The professor left his annoying wife for a young student. After a while, he decided to came back like a whipped dog, but when he saw his ex-wife he was startled


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Michael looked at Jennifer with empty, slightly angry eyes. "I'm leaving," the man said a few minutes ago. "I've met another woman. I'm sorry, but, as you know, the heart wants what it wants. What is there to apologize for?"
"Is she your..."Jennifer paused, struggling to find the right word. "...student?"
"Yes, she is my student."
Michael hastily packed a big stack of shirts ironed by his wife into a suitcase and then left for his New Happy Life.
Fortunately, their only daughter, Hannah, was at university at this time. But what would happen when she learned that her father, a professor and department head, had abandoned their family for a student who could easily be Hannah's classmate?
Jennifer went to the window and gazed out onto the street. Five years ago, she was filled with joy when she and Michael bought this flat on the 20th floor.
The feeling of soaring high above always thrilled her, but now it felt as if the weight of the sky pressed down on her so heavily that she could hardly breathe.
Jennifer was forty-five years old. This is the magical age when a woman can live and enjoy life without much stress or responsibility. Her daughter was already grown, studying at the local university and even in a serious relationship.
Jennifer worked as a manager for a company and had a stable salary. Her husband taught at the same institution where their daughter studied. He was highly regarded by his superiors, and he was working on a doctoral thesis.
And now, this. Jennifer sank heavily into the chair. She had several friends, but she considered Rita to be her closest and dearest. They had attended school together, studied at the same college, and raised their children synchronously, helping each other with advice.
Rita had been a widow for ten years and had tried to find a favorable match, but each time she failed. The men she encountered were haunted by their pasts, greedy, snored excessively, or refused to accept Rita's son. The reasons seemed endless, causing her to reject one man after another.
Rita didn't need any explanation to know that her friend was in trouble. She arrived at Jennifer's place almost immediately.
As soon as she entered the hallway, she exclaimed loudly, "What are you doing, Jennifer? Are you crying over that worthless man?!"
"Yes, I am," Jennifer answered grimly, anticipating where her and Rita's evening was headed. "And you're going to help me do it."
"To cry over this jerk?"Rita expressed her disdain and dragged an impressively sized bag into the kitchen.
"Does Hannah know yet?" Rita asked and took out two glasses from the cupboard.
"I don't think so... otherwise she would have called!" answered Jennifer indifferently.
Meanwhile, a saucer with sliced sausage of Jennifer's favorite kind appeared on the table. A little later, a dessert plate with appetizingly arranged slices of cheese of two kinds was added to it.
A few minutes later, another plate with chocolate broken into cubes was placed nearby. Only then did Rita calm down and sit down next to Jennifer.
The woman took out a corkscrew, uncorked the bottle of wine, and quickly filled the wine glasses standing on the table.
"To you! Strong, stylish, successful!"She exhaled the first toast.
Over a bottle of wine, all Jennifer's innermost thoughts, which she was usually afraid to voice even to herself, found an outlet in concrete words.
Two hours later, Hannah came back from university, and Jennifer, unable to hide her pain, told her everything.
However, for the girl, it was not unexpected news. Hannah had felt the tension between her parents for quite some time.
Her mother's explanation was short and very sad. But what the girl remembered most of all was not what her mother said, but what she did.
Jennifer just sat staring at the table in front of her and crumpled the yellow tissue with her hands. And that gesture caused Hannah to cry in her room for two hours. It was not her father's leaving, not his betrayal, but the yellow tissue in her mother's trembling hands that she remembered.