“My husband cheated, and I filed for divorce. I didn’t tell him about my pregnancy.
I can’t believe Matvey is gone forever. It just can’t be. He’s just wound up because of the mess I made in the apartment. I definitely shouldn’t have torn up and cut all his things. Matvey will cool down and come home. We are family, after all. And now we’re going to have a child. How can we even talk about divorce? It’s nonsense.
To avoid drowning in self-pity and depression, I start cleaning the apartment. I forbid myself to think about the scandal with my husband and his divorce filing. Matvey and I will surely make up, and the unnecessary stress will only harm the baby.
I manage to detach from the bad things. I completely immerse myself in housework. I gather Matvey’s ruined things, sweep up the fragments. It turns out to be several large bags of trash. After that, I visit the online store where Matvey usually buys clothes, and I order him new clothes: suits, ties, jeans, t-shirts. The courier will deliver them in a few days.
It’s already late, past midnight, but I still go to cook dinner. I bake meat in the oven, as Matvey likes, and make his favorite grilled vegetables. Half-past one. Matvey is not here. Okay. I won’t call, let him stay in a hotel. He’ll come home tomorrow.
But the next day, Matvey doesn’t come. I push away the panic, continue to wait for my husband. To occupy myself, I pull out photo albums, review our wedding photos. We are so happy and in love there. We had a very beautiful wedding. Just as I had dreamed. Then we went on a honeymoon to the hot islands. For two weeks, we were inseparable. I thought our happiness was endless.
When Matvey still isn’t home late in the evening, pushing away the panic becomes harder. With each thought that the divorce is real, my hair stands on end. It doesn’t fit in my head, it’s impossible to believe. My brain simply refuses to accept the idea of divorce. No, it can’t be.
On Monday, I realize that I need to distract myself as much as possible, or I’ll go crazy from the agonizing wait. I prepare new food for Matvey. He’s working today, will probably come home around nine. I make borscht and several of my husband’s favorite salads. I keep glancing at the phone screen to see if there are any messages from Matvey. Usually, my husband texts me throughout the day. But it’s been silent for two days now.
Turning off the stove to not give in to panic, I go to the beauty salon for various treatments. After the salon, I treat myself to a shopping spree. Anything — just not to think about Matvey’s long absence and his divorce filing. The phone screen is still empty. No texts or missed calls from Matvey.
My heart constricts in fear. I can’t think of anything better than to call my friends and suggest a meet-up. All of them are single, so they have a lot of free time after work. Out of our university group, I was the only one who got married at twenty. The rest of the girls I was friends with focused on their careers.
A few friends respond to the invitation to have coffee. They are free, and they have no plans for the evening after work. Polina, Rita, and Masha arrive almost simultaneously. All a bit tired after a day’s work, but still full of energy and enthusiasm. They excitedly share their latest news. Polina got a promotion, Rita went on a vacation to Argentina, and Masha bought an apartment.
— So, what’s new with you, Yulia? — Rita asks. — Just don’t tell me you’re still the same old broody hen.
— I’m a broody hen.
Friends sometimes tease me for becoming a housewife and devoting myself to my husband. Like, why did you study at MGU? To serve a man?……Continue reading in the first comment below 
Friends sometimes tease me for becoming a housewife and devoting myself to my husband. Like, why did you study at MGU? To serve a man?
