Saturday morning promised to be unusually calm – one of those rare days when there is no urgent need to run anywhere and no one is waiting for work reports or immediate decisions.
In my new apartment, where I finally felt like a real home, I had planned to slowly sip aromatic coffee, read a book and simply enjoy the long-awaited silence and my independence.
However, fate had very different plans that morning, and my carefully cherished peace was interrupted quite uneasily. One unexpected noise from the bathroom became the beginning of a series of events that not only forced me to seek the help of a master, but also literally brought me face to face with the past that I had tried to forget for seven years.
It all started with a quiet but suspicious hiss coming from the bathroom. When I looked in there, everything inside me clenched: my precious Italian faucet, which was supposed to be eternal and reliable, had decided to put on a personal fountain show. The thin, sharp jet of water hit the wall purposefully, and it became clear that if I acted slowly, the neighbors and my freshly laid parquet would be flooded immediately.
An unexpected glitch on a holiday morning
The beautiful peace of the morning ended when I realized that I would not be able to do without the master’s help. Although I managed to turn off the water quite quickly, the view in the bathroom was not pleasant at all. Wet rags, buckets and that unpleasant dampness that remains after a small leak spoiled the whole mood. I sat on the edge of the bathtub for a couple of minutes to catch my breath and figure out what to do next.
I have learned to cope with many things – I can screw together furniture or put a picture on the wall myself, but plumbing has always been too complicated for me. It is an area where it is better not to risk if you do not want to accidentally flood yourself or your neighbors. So, without thinking long, I opened the classifieds portal to find someone who could solve this problem professionally and, most importantly, quickly.
I opened a popular classifieds portal and chose the first handyman who promised to come within an hour. The voice on the phone seemed strangely hoarse and distantly familiar, but at the time I was so excited that I could only think of my tiles and the neighbors’ ceiling. “I’ll be there in an hour,” said the voice.
A man from the past on my doorstep
When the doorbell rang an hour later, I opened it wide without even looking in the eye. And at that moment the world literally stopped. My ex-husband Guntis stood on the threshold, dressed in a worn work vest with endless pockets. The same man who, seven years ago, while packing his suitcases, told me directly to my face: “Inese, you have become a boring housewife. I need fire, I need inspiration!”
He then went to Liene, a young girl from accounting who, in his words, “understood his creative soul.” We hadn’t spoken since that day. No calls, no questions about how the son is doing.
He faded from our lives as if we never existed. And now he stood there, aged, with a gray complexion and obvious baldness, which he tried to hide with a desperate lock of hair.
“Ines?” he blinked, his toolbox shook a little in his hands. “Is that you?” — Me, Gunti. I see that life has not spared you, – I myself marveled at my cool peace. Everything was burning inside, but outside I was like ice. “Come in, the faucet won’t fix itself.”
Awkward repair moment and bitter realizations
He came in, a little embarrassed, and immediately began to explore the area. I could feel his gaze on the expensive wallpaper, designer lamps and oak parquet. Seven years ago, when he left us, we lived in an old two-room apartment with the eternal smell of mold in the corners. He always said back then that we couldn’t afford anything better and that he was thoroughly fed up with my bragging about the repairs.
While Guntis struggled with the faucet in the bathroom, I remained standing in the doorway, staring at his back. I watched his trembling hands and realized how much everything had changed. I remember those terrible nights right after he left, when I was working two jobs so my son wouldn’t have to miss out on training and we would have something to eat. He didn’t send a cent at the time, saying he had to “build a new life.”
— Everything, ready. The seal had burst, he muttered after a while, wiping his hands on an old rag. — Everything here is so expensive for you. On your own? – By yourself, Gunti. Only and only themselves. How much do I owe?
He calmed down, turned away and then, as if by the way, asked: – Maybe you’ll treat yourself to some tea? We haven’t talked for a long time. A strange curiosity awoke in me. I wanted to see how far his insolence went, so I motioned towards the kitchen.
In the kitchen, Guntis literally sank into the soft chair. He studied my kitchen appliances and coffee machine that cost more than his old car. “Beautiful,” he sighed. — I’m looking, son already big? — Yes, graduate from university. On his own. You wouldn’t know it because you didn’t even ask him how he was doing for seven years.
Guntis poked his head and started his story. Liene allegedly used him, threw him out of the apartment when the money ran out, and now he lives with his mother, working as a handyman. He complained about the unfair world, and I understood – he hasn’t changed a hair. Still everyone else was to blame for his failures.
“You know, Ines,” he suddenly stopped his lamentation and looked at me with shameless hope. — The fact that I came directly to you is not a coincidence. It’s destiny. We are both single. You are alone here in those large square meters, I am in the narrowness of my mother’s house.
Maybe we should forgive each other? I could move in with you. You still need a man at home, master. Who else will fix your faucet? I won’t take up much space, just a corner and normal borscht in the evenings.
I felt a cold anger begin to boil inside me. “The owner”? He really dared to say that?
Turn the other page to read more about Inese’s answer and Gunt’s shameless text message.
date:2026-02-07 19:16:00
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