Lana was looking for a black button for the jacket she wanted to wear to a job interview. In Denis's sewing box, beneath a spool of white thread, lay a ring. She was not surprised that he had one: they had discussed sharing an apartment for six months. What surprised her was the card bearing another woman's name and the previous Saturday's date. That evening Denis had supposedly driven his mother to relatives and sent Lana a photograph of rain through the car window.
She returned the box to the table and went to the interview. She discussed experience, deadlines, and how she resolved misunderstandings within a team. Only on the bus afterward did she begin shaking. She called Denis and asked him to meet at her place. He brought a spare button from a shop because he had seen her morning message. That small sign of consideration made the question harder but did not remove it. Lana placed the card between their cups.
He said he was keeping the ring for a friend. She asked why the receipt showed his address and why the card bore his recognizable handwriting. Then he admitted proposing the previous Saturday to Mirna, a woman he had dated before meeting Lana. Their relationship had never entirely ended. Both families expected a wedding, he said, as though their expectations had formed his hand and placed the ring on another woman's finger.
Lana did not try to prove he loved her more. She asked him to collect the belongings he kept at her place. When he said he had nowhere to go now, she reminded him of the apartment he had described as his. That apartment was not entirely his either: he shared it with Mirna. He began crying. Lana offered a tissue and maintained her request, surprised that compassion could exist in the same room as a clear decision.
She contacted Mirna once, briefly, giving her own name and offering to explain what she had learned if Mirna wanted. The reply came the next day. They sat in a café and compared dates, without comparing gifts or intimate details. Mirna removed the ring and put it in her bag. Lana did not ask what she would do. When they left, each paid for her own coffee. Both had enough other people's bills behind them for that small independence to matter.
She got the job a week later. On her first day she wore the jacket with a button she had found herself among old coats. It differed slightly from the others, visible only on close inspection. In the elevator she straightened her sleeve and thought how long she had waited for Denis to open the next part of her life. The doors opened on the right floor. She stepped out before they began closing again.