(Not) Cheating. Once Doesn't Count

“Serёzha?” I say in a trembling voice when I see my husband with his secretary. She’s turned to the wall, his hands on her waist. Despair grows in me into a black hole. Tears are already threatening to blur my vision. “What are you crying for?!” my husband snaps at me with anger. “Is it embarrassing now?” “Me? Embarrassed? Are you out of your mind?!” His words send a wave of rage through me.

Serёzha lets the girl go. She, as if nothing happened, smooths her dress with a smirk on her lips. “Everything between us is over!” I say, desperate, and jab my finger at my husband’s face.

He grabs my wrist and squeezes hard, forcing me to come close to him. “Don’t talk nonsense! We won’t get divorced until I say so!”***

My husband cheated on me when it seemed everything was perfect. I have to run from him—I won’t be able to forgive. And he won’t let me go if he finds out that I’m carrying his child.

WARNING: Contains information about narcotic or psychotropic substances, the use of which is dangerous to health. Their illegal trafficking carries criminal responsibility.