She was awakened by a sunbeam that broke through a crack in the curtains. It slid across her face, and she squinted. The ward smelled of medicine and bleach. Outside the door, hospital life was in full swing: gurneys clattered, orderlies chatted, a child cried in the next room. Alisa struggled to sit up in bed. A sharp pain shot through her abdomen, but it was different from yesterday. This was a different pain—the pain of a healing wound.
She looked around. On the bedside table was a bottle of water and a bag of things Misha had brought. She picked up her phone. The screen was flooded with notifications of missed calls and messages. All from Denis and his mother. She didn’t read them, just deleted them. Then she found Misha’s number.
«How are you?» his message, sent an hour ago, read.
«Okay, I’m awake,» she typed.
The reply came instantly: «I’ll be there soon, I’ll bring breakfast.»
Alisa put the phone down and leaned back on the pillow. She had no strength at all. Her body felt weak, like cotton, but her mind was clear. She replayed the events of the previous day in her head over and over, trying to find some justification for Denis’s actions. Maybe he was scared? Maybe he was in shock and didn’t realize what he was doing? But every time, she hit a dead end of his silent consent. He stood and watched. He didn’t intervene. He chose his mother. And that was the most terrifying part. It was betrayal in its purest form, without any nuances or shades of gray.
A nurse peeked into the ward, gave her an injection, and took her temperature.
— Thirty-seven point five, — she stated. — That’s normal after surgery. Just lie down and rest.
Misha arrived half an hour later. He brought a thermos of chicken broth, yogurts, and a fresh newspaper.
— How are you feeling? — he asked, setting everything on the bedside table.
— Like a beaten dog, — Alisa chuckled. — But I’ll live.
— That’s the main thing. — He sat on the chair beside her. — I spoke with the investigator. They were interrogated until late last night. Zoya Pavlovna denies everything, screaming that you orchestrated the whole thing yourself, jumping out of the car and running into the woods.
— What?
— Yep. And Denis initially mumbled something incoherent, then he broke down. Admitted they kicked you out at his mother’s insistence. Cried, repented, asked me to tell you he’s sorry.
— He’s sorry, — Alisa scoffed bitterly.
— They were released on their own recognizance. But cases have been opened. Both are listed as suspects. The investigator said the evidence of a crime is obvious, especially for the “leaving in danger” charge. Your condition, confirmed by doctors, is direct proof.
— And what about the car theft?
— That’s more complicated. They’ll argue that Denis is your husband and had the right to drive the car. But we have an ace up our sleeve.
— What is it?
— Your testimony that you were against the trip in your condition and asked to be taken to the hospital. They effectively took possession of the car against your will, using your helplessness. That’s a qualifying factor. I’m already preparing a motion.
Alisa listened to her brother, and she felt a little better. She wasn’t alone. She had a professional with her who knew how to act in this wild situation.
— Misha, thank you! — she said quietly. — If it weren’t for you…
— Forget it! — he waved his hand. — We’re family. And family doesn’t abandon each other in times of trouble. Unlike some people.
He poured her some broth into a cup. Alisa drank it in small sips. The hot liquid warmed her from the inside, giving her strength.
— Their relatives have already started calling me, — Misha continued. — Some great-aunt of Denis’s, the one they were going to see. She called, screaming into the phone that we want to put poor Zoya Pavlovna in jail. That she’s an “elderly, sick” woman.
— Sick? — Alisa was surprised. — Yesterday she looked healthier than all of us combined.
— That’s what I’m saying. I politely explained to her that her nephew and sister committed a criminal offense and advised her not to call again. I think she got the message.
They sat in silence. The city hummed outside the window. Alisa looked at her brother. He looked tired, but resolute. A cold fire of righteous anger burned in his eyes.
— You know what I’m thinking? — she said. — I’m thinking about how I could have been so blind. Two years. I lived with him for two years and didn’t see what kind of person he was.
— You’re not blind, Alis. You were just in love. And you wanted to believe in the best. That’s normal. What’s not normal is letting your mother-in-law humiliate you. What’s not normal is turning a blind eye to the fact that your husband is a mama’s boy.
— No, it’s not normal, — Misha agreed. — But you’ve realized that. Better late than never. Now you have a chance to fix everything. To start a new life.
— A new life… — those words sounded strange. She hadn’t fully grasped yet that her marriage was over, that the man she loved had turned out to be a traitor. It all felt like a bad dream from which she was about to wake up. But she wasn’t waking up. The pain in her abdomen, the smell of medicine, the hospital walls—it was all real.
— I’m filing for divorce, — she said firmly. — As soon as I get out of here.
— The right decision, — Misha nodded. — I’ll help with the paperwork. You have almost no joint property, so it will go quickly. The car is yours. The apartment is rented. There’s nothing to divide. He’ll have to move out.
— He’ll have to. Where to is no longer your problem. He’ll go back to his mommy’s one-room apartment. They can live there together.
Alisa pictured it: Zoya Pavlovna and Denis in the small apartment on the outskirts. And for some reason, she felt no schadenfreude. Only exhaustion. She didn’t want revenge on them. She just wanted them to disappear from her life. Forever.
While Alisa was recovering in the hospital ward, Denis and Zoya Pavlovna, stunned and bewildered, were returning from the police station. They took a taxi home in oppressive silence. Zoya Pavlovna stared out the window the whole way, her lips pursed, while Denis sat beside her, hunched over, fidgeting with the edge of his jacket. The investigator had released them on their own recognizance, but made it clear that the matter was serious. The words “criminal liability,” “court,” “imprisonment” echoed in their ears.
— It’s all her fault, — Zoya Pavlovna hissed as the taxi stopped at their building. — That snake. She set it all up on purpose.
— Mom, stop it. I’m tired, — Denis said.
— What did she set up? An appendicitis attack?
— How should I know? — the mother-in-law shrieked. — Maybe it was an attack. She ate something to ruin our trip. And now she’s playing the victim. She filed a report! On her own husband and mother-in-law…
They went up to the apartment. Denis threw the keys on the entryway table and went into the room. He collapsed onto the sofa and covered his face with his hands. His head was pounding. He hadn’t slept all night. First the humiliating interrogation, then waiting in the cold corridor, then another interrogation. He still couldn’t believe this was happening to him. Alisa, his quiet, calm Alisa, had filed a police report against him.
— So what are we going to do now? — Zoya Pavlovna stood in the doorway, her arms crossed. — Are we going to be jailed?
— I don’t know, — Denis answered hoarsely. — We need a lawyer.
— What lawyer? Where are we going to get money for a lawyer? — his mother threw up her hands. — All our savings went to your last car, which you wrecked.
This was a sore subject. Six months ago, Denis had been in an accident and totaled his car, which he was still paying off. The insurance didn’t cover all the damage, and they had to go into debt to pay it off. It was after this that Alisa bought her crossover, so the family would have a car.
— I need to call Alisa, — Denis said, raising his head. — I need to apologize, beg her to withdraw the complaint.
— What? — Zoya Pavlovna nearly choked with indignation. — Humiliate myself before that… that upstart? Never in my life!
— Mom, you don’t understand! We’re facing real prison time! — Denis jumped up. — Do you want to go to prison?
— I don’t want to go to any prison! — she shouted. — And I’m not going to apologize. It’s her own fault. She shouldn’t have been faking it.
Just then, Denis’s phone rang. Aunt Valya’s name appeared on the screen.
— Hello, Aunt Val, hi! — he said, trying to make his voice sound cheerful…
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