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«Ты мне больше не нужна»: как муж оставил жену в момент исполнения её мечты о материнстве
«Ты мне больше не нужна»: как супруг покинул жену, когда она получила шанс стать матерью
В тот вечер, возвращаясь с работы, Ольга и представить не могла, что этот день перевернёт её судьбу. Отворив дверь, она, как всегда, позвала:
— Родной, я дома!
Но в ответ — ни звука. В квартире стояла непривычная тишина.
«Странно, он же обычно уже дома», — подумала женщина и направилась в спальню.
Дверь приоткрылась, и Ольга замерла на пороге. Перед ней стоял Игорь, её муж, с чемоданом в руках, быстро складывая вещи.
— Игорек… что ты делаешь? — едва выдохнула она, не веря своим глазам.
— Ухожу, — равнодушно ответил он, даже не взглянув на неё.
— Как уходишь? Куда? Почему?!
— Виноват твой отец, — бросил он раздражённо.
— Мой отец?.. При чём тут он?
Ольга не понимала ни слов, ни происходящего. В тот миг её семейное счастье, в которое она вложила столько души, рассыпалось, как песок сквозь пальцы.
Они познакомились, когда Ольге было двадцать восемь. Игорь был старше на восемь лет — уверенный в себе, солидный, с опытом. Тогда ей казалось, что это и есть настоящий мужчина. Родные твердили: «Пора замуж, годы идут». Ольга начала смотреть на каждого поклонника как на будущего мужа, и это отпугивало всех.
Но с Игорем было иначе. Они встретились через общих знакомых в кафе, разговорились, и всё завертелось. Он был галантным, внимательным. А когда узнал, что у Ольги есть собственная квартира, новая иномарка, должность в мэрии и отец-предприниматель, стал ещё более нежным.
Через год они сыграли роскошную свадьбу. Всё оплатил её отец. Игорь не возражал. Более того — с радостью принял должность менеджера в одном из магазинов тестя.
Сначала семейная жизнь казалась сказкой: путешествия, ужины, подарки. Но одна деталь портила всё: Игорь никогда не платил. Всё — на Ольге. Сначала она не замечала, потом просила, потом умоляла.
— Почему я всё тяну одна? — жаловалась она подруге. — Хочу чувствовать себя женщиной, за которой ухаживают.
Но Игорь лишь отмахивался:
— Дорогая, не придумывай. У нас всё прекрасно.
На работе он почти не трудился, дни напролёт сидел в телефоне, а заработанные деньги клал на свой счёт. Ольга ничего не подозревала.
Потом она тяжело заболела. На месяц легла в больницу. Родители навещали её ежедневно, Игорь — изредка. Когда она вернулась домой, перед ней предстала жуткая картина: грязь, горы посуды, пол, усыпанный мусором.
— Ты вообще не убирался?! — воскликнула она.
— А зачем? Это женское дело, — лениво ответил он.
— Но я была в больнице, Игорь! И теперь мне самой всё убирать?!
— Ну, раз ты дома, вот и берись.
Ольга, едва стоя на ногах, вызвала уборщиков. Врачи сказали: восстановление займёт год. О беременности не могло быть и речи.
Когда через год врачи наконец разрешили ей беременеть, она с волнением рассказала об этом мужу.
— Представляешь? Теперь можно… Мы можем начать!
— Да ну… Не до этого сейчас, — пробурчал он, не отрываясь от игровой консоли. Новая приставка, купленная на её деньги, стала его главной страстью.
Прошли недели. Он всё так же отмахивался. А потом заявил:
— Знаешь, Ольга… Я ухожу. И ребёнка от тебя не хочу.
— Что?!
— Я тебя не люблю. Да и не любил. Было удобно: квартира, деньги, машина. Теперь мне это надоело. Ты мне больше не нужна.
— Игорь, ты… Ты не можешь так! Ты видел, как я боролась, как ждала этого!..
— Твои проблемы. Я свободен.
Он захлопнул чемодан, сунул туда приставку — и ушёл.
Ольга не ела, не спала, сидела в пустой квартире, глядя в стену. Через три дня примчались родители. Отец, увидев дочь в таком состоянии, едва сдержал ярость.
Они забрали Ольгу в загородный дом. В тот же вечер Игоря уволили. А вскоре Виктор Петрович через знакомых очистил его счета. Все его «накопления» испарились.
Игорь остался без денег, без работы, без крыши над головой. Еле наскрёб на съём комнаты. Что делать дальше — он не знал.
А Ольга через пару месяцев устроилась на новую работу. Там она встретила мужчину по имени Сергей. Он не был молод, но был честен, спокоен, и с первого взгляда проникся к ней уважением и теплотой.
А через полгода в её жизни случилось чудо: две заветные полоски. Слёзы, смех, звонок родителям — и бесконечная благодарность себе за то, что когда-то нашла в себе силы сказать «хватит».
