— Are you out of your mind? In this heat? The very thought of you in a swimsuit makes me feel sick. I’m not going anywhere with you. If you want, go by yourself.
Maxim and Angelina had been together for almost six years. They got married back in university—out of love, naivety, and youth. Back then they seemed like the perfect couple: both attractive, full of life, and very much in love. Maxim practically carried Angelina in his arms and, without shame or embarrassment, posted photos with his beloved all over social media.
And then adult life began.
First—work, loans, everyday chores. And three years later, Angelina told him she was pregnant. At that moment, everything changed.
Maxim had imagined something different. He thought pregnancy would be beautiful—like the pictures online of a glamorous life: photoshoots with a baby bump, two people with glowing eyes, the calmest and happiest time.
But reality turned out to be different. Angelina’s pregnancy was hard. Severe morning sickness, weakness, swelling, back pain, and a constant “I just want to lie down and not get up.” Several times she was hospitalized because of low ferritin—a condition that left her without the strength for even basic things.
At first Maxim put up with it. But his patience quickly evaporated when he realized that his “queen” now hardly left the house, didn’t laugh, didn’t dance in the kitchen while cooking, and no longer asked him to photograph her against the sunset.
— Listen. I understand you’re pregnant, that it’s hard for you. But you can’t let yourself go like this. Look at what you’ve turned into!
— What do you mean? — Angelina looked at her husband in surprise.
— Can’t you see how much you’ve gained? A belly should be small and neat, and what’s yours? You’ve just swelled up with fat. It’s embarrassing to be seen with you!
— That’s not fat. It’s swelling. I’m shocked myself. I don’t feel comfortable in my own body either, but could you please not say that to me. It really hurts. I still can’t do anything about it until I give birth to our son.
— They say pregnant women’s brains stop functioning. It’s become impossible to talk to you.
Angelina didn’t answer. She just went and changed and left the apartment to take a walk. She had already gotten used to Maxim not going out anywhere with her. She even bought things for their future son on her own and was terribly jealous of couples who shopped together in children’s stores.
On one of those days, it felt as if the whole world conspired against Angelina. Everywhere she went, there were expectant couples in love. It was unbearable. And Angelina, who tried to stick to healthy eating, gave up on everything and went to a café famous for its desserts.
She ordered two mousse cakes and a fragrant mint lemonade. Sitting by the window, watching passersby, she didn’t even notice a young man sit down beside her.
— Well, hello! — came a velvety male voice.
— Anton? — Angelina looked into the stranger’s eyes in surprise.
— Have I changed that much? — he laughed.
— No, not at all… But I have… How did you recognize me?
— Was I supposed not to? You’re as beautiful as ever, — Anton said, warmth in his voice.
Just then they brought the desserts, and Anton looked at her in surprise.
— Did something happen for you to order my favorite pastry?
— No… it’s just a coincidence.
A few years earlier, before Maxim appeared in Angelina’s life, she and Anton had talked a lot. He had been endlessly and unrequitedly in love with her. They chatted, took walks, joked around. And then Maxim appeared, and Angelina vanished from all radars, dissolving completely into her beloved.
Anton didn’t ask unnecessary questions. He simply listened attentively, cracked a joke now and then, and gently steered the conversation toward lighter, unrelated topics. Next to him, Angelina felt calm. As if someone were beside her who understood everything and demanded nothing in return. She didn’t go into detail, but said briefly:
— I’m expecting a baby now. There are difficulties, but I’m managing.
Anton nodded. He didn’t ask where the baby’s father was or why she looked so tired.
— Listen, maybe I can help you? I’ve got a car and I’m free till evening. You said you’d picked out a crib—I can drive it to your place.
— Really? — Angelina’s eyes suddenly stung with tears. — I… I don’t know how to thank you.
— No need. You’d help me too if I asked.
When they got to the store, Anton quickly handled the paperwork, put the box in the trunk, and they headed to the address. He knew that neighborhood well. How many times they’d strolled there after classes when he walked Angelina home. He had deliberately avoided those places so the memories wouldn’t stir his soul.
But today was special. Angelina asked him to help carry the box up to the apartment door, and Anton agreed without a word.
At that moment Maxim was watching his wife from the window. A dark-blue foreign sedan pulled up to their building, and out stepped Angelina. Behind her—a dark-haired guy pulling a box from the trunk with a picture of a baby crib on it.
It didn’t even occur to Maxim that this might be an old acquaintance. He just snorted:
— A cabbie, I guess. Let him carry it in since he’s already started.
He watched for another couple of seconds, shrugged, and went to the kitchen—to drink tea and keep watching his movie. It didn’t occur to him to go down, to help, or even to ask what was going on. Meanwhile, Angelina rode up in the elevator with Anton and the bulky box.
On the landing by the door, Angelina turned to Anton:
— Thank you, really. You can’t imagine how important this is to me.
Anton smiled gently:
— May I ask for your number? If you need anything—help, a ride somewhere, or just someone to talk to…
Angelina blushed a little, but answered with a slight smile:
— I haven’t changed my number. You know it perfectly well.
