“Nika,” he held my hands tightly and repeated, “I can’t do this anymore. I can’t look at you and stay silent. I can see how you don’t suspect anything and rush toward them—while you’re here.”
“I don’t understand anything,” I spun my head.
“The child. He’s one year old. I learned about him not long ago. But he’s mine. My blood. And I can’t leave him.”
“A son. He has a son. We’ve been married for three years. And he has a one-year-old son. He cheated on me. He was with another woman. They were having sex. I gave him my soul—everything. I was faithful. I loved him like crazy and waited. And I still love him. I’m carrying his child under my heart—about which he doesn’t even know yet.”