Olga closed her eyes and felt something inside her break.
— Fine. You don’t believe me? Don’t. Go on living at your mother’s.
She hung up. Kirill called back — she declined. He sent a message: “Olya, let’s talk normally.” She didn’t reply. She turned off the ringer and placed the phone face down.
That night, Olga slept poorly. She woke up at every sound, listening intently. She had nightmares: her mother-in-law taking the baby, carrying him away. Olga running after them, screaming, but no sound coming out. In the morning, she woke up exhausted, with a headache. She barely made it to work. The whole day she sat in a fog, mechanically performing her tasks. Marina asked several times if she was okay. Olga nodded without looking up.
In the evening, on her way home, she saw Lyudmila Fyodorovna near the entrance. Her mother-in-law was standing there, leaning against a car, smoking. She saw Olga, threw away her cigarette, and walked towards her.
— We need to talk.
— We have nothing to talk about.
— Oh, yes we do. I’ve been thinking, maybe you’re right. Maybe I am getting too involved in your life. Let’s start with a clean slate.
Olga stopped and looked at her mother-in-law suspiciously. She was smiling, but the smile didn’t reach her eyes.
— What do you really want?
— Just to talk. No fights, no accusations. Let’s go up to your place, have some tea.
— No.
— Olenka, I’m asking you, let’s at least try to fix things. For Kirill’s sake, for our grandchild’s sake.
Olga hesitated. On one hand, she didn’t want to let her mother-in-law into the house. On the other — maybe it was worth trying to talk, now that things had come to this?
— Fine, fifteen minutes, no more.
They went up to the apartment. Olga turned on the light and went to the kitchen. She put the kettle on and got out cups. Lyudmila Fyodorovna sat at the table and looked around.
— It’s so clean here, I always said so. You’re a good housewife.
Olga didn’t reply, poured the tea, and sat down opposite her.
— Speak.
— Okay, I understand I was wrong. I shouldn’t have meddled in your affairs, rummaged through your things. I’m sorry.
— Okay.
— But you have to understand: I’m worried about my son, about you. I want everything to be good for you. To have enough money. So that the child wants for nothing.
— We’ll manage.
— Of course, you’ll manage. But a little help wouldn’t hurt. I was thinking… I have a friend. She’s on maternity leave, she sells baby things. Almost new, inexpensive. I can introduce you.
— Thanks, I’ll figure it out myself.
— Well, okay, okay. I just wanted to help. — Lyudmila Fyodorovna sipped her tea and set the cup down. — So where are you hiding the money? In the bank? Or at home?
Olga became wary.
— Why do you need to know?
— Just curious. I just want to understand how prepared you are for the baby’s birth.
— We’re prepared.
— Well, that’s good.
Her mother-in-law stood up and walked around the kitchen. She peeked into the hallway, then came back.
— Listen, where’s the toilet here? I suddenly have to go.
— At the end of the hallway, on the left.
Lyudmila Fyodorovna left. Olga stayed in the kitchen, finishing her tea. She listened. The toilet door slammed. Then silence. A silence that was too long. Olga stood up and went into the hallway. The toilet door was ajar. The light was off. Her mother-in-law wasn’t there. Her heart sank. Olga quickly went into the bedroom — no one there. In the living room — also empty. She returned to the hallway. The closet’s top shelf door was ajar. Someone was rummaging on a stool.
— Lyudmila Fyodorovna! — Olga shouted. — Get down from there immediately!
Her mother-in-law peeked out from behind the open shelf door. In her hands was a shoebox.
— Ah, there it is! The money! I knew it.
Olga ran over and tried to snatch the box. Lyudmila Fyodorovna jumped back and opened the lid. She saw the bills, the onesies, the ultrasound picture.
— I knew it! Hiding it from your family, from your own husband! Shame on you!
— Give it back immediately!
— I won’t. I’ll show Kirill what you’re doing. He needs to know.
Lyudmila Fyodorovna grabbed the box and rushed to the exit. Olga ran after her, grabbing her coat. Her mother-in-law broke free, flung the door open, and ran out onto the staircase.
— Stop! Give it back!
But Lyudmila Fyodorovna was already running down the stairs, clutching the box. Olga chased after her, but on the third floor, she stumbled and nearly fell. She grabbed the railing and stopped. Below, the front door slammed.
Olga slowly went back up to the apartment, closed the door, leaned against the wall, and slid to the floor. She was breathing heavily, her heart pounding. The money, the onesies, the picture — she stole it all, everything! She sat on the floor in the hallway, hugging her knees, unable to move. Inside, there was an emptiness, cold and sticky. Her mother-in-law had stolen the money. Stolen from her own grandchild.
The phone rang. Kirill. Olga answered with trembling hands.
— Hello?
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