— I told her she crossed the line. That this can’t go on.
— And what did she say?
— She screamed, cried, accused me. Said I was a traitor and that you had brainwashed me.
— Predictable.
— But I didn’t back down. I told her that if she doesn’t change her attitude towards you, I will limit contact.
Marina looked at him.
— Are you serious?
— Serious.
— And how did she react?
— She hung up. Hasn’t called since. — Marina was silent. She didn’t know what to say. — Marina, — Oleg came closer. — I know I screwed up. I know I betrayed you. But I want to fix everything. Give me a chance.
— A chance for what?
— A chance to prove that I’ve changed. That I choose you.
She looked at him. At the man she had lived with for eight years. Handsome, successful, smart. And so weak.
— Oleg, one conversation isn’t enough. You understand that, right?
— I understand.
— Your mother will try to regain control. She’ll manipulate, pressure, threaten. Are you ready to stand up to that?
— I am.
— Really?
— Yes. I’m tired of being between you two. Tired of being torn apart. I want a normal family. With you.
Marina sighed.
— I don’t know, Oleg. Honestly, I don’t know. Trust isn’t rebuilt in a day.
— I understand. Give me time. Give us time.
She looked at him for a long time. Thinking.
— Alright, — she finally said. — But with conditions.
— What kind?
— First. I will have no contact with your mother. At all. If she comes to visit, I will leave.
— Deal.
— Second. You do not discuss our relationship with her. Nothing. Ever.
— Deal.
— Third. If she ever tries to do something like this again, we get a divorce. No questions asked.
Oleg nodded.
— Deal.
— Then let’s try.
He hugged her. Carefully. Hesitantly.
— Thank you, — he whispered. — Thank you for giving me a chance.
Marina didn’t answer. She wasn’t sure if she was doing the right thing. But she decided to try. One thing she knew for sure: she was done with Tamara Nikolaevna. Forever. She was not a doormat. And she wasn’t going to be one anymore.
A month passed. October was rainy and cold. Raindrops drummed monotonously against the window, the sky was covered with gray clouds, and it seemed that the sun had forgotten the way to the capital. Marina sat in the kitchen with a cup of cold tea and watched the rain. Her thoughts flowed slowly, sluggishly, like the endless streams of water on the glass.
A month. For a whole month, she had been trying to live a new way. Without Tamara Nikolaevna in her life, without her calls, visits, venomous remarks. And you know what? It turned out to be easier than she thought. Her mother-in-law had really disappeared. She didn’t call, didn’t write, didn’t visit. Was she offended? Lying low? Preparing a new plan? Marina didn’t know and, frankly, didn’t want to know.
Oleg kept his word. He communicated with his mother rarely and briefly. He didn’t discuss family matters with her. He came home on time. He was trying. But something was still not right. Marina felt it every day. In his glances, in his silence, in the way he averted his eyes when she entered the room. Oleg was physically present but mentally absent.
She tried to talk. Several times.
— Oleg, what’s going on?
— Nothing, everything’s fine.
— You seem distant.
— Just tired from work.
— Are you sure?
— I’m sure.
But Marina could see: it wasn’t fatigue. It was something else. Something he didn’t want to talk about.
One evening, she accidentally saw his phone. He had left it in the kitchen when he went to take a shower. The screen lit up—an incoming message. “Mom.” Marina didn’t read it. She turned away, busied herself with the dishes. But a pang of pain shot through her chest. He was still talking to her. Despite his promises. Despite everything.
When Oleg came back, she asked:
— Did your mom text you?
He flinched. Quickly grabbed his phone, put it in his pocket.
— Yes, just asking how things were.
— And what did you say?
— That everything’s fine.
— And that’s all?
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