“Marina, you’ve been acting a bit different lately,” Dmitry said.
“Either you’re not home, or you’re coming home late. You’re hiding something.”
He was right: I had indeed been vanishing a lot for the last three months, citing work, meetings, and worries as excuses. And if before he had simply been worried, now he had clearly started to guess something.
“What are you talking about?” I tried to feign surprise.
“I’m just so busy, I’m tired.”
“Are you tired?” he asked again.
“Then explain to me why you “worked” again on Saturday? And on Sunday? And two days ago you came back almost at night?”
My heart started hammering. Saturday was when I said I was helping a colleague with a project. Sunday was a meeting with a school friend. And two days ago… that was when I was talking about Lena’s renovation.
– Dim, I explained
– Lena asked for help.
The blood drained from his face. He was caught. It was foolish to use a man who was so easy to examine.
“You lie to me all the time,” he continued calmly, but there was a danger in that calm.
“Three months of lies. And I decided to suppose it out myself.
“What do you need to figure out?” his voice shuddered.
– Why are you introducing someone into our house when I’m not here?
The world froze. Cameras? When did he control to install them?
“Why?” I pressed out.
– To know what’s going on in my house. And who’s here without me.
He got up from the table and headed towards the computer.
“Shall we watch it together?” he asked.
Dima announced the app, and a video displayed on the screen. Living room. The date was the day before yesterday. He pressed play.
In the recording, I entered the house at about 2 p.m., holding a large bag. I went into the bedroom, came out a few minutes later without it, and then returned in the evening with bags from the store.
“And where were you these five hours?” he asked.
“After all, you only got home at seven and a bit.”
I was silent. I couldn’t find the words.
“That was yesterday,” he said, beginning the video again. “Draw attention.”
On the screen, I was carefully putting something small into a bag.
– Children’s things, Marina, – the voice tensed.
– Whose children’s things are you carrying from our house?
Three months of lies, three months of secrets – everything detr0yed in one second.
– Is this a mistress? You’re having an affa:ir and you’re providing for your lover’s child?
– No…
– Then what? Are you stealing?
– Dima, stop. I’ll share you everything.
— I’m waiting for an explanation.
Deep breath. It’s time for the truth.
— Do you remember Anya Serova?
– From your classmates? Yeah, I think we met once.
– She married Alexey. Do you remember?
– Well?
— A year ago they had a girl. Sonya.
Dima glared, not understanding the connection.
– Alexey passed away in a car accident in December. Anya was left alone with a child.
– I’m sorry, but what does this have to do with our things?
— In the room for the future child, we still have the things we bought. The cradle, the clothes, everything… — I hesitated, collecting my thoughts. — And she has nothing. No money, no help. And we have all this, reminding us of what we cannot have.
– You mean… you’re giving them our things?
— Not just things. I help her. So I do everything quietly, so that she doesn’t feel indebted.
Dima sank into a chair, rubbing his temples.
– And you remained it a secret for three months?
– I was afraid of your reaction. I thought you would say: “Why do you need someone else’s child? Take care of yourself, get treatment.” And I… I didn’t want everything to become a subject of dispute.
– I didn’t lie, Dim. I just… kept quiet.
– And didn’t you suffer yourself? Lying every day, making up stories?
— Suffered. But I saw Sonya. A little girl who, at one and a half years old, already knows that her mother leaves for work for a long time, that it is cold in the house, and there is almost nothing to eat.
These memories were too faithful.
— The first time I came to Anya, just to visit, was after Alexey’s funeral. I wanted to encourage her. But I saw… poverty. The child in shabby clothes, the refrigerator empty, the windows cracked…
– No. I just helped. In a human way.
“Show me the rest of the records,” I asked. “If we’re opening everything, we’ll open it all the way to the bottom.”
He played a video from a week ago. On the screen, I was carefully putting jars of food, diapers, and a warm sweater into a bag.
“Sonya had a fever,” I explained. “Anna had no money to buy medicine.”
Another entry: two weeks ago I was taking the stroller out of the house.
– Anya had an old stroller from the market. And ours was standing idle in the storage room. Clean, new.
– And you spend a lot of time with them?
– Not all the time, but often.
“Does it come easy to you?” His voice sounded respectful. “Looking at a child when we ourselves…”
– No. It hurts. A lot.
Dima went to the window and stared outside.
“You’re right,” he finally said.
“I would probably say, ‘Take care of yourself, your own treatment.’ As always.”
– That’s why I didn’t say anything.
– Yes. Just don’t hide it. We could do it together.
– Together?
– Do you really think so?
– Yes. I was just blind before. I accused you of treason, and in the meantime you were saving the life of a little man.
“Do you want to meet them?” I asked.
“Anya and Sonya?”
– Of course. And I’ll detach the cameras. We don’t need them anymore.
– “Let them hang.”
– For what?
– I want to see how you behave at home when I’m not there. What if you have some secrets too?
“There is one,” he confessed.
– Which?
— For the last couple of weeks, I’ve been watching the footage every night and thinking, “What an amazing wife I have. She does good, she cares about others.”
And I’m sad at myself for thinking the worst.
The next day we went to Anya together.
Dima was surprised by the conditions they were living in. That same evening we started to draw up a plan of assistance – not a one-time one, but a systematic one.
Six months later, Anya moved into a normal apartment — we helped with the down payment. We found a good job. Sonya went to kindergarten, where she was given proper meals and care.
And a year later a real miracle occured. I got pregnant. Doctors recommended that stress and enduring internal tension could be one of the causes for our problems. And as soon as I started to live not only with my pains, but to help others – my body relaxed.
