Chapter 16
Nadiya
On the way home I can’t hold back and start crying.
I feel hurt and offended. I feel sorry for myself.
Because they never loved me, never cared about me. After my parents died, I never once felt important to anyone.
Nazar, of course, doesn’t count.
The first person who made me believe that I could really be loved was Misha.
From the first days of my work at the clinic, he showed me signs of attention.
How could I resist a smart, handsome, well-read, intelligent pediatric cardiologist?
From the first sight I was doomed to give him my heart.
People looked at me askance, but I thought it was because Misha was a tasty morsel for other women.
I found out he had a wife three months later. And I found out in the most disgusting way possible: Misha and I were at a restaurant, and she came in.
She didn’t make a scene or shout.
Most likely, accustomed to the fact that Misha is a lustful goat, she simply told him:
— Your daughter is crying and says she can’t sleep without you.
I ran away in high heels, roaring like a beluga whale and deep down comforting myself with the fact that I hadn’t given in to his persuasion and slept with him.
If I had given myself to him, if Misha had become my first, I would have hated myself.
Then I was fed a bunch of bullshit, stories about how they weren’t living together and had been on the verge of divorce for a long time. Misha promised to file for divorce. But definitely tomorrow.
Tomorrow has come, and it’s time for new noodles, longer and thicker than the previous ones.
But I didn’t trust Misha anymore. Not a single word. I reduced our meetings to just work briefings.
I tried to schedule my workdays so that they coincided with Misha’s internship at the state hospital. For lunch, I went to a cafe or even ate in the car.
They no longer looked at me askance. Now there was pity in the eyes of my colleagues.
I was angry with myself for my own gullibility. For accepting Misha too quickly, for not questioning a single word he said.
I don’t know if I loved him or was just in love.
Or maybe I had feelings for him simply because he was the first man who created the illusion of care and love for me, who was attentive to me.
And it’s good that the truth came out. It’s a pity I didn’t find out about it sooner.
That’s probably why I easily agreed to marry Idar, without even knowing him?
Contractual relationships are simpler and clearer for me. Especially when there’s no stone unturned, when the cards are on the table and there are no questions left.
In a way, I’m even grateful to Idar for not lying to me and telling me honestly that he has another woman. It’s honest, even if it hurts, but at least I can save myself and my soul.
I call Nazar and tell him I have a severe headache and won’t be able to come. My brother has everything, and he assures me I don’t have to worry about him.
When I pull into the yard and don’t find Idar’s car there, I breathe a sigh of relief. Good, then, I’ll be home alone, get myself ready, and lock myself in my room. I won’t even have dinner.
I’m in a terrible mood and I’m not ready to talk to Idar right now.
This morning I sent him all the information about my brother, he looked through it and didn’t answer anything.
But I understand perfectly well that it will take time to arrange the house, and to help Nazar too.
I get out of the car and walk into the house, belatedly realizing that the light is on.
I don’t think Idar’s here, but I remember Olesya living in this house just recently. If it’s her, I swear, I can’t vouch for myself. I’ll tell her to go to hell, and I won’t even lose my tongue.
I enter the house, ready to fight, but I freeze in the hallway.
The sound of the TV on comes from the kitchen, and I go there.
“Hello,” a girl of about ten years old waves at me.
I haven’t seen her before.
What if… this is Idar’s daughter?
I put my hand on my chest because my heart is pounding in fear.
“You’re Nadiya, right?” she asks, quite peacefully.
– Hello. Yes, and who are you?
– I’m Leila.
— I see. And… what are you doing here?
“What do you mean?” He looks at me in surprise and points to the plate in front of him. “I’m having dinner.”
– Ah-ah-ah, – and you can’t argue with that.
I go into the kitchen and look around. Maybe Idar is somewhere here and can explain everything to me.
“Do you live here?” I ask the girl.
“I live with my grandmother, but she left. So I’ll stay with Uncle Idar for now.”
The knot in my chest is untying.
— Is Idar your uncle?
She nods and puts pasta in her mouth.
“My dad’s brother. Idar went away on business, but said he’d be back soon. And he told me you’d be coming.” Leila points her chin at the refrigerator. “He asked me to tell you there’s food in the fridge. We stopped at a restaurant.”
I smile wearily at the girl.
– Thank you, but I’m not hungry.
“Okay,” he shrugs.
— Do you need any help? Maybe making some tea?
“No, I have everything,” he answers easily.
“Then I’ll go to my room and lie down. I don’t feel well. And if you need anything, come by, okay?”
I turn to leave, but Leila asks:
— Do you feel bad because you cried because of Idar?
