Gleb Romanenko

Just four months ago, they stood at the registry office, and Gleb, beaming with his signature toothy smile, believed he'd struck it big. A married Romanenko—it sounded like an oxymoron, but he was truly happy.

The happiness didn't last long. The last two weeks turned into a slow torture. His young wife, with whom he hadn't even had time to discuss the color of the curtains in their new apartment, began to drift away at lightning speed. She stayed late at work, answered calls with dry messages: "I'll be late, go to sleep," and several times didn't come home at all, citing urgent projects.

The most terrifying thing was her gaze—empty and transparent. She passed him in the hallway, barely brushing her shoulder, as if Gleb weren't her husband but an annoying obstacle in the narrow corridor.

Romanenko, who always considered himself a master of relationships, broke down on the second day. At first, he tried to joke around, then arrange romantic dinners that would cool on the table in complete solitude. By the middle of the first week, he stopped shaving. His usually well-groomed face became overgrown with a prickly, unkempt stubble. Expensive perfume gave way to the heavy smell of alcohol. Gleb began drinking—first in the evenings to drown out the silence, and then during the day, surreptitiously hiding a flask in the pocket of his white coat.

By the end of the second week, he looked like a shadow of his former self: overgrown, haggard, his eyes red from lack of sleep and alcohol. Even Bykov, who usually never missed a chance to mock him, only sighed heavily at the sight of him and walked past silently.

That evening, Gleb was finishing his shift. He didn't even have the strength to walk to his car. He walked out into the hospital lobby, rubbing his temples, and froze.

She sat in the visitor's chair, directly across from the nurse's station. She was wearing the same coat he'd first seen her in last fall. She sat perfectly upright, her hands on her purse, and stared straight ahead.

Gleb stopped five steps away.
— Decided to visit your “ex” husband?