Kirill clenched his fists, turned around, and walked out of the apartment, slamming the door. Olga was left in the hallway, feeling everything inside her tighten. But she had done the right thing. She had protected her home, her family, her child.
An hour later, Kirill returned. He went into the room, lay down on the sofa, and turned to the wall. Olga didn’t follow him. She sat in the kitchen and made tea. She drank it slowly, looking out the window. The phone rang. Lyudmila Fyodorovna. Olga declined the call. She called again. Declined. Then a message came: “Olenka, why did you change the lock? I’m not your enemy. I wanted to help.” Olga deleted the message without replying. She blocked the number. Then unblocked it — she was still her mother-in-law. She couldn’t ignore her completely. But she didn’t reply.
That night, Kirill didn’t come to her. He slept on the sofa. Olga lay in the empty bed, stroking her belly and whispering:
“Everything will be okay. I’ll protect you. I promise.”
The next day at work, her boss called Olga into her office.
— Listen, we’re giving out bonuses for March 8th. You’re due 15,000. Do you want it on your card or in cash?
— Cash, please.
— Okay. You’ll get it in a couple of days.
Olga left the office with a sense of relief. 15,000. A great addition to her stash. That meant there would be 65,000 in the box now. A little more, and it would be enough for all the essentials.
At home that evening, Kirill finally spoke to her.
— Mom’s offended. She says you’re treating her like a stranger now.
— I’m not treating her like a stranger. I just want her to respect our boundaries.
— What boundaries? She’s my mother.
— And that gives her the right to rummage through our things?
— She wasn’t rummaging.
— She was, Kirill. And you know it. You just don’t want to admit it.
He fell silent. Turned away. Olga realized it was useless. He would never take her side. Because to him, his mother was sacred, infallible. And his wife was just a supporting character.
Olga went into the bedroom and closed the door. She sat on the bed and took out her phone. She opened the photo of the ultrasound scan she had taken at the clinic. She looked at the little spot and thought: soon. Soon everything will change. Soon Kirill will know. And then, maybe, he will understand why she acted this way. Why she hid the money. Why she didn’t trust his mother. Or he won’t. Then she’ll have to decide what to do next. But that will be later. For now, she had to save. Hide. Protect. Because the baby was more important than anything. More important than her mother-in-law. More important than fights. More important than even her husband.
Olga lay down, placing her hand on her stomach. A warmth spread inside her. Not physical — more of a feeling. A connection. She and her baby. Against the whole world, if necessary.
Tomorrow she would pick up her bonus. Hide it in the box. Continue saving. And one day, when the time was right, she would show Kirill this box. Show him the money, the onesies, the scan. And he would see that she did all this not out of greed, not out of mistrust, but out of love for their future, for their child.
For now — silence. Waiting. Lyudmila Fyodorovna hadn’t called in three days. This was the calm before the storm. Olga felt it in her gut: her mother-in-law was not one to simply back down and accept defeat. She was lying in wait. Planning her next move.
On Monday morning, as Olga was getting ready for work, the doorbell rang. She looked through the peephole — Lyudmila Fyodorovna. A bag in her hand, a friendly smile on her face, but her eyes were hard, appraising. Olga opened the door, leaving the chain on.
— Good morning, did something happen?
— Olenka, dear, I was just passing by and decided to drop in. Can I come in? I baked some pastries, they’re still warm.
— I’m getting ready for work, I’m late.
— Just for a minute, I haven’t seen you in so long.
Olga hesitated. Not letting her in would cause a scandal. Letting her in would start an interrogation. She unfastened the chain and stepped back.
Lyudmila Fyodorovna came in, took off her boots, and walked into the kitchen as if she owned the place. She put the bag on the table and took out a container of pastries.
— Here, with cabbage. You like them, I remember. Sit down, let’s have some tea.
— Lyudmila Fyodorovna, I’m really in a hurry.
— Five minutes? Can’t you spare five minutes for your mother-in-law?
Olga clenched her teeth and sat down. Her mother-in-law put the kettle on and got out cups. She moved around the kitchen confidently, as if it were her territory. Olga watched, feeling irritation grow inside her.
— Listen, — Lyudmila Fyodorovna sat down opposite her, pushing the container of pastries closer. — I wanted to talk. Heart to heart, without Kirill.
— About what?
— About us, about our relationship. I feel like something went wrong. You’ve become distant, withdrawn, you changed the lock, didn’t give me a key, as if I’m some kind of enemy.
— I don’t consider you an enemy.
— Then why is it like this? I’m Kirill’s mother, I wish you well.
Olga looked up and directly into her mother-in-law’s face.
— If you wish us well, then why did you come into our apartment and rummage through our things?
Lyudmila Fyodorovna blinked, momentarily flustered. Then she laughed, but the laugh was wooden, fake.
— What? I didn’t rummage. I came in to water the flowers, Kirill asked me to. Maybe I accidentally knocked something over?
— We don’t have any flowers.
A pause. Her mother-in-law sipped her tea and set the cup down. Her face hardened.
— Fine, you don’t want to be honest? Fine. But I know anyway: you’re hiding something. You withdrew money, there’s almost nothing left on the card. Kirill is worried.
— Is Kirill worried, or are you?
— I’m worried about my son. He called me yesterday, said you two had a fight. He’s torn, doesn’t know what to do. And why? Because you’ve started keeping secrets.
Olga stood up and grabbed her bag.
— I have to go to work. Thanks for the pastries.
— Olenka, wait, I’m not finished.
— But I am.
Olga left the kitchen and put on her jacket. Lyudmila Fyodorovna followed, her face contorted with anger.
— You’ll regret this! I’ll tell Kirill everything. I’ll tell him you’re kicking me out, being rude, hiding money. He’ll take my side, you’ll see!
Olga opened the door and turned around.
— Tell him whatever you want, I don’t care.
She slammed the door and went down the stairs. Her hands were shaking, her heart was pounding. She got in her car and rested her head on the steering wheel. She took deep breaths, calming herself down. She had to hold on. Just a little longer, just a little bit more.
At work, the day dragged on painfully. Olga checked bills, balanced accounts, answered calls, but her thoughts were far away. She knew there would be a fight in the evening. Lyudmila Fyodorovna had already “poisoned” Kirill’s mind, turning him against his wife. He would come home angry, demanding explanations.
At lunch, Olga felt nauseous again. She drank some water and ate a cracker. The morning sickness was getting worse, now she felt sick not just in the mornings, but during the day too.
Her colleague Marina noticed:
— Olya, you look so pale, maybe you should go home?
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