— You always forgave me for everything! So what have you done now? — Ignat shouted at her with a stranger’s face.
— Forgave? No. I trusted you… — Nastya whispered with one lip, watching in confusion as the slender stranger slowly pulled a short dress—more like a T-shirt—over her flexible body.
Nastya stopped breathing; she simply couldn’t. Something pressed in her chest. A hot wave approached her throat, threatening to burst out in a scream. She had no strength to speak, couldn’t gather herself enough to leave here forever.
Her husband, whom she had loved devotedly and unconditionally, had been with a young stranger in their bed just five minutes ago. In the apartment she had loved so dearly and considered her fortress for many years.
Her mind refused to believe what was so obvious.
One must be proud. There is no need for explanations or disputes. Why, when the heart no longer dances happily, but merely ticks out the necessary rhythm for life?
Today, Nastya had returned from her mother’s place earlier than expected. For an entire day. And, as it turned out, for a whole lifetime. The one that began today. Right now.
Anastasia simply missed her husband terribly. A woman had always missed Ignat when he wasn’t around. They had lived together for twenty years, and Nastya considered herself a happy wife. She rushed home to cling to her beloved, to feel the joy of meeting the one who was the meaning of her life down to the trembling in her body.
A lump in her throat wouldn’t go away, wouldn’t dissolve, growing larger and threatening to steal the remaining air, barely reaching her lungs. Nastya watched with a vacant gaze as the striking stranger approached the door and, before leaving, shouted to Ignat:
— Bye, darling! Once you sort out the problems, call me.
— Why are you silent? Let’s talk, — Ignat suggested as if he wanted to discuss the upcoming weekend with his wife.
— Why? — Nastya quietly managed to choke out.
She just needed to wait until the pain subsided enough for her to breathe. She would gather her things and disappear from here forever.
— How—why? To find out everything, — Ignat was surprisingly calm for the moment. — I always considered you reasonable. And also a smart woman.
— Wrong. I’m not smart. I simply loved.
— Well, loved! And you still love! That’s what matters! And nothing terrible has happened! — her husband, now roused with emotion, retorted.
— No? Really? — Nastya was surprised that he could still speak.
— You always forgave me! — Ignat stated confidently.
Ivan Nikodimovich grew concerned — it was getting late, and their guest, Nastya’s niece (the spouse’s niece), had not yet returned from the woods.
— Mother, should I go and look for her? — the elderly man asked his wife.
— Oh, what are you worrying about! A woman of forty won’t get lost. Nastya grew up here; she knows every nook and cranny. She’ll be back soon.
— Oh, I don’t know, something feels off, Vera. She’s agitated. Did you see how subdued and silent she was when she arrived? What kind of day is it when she can’t exchange even ten words with us.
— Well, let nature heal her. Nothing, she’ll return closer to dusk.
The sun was nearing the horizon. In the pine grove, it was quiet and cozy. The air was thick with the scent of warm resin and wild herbs. In the dense thicket, chirping birds called to one another. Noisy bumblebees, hurrying to finish their tasks before nightfall, flitted by on their errands. Life still bubbled and surged in the evening forest. And Nastya gradually revived along with that lively energy.
She had come here immediately after leaving Ignat. On the very same day. To the village of her childhood, where she had always spent her holidays. Once, her grandmother and grandfather were still alive. Now, her aunt Vera and her husband Ivan lived there. It was on their doorstep that Anastasia had appeared several days ago—quiet and seemingly frozen from within.
— May I stay with you for a while? Just don’t ask me about anything for now, — Nastya murmured.
— Of course, stay as long as you want, dear! We’re always happy to have you, — her aunt replied, embracing her niece.
She immediately sensed that something had happened to Nastya. But she didn’t pry into her soul. And she ordered her husband not to badger the niece with questions. Although he had already tried several times to find out what had happened.
— Perhaps we should help her, dear, rather than just sit here doing nothing, — he whispered to his wife.
— Our help now is to not interfere with her. Did you see her eyes? Exactly! She’ll thaw out and move past her troubles. Then, maybe, she’ll tell us what mischief your Ignat has gotten up to.
Nastya would rise early, with the roosters’ cries, before the morning fog dissolved in the golden haze of the sun. She ate the breakfast set before her by Aunt Vera — milk with fresh bread, cottage cheese, boiled eggs. Everything was delicious, and Nastya—amazingly—ate with an appetite.
Then she would take a bottle of water, some mosquito repellent, and, after donning light sports pants, a headscarf, and a windbreaker, she would head into the forest. To the place where, in her childhood, they all used to wander along the trails in search of mushrooms and berries. And also the magical treasure that the local boy, Grisha, enthusiastically and naively told them about with a child’s belief in miracles.
Of course, they never found the treasure back then. But they spent their time joyfully and in a healthful way. Back home before school, Nastya would arrive suntanned, weather-beaten, and free of mosquito bites.
All summer, her grandmother fed her pancakes with sour cream, baked her delicious pies with berries, pastry with sweet yellow cottage cheese, and pretzels dusted with sugar.
Usually slim, Nastya returned to the city from her grandmother’s, her cheeks flushed and rosy, much to her parents’ delight.
Now, strolling along the familiar and partly overgrown paths, the woman somehow felt once again like that little girl who used to run along them. Naïve and pure. Believing in love and goodness.
