exactly what I’ll tell her.”
“What do you mean?”

Mark turned slowly. His eyes held not a trace of the love that once bound them.
“After the wedding, I’ll tell her the truth — that we’re done, I’m filing for divorce. And don’t forget: you’ve never been anything to her. Not a real mother, just a caretaker. A stand-in. Soon, even that won’t be needed.”

Linda’s chest ached. Yes, Emily wasn’t her blood — but she was her soul. She had wanted children all her life but could never conceive, a fact that led to her first divorce. When she married Mark, she poured her entire heart into raising his little girl, while the biological mother disappeared without a trace.

“Don’t you dare say that!” Linda cried. “I raised her as my own. I am her mother.”
“You’re not!” Mark roared. “You’re just a barren wife who failed to give me a child in twenty years. And now you’re a cripple. Who would want you?”

His words struck like a blade. Her greatest fear — being disabled forever — was voiced with cruelty.
“I loved you both more than my own life,” she whispered.
“Love?” he sneered. “Your love was cooking and cleaning. Emily will understand that I’m right. I’ll have a real family, my own child. I’m not too old. But you…”

He turned away, leaving her hollow and broken.

The next days dragged in suffocating silence. Linda’s loyal friend, Mary, came by with groceries, cooking meals, helping around the house. Meanwhile, Mark would appear briefly — eat, sleep, and vanish again, always with his mistress.

On the eve of the wedding, his contempt boiled over.
“You’re not going,” he barked. “I won’t let a limping invalid ruin my daughter’s big day. Imagine how pitiful you’ll look in those photos. You’re nothing but a shadow of the past.”
“We’ll see who the shadow is,” Linda said quietly, though her voice was steady.
“Show up and I’ll throw you out myself,” he snarled.

That night, Linda sat alone in the empty apartment. She dialed Emily’s number, her chest tightening.
“Mom! Are you ready? Tomorrow’s—”
“Sweetheart, I have bad news. I can’t come to the wedding.”
“What?! Why?”
“My leg… complications. The doctor forbade long trips,” she lied, her voice breaking.

Emily’s voice fell.
“Mom… are you crying?”
“No, darling. Just… so sad I’ll miss your happiest day.”

From the next room, Mark’s voice carried, loud enough for her to hear:
“Good. Sit here quietly, don’t ruin anything. You’re finished, Linda. After the wedding, Emily won’t even remember you. Start packing your things — I’ll help you move out. Don’t drag it out.”

Her heart shattered. Two decades of life together — and he discarded her like garbage.

The morning of the wedding dawned bright and golden. Birds sang, sunlight streamed through the windows. Mark, in his best navy suit, left early. Once more, he reminded her: the wedding was his daughter’s, not hers, and she had no right to interfere.

Linda sat by the window, staring at the photo album in her lap. Suddenly, the doorbell rang. On the threshold stood Daniel, Emily’s fiancé, in his wedding suit, holding a bouquet of white roses.
“Linda, please, get ready. Emily refuses to go without you.”
“Daniel, I can’t. Look at me — crutches, metal pins. I’ll ruin everything.”
“Linda,” he said firmly, “Emily knows. She knows about Christina, about the divorce, about her father forbidding you to come. And she said it herself — she wants her real mother by her side. You.”

Tears welled in Linda’s eyes. She braced herself on her crutches and looked at the young man who so clearly loved her daughter.
“All right. Half an hour.”

The courthouse buzzed with guests in their finest clothes. Sunshine warmed the June morning. Leaning against the wall for support, Linda searched the crowd. There he was — Mark, at the entrance, with Christina on his arm. The young woman wore a bright pink dress with a plunging neckline, shockingly out of place for a wedding.

When his eyes found Linda, Mark’s face darkened, rage twisting his features.
“She wasn’t supposed to be here,” he hissed at Christina.
“Who is she, anyway?” the girl asked, with a careless shrug.

