Nikita put his laptop down and turned to her, tired and irritated.
"He's your friend too, and you've always accepted him! Don't be like that. Are you uncomfortable with him laughing? He's just the same as always, nothing more. You've always been too sensitive about these things."
Zhanna sighed, but her face became more tense.
"You're not listening to me! He's had the audacity to say again that we should 'make a change in our sex life' and suggested we 'experiment' with someone else! Do you even realize this?! Does he think he can just come into our bedroom like that? I won't tolerate this nonsense! And you're sitting there, silent, like everything's fine!"
Nikita felt his blood run cold. Artyom could be rude, but not that rude. He always joked, but never crossed such a line. Perhaps he did say something inappropriate, but it was unlikely his words were that dangerous.
"Wait, are you serious? Artyom said that?" Nikita stood up, feeling his insides tense. He never thought it could be so serious. "But he was just joking, Zhanna. Don't make a mountain out of a molehill. Can't you just talk to him calmly so this doesn't happen again?"
Zhanna was seething with rage.
"You seriously don't understand anything! How can you joke like that? This isn't a joke, Nikita! It's simply unacceptable! And you too, you're always defending him! That's enough! I won't tolerate him being in our house all the time anymore, and you need to understand that too!"
Nikita felt his patience almost run out. He knew the problems with Artyom weren't just arguments over his jokes, but also that Zhanna couldn't accept his friendship. It wasn't just a misunderstanding, but a turf war in their relationship.
"You're overreacting!" His voice hardened. "Artyom was my friend before you came into my life. I'm not going to give up on him. He wasn't trying to ruin our lives, and you... You're making a big deal out of nothing."
Zhanna took her things and headed for the door.
"Fine. Let everything remain as is. Just keep in mind: I'm not going to tolerate these scandals in the house. I won't feel like I'm on an experimental field. Let your friend keep your jokes, and I'll live as I please."
Nikita stood up, grabbed the keys and headed towards her.
"Wait. You can't just walk away from this conversation without resolving it! Zhanna, it's important for me to hear you!"
Zhanna was already in the corridor and without turning around, she said:
"You don't hear me. You only hear your friend. And I guess you don't care how I feel. That's it, Nikita, it's up to you to decide."
She quietly slammed the door behind her and left. Nikita was left alone in the empty apartment, feeling as if a cold wind had hit him in the face.
He glanced at the laptop again, but he couldn't concentrate anymore. All he could think about was how their relationship was starting to crumble, somehow. Artyom, the jokes, their personal life—it had all become one big problem. And no one knew how to fix it.
Nikita stood in the empty apartment, trying to calm the storm raging within. He understood that with every word, with every petty argument, they were drifting further apart. He had always thought their relationship was strong, but now, alone in the room, he was overcome by an uneasy feeling that something was crumbling.
He knew Zhanna had gone to her mother's. There was always this invisible barrier in their house that would spring up as soon as real conversations about feelings began. She avoided them. And he did too. It was easier than talking about the real reasons for the tension. Nikita looked at his watch. Time hadn't moved. He stood up and went to the window.
Several hours had passed, and the tension hadn't subsided. He thought about how calm it had been before, when they'd laughed, discussed the news, and not asked such difficult questions. He knew he wouldn't be able to forget Zhanna's words, her accusations. And yet, he couldn't believe it was all so serious.
Sounds from the kitchen interrupted his thoughts. It was his phone—a message from Artyom. Nikita opened it and read: "Hey, are you even alive? We have a plan for tonight. Want to relax?"
Nikita laughed, but it was brief and unsettling. Artyom was still his best friend, but now he wasn't someone he could talk to about the present. All that mattered was how he and Zhanna could find common ground.
He dialed Zhanna's number, but heard only beeps. She didn't answer. Nikita dialed her number again, and again heard only beeps.
"Maybe she's right?" the thought flashed. Maybe he should try letting go of everything that was holding them back? But he didn't know if he could live without what was his foundation—without the intimacy, without the sincerity they once shared.
He placed the phone on the table, sat down in a chair, and began to think. Thoughts swarmed in his head, but none brought clarity. Everything was as it was, and yet it no longer mattered.
Maybe they'll talk again tomorrow. Maybe they'll go their separate ways again, but no one knows how long this state can last. And more importantly, what will happen to them if it continues like this?
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