Ruslan sat opposite the elderly woman, staring intently at her face, as if hoping to find a clue or justification for his actions. But in her eyes, he saw only silent, calm observation — the gaze of a person who had lived a life not without bitterness, but with dignity. And at that moment, Ruslan felt he was losing the thread of the conversation. Why had he even started all this? Why had he chosen her?
“Look,” he began again, trying to make his voice sound confident, “I need to leave. And my wife… she needs care. I asked around, checked… if there’s someone suitable.”
The grandmother snorted — short, almost inaudible, but it was enough to make Ruslan falter.
“Is this… criminal?”
“No! Of course not! — he hastened to assure her, almost waving his hands nervously. — It’s just that my wife has always worked like a horse, like a real draft horse. She was hardly ever home. And apparently, something inside her broke… The doctors say she doesn’t have long left.”
He paused for a second, gathering his thoughts, as if each word was hard for him to say. Although in truth — with relief. As if shedding a heavy burden.
“And I’m a person too. So many years next to this… hard worker. I’d like to rest. To distract myself. And if she suddenly dies while I’m gone…” He spread his hands, as if asking for understanding. “Don’t worry, I’ll explain everything, show you how to take care of her. You’ll know all you need.”
“So you’re already ready?” the woman asked, looking at him closely.
“Ready,” Ruslan nodded, and a satisfied smile flickered at the corner of his mouth. “It would be nice if the house were already prepared for your presence…”
He didn’t say it aloud, but that smile said a lot. About the freedom he had waited for so long. About plans that didn’t include a sick wife.
“And don’t think anything bad!” he hurried to add, noticing the expression on her face. “I’ll pay you more than any caregiver ever gets. I understand perfectly well — you need the money. According to my information, the doctors say she has no more than two weeks left. Well, a maximum of a month. And I’ll be back in two or three weeks.”
Sofia Andreevna watched him leave the apartment. She saw him get into his foreign car and drive off. “Probably to his mistress,” she thought. “Youth, youth…”
And although there was no judgment in her heart, the thought still flashed: “At least wait until the wife dies. Is it really so unbearable?”
But what was that to her? The money was really needed. Especially after she was released. After everything that had happened. After prison.
Her daughter didn’t even know she was free. Sofia hadn’t written or called. She was still young, with her own life, her granddaughter to raise, a career to build. Why would they need this? So everyone around would whisper: “There she is, the ex-con grandmother, out of prison…” The reputation was already ruined.
Sofia even stopped answering letters. Refused visits. And once wrote her daughter a strange, cold letter: asking her not to come, not to send anything. She blamed her for choosing such a husband and for Sofia ending up in prison.
In truth, she didn’t really think that way. But she knew: better her daughter be offended, cry, and then forget. Let her live on, not dragging the shadow of the past behind her.
Sofia Andreevna was imprisoned for poisoning her son-in-law. At the trial, they asked if she repented. And she answered simply:
“If I could — I would poison him again.”
These words stayed in the record. And the son-in-law’s relatives, hearing them, did everything they could to get her the maximum sentence.
Meanwhile, Larisa lay in her room, listening to voices behind the wall. Someone had come, and they were talking with Ruslan. Then the doorbell rang, and more voices appeared. She wanted to get up, go out, see who it was. But she had no strength. None at all. She had always been weak. Today Ruslan forgot to bring her food — no breakfast, no lunch.
She had been lying down for over three months. The doctors just shrugged. They said her body was tired, that it simply stopped wanting to work like before. No specific diagnosis, no clear treatment. Only general recommendations: vitamins, proper nutrition, positive emotions — and that sort of thing.
Ruslan was dissatisfied. Larisa remembered the day he was going on a ski trip with his friends, and she suddenly fell ill.
“Rus, don’t worry,” she tried to calm him. “Sometimes you get a little sick. You’ll go next time.”
“But I don’t want next time! I want now!”
“But then money might be needed for treatment… I can’t spend it now.”
“You mean I should work just to spend everything on you?”
“But you know — I’ve always worked, always saved…”
“You? In seven years, you worked only one year, and in different places.”
“Because I can’t work where I’m not valued!”
