— No, I’m fine, just tired.
— Listen, are you pregnant by any chance?
Olga froze and looked at Marina. She was smiling, but there was curiosity in her eyes.
— Why do you ask?
— Well, you’re nauseous, pale, you’ve become irritable. That’s how I was with my first.
— No, I probably just caught a cold.
Marina shrugged and turned away. But Olga understood: she needed to be more careful. It’s hard to hide morning sickness, people notice. Another week or two, and everyone in the office would guess. And then word would get to Kirill — someone would see, would tell him. Or her mother-in-law would find out somehow. No, she had to tell him herself, soon. But first, get the bonus, hide the money. Then she could.
In the evening, when Olga got home, Kirill was already there. He was sitting in the kitchen, gloomy, with his phone in his hand. When he saw her, he stood up.
— Mom called, she told me how you threw her out today.
Olga took off her jacket, went into the kitchen, and put down her bag.
— I didn’t throw her out, I just didn’t continue the conversation.
— She says you were rude, said you don’t care about her.
— That’s what I said, and it’s true.
Kirill stepped closer, his face turning red.
— How can you say that? She’s my mother.
— So what? She can rummage through our things, control how I spend my salary, come in without asking? And I’m supposed to be quiet and tolerate it?
— She’s not controlling, she’s worried.
— She’s meddling.
— This is our family. She’s part of the family.
— No. — Olga shook her head. — Our family is you and me. She is your mother. Separately.
Kirill fell silent, looking at her heavily. Then, quietly, with a threat in his voice:
— Mom said you’re hiding money. You took everything off the card, hid it somewhere. Is that true?
— Yes, it’s true.
— Why?
— It’s my money. I have the right to do what I want with it.
— We’re a family. We have a joint budget.
— We don’t have a joint budget. You refused to manage one yourself, remember? You said, why make things complicated?
Kirill clenched his fists and turned away. Olga could see he was on the edge. A little more — and he would snap.
— Where did you put the money? — he asked, without turning around.
— For our needs.
— What needs?
— Our needs. Family needs.
He turned around, stepped towards her, and grabbed her by the shoulders.
— Tell me… Where did you put it? Right now!
Olga broke free and stepped back.
— Take your hands off me.
— Answer me!
— It’s none of your business.
He raised his hand. Olga squeezed her eyes shut. But the blow never came. Kirill froze with his hand raised. Then he slowly lowered it and stepped away. He sat on a chair and buried his face in his hands.
— What’s happening to us? — he mumbled hoarsely. — Why are we like this?
Olga stood against the wall, pressing her hands to her stomach. Her heart was pounding. He almost hit her. For the first time in all these years. He almost hit her.
— I’m going to my mom’s. — Kirill stood up and grabbed his jacket. — I’ll spend the night there. We’ll talk in the morning, when we’ve both calmed down.
He left, slamming the door. Olga was left alone. She slowly sank onto a chair. Rested her head on the table. Quietly, so no one could hear, she cried.
For the next two days, Kirill didn’t sleep at home. He called a couple of times, speaking briefly.
— How are you?
— Everything’s fine.
Olga answered just as curtly. They were both waiting, not knowing what to do next. Lyudmila Fyodorovna didn’t call. But Olga knew: her mother-in-law was at work. Dripping poison into Kirill’s ear. Turning him against his wife. Telling him how bad, greedy, and heartless Olga was. And Kirill was listening, believing. Because his mother was the ultimate truth for him.
On Wednesday, Olga received her bonus. 15,000 in cash. She counted it and hid it in her bag. In the evening, at home, she took the box from the top shelf and added the money to the rest. Now there was 65,000. Another month or two, and she’d have enough for all the essentials. She closed the box and pushed it back. She stood on the chair, holding onto the shelf, and suddenly felt a pulling sensation in her lower abdomen. Not strong, but noticeable. She climbed down and sat on the bed. It pulled again, a little stronger. Olga tensed. Could it be contractions? It was too early, only eight weeks. She lay down and relaxed. A minute later, the pain was gone. A false alarm. The doctor said it happens: the uterus is growing, the ligaments are stretching. But it was still scary.
Olga picked up her phone and opened her chat with Kirill. She wanted to write: “Come home, I’m scared.” But she didn’t. She deleted the message. He was at his mother’s now, under her influence. He would come home and start about the money again. It was better not to. She went to bed alone, in the empty bed. She stroked her belly and whispered:
— Hold on, little one. Just a little longer, and everything will be okay, I promise.
The next morning, Thursday, Lyudmila Fyodorovna called the office. The receptionist transferred the call to Olga.
— Hello?
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