Natalia stood frozen, eyes locked on the glowing phone screen.
The red “call ended” button still pulsed faintly, but from the speaker, faint laughter lingered—light, girlish, almost musical. So unlike her own voice—hoarse from exhaustion after twelve relentless hours in the ER.
— “Andrei, stop it!” came a teasing whisper from the woman on the other end. “We really have to get back to work…”
Natalia’s fingertips turned icy.
Fifteen years of marriage rewound in her mind like an old reel: that first nervous conversation in the university library, their low-key wedding, baby Mashenka’s first cry, nights spent swaying beside a crib.
She had believed she knew the man she married.
— “I told you I’d be late tonight,” Andrei’s voice had cooed earlier, gentle and measured. “Big project at work…”
Natalia gave a small, bitter laugh.
“Big project,” of course. Lately, that was all he ever talked about—new team, young energy, modern workflows. She had been proud of his achievements. Proud of him.
A giggle rang out again from the phone speaker, softer now, almost intimate.
Natalia exhaled sharply and tapped the red button. Silence consumed the kitchen, interrupted only by the rhythmic tick of the wall clock—the same one his parents gave them on their wedding day.
She slowly lowered herself into a kitchen chair.
The last vacation photo still clung to the fridge door: the three of them, sun-kissed and beaming, Mashenka clutching both their hands. She recalled the long debate over the destination. How Andrei had insisted on that resort.
The phone buzzed in her hand. A message.
“Sorry, I’m running late. Meeting’s dragging. Don’t wait for me.”
Natalia stared at the lovingly prepared meal on the table—his favorite dish. Cooked with aching feet and tired hands after a brutal shift. Tears blurred her vision, but she blinked them away.
Mashenka would be home soon. Her little girl couldn’t see her like this.
She stood up and walked to the window. Rain had begun to fall, trickling slowly down the glass, distorting the city lights.
With a trembling hand, she opened her contacts. Her finger hovered over a familiar name—her old friend, now a lawyer, who had offered help more than once after noticing the change in Andrei.
— “Mom, I’m home!” Mashenka’s cheerful voice echoed from the hallway.
Natalia pocketed the phone, took a deep breath, and smiled.
She would have time to figure things out later. For now, she needed to be strong—for her daughter, for herself. Life didn’t end with betrayal, no matter how sharp it felt.
— “How was practice, my love?” Natalia asked, stepping out to greet her.
— “Amazing! Coach says I’m ready for the competition! Will Dad be there?”
Natalia paused for a breath.
— “Of course, sweetheart. He wouldn’t miss it.”
— “Is he working again?” Mashenka glanced toward the empty kitchen.
— “Yes,” Natalia said quietly, turning to the stove. “Another important meeting. Are you hungry?”
— “It smells amazing!” the girl beamed, sitting down. “Can I call Dad and tell him?”
— “Let’s wait until later, sweetie,” Natalia replied softly. “He’s probably tied up right now.”
As Mashenka ate, Natalia watched her with a storm behind her calm gaze.
So much would need to be explained.
And so much would have to be hidden—for as long as she could.
Later, after her daughter went to do homework, Natalia returned to her phone and called Andrei’s mother.
— “Good evening, Vera Nikolaevna.”
— “Natalia? Is everything all right?” came the surprised voice. “You never call this late.”
Natalia’s throat tightened.
— “Has Andrei mentioned anything to you recently… about us?”
Silence.
Then a hesitant, trembling voice:
— “Natalia… did you find out?”
Her chest constricted.
— “You knew. And you didn’t say anything…”
— “I thought he’d come to his senses,” her mother-in-law whispered. “She’s just a girl. His new assistant. I thought it was just… a phase.”
Natalia ended the call.
Assistant.
Of course. The “rising talent” he bragged about over dinner.
The phone buzzed again—Andrei calling.
Natalia stared at the screen, at their smiling photo. How strange, she thought, that a face you once loved could become so unfamiliar.
The call rang out, then a message:
“I’ll be home soon. We need to talk.”
She climbed the stairs and gently reminded Mashenka it was bedtime.
— “Will Dad tuck me in?” the girl asked, eyes half-closed.
— “He’s working late. But he knows you waited for him.”
Natalia kissed her goodnight and returned to the kitchen.
She was still there, staring at the untouched meal, when she heard the key in the lock.
Andrei stepped inside quietly. He looked around like a stranger. He smelled of a cologne she didn’t recognize—not the one she gave him last anniversary.
— “Natasha…” he started, but she cut him off.
— “How old is she?”
He froze.
— “What?”
— “Your assistant. How old is she?”
He hesitated.
— “Twenty-six.”
Natalia’s lips curled into a bitter smile.
— “Fourteen years younger than you. Just like the age gap between you and our daughter.”
— “Natasha, please—”
— “No. You listen. I heard everything. You forgot to hang up the phone today.”
Andrei sat down, drained.
— “That’s not how I wanted this to happen.”
— “How did you want it to happen? A polite breakup speech? A handwritten letter?”
— “She’s pregnant,” he finally said.
Natalia went still.
Katya.
He was leaving not just for a fling—but for a new life.
A small voice interrupted them.
— “Mom? Dad?”
Mashenka stood in the doorway, eyes wide.
— “Why are you shouting?”
Natalia forced calm.
— “Sweetheart, everything’s fine. Just a grown-up conversation.”
— “It’s about that lady from work, isn’t it? Grandma was talking on the phone…”
Andrei turned pale.
— “What did you hear?”
— “That Katya took you away from us.”
Her voice cracked.
— “Is that true?”
Natalia watched as Andrei’s mouth opened—then closed again. No words.
— “Daddy loves you very much,” Natalia said, pulling her daughter close. “But sometimes… grown-ups make big mistakes.”
— “I want the truth!” Masha shouted.
— “Masha—” Andrei stepped forward.
— “Don’t come near me!” she screamed, bolting out.
A door slammed upstairs. A lock clicked.
Andrei stood helpless.
— “I’ll go talk to her.”
— “No,” Natalia blocked him. “You’ve said enough. Pack your things and go.”
— “This is still my home!”
— “It was—until you chose someone else.”
Her voice didn’t rise. It didn’t have to. Her eyes said everything.
— “I’ll send you my lawyer’s info in the morning. Don’t you dare think about custody—you saw how she reacted.”
Andrei hung his head.
Natalia’s voice was steady now.
— “You have an hour. Take what you need. Come back for the rest another time.”
As he packed in silence, she sat beside her daughter, who whispered:
— “I don’t want to see him again.”
— “You don’t have to. He’s leaving. But he does love you. It’s just… hard for him to show it the right way now.”
— “Lenka’s dad left too,” the girl murmured. “Got a new family.”
Natalia held her tighter.
Downstairs, the front door shut.
Weeks passed.
One day, as they walked home, Masha whispered:
— “Can I call Dad? I want to tell him about the new dance move I learned.”
Natalia’s heart pinched, but she smiled.
— “Of course. That’s your choice, always.”
That night, while sipping tea, Natalia scrolled through photos of the performance. Her phone pinged—Mikhail, a colleague from the hospital.
“Masha looks like a star! Want to celebrate with dinner? There’s a family place I think you’d love…”
Natalia smiled gently at the screen.
Maybe it was time to say yes.
Because life, she now knew for certain, doesn’t end with betrayal—
Sometimes, it quietly begins again.