“My dear, you’ll have to get rid of this child,” my mother-in-law tells me after I tell her I’m pregnant.
The reason is ironclad: in their Khrushchev-era apartment, the child simply won’t fit.
To my horror, my husband supported her.
They put me in front of a choice—either I accept their terms, or I go live somewhere else. And since I have nowhere to go, see point one.
I packed my suitcase and left… Only, really, I had nowhere to go: after paying off my loans, there wasn’t a penny left.
So I came to work, hoping I could spend the night there and figure out what to do next.
I thought the office had only a night guard—but the boss had been staying late with paperwork. He saw me crying and offered to let me come to his place to sleep. He pulled out of me the whole terrible story about my marriage and my child. He offered to solve my credit and housing problems and more—but he also set a condition.
He said:
— You’ll marry me.
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Single-volume novel.