He Hated His Wife. Hated Her… They Spent 15 Years Together, Fifteen Mornings Waking Up Side by Side—But Only in the Last Year Did Her Habits Begin to Drive Him Mad, Especially One: Stretching Out Her Arms in Bed and Sleepily Saying, “Good Morning, Sunshine! Today Will Be a Wonderful Day.” What Seemed a Simple Phrase, Her Slim Arms, Her Sleepy Face, Now Filled Him with Disgust. She’d Rise, Walk Past the Window, Gaze Out for a While, Then Slip off Her Nightdress and Head to the Bathroom. Early in Marriage, He’d Adored Her Body, Its Natural Confidence That Seemed Almost Indecent—But Now, Though She Was Still Beautiful, Her Nakedness Made Him Angry. Once, He Even Considered Pushing Her to Hurry Her Morning Routine but Only Managed a Gruff: “Get a Move On—I’ve Had Enough!” She Refused to Rush or Let His Affectionless Hostility Change Her Pace—She Knew About His Affair, Even Recognized the Young Woman He’d Been Seeing for Three Years. Time Dulles the Sharp Sting of Pride, Leaving Only a Lingering Sense of Uselessness. She Forgave Him—the Aggression, the Neglect, His Need to Relive His Youth—But She Wouldn’t Let Him Rob Her of Living Mindfully, Cherishing Each Moment. She’d Made Up Her Mind When She Learned She Was Ill. The Disease Was Slowly Consuming Her; It Would Win Soon. Her First Urge Was to Confess to Everyone—To Lessen the Brutal Truth by Sharing the Burden with Loved Ones. Yet She Endured the Hardest Day Alone, Accepting Her Fate, and Then Resolved to Remain Silent. Life Slipped Away, Yet Each Day She Gained the Wisdom of a True Observer. She Found Solace in a Quiet English Countryside Library, a Ninety-Minute Walk Each Way. Every Day, She’d Hide in the Narrow Aisles Marked “Life & Death’s Secrets” by the Elderly Librarian and Lose Herself in Books She Hoped Contained Every Answer. He’d Go to His Lover’s Flat, Where Everything Felt Warm, Bright, Familiar. Their Love Affair Had Grown Wild—Three Years of Passion, Jealousy, Heartache, and Asphyxiating Desire. Today He Came With a Decision: Divorce. Why Torment All Three of Them? He Didn’t Love His Wife—No, He Hated Her—and Here, He Could Start Fresh, Find Happiness. He Tried to Recall His Feelings for His Wife, but There Was Nothing—He Couldn’t Even Remember Caring for Her on That First Day. He Pulled Out a Photo of Her from His Wallet, Tore It Into Pieces—Determined to End It. They Arranged to Meet at the Restaurant Where, Six Months Earlier, They’d Celebrated Fifteen Years as Husband and Wife. She Arrived First. He Stopped Home to Find the Divorce Papers, Ransacking Drawers in a Panic Until He Spotted a Dark Blue Folder He’d Never Seen Before. He Ripped Off the Seal, Expecting Dirty Secrets—But Found Only Medical Reports, Official Documents. His Wife’s Name on Every Page. Realisation Struck Like Lightning; She Was Ill. He Googled the Diagnosis: “6–18 Months Life Expectancy.” Six Months Had Already Passed. He Remembered Little of What Happened Next—Only the Words “6–18 Months” Looping Relentlessly in His Mind. She Waited for Forty Minutes. No Answer from His Phone. She Paid the Bill and Went Outside. The Autumn Weather Was Glorious—The Sun Gentle, Comforting. “Life Is Beautiful, the World So Wonderful, So Warm.” For the First Time Since Her Diagnosis, She Felt Sorry for Herself. She’d Found the Strength to Hide Her Secret from Everyone, Sparing Them the Pain at the Cost of Her Own Crumbling Life. After This Year, She Would Be Nothing but a Memory. She Wandered Down the Street, Watching Bright Faces Filled With Hope Of Winters and Springs Yet to Come—As If the Future Were Theirs To Shape. She Would Never Know That Feeling Again. Bitterness Swelled and Burst Forth as Tears She Couldn’t Stop… He Paced the Room. For the First Time, He Felt The Swift Passage of Life as a Physical Ache. He Remembered His Wife Young, Full of Hope When They First Met—He’d Loved Her Then. In That Moment, Fifteen Years Vanished: Happiness, Youth, and Life Still Ahead. In Her Final Weeks, He Became Devoted, At Her Side Every Hour, Overcome by a Joy He’d Never Known. He Was Terrified She’d Leave—He Would Have Given His Own Life to Save Hers. Had Someone Reminded Him Of His Hatred Just a Month Ago, He’d Have Sworn: “That Wasn’t Me.” He Witnessed Her Battle to Say Goodbye, Weeping Secretly at Night When She Thought He Slept—He Understood No Punishment Was Worse Than Knowing Your Days Are Numbered. He Saw Her Fight for Every Moment, Grasping Even the Smallest Hope. She Died Two Months Later. He Covered the Path from Home to Cemetery in Flowers. He Wept Like a Child as Her Coffin Was Lowered—He Felt Centuries Older. At Home, Beneath Her Pillow, He Found a New Year’s Wish She Had Written: “To Be Happy With Him Until My Last Day.” They Say All New Year’s Wishes Come True—Perhaps They Do, For That Year He Wrote: “To Be Free.” In the End, Each Got Exactly What, It Seemed, They Had Wished For…
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