Natasha came home earlier than usual. Taking off her coat in the hallway, she heard Kirill speaking softly on the phone in the kitchen. She stopped, drawn by his calm voice.
“Yes, I got you. I’ll confirm tomorrow,” her husband said quietly. “Yeah, I’m glad too. See you.”
Kirill emerged from the kitchen, phone in hand, and looked at her with mild surprise.
“Why are you home so early?”
“The last patient canceled,” Natasha shrugged, trying to smile. “Have you been home long?”
“Just now. Not many clients today. Hungry?” Kirill kissed her on the cheek and headed to the living room.
“Not really. I’ll make something later.”
While Kirill changed, Natasha went to the kitchen for water. His phone lay on the table, and suddenly the screen lit up with a message:
“Thanks for today, Kiryush. Already missing you!”
Her heart sank. The sender’s name — Marina — was unknown to her. Natasha quickly looked away, fearing Kirill might catch her.
“Natasha!” Kirill called from the other room. “I’ll order pizza. Want ham?”
She swallowed hard and replied as calmly as she could, “Yes, ham sounds good.”
Grabbing her phone, Natasha called her mother, who answered immediately.
“Daughter, what’s wrong? You don’t usually call this early.”
“Mom, hi. Nothing much. Just wanted to hear your voice.”
Her mother hesitated, sensing something. “Tell me, what’s happened?”
Natasha sighed quietly. “I saw a strange message on Kirill’s phone — from a woman who misses him.”
There was a brief pause. “What does Kirill say?”
“He doesn’t know I saw it. I haven’t told him. Maybe it means nothing…”
“Means nothing or not,” her mother interrupted sharply, “don’t rush. Watch carefully. But you know, daughter, these things usually don’t end well.”
“Mom, stop it,” Natasha said, a mix of irritation and anxiety. “I didn’t call to get more scared.”
“I’m not scaring you. Just be careful. You know I only want the best for you.”
“Okay, mom. We’ll talk later.”
Returning to the living room, Kirill smiled warmly, as usual.
“The pizza’s taking a while,” he said. “Maybe we watch a movie?”
Natasha nodded, but inside, a tight knot twisted in her chest. Kirill put an arm around her. She wanted to ask, but held back.
Everything’s fine, she told herself. Be careful, daughter.
The message from Marina pricked at her mind like a tiny thorn. Every evening, Natasha forced herself to be cheerful, to smile, to ask about work — all while scrutinizing Kirill’s every word, glance, tone.
He seemed oblivious but came home later than before. Little things he used to notice slipped past him. He forgot appointments Natasha reminded him about.
Her patience broke, and she called Katya, her best friend.
“Katya, I think I’m going crazy,” she sighed.
“What’s wrong?”
“Kirill’s acting strange — late nights, distracted. And that message…”
“Maybe you’re overthinking. It might mean nothing.”
“Maybe,” Natasha agreed, nervously twisting her hair. “But something feels off.”
“Then ask him. Calmly, no accusations. That’s the only way.”
That night, she followed Katya’s advice. Dinner ready, she gathered courage and asked softly:
“Kirill, who is Marina?”
He paused mid-bite, surprised.
“What Marina?”
“I saw her message on your phone last week. Didn’t want to ask right away, but…”
“You snooped through my phone?” His voice turned cold.
“No! It was lying there, and the message popped up.”
“And you decided to interrogate me?” Kirill’s tone was sharp. “She’s just a colleague. Nothing special. You’re imagining things.”
“I’m not imagining,” Natasha said quietly. “You’ve changed — late nights, distracted. What’s going on?”
Kirill pushed his chair back hard. Natasha flinched.
“I have a lot of work. I come home to this? Thanks.”
“Don’t avoid me! Something’s wrong.”
“Nothing’s wrong! Everything’s fine. You’re always looking for problems. I’m tired.”
He put on his jacket and left without another word. Natasha stood frozen, chest tightening. She dialed her mom and whispered:
“Mom, you were right.”
“I told you, daughter. A mother’s heart doesn’t lie. Don’t rush. Think.”
“I’m afraid of ruining the family,” Natasha whispered.
“Better than living a lie,” her mother said softly. “The choice is yours.”
The next days were silent. Kirill barely spoke, eating alone, ignoring her. Natasha stayed calm but felt the growing distance between them.
At a café, Natasha confided in Katya.
“I can’t take it. How do I find out the truth if he won’t tell me?”
Katya thought. “Remember your old laptop? Kirill still has it, right?”
Natasha tensed. “So?”
“Your password’s probably still saved. Check his social media messages.”
After hesitating, Natasha agreed.
That evening, alone at home, she logged in. At the top was the chat with Marina — started a month ago, growing more personal and tender with every message. Each word burned.
When Kirill arrived, she confronted him.
“I know everything — Marina, the lies. Don’t accuse me of paranoia.”
He sat, rubbing his face, eyes dark.
“You followed me?”
“Don’t change the subject. Why treat me like this?”
He sighed. “I don’t understand. It just happened. I got confused.”
“Confused? That’s a child’s excuse, not a man’s. I’m your wife! I thought we had a family.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t want to hurt you.”
“But you did,” she said firmly.
He looked lost. “I don’t know how to fix this.”
“Too late. I won’t tolerate betrayal, even if I love you.”
She turned and left him alone. For the first time in a long time, Natasha felt she’d done the right thing.
The next morning, on a bus to Lipetsk, fields and villages flashed by. Freedom and bitterness swirled inside her, tears threatening.
Her mother greeted her with a warm hug.
“Let’s go home, rest.”
“I don’t want to eat.”
“We’ll eat anyway. Decide then.”
At her mother’s house, the smell of baking and warmth surrounded her. She felt comfort she hadn’t known in months.
“Don’t think too much. Rest a few days,” her mother said.
“Better?” Natasha smiled sadly. “I think my life is over.”
“No, you have your whole life ahead.”
Days passed in quiet rest. Then one evening, Natasha asked:
“Mom, do you think I did the right thing?”
Her mother looked thoughtful. “I think so. I left your father the same way.”
Surprised, Natasha said, “You never told me.”
“I didn’t want to upset you when you were little. But now you’re grown. Your father was good, but he strayed. I waited, hoped. Then I knew I couldn’t stay. I never regretted it.”
“No one knew?”
“No. Sometimes parting is kinder than suffering together.”
Grateful, Natasha whispered, “Thank you.”
Returning to Voronezh, she met Kirill in a café near home.
“I know there’s no going back.”
“No. I’m not angry anymore. But I want to be free — from lies, doubts. Better for both of us.”
“I didn’t want this to end like this.”
“Me neither. But now I see a future full of new possibilities.”
She smiled, relief washing over her. Her life was just beginning.
