— “The investigator has finished the investigation and sent the case to court. Your mother-in-law, given her age, will likely get a suspended sentence. But your ex-husband, as the organizer, could face real prison time. Two or three years.”
Three years. Igor in prison. The father of my child. The thought was unpleasant because of Mishenka. How would I explain this to my son?
In the evening, Igor met us at the kindergarten.
— “Can I take him for the weekend?” — he asked. — “I want to be with him. While I still can.”
There was so much despair in his voice that my heart wavered.
— “Alright. But on Sunday evening, at seven, he must be home.”
On Sunday evening, Igor didn’t bring our son back right away. He came alone.
— “I understand everything now, Marina,” — he said quietly. — “I was wrong about everything. I betrayed you, I betrayed our son, I betrayed your father. There is no forgiveness for me. I am ready to accept my punishment. I will give a full confession. I will tell everything as it was. I will take all the blame on myself.”
— “And your mother?”
— “She’s an elderly woman, she won’t be able to handle it. It’s better if I alone answer for everything.”
— “Why, Igor? Why are you willing to sacrifice yourself for her, even now?”
— “Because she’s my mother.”
He took a piece of paper out of his pocket—a full confession, where he took all the blame, clearing his mother.
— “Igor, don’t do this,” — I stopped him. — “That would be another lie. Tell the truth. The whole truth. In court. Tell them how she pressured you, how she manipulated you. Let the court decide who is guilty and to what extent. That would be fair.”
He was silent for a long time, considering my words.
— “Do you think it will change anything?”
— “I don’t know. But it will be your first truly adult act.”
Igor kept his word. In court, he told everything. From the very beginning. About how his mother manipulated him, how she invented the story with the illness, how she convinced him to deceive me with the power of attorney.
— “I was afraid,” — he said, his voice trembling. — “All my life, I was afraid of disappointing her. I thought that if I did everything she wanted, she would love me. But I was wrong. She didn’t love. She dominated.”
Lyudmila Anatolyevna, sitting next to him, at first listened with bewilderment, then her face contorted with fury.
— “Traitor! You conspired with her against your own mother!”
— “Silence!” — the judge slammed his gavel.
The court took Igor’s full confession into account. He was given a two-year suspended sentence. Lyudmila Anatolyevna, as the organizer of the fraud, received a three-year suspended sentence. Plus, they had to pay me moral damages.
When the hearing was over, Igor came up to me.
— “It’s all over. Now you’re free.”
— “You too, Igor,” — I replied. — “You’re free too. From her.”
After the trial, life began to get back on track surprisingly quickly. My father fully recovered. I opened a separate account in Mishenka’s name and transferred all the money that came from Igor by court order. Igor regularly paid child support and saw our son. He had changed, matured. Lyudmila Anatolyevna disappeared from my radar; I heard she was taking what happened very hard and rarely left her house.
I threw myself into my work. My career was on the rise, and I bought a small apartment. One day, I accidentally ran into Andrey Sergeevich, my former boss. He offered me a position as head of the analytical department at the head office in Kyiv.
— “Kyiv, moving…” — it seemed so unreal. But I decided to do it.
Igor took the news calmly, although I heard a hint of bitterness in his voice.
The resolution of this story came unexpectedly. A week before my departure, a large sum of money—570 thousand—was credited to my card. A transfer from Volkova Lyudmila Anatolyevna.
She called herself.
— “I sold my apartment,” — she said. — “I’m moving in with my sister. And this money… I want to return it. It’s that same money. I want you to take it. For Mishenka. Consider it my atonement.”
I accepted the money and deposited it into my son’s account. I realized that I was able to forgive her. Not because she paid back the debt, but because she found the strength to admit her guilt.
Four years have passed. We live in Kyiv. Misha has started school, Igor flies to visit us, and we communicate like normal people. I met a man, Alexey, who is reliable and kind. On my 37th birthday, I stood on the balcony, looking at the lights of Kyiv, and realized: I am happy. I went through betrayal and pain, but I didn’t break. I became stronger.
Every woman has her own story. And if you, after hearing mine, feel that you also have the strength to change your life for the better, then I haven’t told it in vain. Be strong, believe in yourself, and know that you deserve to be happy.
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