To be continued… 👇

Linda slowly flipped through the photos in the worn leather album she had carefully kept all these years. Her fingers gently touched each picture, pausing on those where Olga—her adopted daughter—genuinely smiled during school celebrations, the graduation party, her first day at university, and birthdays. Twenty years of motherhood had flown by in the blink of an eye, leaving an indelible mark on her heart. She remembered every tear on the child’s cheeks, every joy, every achievement of this girl who had become dearer to her than her own after Olga’s biological mother simply disappeared from their lives, as if dissolved into thin air.

The crutches stood by the sofa—a constant reminder of that unfortunate fall on slippery stairs and the subsequent complicated knee surgery. Now her entire leg was literally studded with metal pins—it was horrible to look at. The doctors promised a full recovery of mobility, but the process was dragging on much longer than originally expected. It was precisely then, when Linda was completely helpless and could not even get up from the sofa without assistance, that her husband—her beloved Mark, with whom she had shared twenty happy years of marriage—suddenly stopped spending nights at home.

At first, she excused his absence by blaming work. But then she realized—he had found someone else. Young, healthy, able to give him what she could not.

The phone rang sharply, breaking the heavy silence of the apartment. Olga’s name appeared on the screen.

“Mom. How’s your leg?” her daughter’s voice was filled with genuine care and worry.

“Everything’s fine, my dear. Don’t worry about me. Tell me about the wedding instead. Has Igor already booked the restaurant? How’s the preparation going?”

“Yes, everything is ready, even the menu has been approved. Mom, do you happen to know where Dad is? I haven’t been able to reach him for several days. His phone is either busy or doesn’t answer at all.”

Linda fell silent. To tell the truth about her father’s mistress would irrevocably shatter her daughter’s last illusions on the eve of the most important day of her life.

“He’s… very busy at work right now,” she lied with difficulty, hating herself for it. “You know how it is at the end of the quarter.”

“I see. Mom, don’t forget—the registry office at eleven a.m. on Wednesday. I’m definitely waiting for you there. You’ll come, right? Promise you’ll come! I’m so nervous; I really need my mom to be with me that day.”

“Of course, my sunshine. Of course, I’ll come. Nothing will stop me from being with you on such an important day.”

After the call, Linda slowly leaned back on the soft pillows. She still did not know how to explain to her daughter that her father was now living with Kristina—a young twenty-five-year-old employee from his office who could have been his daughter.

The sound of a key in the lock made her flinch. Mark entered the apartment, not even greeting her, and silently went into the bedroom.

“Mark, let’s just talk calmly about…”

“We have nothing to discuss,” he sharply cut her off, not even turning toward her. “It’s all been decided. There’s no point in dragging it out.”

Linda struggled to pick up her crutches and slowly, fighting through the pain, got up from the sofa.

“Our daughter keeps asking about you. The wedding is in three days. She’s waiting for her father.”

“She’s my daughter, not yours, and I know that very well,” he replied coldly. “And I know exactly what I’ll say to Olga.”

“What exactly are you going to tell her?”

Mark slowly turned to face her. In his eyes, she saw not a trace of the love that had once been there.

“After the wedding, I’ll honestly tell her that it’s over between us, that I’m filing for divorce. And remember this once and for all—you mean nothing special to her. In fact, you’ve always been nobody—no real mother, just a temporary nanny who helped raise the child. In short, you’re just a stepmother who will soon become completely useless.”

Linda knew, knew very well all along, that Olga would never be her daughter by blood, but she was her daughter by soul. Linda had dreamed of having her own children all her life but had been unable to conceive—which had been the main cause of her first divorce. But after she married Mark, who already had little Olga, she wholeheartedly accepted her as her own, while Olga’s biological mother had vanished without a trace and had not appeared in their lives for many years.

“Don’t say such monstrous nonsense!” Linda exclaimed. “I raised your daughter as my own. I am her mother, and no one else!”

