Although I kept telling Lily that her father would be back soon, deep down I was no longer certain it was true.
One night, after an especially exhausting shift, my nerves finally snapped. I stepped into the kitchen, stared at the dark window for a moment, and dialed Daniel’s number again. The ringing dragged on and on. Then, instead of his voice, a woman answered.
“Hello?”
My fingers went icy.
“I’m sorry… is Daniel Romanov there?”
There was a brief pause before she replied, calm and unhurried. “He’s in the shower. Who’s calling?”
I ended the call without another word.
My heart pounded so violently it felt painful. I sat on the edge of the bed, gripping my phone, trying to make sense of what I had just heard. Explanations rushed through my mind—maybe a nurse, a neighbor, some distant relative stopping by. But the woman’s tone lingered with me: composed, assured, entirely at ease. Nothing about it suggested a случайный visitor.
About thirty minutes later, Daniel called back.
“Alice? You rang? My phone was in the other room.”
“Who answered?” I asked quietly.
“Probably a wrong number or something. The reception here is weird.”
He spoke too quickly, words tumbling over each other, as if afraid I might press further. I didn’t. I simply said I was tired and hung up.
That night I barely slept. My thoughts tangled together, anxiety pressing down on my chest, yet I still clung to the fragile hope that there was some reasonable explanation.
Another week went by. Daniel stopped calling altogether.
That was when I decided to go.
I requested a few days off work, packed a small backpack for Lily, and told her we were going to visit Grandma Margaret. She was thrilled. The entire drive she chattered excitedly, imagining how surprised her dad would be when we appeared at the door.
Margaret’s house greeted us with silence.
An unfamiliar car sat in the driveway. The gate wasn’t locked. I knocked—no answer. When I pushed the door, it swung open slowly with a soft creak.
And then I heard voices.
“You said she wouldn’t come,” a woman said sharply.
“I didn’t expect her to just show up—with the kid,” Daniel replied.
“Are you at least planning to explain anything to her?”
I froze in place. Lily held my hand, unaware, looking up at me.
“Later. Not now,” he muttered. “Mom’s still in her room.”
“What mom?” the woman scoffed. “She’s been at a rehab center for two weeks.”
The hallway seemed to tilt. Darkness flickered at the edges of my vision.
I pushed the door wider and stepped inside.
Daniel stood near the kitchen table. Beside him was a tall brunette, maybe thirty-five, dressed casually in a robe as if she belonged there.
He went pale.
“Alice… you’re here?”
I didn’t answer. Lily pressed herself against me.
“Daddy?” she whispered.
The woman casually lifted a towel from a hook, like an actress in a cheap TV drama.
“So this is your wife,” she said with a cold, thin smile. “Your so-called temporary complication?”
Daniel dragged a hand over his face. “It’s not what it looks like—”
Oddly, a strange calm washed over me.
“Where is Margaret?” I asked evenly.
He lowered his gaze. “At a rehabilitation center. She had a relapse, but she’s stable now.”
“Why did you lie to me?”
“I didn’t know how to tell you.”
“And who is she?” I nodded toward the woman.
“Emily,” she answered before he could. “We’ve been seeing each other for a year.”
A year.
I didn’t scream. I didn’t cry. I simply bent down and lifted Lily into my arms.
“You didn’t leave to take care of your mother,” I said. “You left for her.”
Daniel stepped toward me. “Alice, wait. It’s complicated. I got confused. You’re always working, always exhausted. We’ve been drifting apart for a long time—”
A bitter smile curved my lips.
“So your solution was not to ‘drift apart’ by starting another relationship and abandoning your seven-year-old daughter without a single explanation?”
Emily folded her arms across her chest. “He was going to tell you. He just didn’t know how.”
“How noble,” I replied softly.
Lily was trembling against me, her small hands clutching my sweater.
“Mommy… please,” she whispered, her voice breaking, “can we go home?”