— I know what you put in my juice. I know that Oleg was aware of it. I know that you planned this together.
The mother-in-law paled.
— That’s not true.
— It is true. I heard your conversation last night. “Everything is ready. Tomorrow. At dinner. There’s no other way.” Remember?
Tamara Nikolaevna was silent. Her lips trembled.
— You wanted to humiliate me in front of my parents, — Marina continued. — To degrade me. To crush me. So that I would never show my face here again. So that Oleg would divorce me and return to his mommy.
— You…
— Don’t interrupt. I’m not finished yet. — Marina took a deep breath. — As of today, we are done. I will not have any contact with you. No calls, no meetings, nothing. You no longer exist for me.
— You wouldn’t dare. Oleg won’t let you.
— Oleg is currently sitting in the toilet thanks to your laxative. I think he’ll have some time to think about his choice.
Another moan came from behind the door. Tamara Nikolaevna flinched towards her son.
— Oleg…
— Mom, not now, — he groaned.
Marina turned and walked into the living room. Behind her, she could hear her mother-in-law’s laments, but she didn’t look back. Enough. Eight years was enough. She was not a doormat. She never had been a doormat and had no intention of becoming one.
In the living room, the guests were drinking tea and eating cake. The conversations were subdued; everyone understood that something had happened, but they didn’t know what.
— Marinochka, how is Oleg? — her mom asked.
— He’s not well. An upset stomach.
— Poor thing. Maybe we should give him some medicine?
— It will pass on its own.
Marina sat at the table and took a piece of cake. It was delicious, chocolatey, with cream roses. Her mom’s signature recipe.
— How are you? — her father asked quietly, leaning towards her.
— I’m okay, Dad.
— You sure? — Marina looked him in the eye.
— I’m sure. Even good.
Her father nodded. He understood. In his own, fatherly way.
— If you need anything, your mother and I are here.
— I know, Dad. Thank you.
Oleg appeared half an hour later. Pale, haggard, with wet hair—he must have washed his face. Tamara Nikolaevna scurried behind him, holding his elbow.
— Oleg, dear, maybe you should lie down? — she fussed.
— No need, Mom. I’m fine.
He sat at the table, avoiding Marina’s gaze. He took a glass of water, took a sip.
— How are you, son-in-law? — his mother-in-law asked with concern. — Feeling better?
— Yes, thank you. I’m sorry for ruining the party.
— You didn’t ruin anything. It happens. You can’t joke with your health.
Tamara Nikolaevna sat in her seat. Her face was like stone. The celebration continued, but the atmosphere had changed. Something hung in the air. Tension. Unspoken words. The guests felt it and tried to leave as soon as possible.
By six in the evening, everyone was gone. Only the family remained: her parents, Marina, Oleg, and Tamara Nikolaevna.
— Will you help me clear the table? — her mom asked Marina.
— Of course.
They went to the kitchen. Tamara Nikolaevna started to follow, but her mom stopped her.
— You rest. Marina and I can handle it.
— But I want to help.
— No need. You’re guests. — Mom’s voice was cold. She must have sensed something too.
In the kitchen, Marina washed the dishes in silence. Mom was putting leftovers into containers.
— Marinochka! — she finally said. — What happened?
— Nothing special, Mom.
— Don’t lie to your mother. I can see something happened. You’re not yourself.
Marina sighed. She didn’t want to lie, but telling the truth was hard.
— Mom, I… I think I’ve made a decision.
— What decision?
— I’m not going to have any more contact with Tamara Nikolaevna. At all.
Mom froze with a container in her hands.
— What did she do?
— Mom, I don’t want to talk about it. Not today. Please. I’ll tell you later, I promise.
Mom looked at her for a long time, then nodded.
— Okay. But know this: I’m on your side. No matter what happened.
— I know, Mom. Thank you.
They finished cleaning up in silence. When they returned to the living room, it was quiet. Her father sat in an armchair, reading a newspaper. Oleg was on the sofa, engrossed in his phone. Tamara Nikolaevna sat opposite, with a straight back and pursed lips.
— We should go, — Marina announced. — We have an early start tomorrow.
— Already? — her mom was disappointed. — Maybe you could stay the night?
— No, Mom. I need to get back to the capital.
Oleg looked up.
— I thought we were leaving tomorrow.
— You can stay. I’m leaving tonight.
— Alone?
— Yes.
A silence fell. Everyone felt that there was something more behind these simple words.
— Marinochka, are you sure? — her father asked cautiously.
— I’m sure, Dad.
Tamara Nikolaevna opened her mouth to say something, but Marina cut her off.
— Goodbye, Tamara Nikolaevna. Don’t see me out.
She turned and left the room. Behind her, she could hear voices. Her mom, her dad, Oleg. But she didn’t look back.
Marina packed her things in five minutes. The suitcase was small; she had only come for a few days. Her father met her at the door.
— Honey, maybe you’ll tell me after all?
— Later, Dad, I promise.
— Are you… are you getting a divorce?
Marina paused.
— I don’t know yet. But something has changed. Forever.
Her father hugged her. Tightly, fatherly.
— Whatever you decide, your mother and I will support you. Remember that.
— I will, Daddy. Thank you.
She got in the car and started the engine. In the rearview mirror, she saw her parents standing on the porch, waving. Marina waved back and drove out of the yard.
The drive to the capital took three hours. All that time, she thought. About eight years of marriage. About hopes that didn’t come true. About a love that had turned into a habit. About a man who betrayed her for his mommy. She didn’t cry. There were no tears. Only fatigue and a strange sense of relief. As if a weight she had carried for too long had been lifted from her shoulders.
Around ten in the evening, she was home. The empty apartment greeted her with silence. Marina unpacked her suitcase, took a shower, and got into bed. But she couldn’t sleep. Her phone vibrated. A message from Oleg: “We need to talk.”
Marina stared at the screen for a long time. Then she typed a reply: “Tomorrow. Not today.” And turned off her phone.
That night, she had a strange dream. She was standing on the edge of a cliff, looking down. In the abyss below, fog swirled. Behind her, someone was calling her name, but she didn’t turn around. And then she jumped. Not down—forward. And it turned out she could fly.
She woke up at dawn. Outside, a new day was beginning. A new day of a new life.
Oleg arrived around noon. Marina was already waiting for him. Composed, calm, ready to talk.
— Hi, — he said as he entered the apartment.
— Hi.
They sat in the living room. Opposite each other, like strangers.
— Marina, I…
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