“What wedding?” Olga stared at her friend in shock, completely unable to grasp what she was hearing. “Irka’s getting married? Is she pregnant?”
Ira was only seventeen, and Olga felt a pang of hurt that her goddaughter hadn’t told her about something so important—they had always been so close. Ira used to confide in Olga, sharing secrets she kept even from her own mother.
“It’s me,” Marina breathed out, her face turning bright red. “It’s my wedding. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I knew you wouldn’t like it.”
“Wouldn’t like it?” Olga’s voice cracked and rang out in anger. “Are you out of your mind? What wedding? You haven’t even put a headstone on Seryozha’s grave, it hasn’t even been a year!”
There’s no way I’m setting foot at that wedding!
Suddenly, everything made sense: why Marina had been cancelling their meetups lately, why she looked so dreamy, and where she got that new phone and the money for Dubai. The betrayal stung so much that tears welled up in Olga’s eyes. Marina hadn’t just betrayed their friendship, she’d betrayed love itself—no couple was more perfect than Marina and Seryozha, and deep down Olga had always felt just a hint of envy towards her friend. Honestly, everyone envied Marina because back in the day, the entire group had been in love with Seryozha. Olga included.
“Why did you marry Marina?” she would tease Seryozha sometimes, half-joking, half-serious. “I cook better than her, and I gave my husband three sons!”
Seryozha would just laugh, wink at her, and say:
“If I had several lives, I’d definitely marry you in my second one! And as for me having a daughter—it’s a guy thing, you know, it’s up to the man whether you have a boy or a girl. But I’m happy I have a girl—just look at what a wonderful little Irina turned out to be!”
And it was true—Ira was fantastic. She often visited Olga’s house, sometimes even spending the night. Olga taught the girl how to make pancakes and lasagna, while Olga’s oldest son Marat helped Ira with her math.
“You just don’t understand what it’s like to be alone,” Marina snapped, pursing her lips. “I’m the one who lost my husband, not you. I have a right to be happy. I’m only forty-six; I’m not ready to give up on myself. As a friend, you could support me instead of acting like a saint!”
“I will not set foot at that wedding!” Olga declared, heading for the hallway, making it crystal clear she was not spending another minute in that apartment.
As soon as she stepped outside, she dialed the third member of their inseparable trio.
“Tell me honestly, did you know about the wedding?”
From the silence on the other end, Olya realized: this traitor knew everything!
“So, are you going?”
“Of course I am. She’s our friend.”
“And Seryozha was our friend, too!”
“Seryozha’s gone. She deserves to be happy,” Galya replied.
“So she’s brainwashed you, too!” Olya snapped. “Fine, do what you want, but I refuse to be part of this farce!”
She hung up and thought: Poor Ira, she must be against this wedding—she adored her father and was the classic ‘daddy’s girl.’
And sure enough, when Olya called Ira, the girl burst into tears and said:
“I hate her! Can I stay with you?”
“Of course you can!”
Marat moved out and gave Ira his room, heading to live with his younger brothers instead. As for Marina, she never even called. Seems like she’s upset.
Olya found her perfect ally in Ira: together, they reminisced about Seryozha and criticized Marina.
“An adult strange man in the house with a little girl!” Olya sighed.
Her husband didn’t respond to these remarks, preferring to stay neutral. In fact, they hadn’t been talking much at all lately: he was working non-stop to provide for the kids, while Olya felt hurt that he was giving her so little attention.
That evening, Olya was just finishing up washing the dinner dishes when she heard a strange noise in the bathroom, followed by her husband’s heavy footsteps. Pavel rushed into the kitchen looking like he’d seen a ghost—pale, his hair a mess, gripping some white plastic thing in his hand.
“Olya,” he rasped out. “Is this yours?”
Olya wiped her hands on the towel and took a pregnancy test from his hand. Two lines. Bold, definite—like a verdict.
“Mine?” she raised her eyebrows in surprise. “Are you crazy? Why would I need that?”
“Well, you never know…” Pavel ran his hand through his hair and collapsed onto the stool. “I walk into the bathroom and there it is, next to the trash basket. I practically went gray on the spot, I swear! We have three boys, a mortgage, you’re all on edge because of Marina’s wedding, and now this! I’m about to turn fifty—how could we handle another one? I just can’t do it!”
Olya stared at her husband, feeling a dull irritation starting to bubble up inside. He was scared. Of course he was scared. But what, did he think she was supposed to jump for joy?
“Pasha, calm down. I’m telling you clearly: that test isn’t mine.”
Pavel let out a noisy sigh, but it was too soon to relax.
“Whose is it, then?” he asked blankly.
They exchanged glances.
“Oh my God,” Pavel mouthed silently.
“Stay put,” Olya ordered, stuffed the test into her robe pocket and headed for Ira’s room.
“Tell me, dear, is this yours by any chance?”
Ira looked at the test and the color instantly drained from her face. Her eyes filled with terror.
“Aunt Olya… I don’t know… It’s not mine…”
“Ira,” Olya moved toward her, a cold suspicion settling inside. “Don’t lie to me. I can see it.”
