— I was afraid you would take Oleg away, that he would love you more than me.
— Silly, isn’t it?
— Yes, silly. A son shouldn’t have to choose between his mother and his wife. I understand that now. I understand it too late.
— Better late than never.
Her mother-in-law gave a weak smile.
— You’re not even angry now.
— There’s no point in being angry at a dying person.
— Thank you for your honesty.
Marina stood up.
— I have to go.
— Wait, — Tamara Nikolaevna squeezed her hand. — Oleg. How is he?
— I don’t know. We don’t talk.
— He’s alone. All alone. I pushed him away after the divorce. I blamed him. I screamed at him. He stopped calling.
— That’s not my problem.
— I know, but maybe… you could call him? Tell him I’m here.
Marina hesitated.
— Please. — Her mother-in-law’s voice was barely a whisper. — A last request.
— Alright. I’ll call him. — She freed her hand and walked to the door.
— Marina.
She turned around.
— Be happy. You deserve it.
Marina nodded and left. In the hallway, she leaned against the wall and closed her eyes. Her heart was pounding, her hands were shaking. She had forgiven. Truly forgiven. Not for Tamara Nikolaevna’s sake. For her own. To finally let go of the past and move on.
She called Oleg from the car. He answered immediately, as if he had been waiting.
— Marina? Hi.
— Your mother is in the hospital. City Hospital No. 3, intensive care. A stroke.
— What?
— She asked me to call you.
A pause. Long, heavy.
— Thanks for telling me.
— You’re welcome.
— Marina, how are you?
— I’m good.
— Really?
— Really. Goodbye, Oleg.
— Goodbye.
She pressed “end call” and started the car. The road home was ahead of her. Life was ahead of her.
Tamara Nikolaevna died a week later. Marina found out from Lyudmila, the same neighbor. She didn’t go to the funeral. Not because she hadn’t forgiven her. She had. She just didn’t want to. It wasn’t her story anymore.
Oleg called after the funeral. He thanked her for letting him know. He said he had managed to say goodbye to his mother. That she had died peacefully.
— She asked me to tell you something, — he added.
— What?
— That you were right. About everything. — Marina was silent. — And she also said that I should let you go. Truly let you go. Not keep you in my head, not hope. Just let you go.
— Good advice.
— Yes. For the first time in her life, she gave me good advice. — They were silent for a moment. — Be happy, Marina.
— You too, Oleg.
— I’ll try.
The call ended. Marina looked at her phone and smiled. It was over. It was finally over. Eight years of struggle, pain, disappointment. Eight years of trying to be someone she wasn’t. Eight years of living with a man who never learned to appreciate her. It was all over now. All of it. The end.
She dialed Andrei’s number.
— Hi. How’s the conference?
— Great. I’m coming back tomorrow. I miss you.
— Me too.
— What are you doing?
— Watching the sunset. It’s very beautiful.
— Take a picture for me.
— I will.
— Marina, I love you.
She smiled. Widely. From the heart.
— I love you too.
— See you tomorrow?
— See you tomorrow.
She hung up and went out onto the balcony. The sun was setting behind the rooftops, painting the sky in gold and purple hues.
— Beautiful. Very beautiful.
Marina stood and watched the sunset. For the first time in a long time, she felt truly free. Free from the past, from resentment, from others’ expectations. She was not a doormat. She never had been a doormat and had not become one. She fought. For herself, for her dignity, for the right to be happy. And she won.
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