When the doorbell rang, I was nearly done with dinner. Twilight was thickening outside, the kitchen smelled of fried chicken, and I was mentally checking off my to-do list when the past suddenly burst into my home. That evening, I had absolutely not expected everything to change—certainly not because of a simple knock on the door. Leaving a hot pot on the stove, I hurried to open the door, and my heart tightened when I saw Olya—my husband’s younger sister, clutching a small suitcase.
Olya was never a frequent visitor at our house, and her appearance with a suitcase immediately alarmed me. She stood there, on the threshold, pale and lost, her big brown eyes pleading with me. We were never particularly close, but now I saw something in her gaze that was more than just a request for temporary shelter. Something had broken, something had brought her here—and I already knew it was going to be a complicated story.
«Hello,» she said, trying to smile, but it looked unnatural.
«Hello, Olya… What happened?» I asked, feeling the tension slowly creep into my voice. She didn’t answer right away, just looked around as if afraid someone was following her.
«Can I stay here for a few days?» her voice was barely audible.
Her question caught me off guard. My husband, Andrey, and I hadn’t discussed her visit, but I couldn’t refuse. And honestly, something about her appearance and the tone of her voice made me wary.
«Of course, come in,» I stepped aside, letting her into the house.
Olya walked in, and I closed the door behind her. Her steps were slow, and she looked as though every movement was a struggle. We stood in the hallway, and even though the familiar home setting surrounded us, the air suddenly felt heavy. I sensed something big and inevitable brewing at the edge of my consciousness.
«Does Andrey know?» I asked, trying not to reveal my anxiety.
She remained silent again, looking down, and, without waiting for an answer, I turned away from her and headed to the kitchen. I needed to finish dinner. Maybe it was a fleeting visit. Maybe tomorrow morning Olya would disappear again, and I would return to my normal life. But part of me already knew: this was not that case.
When Andrey came home that evening, Olya was curled up on the couch, buried in her phone. He looked at me in surprise, but I just shrugged—there was nothing I could add. We didn’t discuss her appearance at dinner. I waited for Andrey to ask, but he just quietly nodded to his sister, as if her arrival was something self-evident. I hoped they would talk privately and everything would become clear. But nothing happened.
A week passed. Olya stayed with us, and the more I observed her, the more I felt that something was wrong. She hardly left the room, spending whole days lying on the couch or in bed, barely touched her food, and remained silent to our questions. I tried several times to talk to her, to find out what happened, but each time she closed off and avoided answering.
One evening, when Andrey was at work, I couldn’t take it anymore. I decided it was time to get to the bottom of it. I entered the room where Olya was sitting and sat down opposite her.
«Olya, I can’t stay silent anymore,» I started firmly, «you’ve been living here for a week, and I still don’t understand what’s going on with you. If you’re in trouble, tell me. I’ll help as much as I can, but this silence is driving me crazy.»
She sighed, put her phone down on the couch, and for the first time looked me straight in the eyes.
«Ira… I don’t know how to say this…» she began, and I felt my heart freeze. «I… I can’t go home.»
«Why?» my words came out sharply, though I didn’t want to frighten her.
«Because Andrey has been lying to you all this time,» Olya finally broke down crying. «To me, too.»
My palms instantly sweated. I felt my blood drain from my face.
«What do you mean?»
Olya grabbed my hand, her eyes widening in despair.
«He always said he loved you, that you had the perfect family. But it’s not true. You just don’t know…» her voice broke, and I realized that something terrible was unfolding before me.
«Olya, you have to explain,» my words sounded like a command. «What do you mean?»
She took a deep breath and finally forced out:
«Andrey has another woman. They’ve been together for two years. And I found out by accident when I saw them in a cafe.»
The words that I heard crashed down on me like an avalanche. I couldn’t believe my ears. Impossible. Andrey? My Andrey, with whom we had lived together for so many years? We, who had been through so much together? No, this was some mistake. Olya’s mistake. But her look told otherwise. She couldn’t be that wrong.
«Why didn’t you tell me earlier?» I whispered, unable to believe what I had heard.
«I didn’t know how,» Olya replied. «I didn’t want to believe it myself. I thought it was some foolishness. But then I learned more… I saw them together. I heard him tell her he wants to leave you but can’t because he’s afraid for the kids.»
These words tore me apart. I sat opposite Olya, listening to her, but I couldn’t hear anything anymore. One question was in my mind: what do I do now? How do I live on?
That night I couldn’t sleep. Andrey returned late, and I knew I had to ask him. But how? How do you ask such a question? «Are you betraying me? Do you have another woman?» I saw his face, and it seemed so ordinary, so familiar. He was my husband, my friend, the father of my children. But now I felt that it was all a lie. My life, our marriage—it all turned out to be a bubble that was about to burst.
I approached him when he entered the bedroom. My hands were trembling, and I could barely speak:
«We need to talk.»
He froze, removing his jacket, and looked at me tensely.
«Did something happen?»
«I know about her, Andrey,» my words came out firmly, though inside everything was screaming.
His face instantly changed. He paused for a moment, then looked away.
«What are you talking about?»
«You know what,» I felt control slipping away, «your sister told me everything.»
He sighed, his shoulders slumped.
«Ira, it’s not what you think…»
«Not what?» I almost laughed out of despair. «You’re leading a double life, and I had no idea? It’s not what?»
«I didn’t want it to turn out this way,» he finally responded, his voice full of pain. «I don’t know how it got this far. I didn’t want to betray you, I love you, but…»
But. That «but» sounded louder than all his excuses.
