“Uncle, come home early,” said the little beggar girl. He listened and caught his wife in… an interesting situation.
Igor sat in his office, engulfed in a heavy, almost tangible silence. Even the clock on the wall seemed afraid to tickits hands frozen, as if unwilling to disturb the sorrow hanging in the air. He stared blankly at the corner of his expensive dark-wood desk, seeing nothing. His gaze was turned inwardto where his soul ached, tormented by guilt and thoughts of home, of the bedroom where his wife, Kristina, seemed to be slowly fading away.
A soft knock came at the doorhesitant, as if afraid to intrude. Olga, his deputy and, he felt, the only reason he hadnt lost his mind yet, appeared in the doorway. She stepped inside, and the room seemed to brighten, but her usual warm smile was absent. She approached the desk and silently placed a folded sheet of paper before him. A resignation letter.
“Olya, what is this?” Igors voice cracked, rough with emotion. Something inside him shattered.
“Its for the best, Igor. For everyone,” she whispered, avoiding his gaze. “I already found a job. In another city.”
A dull, sharp pain pierced his chest. He stood abruptly, rounded the desk, and seized her handscold as winter wind through old window cracks.
“Dont go. Please,” he begged, like a prayer.
“I cant stay. She needs you,” her voice trembled with unshed tears. “You have to be with her.”
“Its my fault!” he nearly shouted, voice breaking. “Shes sick because of me! My sin, my affair with youits killing her!”
“Stop,” Olga finally met his eyes, and he saw the same pain mirrored there. “Its not your fault. None of it. Let yourself go.”
But he couldnt. Memories assaulted him, each more painful than the last. His marriage to Kristina had been arranged by parents obsessed with tradition and advantageous connections. He remembered her coldness, her disgust at his attempts to be close, her endless dissatisfaction. She refused children, calling them “burdens” and “figure-ruiners.” Her world was socialites, designer dresses, and outshining others diamondswhile he was just her wallet and status symbol.
Then Olga came into his life. With her, he finally knew warmth, care, and love. She asked for nothingjust stood by him, listening, holding, kissing like she knew his every thought. The last memory was the cruelest. Determined to be honest, he had asked Kristina for a divorce, confessing his love for Olga. What followed wasnt just hystericsit was theater. She screamed, smashed plates, clutched her chest, and collapsed. From that day, she was “bedridden” with an illness no doctor could diagnose.
Returning home had become torture. A suffocating gloom met him at the door. Kristina lay propped on pillows in her room, greeting him with a weak, accusing voice:
“Youre late again… You dont care if I die tonight.”
Igor swallowed the lump in his throat and sat by her bed, guilt devouring him. Hed do anything to keep her alive, to atone. So when she claimed to have found a “medical genius” who could cure her, he agreed without question. The expensive professormanicured hands, smug smilecame twice daily, administering mysterious injections and billing exorbitantly. Igor paid without complaint.
That evening, he parked outside their iron gates and turned off the engine. He couldnt bring himself to step out. Just five more minutesfive minutes of silence before facing the hell of accusations, sighs, and medicine smells.
A tap on the window startled him. A thin ten-year-old girl in a worn jacket stood there, holding a bucket of murky water and a rag. Hed seen her before, offering to wash headlights.
“Uncle, want your lights cleaned?” she chirped.
Nodding, Igor handed her a bill far exceeding the services worth. She scrubbed the headlights, snatched the money, and turned to fleethen suddenly spun back.
“You come home too late,” she blurted. “Try coming earlier.”
With that, she vanished into the dark. Igor sat baffled. What a strange thing to say.
Morning came as usual. Kristina greeted him with moans and fresh accusations:
“Dont touch me,” she snapped as he adjusted her pillow. “The nurse will handle it. Go to worksince it matters more than your dying wife.”
Relieved, Igor slipped away. Work offered no refuge. At noon, glancing out his office window, he saw his worst fear: Olga walking to her car, carrying a box of belongings. She loaded it, drove offforever.
Despair and self-loathing crushed him. Hed lost her, traded her for guilt over a woman hed never loved. He sank into his chair, face in hands. It was over.
Thenlike a flashthe girls words returned: *Try coming earlier.*
Why? What did it mean? The thought was crazy, irrationalbut his only lifeline. Acting on impulse, he grabbed his coat, bolted past his stunned secretary (“Im gone”), and raced home in broad daylight.
Approaching the house, he spotted the professors black Mercedes at the gate. Why was he here at midday? Visits were strictly morning and evening. Heart pounding, Igor flung open the gate and stormed insidethen froze.
From Kristinas room came music and… loud, healthy laughter.
Legs numb, he crept to her door. The laughter grew louder. He shoved it openand stood paralyzed.
On their marriage bed sprawled the naked “doctor,” while Kristinahis “dying” wifedanced before him in a sheer negligee, champagne in hand, vibrant and full of life.
They noticed him belatedly. The “doctor” paled; Kristina froze, eyes wide with horror.
“Igor!” she shrieked. “This isnt what it looks like! It was *his* plan! He said it was therapy!”
“*What?*” the man roared, scrambling to cover himself. “You lying witch! *You* planned this! You took half the ‘treatment’ money!”
Igor tremblednot with weakness, but icy rage, scorching away guilt and pain. Silently, he turned, went to his study, and grabbed his hunting riflea gift from his father. He returned to the bedroom. The lovers eyes locked on the gun in terror.
A shot rang out. The bullet struck the expensive parquet inches from the “doctors” foot.
“Five seconds,” Igor said, voice deadly calm. “Get out of my house and my life. Five… four…”
They didnt need more. Stumbling, shoving, dressing hastily, they fledmoments later, tires screeched as the Mercedes tore away.
Alone in the room reeking of betrayal, shock faded into one realization: *Olga.* He had to find Olga.
He sped to her apartment, but an elderly neighbor answered.
“Shes gone, dear. Just handed me her keysleft for the train station. Her train leaves in an hour.”
A mad race ensued. Ignoring traffic, sirens, police chasing him, Igor careened through back alleys, onto railway tracks, smashing through a flimsy barrier onto the platform.
He leaped out. The crowd was chaoshundreds of travelers, announcements blaring, whistles blowing. Finding her seemed impossible. Despair rose again.
Thena promo girl with a microphone. He shoved money at her, grabbed the mic, and his amplified voice boomed:
“OLGA! Olya, if you can hear me, dont leave! Please! Its not what you think! I love youI cant live without you!”
He shouted it, turning, scanning faces as cops closed in.
“Olga! Darling!”
“And what about sick Kristina?” a quiet voice asked nearby.
Igor spun. There stood Olgatear-streaked, a ticket clutched in her hand. He dropped the mic, fell to his knees on the grimy platform.
“She was never sick!” he gasped. “It was all a liea trick to trap me. I know now. Forgive me for being such a blind fool!”
“Sir, youre coming with us,” the cops gripped his shoulders.
But the crowd roared:
“Let him go!”
“Cant you see? Hes winning love back!”
Olga knelt, embracing him. They wept openly as the station buzzed around them. The officers exchanged glances, sighed, and walked away.
Two hours later, Igor brought Olga home. The house was silent, empty. Apologizing for not arranging a place for her, he began silently bagging Kristinas belongings. Pausing, he looked at Olga sitting quietly.
“Olya… why the rush? You hadnt even found a job yet. Why leave like that?”
She looked up, tearful, and whispered:
“I was scared… scared to tell you and trap you further.”
Igor frowned.
“What could be worse than what weve beenShe took a deep breath, her hands instinctively resting on her stomach, and whispered, “I was afraid to tell you that Im pregnant.”
