That night, Anna meticulously prepared her husband's favorite dish, a rich and flavorful solyanka soup, letting it simmer gently on the stove. The aroma filled their cozy apartment, a comforting scent that usually brought a sense of warmth and contentment. Her husband, Michael, adored this hearty meal, often requesting it after a long day at work. Later, once their two children were tucked into bed, the first delicate snowflakes of the season began to fall silently outside their window, creating a picturesque scene. The apartment felt particularly snug and peaceful that night, a haven from the chilly weather outside.

“Mom, is dad coming home tonight?” questioned their fourteen-year-old daughter, Sophie, her voice a little sleepy as she stood in the doorway of Anna’s room before heading to bed.

“Yes, sweetie. He mentioned it was a significant occasion, celebrating the successful completion of a major project at work,” Anna replied, offering a reassuring smile to her daughter.

What prompted Anna's sudden decision to go to the restaurant remains somewhat unclear. Perhaps it was a nagging feeling, a sense of unease that had been growing in the back of her mind. Or maybe it was a call from Claire, an accountant at Michael’s firm, who, with a hesitant voice, had suggested:

“Anna, please, you should come down to Panorama. See for yourself.” The urgency in Claire's tone had been unmistakable, planting a seed of worry in Anna’s heart.

The Panorama restaurant, perched on the twentieth floor of a sleek, modern office building, offered breathtaking panoramic views of the sprawling city below. As Anna stepped off the elevator and approached the entrance, a wave of apprehension washed over her. Then, she froze, her blood running cold as she heard a familiar, jovial voice cutting through the ambient chatter.

“My little homebody was making solyanka at home, was she?” Michael chuckled, his words laced with amusement as he affectionately held a young blonde woman in a striking scarlet dress that clung to her curves. “Well, Lenochka… Claire, my dear, it seems we are living quite well up here!”

Anna’s eyes struggled to reconcile the scene before her. The man standing there, with flushed cheeks, bright eyes, and an almost giddy demeanor, seemed like a stranger. He was standing so close to Claire from the marketing department that only the thinnest sheet of paper could have separated them. Their laughter echoed in the air, a sound that felt alien and hurtful to Anna’s ears.

Victoria, the sharp-eyed head of security at the restaurant, was the first to notice Anna standing frozen in the doorway. Her professional gaze quickly assessed the situation, and a flicker of understanding crossed her face.

“Michael,” Anna said, her voice surprisingly steady despite the turmoil raging within her. Michael glanced back, and the cheerful, inebriated grin that had been plastered across his face instantly morphed into a mixture of bewilderment, annoyance, and a hint of panic.

“Anna! You’ve… you’ve arrived!” he stammered, taking a step towards her, his earlier jovial mood completely evaporated. “Have you decided to play detective all of a sudden?” His tone held an edge of defensiveness.

“No, dear,” Anna replied, surprised by the calmness in her own voice, a stark contrast to the storm brewing inside. “I simply thought you might need that very solyanka you were having so much fun joking about.”

With deliberate movements, she placed a steaming container of the hot soup on the nearby table, the clink of the ceramic against the glass surface echoing in the sudden silence that had fallen over their small group. Claire, the woman in the crimson dress, subtly moved away from Michael, hoping to become inconspicuous amongst her colleagues.

“Excuse me for disturbing your celebration,” Anna said to the now completely silent audience, her gaze sweeping over their surprised faces. “Please, continue to enjoy your evening.” With that, she turned and walked away, her head held high, though her heart felt like it was shattering into a million pieces.

As soon as she returned home, the weight of what she had witnessed crashed down upon her. A wave of nausea and anger washed over her. Irritated and deeply hurt, Anna marched into the kitchen and, without a second thought, poured the entire pot of lovingly prepared solyanka down the sink, the rich, fragrant soup swirling away into the drain.

Moments later, Sophie emerged from her room in pajamas adorned with cute kittens, her brow furrowed with concern as she noticed her mother’s presence. “Mom, why are you home so early? Where’s Dad?”

“Dad will be late tonight, sweetie,” Anna replied, forcing a weak smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Now, get back to bed, you have school tomorrow.”