“You’re not a mother!” Mark shouted, genuine malice in his voice. “You’re just my wife—a woman who couldn’t even give me a child in twenty years of marriage! And now you’re disabled with crutches. Who needs you?”

This was exactly what Linda feared most—that she would remain disabled forever and would not be able to take a step without crutches.

“I loved you both more than my own life,” she said quietly.

“Love?” Mark laughed bitterly and scornfully. “Your so-called love is endless pots and constant cleaning. Olga will perfectly understand that I’m making the right choice. I’ll have my own child now; I’m far from old yet, but you…”

With these cruel words, Mark sharply turned and left the room. Linda no longer had the strength or desire to argue with him—and what was the point if he had already made up his mind?

For several heavy days before the wedding, they existed in oppressive silence. Linda’s loyal friend Galina regularly visited, bought groceries, cooked simple meals, helped with cleaning. Her husband only occasionally appeared at home—sleeping, silently eating, and then leaving again, supposedly for work but actually to see his mistress.

And the day before the long-awaited wedding, Mark harshly and categorically declared:

“You definitely won’t go to the wedding. I won’t allow a crippled old woman to spoil my daughter’s most important celebration. Just imagine how pitiful you’ll look in all the photos! Like a shadow from the past.”

“We’ll see who’s the pitiful shadow here,” Linda answered quietly but firmly.

“Don’t even think about showing up at the wedding, or I’ll personally throw you out without ceremony.”

Mark snorted disdainfully and continued silently chewing his dinner as if nothing had happened.

Late in the evening, Linda sat in her three-room apartment, which now seemed incredibly large and lifelessly empty. She dialed Olga’s familiar number, her heart painfully tightening at the impending conversation.

“Mom! So, are you ready? Tomorrow is…”

“Olechka, my dear, I have very bad news. I won’t be able to come to your wedding.”

“What?! Why?! What happened?”

“My leg… serious complications, very painful. The doctor strictly forbade any long trips,” she lied with a heavy heart.

Her daughter’s voice instantly became sad:

“Mom, is something wrong? I think you’re crying?”

“No, my dear. I’m just very upset that I’ll miss the most important and happiest day of your life.”

“Mom, don’t be too upset, I…”

From the next room came Mark’s muffled but clearly audible voice:

“You did the right thing, sit quietly here, don’t spoil people’s celebration. That’s it—you’re long gone; my daughter will soon forget about you forever, and you… well, I’ll deal with you properly later. And don’t waste time—pack your things, find a rental place. I’ll help you move your stuff but don’t delay. Understand me?!”

Linda desperately wanted to burst into tears—twenty years of life with this man, and he treated her worse than garbage ready to be thrown out without ceremony. She quietly hung up the phone, unable to speak any longer.

The wedding day arrived—the bright spring sun shone through the windows, and joyful birdsong was heard outside. Mark put on his best dark blue suit and left early in the morning, reminding Linda once again that the wedding was exclusively for his daughter, not her, that she needed to pack her things, and that she must not call Olga or upset her on such an important day.

Linda silently sat by the wide window, slowly leafing through the thick album filled with numerous photos of her daughter, when suddenly there was an insistent knock at the door.

At the threshold stood Igor—the groom—wearing his wedding suit, holding a bouquet of white roses.

“Linda Mikhailovna, please get ready quickly. Olga absolutely refuses to go to the registry office without you.”

“Igor, dear, I just can’t. You see—I have these horrible pins in my leg, I can barely move, I’ll only ruin your celebration…”

“Linda Mikhailovna,” he gently but firmly interrupted. “Olga knows about Kristina. She knows about the impending divorce from her father and that he forbade you to come to our wedding. She knows everything. And she wants her real mother to be beside her—that’s you.”

Linda carefully got up from the sofa, firmly leaning on her crutches, and looked at this wonderful young man who sincerely loved her daughter.

“All right. Give me half an hour to get ready.”

