Anna loved order. In this predictability, she found comfort, a quiet haven where she could shelter from the storms of the outside world. Her apartment, with bookshelves lined with literary classics and the scent of freshly baked bread, was a reflection of her love for harmony and structure. She taught literature at the university, immersing herself in the worlds of Tolstoy and Dostoevsky.
Igor, her husband, was her complete opposite—an engineer, a man of precise sciences. He lived in a world of blueprints and calculations. But this difference didn’t divide them; rather, it complemented them. Anna valued his reliability and his quiet but sincere care. Igor, in turn, admired her erudition and her ability to find joy in simple things.
Every Sunday, Igor would drive to his parents’ village. It was an unspoken ritual. He helped with household tasks, fixed fences, and tended the garden. Anna always packed him a bag of food—jars of homemade pickles, soup, and pies. She knew Igor’s parents loved her cooking, and it brought her joy to do something kind for them. Igor would return in the evening, a bit tired but content, and tell her about his parents and the village gossip. These Sunday trips were a small ritual that strengthened the bond between generations.
But lately, Anna had observed her husband. He seemed preoccupied. It wasn’t that he was less attentive; he still brought her coffee in the morning and read her poetry before bed. But there was a shadow in his eyes, something unspoken. He often stared out the window as if waiting for something, or someone. She attributed it to exhaustion from an important project at work.
One Saturday morning, Anna woke up with an unusual feeling: a desire to surprise him. She decided to drive to his parents’ house alone, without warning. She wanted to see them, breathe the fresh country air, and escape the city’s hustle while Igor was busy. She packed a bag with pickles, apple pies, and homemade sausage. She imagined their surprised and happy faces. She smiled. She loved making surprises.
The drive to the village took about two hours. Anna turned on the radio and sang along, feeling happy and free. The trees were dressed in gold, and the sun filtered through the leaves, casting intricate patterns on the asphalt. She felt this day would be special, filled with warmth and love. She could never have imagined the storm of emotions awaiting her.
As she approached the village, her heart beat faster. She turned onto a dirt road leading to Igor’s parents’ house. She recognized it immediately: a small wooden cottage with carved window frames and a garden bursting with flowers. Anna parked the car by the gate and stepped out, anticipating the reunion.
But what she saw made her freeze.
On the porch stood Igor with an unfamiliar woman. In her arms was a child, a little boy no older than five. Igor was saying something to her, and she smiled in response. This wasn’t just a friendly encounter. It was something far deeper. There was an intimacy, a warmth, and a tenderness in their interaction—something Anna hadn’t seen in Igor’s eyes when he looked at her lately.
She felt the ground slip from under her feet. Her head buzzed, her vision darkened. At that moment, the boy broke free from the woman’s arms and ran to Igor, wrapping his arms around his legs. Igor crouched down and hugged the boy back, gently ruffling his hair. In that moment, Anna saw a love and tenderness in Igor’s eyes that she had never seen directed at her.
Shocked, Anna stumbled back. She realized this wasn’t a random meeting or a fleeting affair. This was Igor’s other life, hidden from her. A carefully guarded secret. A woman. A child. This was his other family.
Unable to watch any longer, Anna rushed back to the car. She slammed the door shut and started the engine. Her hands trembled, and tears blurred her vision. She turned the car around and drove back onto the road, not knowing where she was going or what to do. One thought pulsed in her mind: How could he? She felt betrayed, deceived, and utterly broken. Everything she believed in, her entire happy life, crumbled in an instant.
She pulled over to the side of the road and buried her face in her hands. She sobbed uncontrollably. When her tears dried and her anger began to subside, a single thought emerged: What now? She knew she couldn’t just let it go. She needed to uncover the truth.
But in the end, Anna chose a different approach. A few days later, she returned to the village, not as a betrayed wife, but as a casual acquaintance. She mustered the strength to concoct a story: she was an anthropologist studying local architecture. It was silly, but it was something. This time, she didn’t hide. She walked toward the house, her heart pounding.
At the gate stood the woman, Elena.
“Hello,” Anna said quietly, trying to keep her voice steady. “I heard you have a very interesting house.”
Elena looked at her closely. There was no hostility in her gaze, only a quiet weariness. “Come in,” she said, opening the gate. “I’m Elena.”
Anna gave a fake name, Arena. They entered the house. It was clean and simple, smelling of freshly baked bread. In the corner, a boy was playing. “Sasha,” Elena introduced him.
They sat at the kitchen table. Elena offered tea. In the silence, Anna studied her. An ordinary woman, tired, but with kind eyes. Not a femme fatale, not a homewrecker. Just a mother.
“Igor, he comes often?” Anna asked, trying to keep her tone casual.
“What? How do you know?”
Anna felt a lump in her throat. “I saw you with him a few days ago. I’m his wife.”