“Did something happen, Mom?” Sophie persisted, sensing her mother’s distress.

Anna sighed, running a hand through her hair. “Sometimes, life can surprise us, honey, and it can be hard to accept. But we’re strong, right? We’ll get through it.”

“Is it because of Dad’s office woman?” Sophie asked quietly, her innocent question hitting Anna like a punch to the gut.

Anna’s eyes widened in surprise. “How… how do you know about that, Sophie?”

Sophie looked down at her feet, her voice barely a whisper. “I… I unexpectedly visited Dad at work last month. I wanted to surprise him with his favorite cookies.” She paused, her small shoulders slumping. “I saw them together in a café across the street. He was… he was stroking her hair, just like he used to stroke mine when I was little.”

Tears welled up in Sophie’s eyes. “I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you earlier, Mom,” she muttered, her voice filled with guilt. “I was just… I was terrified of hurting you.”

As expected, tears were inevitable for someone in such profound misery. Anna held her daughter close, both of them finding a small measure of comfort in their shared sorrow. Later that night, when Michael finally stumbled through the door, the air in the apartment was thick with unspoken accusations.

“Are you glad you made a scene?” Michael slurred, his words laced with defensiveness and alcohol. “You put on quite a show for the entire office!”

“What exactly did you expect, Michael?” Anna retorted, her voice weary and filled with a quiet sadness.

“Does it truly interest you to come home every night, cook supper, and then just talk about the kids or bills?” Michael continued, his voice rising in frustration. “Claire is young and vibrant, someone I can actually have a conversation with, someone who’s interested in discussing art or going to the theater.”

“And you can’t do that with me anymore?” Anna asked, her voice barely above a whisper, the pain of his words cutting deep.

“Remember how we first met, Anna?” Michael countered, his tone softening slightly, a hint of nostalgia creeping in. “It was at ‘The Cherry Orchard’ performance. You told me the theater was dull, but you agreed to suffer through it for me. We argued about Chekhov while walking around the city all night. We used to have those kinds of conversations.”

“That was a long time ago, Michael,” Anna said simply, the weight of their lost connection heavy in the air.

The divorce that followed was surprisingly swift and relatively calm. There were no loud arguments or bitter accusations, just a quiet acknowledgment that their paths had diverged. The hardest part for Anna was the ensuing loneliness, the deafening silence in the apartment that once echoed with laughter and shared moments.

Anna found solace and a renewed sense of purpose by immersing herself in her work. She focused her energy on publishing, finally starting that young adult book series she had always dreamed of writing. To her pleasant surprise, Sophie developed a keen interest in editing and enthusiastically helped her mother after school, her youthful perspective proving invaluable.

One afternoon, as they were working together, Sophie looked up from her laptop and said, “Mom, why don’t we create a book about divorce?”

“That’s an interesting idea, sweetie. Why do you think we should do that?” Anna asked, intrigued by her daughter’s suggestion.

“So that other kids who are going through the same thing will understand that it’s not the end of the world,” Sophie explained earnestly, “and that it’s definitely not their fault.”

About a year later, Anna received news through a mutual acquaintance that Claire had left Michael for a younger IT specialist she had met at a tech conference. Anna felt a pang of something, not quite satisfaction, but perhaps a sense of closure.

Life in Anna’s apartment had found a new rhythm. On Sundays, she and Sophie often made solyanka together, using their own slightly adapted recipe, filling their home with the familiar, comforting aroma. In the living room, Paul, Anna’s new partner, a kind and thoughtful writer she had met at a publishing event, would often read chapters from his latest novel to Sophie’s younger brother, Danny, while the snow fell softly outside, creating a scene of quiet domestic bliss. The air would be filled with the comforting smells of simmering soup and the gentle cadence of Paul’s voice.

Anna often reflected on her past experiences. She used to think love was like a fairy tale: you met a prince, and you lived happily ever after. Now, she realized that true and lasting love began with something much more fundamental: respect. Respect for yourself, for your partner, and for all the loved ones in your life.

She also came to understand that loving someone went far beyond simply preparing their favorite meals. It was about creating happiness and mutual understanding, about cherishing the person for who they were, not just for the things they enjoyed. True love nourished both the body and the soul.