Anton nodded:
— Right. I just wanted to hear it from you.
He didn’t drag it out. He said goodbye, wished her strength and health, and left, leaving behind a very warm feeling. Angelina stood at the door for a moment longer, her hand on her belly. Student days floated up in her mind—carefree, cheerful, when everything was just beginning. When she felt light and happy, when no one judged her by the numbers on a scale.
She shook her head—it was time to return to reality—and rang the doorbell. Maxim didn’t open right away. His face was displeased.
— You could’ve used your key instead of ringing over some trifle.
— Because I’m carrying a heavy box, — she replied calmly.
— So what do you want? I didn’t ask you to lug it around.
He did come out reluctantly, took the box, carried it into the apartment, set it by the entryway, and went back to the room without another word.
From then on Maxim almost stopped talking to his wife at all. He seemed to disconnect from family life. With each passing day he felt more repulsed by his wife’s body. His ideal was a teenage-looking girl with sharp collarbones, bony arms, and a flat stomach. And here—lush curves, rounded hips, softness, breasts, a belly, a flush on her cheeks… A woman in her prime. Real, alive, beautiful. Just not for him.
Angelina no longer tried to please Maxim. She simply tried not to cross his path unnecessarily, so as not to be humiliated. In the closet—shapeless dresses, loose sweaters, and elastic-waist pants. Fewer and fewer smiles at her reflection before going out.
Summer came. The air turned hot and stifling. Her belly grew, her blood pressure dropped, and her mood swung like a pendulum. Angelina longed to get out into nature—the smell of grass, fresh air, quiet… Or at least to an outdoor pool.
— Come with me? — she asked Maxim one weekend.
— Are you out of your mind? In this heat? The very thought of you in a swimsuit makes me feel sick. I’m not going anywhere with you. If you want, go by yourself.
That very evening the phone rang. On the screen—Anton.
— Hi. I was thinking—maybe we could meet? I found a café on the embankment, it’s really beautiful there. There’s even a fountain. We can sit and just talk.
— I agree, — Angelina said quietly, without even thinking it over.
She closed the door behind her and breathed in the cool evening air with relief. Putting on a light dress and smoothing her hair, she got into the taxi Anton had sent. Her heart was beating faster than usual. Not from fear, no. From anticipation.
Anton was waiting for her at the entrance to a cozy café overlooking the river. He looked just as he had in their student years—only a bit older, more confident, calmer. They took a table in the shade, next to a fountain. A light breeze cooled their skin, and jazz drifted from the speakers.
— You look wonderful, — he said, looking into her eyes. — I think pregnancy really suits you.
Angelina smiled. Words like that made her want to live, to believe in herself, to be herself again, not her husband’s shadow.
At that moment Maxim didn’t even notice she was gone. He was busy texting a new “girlfriend”—the very skinny one who ate half a grain a day and was proud that all her ribs showed. He’d already been seeing her in secret for two weeks. And why hide it? He didn’t conceal anything from Angelina—simply because he no longer cared.
With each passing day, Angelina felt more clearly that she was preparing to become a mother alone. On paper she was a wife, but in real life she was already nobody. Not a partner, not a woman, not the future mother of their child.
And one evening Angelina couldn’t take it anymore and said:
— We need to talk.
Maxim didn’t even turn from the monitor.
— I’m listening.
— I’m tired of being alone even though I’m married. I don’t want to have to explain to our son why his father doesn’t love his mother. I’m exhausted. Tell me honestly: are you even planning to be a father?
Maxim muted his headphones and finally turned around:
— You think I was going to live with a cow? Look at you! Your back’s wider than mine, your cheeks are like a hamster’s. Yeah, I’m seeing someone else. A real woman, not all this… — he waved a hand in her direction.
Angelina didn’t even flinch. She just smirked:
— Excellent. You can start packing.
— You’re joking?
— No. Tomorrow I’m filing for divorce and for child support. We’re going to have a son. And I want him to live surrounded by love and respect. Not with someone who despises his mother.
Maxim fumed, shouted, slammed doors, but in the end he packed up and left. A few weeks later the court ordered support payments—for the child and for Angelina until her maternity leave ended. Maxim tried to protest, but quickly realized it was useless. In the end, he wound up in the red thanks to his own foolishness.
And Angelina? She wasn’t alone.
Anton himself suggested that she move in with him.
And one night, when Angelina couldn’t sleep, she went to the kitchen for some water. Anton was sitting there with his laptop.
— You’re not asleep?
— No. I wanted to stay up until you fell asleep.
They were silent for a long time, and then he said quietly:
— I was afraid to be near you. Because I knew—you’re my everything. And if you rejected me, I wouldn’t be able to be even your friend. But now I look at you… and I realize I’m in love. I love you very much. Just as you are. Even pregnant with another man’s child.
Angelina didn’t answer. She simply came over, hugged him, and pressed her forehead to his cheek. She felt—here she could be herself. Here she could live. To love and be loved.