Elena was silent, looking at Anna with a strange understanding. “I see,” she said finally. “Igor didn’t tell you.”
“No. I had no idea.” Silence fell. “Why?” Anna asked, breaking the silence. “Why didn’t he tell me?”
“You’d have to ask him,” Elena replied. “But I think he was afraid. Afraid of losing you.”
“And you? Do you love him?”
Elena gave a sad smile. “I loved him once, deeply. But that was a long time ago. Now, we just share responsibility for Sasha. Nothing more. Igor comes as a father, as a friend, but not as a man. There’s nothing between us anymore.” Anna wasn’t sure whether to believe her, but Elena’s voice carried such sincerity. “He loves Sasha more than life itself,” Elena added. “He’s a wonderful father.”
Anna looked at the boy. He was playing with a toy car. Suddenly, he looked up and met Anna’s gaze, returning her smile with a shy one of his own.
“And Igor? Is he happy?” Anna asked, looking away.
Elena sighed. “I don’t know. It’s hard for him. He’s torn between two lives. He wants to be honest, but can’t. He’s afraid of hurting you, afraid of losing Sasha.”
“And what about me? Doesn’t he think about how much this hurts me?”
“He does. But he hoped you’d never find out, that he could keep this secret.”
“Naive,” Anna whispered.
“Maybe. But he didn’t do it out of malice. He was just trying to do right by everyone.”
Anna wondered, Is it right to lie for years, to hide the truth? Is that right, or is it just cowardice?
“Why are you telling me all this?” she asked.
“Because I see you’re in pain, and because I want you to know the truth. Igor is a good man. He doesn’t deserve to be hated. He’s just lost.”
Anna left the house. Outside, the fresh air awaited, but her heart remained dark and troubled.
At home, Igor was waiting. He sat on the couch, head bowed. When he saw Anna, he stood up. “Where were you?”
Anna looked at him. His eyes held fear and hope. “I was with Elena,” she replied.
Igor paled but didn’t deny anything. He spoke for a long time, haltingly, about Elena, about their brief romance just before meeting Anna, about Sasha’s birth, about how he couldn’t abandon his child, about his sense of responsibility, about how he was afraid to tell Anna, afraid of losing her.
“I knew I was being despicable,” he said, head bowed. “I lied to you. But I didn’t see another way. I never stopped loving you, Anna.”
She was silent. She saw remorse, pain, but also a stubborn resolve. He had made his choice.
The night passed in silence, a chasm between them. Anna couldn’t sleep. The next day, she told Igor she needed to leave, to be alone to think. Igor didn’t try to stop her. He understood. Anna went to an old dacha she owned, walking in the forest, reading, reflecting. She knew Igor as an honest, decent man. How could he have done this? But then she remembered Elena’s words about how Igor did it all for Sasha. And Anna began to understand. She realized Igor hadn’t cheated on her in the traditional sense. He wasn’t seeking thrills. He was simply fulfilling his duty as a father. But that didn’t make his actions any less painful.
Anna knew she had to decide. She could leave Igor, or she could try to forgive him. If she truly loved him, she would have to overcome her pride, her pain, her hurt.
One morning, Anna woke with a firm decision. She packed her things and drove back to the city. Igor was waiting for her. When Anna walked in, he looked up. His eyes held so much pain and hope that Anna’s heart ached.
“I know everything,” Anna said. “I understand.”
Igor was silent, waiting.
“I’ve decided,” Anna said. “I’m staying.”
He stood and hugged her tightly. “Thank you,” he whispered.
Anna pulled back. “But that doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten. It doesn’t mean I’ve forgiven. We’ll need to work hard to rebuild trust. We’ll need to learn to live differently.”
Igor nodded. He knew she was right. “I’m ready for anything,” he said. “As long as you’re by my side.”
Anna smiled. “Then let’s go,” she said. “To the village.”
“To Elena and Sasha?” he asked, surprised.
“Yes. I want to meet them.”
The next morning, Anna and Igor drove to the village. Anna had a bag of homemade pastries, prepared specially for Elena and Sasha. She wanted to show them she held no grudge, that she was ready to accept them into her life. As they approached the house, Anna felt nervous.
Elena came out of the house and smiled at Anna. “I knew you’d come,” she said.
Sasha ran out and hid behind Elena, peering at Anna curiously. “This is Anna,” Elena said to Sasha. “She’s Igor’s wife.”
Sasha peeked out from behind Elena and looked at Anna. Then he smiled. “Hi,” he said.
Anna smiled back. “Hi, Sasha. I brought you a treat.” She handed Elena the bag of pastries.
“Come inside,” Elena said. “I’ll put the kettle on.”
Anna and Igor entered the house. Sasha followed. They sat at the table, drinking tea, talking about everything and nothing. Anna felt strange. On one hand, she was uneasy and uncomfortable. On the other, she felt a sense of relief. She felt she was making the right choice.