Lyudmila Fyodorovna was crying, sobbing, but she wouldn’t let go of the bag. Olga looked at her and felt no pity — only sorrow. For herself. Her mother-in-law didn’t consider herself guilty. To her, this was still help.
— Get out, — Olga said quietly. — Out of my house. Forever.
— Olenka, dear, I’m not dear to you.
— Get out. And leave the money.
— I won’t!
Olga stepped forward and snatched the bag from her mother-in-law’s hands. Lyudmila Fyodorovna shrieked and tried to grab it back, but Olga pushed her away sharply. Her mother-in-law stumbled and almost fell.
— You hit me! Kirillushka, she hit me!
— I didn’t hit you. I just took what’s mine. — Olga opened the bag and took out the box. She opened it. The money was there. — Now get out, before I call the police for theft.
— What theft? I’m a mother! I’m family!
— You’re a thief.
Lyudmila Fyodorovna froze. Her face turned white, then red splotches appeared. She looked at Olga with hatred, with rage, but she couldn’t do anything. She turned and walked to the exit. At the door, she turned back and pointed a finger at Olga:
— You’ll regret this! You’ll regret treating me this way. I’ll make sure Kirill divorces you, that you give me my grandchild!
— Try me.
Her mother-in-law slammed the door so hard that the glass in the windows rattled.
Olga stood in the middle of the hallway, clutching the box. Silence. Only the heavy breathing of Kirill, who was sitting on the floor. He slowly got up and walked over to Olga. He looked at the box in her hands, then at her face.
— I’m sorry, — he forced out. — God, forgive me. I’m an idiot.
Olga was silent. Kirill fell to his knees before her, wrapping his arms around her legs.
— I’m sorry. I didn’t know. I didn’t think. Mom said… I believed her. I would have… I thought…
— You thought I was stealing from our family. Or cheating.
— No. Well, I don’t know. I was confused. Mom was so convincing.
— You broke down the door… — Olga looked at the broken bedroom door, hanging on one hinge. — You burst into your pregnant wife’s bedroom in the middle of the night and demanded explanations. You brought your mother to confirm your suspicions.
— I know. I… It’s unforgivable.
— You’re right. It is unforgivable.
Kirill looked up. There were tears in his eyes — real, not theatrical.
— What should I do? How can I fix this? Tell me, I’ll do anything.
Olga looked at him, at his tear-streaked face, at the desperation in his eyes, and felt nothing. No pity, no anger. Emptiness.
— I don’t know, — she said quietly. — I don’t know if this can be fixed.
She walked around him, went into the bedroom, and placed the box on the bed next to the onesies and the scan. She sat down and wearily ran a hand over her face. Kirill stood in the doorway, hesitant to enter.
— Can I stay here with you?
— No. Go to your mother’s or on the sofa, I don’t care.
— Olya, please…
— Go away, Kirill, I’m tired. I need to be alone.
He stood there a little longer, then nodded. He turned and left. Olga heard him go into the living room and flop onto the sofa. Then silence. She lay on the bed without getting undressed. She curled into a ball, hugging her stomach. There were no tears. Only a heaviness, cold and cloying, inside her chest. She had protected her child. Gotten the money back, banished her mother-in-law. But for some reason, it didn’t feel like a victory. More like a defeat, because now everything had changed. A chasm had opened up between her and Kirill, and she didn’t know if it could be bridged.
Olga closed her eyes and pressed her hand to her stomach more tightly.
— I did everything I could, — she whispered into the darkness. — I’m sorry if it’s not enough.
The morning came gray and dull, with wet snow outside the window. Olga woke up from nausea — the familiar, morning, toxic kind. She got up, stumbled to the bathroom, and washed her face with cold water. She looked at herself in the mirror: a pale face, dark circles under her eyes, messy hair. She ran a hand over her stomach. Inside, her baby was living, knowing nothing of the nightly scandals and broken doors.
She came out of the bathroom and walked down the hallway. Kirill was lying on the sofa in the living room. Not sleeping, staring at the ceiling. Hearing her footsteps, he turned his head.
— Good morning, — he said hoarsely.
Olga didn’t answer. She went to the kitchen and put the kettle on. She took out some crackers — the only thing she could eat now without feeling sick. She sat at the table, chewing slowly, washing it down with warm water.
Kirill appeared in the doorway, disheveled, in a wrinkled t-shirt. He sat down opposite her, folding his hands on the table.
— Olya, can we talk?
— Talk.
He was silent for a moment, choosing his words, then took a deep breath.
— I’ve realized everything. What I did — it’s… there are no words. I burst in on you in the middle of the night, broke down the door, yelled at my pregnant wife, brought my mother who robbed us, believed her instead of you. It’s… it’s beyond the pale.
Olga was silent, looking at the kettle.
— I don’t know how to fix it, — Kirill continued. — Probably, it’s impossible. But I want to try. I want you to know: I’m on your side. Now and always. Mom… Mom crossed the line. I’ll talk to her. Harshly. She needs to understand that this can’t happen again.
— You’ve talked to her a hundred times, — Olga looked up at him. — Every time you promised it wouldn’t happen again. And every time she continued.
— I know. But it’s different now. Now I see what she’s doing. How she manipulates. How she uses me against you.
— You see? Or you want to see, because you’re ashamed?
Kirill lowered his head.
— Maybe so. But that doesn’t change the fact that I was wrong. A blind idiot who didn’t protect his family.
Olga finished her water. Stood up. Went to the window. Watched the wet snow falling on the asphalt.
— I don’t know, Kirill. I don’t know if this can be fixed. You broke down the door. You yelled at me. You almost hit me in the kitchen that time, remember? Your hand was raised.
— I didn’t hit you.
— But you could have. At that moment, you could have. And I saw it.
Kirill stood up and came to her, but didn’t touch her. He kept his distance, as if afraid to scare her away.
— I will never raise a hand to you. I swear. I just snapped then. But I didn’t hit you. I stopped.
— You stopped this time. What about next time?
— There won’t be a next time.
Olga turned and looked him in the eyes.
— How do you know? Your mother will say something again. Put pressure on you again. And you’ll believe her again, not me. You’ll come with accusations again.
— No. I won’t come again. I won’t let her interfere.
— How exactly won’t you let her?
Kirill ran a hand over his face, rubbing his red eyes.
— I’ll call her. I’ll tell her she’s not to come over without an invitation anymore. That she returned the money — every last penny. That she’ll see her grandchild only if you allow it. And that if she tries to come between us again, I’ll stop talking to her altogether.
— You’ve said that before. After the key incident. Did she return the key?
— No, — Kirill admitted quietly. — She didn’t.
— Exactly.
Olga walked away from the window, past him to the exit. She stopped at the door without turning around.
— You know what the scariest part is? Not that you didn’t believe me. And not that you broke down the door. It’s that I can’t trust you anymore. Because I don’t know whose side you’ll be on next time.
— Olya, I need time.
— To think?
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