Last week, while picking up the children from kindergarten, I unintentionally became a witness to a conversation between several mothers:
– See that fat one over there? That’s Sasha’s and Masha’s mom.
– And where’s their father?
– He left her. Can you imagine? Probably she got on his nerves to death.
– Well, yes, no surprise. Who would feed someone like that…
– I heard he went off to another woman…
– I understand him. Who needs such a fat blob?
I turned around and left in silence, clenching my fists so hard that my nails dug into my skin until it bled. The children ran after me and kept asking why I was crying.
And the worst part is that he doesn’t even know he has children. When I found out I was pregnant, his phone was already not answering.