Marina stopped. She looked at him.
— Us? That’s you, me, and your mother. There are two of you. I’m alone. I’m tired of being the third wheel in this triangle.
— You’re not the third wheel.
— Oleg, enough. Every word you say is empty. You say one thing, do another. I don’t believe you anymore.
She zipped up the suitcase and put on her jacket.
— At least wait until morning, — he pleaded. — It’s the middle of the night.
— It’s fine. I’ll make it.
— Marina…
— What? — He was silent. Looking at her with a kind of childish despair. — I don’t want to lose you.
— Then you shouldn’t have betrayed me.
She opened the door and walked out without looking back.
The drive to Dnipro took four hours. At night, the highway was almost empty, only occasional trucks sped by, spraying her car with a fan of water. Marina drove and thought. Eight years. For eight years she had built this marriage. Worked on the relationship. Endured, forgave, hoped. And now it had all collapsed. In a single moment. No, not in one. It had been building up for years. The cup had just overflowed now.
She didn’t cry. Strangely, there were no tears. Only emptiness. And that strange sense of relief, like a month ago.
Her parents weren’t surprised by her arrival. They opened the door, hugged her, led her inside. No questions, no reproaches.
— Go to sleep, honey, — her mom said. — Things will look better in the morning.
— Thanks, Mom.
— We’re here for you. Always.
Marina lay down in her old room, on her old bed. Nothing had changed here since her childhood. The same floral wallpaper, the same curtains, the same teddy bear on the shelf. She closed her eyes and instantly fell asleep.
In the morning, there was a long conversation over breakfast. Marina told them everything. From the very beginning. About the anniversary, the juice, the glasses. About the month of trying and about last night. Her mom listened in silence, occasionally shaking her head. Her father frowned and clenched his fists.
— That bastard, — he couldn’t hold back when Marina finished. — Both of them are bastards. The mother and the son.
— Stepan, don’t swear, — his wife chided.
— How can I not swear? They’ve been tormenting our girl for eight years.
— Dad, it’s my fault too, — Marina said. — I should have left sooner.
— It’s not your fault. You loved him, you wanted a family. That’s normal.
— What’s normal is when someone loves you back. And I was just tolerated. At best.
Her mom took her hand.
— Marinochka, what are you going to do?
— I don’t know yet. I’ll probably file for divorce.
— Are you sure?
— Yes. There’s no point in dragging it out. Oleg won’t change. He’ll always choose his mother.
— What if he… comes to his senses? — Marina shook her head. — He’s come to his senses a hundred times. And every time, he went back to his mom. It’s a vicious circle.
Her father stood up from the table.
— Honey, whatever you decide, we’ll support you. If you want, you can live here as long as you need. If you want, we’ll help you with an apartment in the capital. The main thing is for you to be happy.
— Thank you, Daddy.
— And if that… — he restrained himself, — if Oleg dares to come here and make demands, I’ll have a talk with him. Man to man.
— Dad, don’t.
— I have to. Should have done it a long time ago.
Marina smiled. Genuinely, for the first time in a long time.
— I love you both.
— We love you too, honey. Always.
Oleg called three days later. Marina stared at the screen for a long time, then finally answered.
— Hello.
— Marina, how are you?
— I’m fine.
— Are you at your parents’?
— Yes.
— Can we talk?
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