And then Ira burst into tears. She covered her face with her hands and shook with silent sobs. Olya rushed to her, wrapping her arms around Ira’s shoulders.
“There, there, silly girl. Tell me what happened.”
“I don’t know how it happened,” Ira sobbed. “It was just once… He said it would be fine… I thought he loved me… But as soon as he found out, he just said: he doesn’t want this baby! Aunt Olya, I don’t know what to do!”
Olya pulled the girl’s head to her chest and rocked her gently, like a little child. All she could see in her mind was Sergey’s face. “I’m sorry, Seryozha,” Olya thought, “I couldn’t protect your girl.” And right then, a sharp, righteous anger flared up in her—anger at Marina. This is what it came to! Off arranging her own life, running from date to date, she completely lost track of her daughter!
“Ira, but what do you want?” Olya asked quietly.
«I don’t know!» the girl cried out with so much pain that Olya’s heart clenched. «I don’t want a baby! Aunt Olya, help me… Please help me get rid of it! I can’t do this, I’m in eleventh grade, I don’t know how to do anything!»
«Okay, okay,» Olya whispered, gently rubbing her back. «We’ll figure something out. Just please don’t cry.»
After settling Ira in and making sure Pavel, stunned by the news, had gone to smoke on the balcony, Olya knew she wouldn’t get any sleep tonight. She threw her coat over her pajamas and, still in her slippers, marched across the yard to Marina’s apartment building. Anger burned inside her, clouding her vision.
Marina didn’t open the door right away. There was a long rattling of locks before she finally did, and Olya saw that her friend was already in her robe and clearly not alone—she could hear a man’s laughter and the TV coming from inside the apartment.
«Olya? What are you doing here at this hour?» Marina said in surprise.
«Come out, we need to talk,» Olya said through gritted teeth.
«I’m not alone,» Marina whispered. «Let’s talk tomorrow.»
«I said come out!» Olya barked so fiercely that Marina flinched and finally stepped into the hallway, closing the door behind her.
«Are you crazy?» Marina hissed. «He can hear everything! What happened?»
«What happened?» Olya stared at her, barely recognizing the woman in front of her. There was a stranger standing there now—a beautiful, well-groomed woman who didn’t care at all about what was happening outside her new, happy life. «Your daughter is pregnant, that’s what happened.»
Marina froze.
«What?» she asked, her voice hoarse. «What do you mean, pregnant?»
«You don’t know, do you?» Olya sneered. «You’re so caught up in your new love that you don’t even pay attention to who your seventeen-year-old daughter is sleeping with! Have you been watching her? Have you talked to her? No, you were too busy looking for a husband! You failed to raise your daughter properly! My boys are much better behaved! It was such a mistake, oh such a mistake that Seryozha married you!»
The last words slipped out of Olya’s mouth accidentally, but once she said them, they felt like the only truth. All her old pain, all her jealousy, all her resentment that Seryozha chose someone else found their way out in that burst of anger.
At first, Marina was taken aback, but then her eyes narrowed. She straightened up and looked at Olya with icy disdain.
«So that’s what this is about,» she said quietly. «I always wondered why you were so angry about my wedding. You’re just jealous of me!»
«What are you talking about?» Olya said, shocked.
«You loved him your whole life, Olya. You loved him and envied me. Did you think I didn’t know? I knew. And Seryozha knew. We both pitied you. And now you’re happy that Ira has problems. You’re happy that I’m a bad mother. It suits you just fine—to show everyone what a terrible mom I am and how perfect you are!»
«You’re an idiot, Marina,» Olya breathed, feeling a chill inside from those words. Not because they weren’t true—but because her friend’s words hit her exactly where it hurt most.
«No, you’re the idiot,» Marina snapped. «Go home. I’ll deal with Ira myself. And stay out of our lives—from now on, stay out of mine and hers.»
She turned around and slammed the door in Olya’s face. Olya stood on the landing for a long time, staring at the peeling paint on the door behind which Marina and Seryozha had once been so happy together.
Marina picked Irina up the very next day. She showed up without calling, her face expressionless, not even glancing at Olya. Irina came out with puffy eyes, holding a bag of her things. She gave Olya a quick, anxious look, then looked away immediately.
«Thanks for giving her shelter,» Marina said curtly, taking her daughter by the arm. «We’ll manage on our own from here.»
The door slammed shut. Olya stood in the hallway, feeling a growing emptiness inside her.
She messaged Irina every day. At first, just: «How are you, sweetheart?» Then her messages got longer: «If you need anything, I’m here for you. You’re not alone.» There were no replies. Just «Read»—and then silence. A week later, her message wouldn’t even deliver. Olya called Irina’s number—just a short ring. Irina had blocked her.
«Don’t worry so much,» Pavel tried to comfort her. «She’s with her mom—they’ll sort things out. Maybe it’s for the best.»
«For the best?» Olya looked at him bitterly. «She made her get rid of the baby, mark my words! This is not for the best.»