“Well, looks like nowhere valued you…”
He left, slamming the door. And Larisa regretted those words a thousand times. Why had she hurt him?
He only returned the next day. Larisa didn’t ask questions — back then she could still move around the house. But now it was different.
The door to the room creaked. A woman stood in the doorway. Gray hair, calm eyes, neat clothing.
“Hello, Larisa.”
“Hello… Who are you?”
Larisa’s voice was weak, almost a whisper. She tried to be strict but couldn’t.
“I’m your caregiver. Your husband hired me.”
Larisa closed her eyes, then opened them again.
“And where is he?”
The woman shrugged.
“He left.”
Larisa didn’t ask more. She already knew. He was waiting. Waiting for her to die. And then he could be free. Free for a new life, a new woman, new happiness.
Sofia Andreevna sat down nearby. In her eyes was not just professional detachment — there was some deep inner strength.
“My name is Sofia Andreevna. I’ll make you some tea now, then feed you.”
Larisa smiled bitterly.
“And did he allow you to feed me? Maybe he wants me to die faster?”
“He hired me to be a caregiver. That’s all. No other conditions.”
The woman left, and Larisa lay back, staring at the ceiling. Tears welled up, but she held them back. Just don’t cry. Just don’t show weakness.
Ruslan was always strange. He wanted to work only where he was valued and respected. Larisa took this indulgently. After all, she provided for their family. She had two studios, worked around the clock, managed everywhere. When the girls were sick, she covered for them. Didn’t complain. Didn’t argue. Just did.
They bought the apartment with her money. Money was saved because Larisa thought: “I need to earn more before I get pregnant.” But pregnancy didn’t come. Then she began to notice that Ruslan disappeared more often. That he wasn’t home in the evenings. That he talked about business trips, meetings, friends.
And when she was in bed, when he stopped even pretending — she realized: it wasn’t an illusion. It was reality. She just hadn’t wanted to see the truth for too long.
“Let me help you sit up,” Sofia Andreevna said gently, coming back with a cup of tea. “Sorry, I’ll speak informally.”
Larisa shook her head.
“No need. I don’t want anything.”
Sofia sighed and sat nearby. She knew sometimes the strongest person is the one who is silent.
“You know,” Sofia said, looking at Larisa with deep pain in her eyes, “my daughter almost ended her life because of her husband. She hid everything — afraid of judgment. Covered bruises, tried to smile, and the child… the child suffered in silence. But what could she do? Her husband was a chief. Not just some clerk or manager, but a police chief.”
She paused, as if letting the words settle in the air, piercing the heart deeply.
“So I had to intervene. I couldn’t watch her suffer anymore. After all, I’m well versed in herbs. Pouring the son-in-law tea that would keep him down — for me, it was no harder than making ordinary broth.”
Larisa sat with eyes wide open, shocked by what she heard.
“You… you did it…”
“Oh, I’m no murderer, no,” Sofia gently interrupted, handing her the cup of hot tea. “Drink. It’s a healthy drink. After it, you’ll want to eat, you’ll get your strength back. Don’t be afraid.”
The woman stood up, and Larisa, still stunned, whispered:
“And no one found out?”
Sofia smiled, but it wasn’t mockery, but bitterness of lived years.
“Why do you think? Do you think it’s by chance my current employer approached me? He knew I had ten years in prison behind me. He was sure I wouldn’t help you. As if a person who survived hell can’t be kind.”
Half an hour later, the woman brought dinner — simple but aromatic, soul-warming food.
“Shall we sit at the table?” she suggested.
“No! I can’t…” Larisa started, but Sofia interrupted:
“That’s what you decided.”
And they had dinner together. After Sofia cleared the dishes, Larisa gathered strength and asked:
“And your daughter? Where is she now? Does she help you? Does she visit?”
A sad shadow appeared on the woman’s face. She was silent for a long time before answering.
“No. I don’t want her to ruin her life because of me. I want her and my granddaughter to live quietly, without extra trouble and memories about me.”