At the registry office entrance, a small group of guests had gathered. The warm June day was perfect for celebration, and everyone was dressed in their best clothes. Linda, holding onto the building’s wall to avoid falling from weakness, carefully surveyed the crowd. Her gaze landed on a familiar figure—Mark stood at the entrance with a young woman about twenty-five, obviously Kristina herself. The girl wore a bright pink dress with a deep neckline, which seemed inappropriate for a wedding. Upon seeing Linda, her ex-husband’s face instantly twisted with anger; his eyes narrowed and lips pressed into a thin line.

“She wasn’t supposed to come,” he hissed into Kristina’s ear.

“And who is she anyway?” the young woman shrugged carelessly.

At that moment, Olga emerged from the registry office building in a stunning white dress with lace sleeves and a long train. Her face radiated happiness, and her eyes sparkled with joy. Seeing her mother, she immediately ran to her, ignoring the possibility of wrinkling her dress.

“Mom!” she exclaimed, hugging Linda. “I knew you’d come!”

“I’m afraid I’ll spoil your photos, sunshine,” Linda replied, holding her daughter tightly as tears welled in her eyes. “But you’re simply glowing with happiness. You’re so beautiful, my dear.”

“Mom, you can’t spoil anything. You know the most important thing for me is that you’re here,” Olga hugged her mother tighter. “How are you feeling? Maybe you should sit down?”

“I’m fine, dear. Today is your day, and I can manage.”

When Olga moved away to greet other guests with the groom, Mark approached Linda with determined steps. His face was red with anger.

“You still disobeyed and showed up here,” he hissed angrily, coming very close. “Well, fine, it’ll only be worse for you. You’ll end up on the street today, understand? As soon as I get home, I’ll throw all your rags out the door. Think I was joking?”

“Mark, don’t make a scene,” Linda replied quietly, trying not to attract the attention of the other guests.

“Don’t make a scene?” he sneered. “And you had to ruin my daughter’s mood with your pathetic appearance? Look at yourself—a walking skeleton! You scare people!”

But then Olga came up to them, having heard her father’s last words. Her face instantly changed—joy turned to anger.

“What did you say?” she asked quietly but firmly.

“Daughter, I’m just explaining to your mother…”

“Get out of here!” she pushed her father hard in the chest. “And don’t you dare raise your voice at Mom! Get out! You’re a miserable scoundrel! Mom is sick, and you came to my celebration with your mistress and still dare insult her! Get out! Immediately!”

“Olya, you don’t understand the situation,” Mark tried to justify himself, looking around at the stunned guests. “She’s not a mistress… She… we’re going to get married…”

“I have only one mom, and no father!” Olga interrupted him. “And you… you’re a traitor and a coward! Get out of here!”

“But I’m your father!” Mark exclaimed, trying to take his daughter’s hand.

“Ha-ha-ha!” Olga laughed bitterly, pulling her hand away. “Suddenly remembered! Where were you all these years, dear papa? Maybe you taught me to read? Or took me to kindergarten? Or went to parent meetings? Or stayed with me when I was sick? What did you do? Nothing! Absolutely nothing! Mom raised me alone, worked, and you only spent money and told us what to do! Now get lost from my wedding and don’t forget to take your woman with you! Out!”

Mark stood with his mouth open, clearly not expecting such a reaction. His face flushed and paled alternately. Kristina, who had been standing aside nervously biting her lips, firmly tugged his sleeve.

“Mark, let’s get out of here,” she hissed. “Don’t get involved with this crazy daughter. She’s clearly not herself.”

“Yes, yes,” Olga agreed. “Both of you get out! And never come back into my life! I don’t need such a father!”

Igor, Olga’s fiancé, approached the bride and hugged her shoulders:

“It’s okay, sunshine. Don’t be upset.”

Mark, realizing the situation had completely gotten out of control, turned and quickly walked away from the registry office. Kristina clicked her heels and hurried after him.

“Well, good,” Olga said, calming down. “Now we can continue the celebration.”

After the wedding ceremony, when all the congratulations had been said and photos taken, Olga approached her mother and handed her a small key.