After walking until her legs trembled among the tall, slender pines, she would sit not far from a forest pond, where she had seen storks several times. With pleasure, she listened to the melodious frog chorus echoing far above the water’s surface, gazed at the deep blue, bottomless sky, and tried not to think about what had happened in her life. Not to recall. Yet Ignat’s words, spoken before their parting, kept resurfacing in her memory.
— After all, you always forgave me! Won’t you say so? I truly thought you understood—a man may have a few little flings on the side. And you, too, probably thought so and allowed yourself something. And most likely, you did!
Ignoring his wife’s stunned look, Ignat continued.
— A year ago, by the sea, when you suddenly felt ill and couldn’t go on a mountain excursion. Remember? And I went instead. And I returned to the room only at midnight. Why did you so readily believe my story about the bus breaking down and us having to fumble around in the mountains until dark? Didn’t you feel that from a mile away I reeked of women’s perfume and cognac? Won’t you say—no? Just don’t! You’re not that stupid. You noticed everything and drew your own conclusions. You simply turned a blind eye once again. You forgave my little mischief. Because you understood that our relationship was far more important than any fleeting affair.
Nastya sat on the edge of the sofa, as if stunned by something heavy. Her consciousness was muddled, and she longed to get out of here as soon as possible. To leave, to run away so she wouldn’t have to hear any more of what Ignat was so fervently describing.
— Are you serious right now?
— Quite! I’m not joking. The situation, frankly, is unpleasant. And you keep daydreaming, naïve. Look at our neighbor Mira, for instance, whom you’ve seen with me more than once. Yes, our dear Mira, who so persistently intruded on your friendship, — Ignat said, catching his wife’s astonished gaze, — She has run to me more than once when you weren’t at home. And you know, she needed far more than just salt! Didn’t know? Didn’t suspect? Well, too bad! Wake up already! That’s how the whole world lives. And all indulge in a few little adventures. And the fact that you returned from your mother-in-law’s earlier than promised is entirely your fault! You’re to blame, as they say. And if you had come on time, this awkward situation wouldn’t be happening now. You must understand, you’re not a child! — her husband cynically reasoned.
Nastya finally found the strength to stand and gather her things. She took only the essentials, because she was physically suffocating beside the traitor.
The sun had nearly disappeared behind the horizon. It was time to go back. It got dark quickly in the forest.
“I need to call my daughter. She must be worried now. My cell phone has been off for days,” Nastya thought as she looked one last time at the serene, glassy surface of the pond.
Ira had gotten married half a year ago. It was too early, Nastya thought—only nineteen. But her daughter had experienced a great love. And now, together with her military husband, they lived at the other end of the country, and she could only speak with her daughter on the phone.
Nastya regretted not taking her cell phone with her. Although there probably wasn’t any signal here, for some reason, at that moment, she craved to hear a familiar voice.
Every day, the woman felt a little better. A realization came over her about how she would now live. And all the betrayals and deceptions of her husband now appeared to her through the prism of experienced grief.
Yes, she was to some extent to blame herself. Somehow she believed that because she was decent and honest, those around her would be the same—incapable of betrayal and deceit.
Returning to her aunt’s house, Anastasia smiled for the first time in days and said she was very hungry.
— That’s great! And I happen to have a stew of potatoes and meat simmering in the cast iron pot. Let’s sit down for dinner now.
Nastya turned on her cell phone and was surprised—dozens of missed calls and messages. She didn’t even bother opening Ignat’s. After reading the first message from her daughter, she immediately dialed her number.
— Mom, where are you? We’re all going crazy; we don’t know what to think! Dad is hysterical, saying you quarreled, and you disappeared, your phone off. Where are you?
— I’m at Aunt Vera’s in the village. Everything’s fine, don’t worry. How are you?
— Fine. Dymulka is kicking and asking to go outside already. But I convinced him to stay a bit longer, — her daughter explained her interesting situation.
— That’s good. And my son-in-law Vasily, is he healthy?
— Yes, everything’s good with us. What happened over there, mom? Why did you leave home? You’ve been together for so many years. Maybe you should forgive your father for whatever misdeed he committed?
— No, Ira. That’s unforgivable. Don’t worry. Your father will not vanish without me. And I… I will learn to live differently.
Sitting at the hospitable table of her aunt, Nastya finally poured out her soul, telling about her husband’s betrayal.
— And rightly so! There’s no reason to live with someone like that. You’re young, Nastya; you can shape your own destiny. Or not. You’ll be nannying your niece’s kids. You’ll visit them, then they’ll come to you. And you can always drop by our place sometime—there’s plenty of room here.
— We’ll see, Aunt Vera. Who knows what fate has in store. Life is wiser than us. It will sort itself out.
Returning to the city, Anastasia filed for divorce and split the marital property. She no longer spoke to Ignat, no matter how much he begged her. She believed there was nothing left to say with him. Their story was over.
The only conclusion Nastya reached from the entire episode was that her husband had never loved her. And it wasn’t her fault that he ran around with other women left and right. No, the woman did not know and did not encourage it, as her ex-husband had recently made clear to her.
That shameless nature of Ignat allowed him to behave as he did and to believe he was right.
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