Gradually, as if on their own, words flowed easily and freely between them. Sofia told Larisa her whole life story — about pain, betrayal, love that turned into prison. Larisa listened attentively, empathizing with every line, every sigh. She couldn’t understand how such a kind, just woman could spend so many years behind bars. And the letter Sofia once wrote to her daughter — Larisa only knew in general what words, what accusations it contained…
Then for the first time she realized: this woman was not an old hag. She was only sixty-two — an age when one can still hope for warmth, meetings, memories. And Larisa suddenly wanted to do something to help this woman. At least a little to restore justice. But how, if she herself lay like a broken doll, unable even to get out of bed?
She remembered the doctor’s words:
“If you’re nauseous — eat. If it hurts to move — move. If you’re scared — laugh.”
But how to laugh when you’ve been betrayed? When the world has collapsed, and nearby — only cold and loneliness?
Two weeks passed. And at some point, Larisa suddenly felt something strange and new — desire. A simple, human desire to go outside, breathe fresh air, feel the sun on her skin.
“Sofia Andreevna,” she said quietly, “maybe we could go down to the yard?”
The woman smiled.
“If we can’t walk — we’ll crawl.”
Meanwhile, Ruslan was nervous. Marina wasn’t answering calls. Today he again failed to persuade her to go to the beach. She kept saying the same thing: “I’m tired of it. I don’t want to.”
How could she be tired? After all, she wanted to go to the sea for a whole month. He wouldn’t mind spending time at home… well, not home exactly, but somewhere else where nobody knew them.
Could she be sleeping and not hearing the phone? A worrying suspicion crept into his mind — lately she flirted too often with other men resting on the coast.
Determined, he headed to the hotel by taxi.
Marina really was in the room. And not alone. Seeing him, she easily slid off the lap of the local handsome guy and looked straight into his eyes.
“You’re supposed to be at the beach?”
“And as you see, I decided to come back. What does that mean?”
Marina shrugged and blew a kiss to her new acquaintance, who circled Ruslan and calmly left the room.
“What are you waiting for now — for me to leave?”
“Something like that. Listen, I think you don’t even understand who I am to you. And I’m not going to become anyone. You’re an empty person. After a month with you, there’s nothing to talk about anymore. And since you live off your wife and can’t do anything yourself… tying my life to you is madness.”
Marina started packing a suitcase.
“Where are you going?!”
“Home. And don’t worry — by the time you come back, Larisa might already be dead. But I don’t want to be next. Not for any money.”
She didn’t even look back.
Ruslan was left alone. He sat on the edge of the bed, holding his head in his hands. How did it happen? How could everything fall apart like this?
He was completely fed up with the resort. He decided to return home early. Especially since money was running out.
At home, he was met with a surprise. Larisa’s car was not in the parking lot. “Strange,” he thought. He clearly told the old woman — her task was to ensure the patient’s quick demise. Maybe someone had already found out the mistress was gone and stole the car? Or Sofia forgot to lock the door?
He looked up — Larisa’s room window was open. So the old woman was inside. Probably airing the room. Although, maybe repairs were needed — the whole apartment smelled of medicine.
Climbing the stairs, he was already dialing the police to report a possible car theft. But at the very moment the key turned in the lock, the door opened.
Larisa stood in the doorway. Dressed. Clean. In a beautiful dress. The smell of homemade food wafted from the apartment.
“You…” was all Ruslan could say.
“Yes, it’s me,” she answered calmly. “Come in. Just don’t start. All your things are in your room. Pack up. I filed for divorce.”
Ruslan stood as if struck by lightning.
“But why?! I love you!”
Larisa laughed — not bitterly, not angrily, but almost cheerfully.
“Go away. Quickly, before I change my mind.”
She began to close the door, but suddenly stopped. Behind Ruslan appeared two people — a woman about thirty and a young girl, looking around bewildered.
“Svetlana!” Larisa exclaimed happily. “Hello! You came?”
“Of course! We were so worried… Are you sure mom didn’t hurt you?”
“No, of course not! I explained everything. Well, are you ready? She doesn’t know you’re here.”
The three passed by Ruslan, who remained standing like a statue.
“You still here?” Larisa turned back. “Go with God.”
And the door closed behind them.