“What’s this, dear?” Linda asked, examining the key.

“It’s for your home, mommy,” Olga smiled. “While we were here at the ceremony, the locksmith already changed the lock on the apartment. Dad’s things were packed up by our neighbor, Aunt Valya. She said she’ll be happy to help you anytime.”

Linda hugged her daughter tightly.

“Thank you, sunshine. You have no idea how important this is to me.”

“Thank you, mom,” Olga replied. “For being by my side all these twenty years. For loving me like your own daughter. For being a real mother even when everything was falling apart around us. For teaching me to be strong.”

“You’re the best daughter in the world,” Linda whispered, stroking Olga’s hair.

Late at night, after Linda had taken her medicine and rested a little from the exciting day, there was a persistent knocking at her apartment door. At first, it was normal knocking, but it gradually became louder and more aggressive, turning into a real drumroll.

“Linda!” came Mark’s familiar voice. “Open up immediately! What the hell are you locked up like a rat in a hole for? I’ll break this lock! Have you packed your things? Found a place to live? I’ll remember how you ruined my daughter’s wedding by being here!”

Linda calmly approached the door but did not open it. Instead, she answered loudly and clearly:

“No, Mark, I haven’t packed and haven’t even thought about it.”

“What do you mean ‘haven’t thought about it’?” he roared outside. “I told you!”

Mark was raging with anger. An hour ago, his mistress had thrown him out after a grand scandal. Kristina called him a loser who couldn’t even handle a sick wife and an uncontrollable daughter. They fought to pieces, and now he was completely alone. And here was this stubborn woman locked in the apartment, refusing to let him in!

“Open up right now!” he shouted, banging his fists on the door. “This is my home!”

“No, Mark,” Linda replied calmly, leaning against the door. “It was never yours. You seem to have forgotten that the apartment belongs to me. I let you live here, took you in like a stray dog, but you’ve gotten so attached that you already consider it yours. No, it’s my apartment, bought with my money, registered in my name.”

“But… but…” he was clearly confused, then realized that the apartment really belonged to his wife. “And my things? Where are my things?”

“With the neighbor. Ask Aunt Valya; she’ll explain everything.”

The banging on the door stopped. Linda cautiously went to the window and looked outside. At that moment, neighbor Valentina Petrovna was already carrying out numerous bags and packages with her ex-husband’s things. Mark paced between them, shouting and waving his arms, but Aunt Valya methodically continued to clear her hallway of someone else’s belongings.

“If you don’t pick them up within an hour,” came the stern voice of the neighbor’s husband, Petr Ivanovich, “everything will go straight to the trash bins. What a scoundrel you turned out to be, Mark! I thought you were a real man. Ugh!”—and he demonstratively spat at Mark’s furious feet, who now didn’t know what to do or where to go.

Linda involuntarily smiled, watching the scene. Justice had finally prevailed.

At that moment her phone vibrated. A message from Olga appeared on the screen: “Mommy, thank you for the best day of my life. I love you more than anything in the world. Catch the photos from our celebration. Tomorrow Igor and I will come to you with the wedding cake and tell you everything in detail. Take care!”

Linda returned to the sofa, carefully sat on the soft pillows, and opened the gallery on her phone. One by one appeared the beautiful photos from the wedding: Olga in a pure white dress smiling joyfully, standing next to Igor; the newlyweds exchanging rings; Olga tossing the bouquet to her friends; her and her mother hugging against the backdrop of the registry office. In every photo, her daughter was glowing with happiness, and that was the most important thing.

“How fast time flies,” Linda thought, looking at the pictures. “Just yesterday she was a little girl afraid of the dark, and today she’s a wife. But she grew up strong and fair. So, I didn’t live these years in vain.”

A warm, happy smile appeared on her face. Despite the illness, despite all the hardships, she was truly happy. She had a daughter who loved her, a roof over her head, and now no one could take this peace away from her.