But he felt his feet nailed to the ground.
Everything I considered real, trustworthy—our marriage, our home, our union—cracked, broke, crumbled like glass under a hammer.
As the voices in the room began to die down, I heard the door open. Anton said:
"Mom, let's go out, it's sweltering hot here. Let's go for a walk and have a coffee."
"Sure, son. You need peace and quiet right now," he said with feigned sweetness.
The door clicked. There was silence.
Only then could I get up. My legs were shaking, but I crawled to the kitchen and held on to the counter, trying to breathe calmly. He wanted to howl, loudly, desperately, painfully. But I didn't make a sound.
Only my serenity saved me, and it was activated as soon as I heard the name "Tanya".
I took a look at the kitchen. Everything seemed strange to me. Even the smell of our home—the one I used to call comfort—was foreign to me. It was now a place where my fate was decided behind my back, my incompetence was discussed, and my "replacement" was planned.
I understood:
I couldn't stay here a minute longer.
But where to go? With whom? I had no sisters or close friends who could protect me. Masha? It would destroy the office in no time. My parents... It was another world of pain, explanations, questions.
And suddenly, like lightning, a thought crossed my head:
⏬ Continued on the next page ⏬