Marina’s wedding happened a month later. Olya didn’t go, of course. But scrolling through her feed that evening, she stumbled across a photo. Marina in a white wedding dress—elegant, with no hint of mourning. Next to her was a sturdy, smiling man with a sharp gaze. And Galya. Standing with a glass in hand, beaming, hugging the bride. The caption read: «Friends forever!»
Olya closed the app and let out a breath. Friends forever. So what does that make her? A traitor? Jealous? She called Galya’s number, but hung up before she answered. What’s the point? Galya had made her choice.
Six months passed. Olya ran into the supermarket near the metro to buy bread and milk. The line was short, and she was scrolling her feed when she caught sight of a familiar figure at the checkout.
Irina.
Olya froze. The girl was standing in profile, paying for her groceries. And Olya saw it immediately—a large, rounded belly.
«Irina!» Olya breathed out, rushing toward her, forgetting about the line and her basket.
Irina turned around. And Olya felt as if she’d been scalded with boiling water: the girl recoiled, as if she’d seen a ghost. Her eyes were huge and frightened.
«Irochka, what’s wrong? It’s me, Aunt Olya!» Olya stepped closer, but Irina backed away, bumping into a woman standing behind her. «How are you? Where do you live? The baby… Did you decide to keep it?»
The questions poured out, but Irina didn’t answer. She looked at Olya with such a mix of fear and pain that it broke Olya’s heart.
«Irina, sweetheart, please tell me what happened? You can trust me, you know you can!»
Irina stayed silent, biting her lip. Then, as if forcing herself, she muttered:
«Ask Marat.»
She turned and nearly ran out of the store, holding her stomach. Olya just stood there, frozen in place. Her ears were ringing with the same sentence over and over: «Ask Marat.»
She didn’t remember how she got home. How she walked in, took off her jacket. Pavel called something from the kitchen, but she didn’t answer. She walked into Marat’s room and sat down on his bed.
Her son came home an hour later. He was cheerful, happy.
«Mom, what’s wrong?» he asked when he saw her face. «Did something happen?»
«Sit down,» Olya said quietly. «Sit down and tell me about Irina.»
Marat turned pale. So suddenly, the freckles on his nose stood out even more. He sat down across from her and lowered his head.
«Mom, I…» his voice broke.
«Don’t lie to me,» Olya stared at her son, seeing a stranger standing before her. «I met her at the store. She’s pregnant. And she told me to ask you.»
A heavy silence filled the room, so thick you could hear the clock ticking in the living room. Marat sat in silence, clutching his knees.
«We… It just happened once,» he finally whispered. «Back when she lived with us. I didn’t know it would come to this. She told me everything was fine, that she’d taken care of things. Then her mother took her away. I thought it was all in the past.»
«In the past?» Olya stood up, feeling a fury inside her like never before. «You thought it was all in the past?! You got a seventeen-year-old girl pregnant and thought that was just over?»
«Mom, I’m not ready!» Marat jumped up, his eyes shining. «I’ve just started to live, and if I have to support a child—I’d have to work myself into the ground! I don’t want that!»
«And she wanted that, did she?» Olya stepped toward her son, raising her hand as if to slap him, but stopped mid-air. «Did you know she wanted to end it? That she cried and asked for help because she was scared? And you, it turns out, just stayed on the sidelines! Well done, son! Just like your father—you used her and forgot about her!»
«What does dad have to do with this?» Marat was taken aback.
«Everything! The men in this family only know how to run from responsibility!» Olya shouted. «Get dressed. We’re going to Marina’s.»
«Mom, no!» Marat backed away. «I can’t, I’m not ready, I…»
«Do as I say!»
Olya couldn’t remember how they got to Marina’s door. She rang the bell again and again, desperately. Finally, the door opened. Marina stood on the threshold, looking older and worn out, without her usual makeup.
«What do you want?» she asked wearily. Then she saw Marat behind Olya and sighed. «Ah, I get it now! Well, hello, matchmaker.»
«Marina, let us in, we need to talk. We can help, I promise. The baby is our grandchild, we won’t abandon you,» Olya rattled off. «I’ll talk to Ira, I’ll explain…»
«It’s too late,» Marina interrupted. «And you know what, Olya? We don’t need your help. We’ll manage on our own. Just like we always have, actually.»
«Marina, please, forgive me,» Olya stepped forward. «I said things in anger back then. I do love Ira, you know that. Let me make things right.»
Marina gave her a long, heavy look. Then she glanced at Marat, who stood with his head pulled into his shoulders, unable to lift his eyes.
«Don’t,» she said quietly. «You don’t need to fix anything. Live your own life. We’ll live ours. Somehow.»
And she closed the door.
Olya pounded on the door with her fist, rang the bell, shouted. But behind the door, there was only silence. Marat stood on the landing, crying—for the first time since Olya could remember, not since he scraped his knee as a child.
They walked home in silence. Olya thought only one thing: her grandchild would be born, but she would never see them. Her son was a coward. Her friend was lost forever. And Seryozha, she thought, was probably looking down from heaven and crying with her.
