Dad, meet the woman who will soon be my wifeand your future daughter-in-law!Gleaming with the sort of
Nearly two decades had drifted by since romance last entered my thoughts. My life revolved entirely around
You Just Wanted to Control Me
– So, changed your mind about the divorce? Crawling back already?
Irina smirked, pressing the phone to her ear. Outside, the December sky was turning grey, and in the courtyard below, children were already shouting, sliding on their sleds.
– Don’t hold your breath, Anton. I’m calling for something else.
A pause hung on the other end. Irina pictured her husband frowning, trying to figure out why she’d called at all. Since she’d left three months ago, taking Sveta with her, they’d only spoken about practicalities. Divorce, splitting assets, child support. Dry, businesslike. No unnecessary words.
– New Year’s is coming, – Irina said, keeping her tone cold and factual. – Sveta wants the Christmas tree.
– So buy one.
– She wants the same one. From last year. With the built-in lights. Remember? You put it in the garage.
Anton was silent. Irina could hear him breathing, and the silence felt wrong. Calculated. She knew this trick of his – hold the pause until the other person gets nervous, fidgets, starts to justify themselves.
Irina stayed silent in return.
– I’ll give it to you, – Anton finally said. – On one condition.
– What condition?
– We spend New Year’s together. You, me, and Sveta. Like a family.
Irina pulled the phone away and checked the screen. Made sure it really was Anton’s number, that she hadn’t misheard.
– Not happening.
– Then no tree.
Irina hung up. Threw the phone on the sofa. Walked to the window and pressed her forehead to the cold glass, closing her eyes.
Three months. Three months she’d been clawing her way out of this swamp. And now, over a plastic Christmas tree, he was trying to worm his way back into her life.
No. Not this time…
The café buzzed with customers. Irina sat across from Masha, her friend since school, warming her hands on a big mug of cappuccino. Outside, snow was falling, passersby wrapped in scarves, and somewhere in the background, soft jazz and holiday tunes played.
– Forget about that tree, – Masha broke off a piece of strudel. – Buy a new one. Every supermarket’s full of them.
Irina sighed.
– The kid wants that one. Every night Sveta asks, “Mum, when will we put up our tree? The one that lights up by itself?” And she looks at me with those eyes…
Masha shook her head sympathetically.
– So you called Anton for this?
– Had to swallow my pride. – Irina grimaced, as if she’d bitten a lemon. – Do you know how humiliating it is? Asking for something from a man you never want to see again?
– I can imagine. – Masha reached across the table and covered Irina’s hand with hers. – He was always a piece of work. Remember your birthday…
– When he made a scene because Dima from accounting hugged me?
– Yeah. Yelled at you the whole way home.
Irina sipped her coffee. The bitterness was oddly soothing.
– You know, I put up with it for eight years. Eight years, Masha. Constant control, checking up on me. Where I went, who I talked to, why I didn’t reply to a message in three seconds. He counted every penny, questioned every purchase. “Why do you need that dress? Where are you going?”
– And after all that, he still cheated, – Masha added quietly.
Irina nodded. Her throat tightened for a moment, but she held it together. Not here. Not now. She’d cried enough in the first weeks after finding his messages.
– The funniest thing, – Irina said, – is that he still thinks he’s the victim.
“You didn’t appreciate me, so I looked for warmth elsewhere.” Can you believe it?
Masha snorted.
– Classic. All cheaters say that. You did the right thing leaving. Most women in your place…
– Most would have stayed. For the child. For stability. To avoid admitting defeat. – Irina twisted a napkin in her fingers. – But I couldn’t anymore. I just couldn’t.
The snow outside was falling harder. There was still time before New Year’s. And somewhere in a garage on the other side of Moscow stood a plastic tree with built-in lights – the only thing five-year-old Sveta had asked for.
Irina watched the snow and thought about how a mother’s love means doing the impossible. Even talking to someone you wish would disappear from your life forever.
Sveta sat on the living room rug, surrounded by crayons and paper. She was drawing a tree. A green triangle, a star on top, and yellow and orange dots all around. The lights.
– Mum, when will our tree come? You always tried to keep me under your thumb So, changed your mind about the separation? Crawling back, are you?
Are you going to spill the beans or not, Oliver? Margaret blocked her sons path as he tried to sneak
My son has just marked his thirty-first birthday, and only recently he announced that the tenants living
Christopher broke the news to his wife that he wanted a divorce. Emily received this revelation with
My husband was never listed at my address; after our exchange, he set off for work and hasnt come back.
Against a tide of caution from friends and relatives, my wife and I resolved to bring a young girla two-year-old
How many more little ones are you planning to add to your collection? piped up my husbands mother, Margaret
Evelyn perched on the rim of her mattress, eyes fixed on the open backpack slumped across the rug.
