It was a gloomy December day. Since early morning, the sky had been hidden by thick leaden clouds, and by evening, fine, stinging snow began to fall from the sky like an angry sparrow pecking at the windows.
The wind drove it between the buildings, forcing passersby to bury deeper into their scarves and hurry home.
In the distance, the dull rumble of a tram could be heard, and one by one, warm spots of light lit up in the windows.
On the fourth floor of a nine-story concrete block, Alyona had just woken up.
Her sleep had been restless — the final weeks of pregnancy were especially hard.
Her belly ached, and little Liza had tossed and turned all night in her crib, whimpering in her sleep.
Getting out of bed, Alyona straightened with difficulty, leaning on the couch, and placed a pillow under her lower back.
She listened: the apartment was silent. Nikolai, as usual, had gone to work without saying goodbye, without leaving a note or any sign of care.
On the kitchen counter were the remnants of his breakfast — a cup with a dried foam ring from coffee and breadcrumbs from a sandwich.
They had moved to this city almost a year ago, right after the wedding.
A small, dull town with overcrowded minibuses and an industrial zone on the outskirts.
Back then, everything seemed new, bright, full of possibilities.
Nikolai got a job at a factory, and Alyona quit hers to focus on the pregnancy.
The first few months were like a movie: shared walks, candlelit dinners, tender whispers.
It seemed like they could handle anything together. But reality was harsher.
Now Alyona was still a young woman, but as if already burnt out inside. Each morning began with anxiety. Nikolai had become irritable, withdrawn, constantly on the verge of snapping.
A single glance or accidental movement could spark another argument.
Sometimes he would just stare at her with such cold disdain that it terrified her.
He could slam a door, flip a stool, or suddenly throw something at the wall.
Worst of all — she began to dread every moment leading up to his return from work, fearing even the sound of the key in the lock.
Nikolai had changed gradually, like a dying lightbulb — first dimming slightly, then flickering, until there was only darkness. At first, he had been attentive, caring, loving.
He used to stroke Alyona’s belly, talk to the baby, whisper in her ear that everything would be okay, that she was the strongest woman in the world.
But each day something new crept into his eyes — tension, irritation, indifference.
He started nitpicking: the soup was too thin, the toys weren’t in place, the new dress didn’t suit her.
His voice grew harsher, his gaze — colder and less frequent.
He could come home and walk past her in silence, only to explode hours later over nothing.
— Alyona, you left the dishes again? — he asked one day, coming home tired and irritable. — What do you even do all day?
She looked at him with pain in her eyes.
— I’m trying… I’m with the baby, it’s hard…
— Trying? I don’t see it. Maybe you think all you have to do is lie around?
At first, Alyona thought these were just outbursts, blaming it on exhaustion.
But over time, Nikolai became more controlling — limiting her contact with her mother, disapproving of visits with friends, jealous of her past.
— Why are you calling your mom again? — he snapped, noticing her dialing.
— Want her to split us up? Let her stay in her city.
Eventually, the calls stopped. She grew distant from everyone who could support her.
And the more alone she became, the more Nikolai sensed her weakness.
He saw how her voice softened, how her movements grew cautious, how her gaze lost confidence.
— Why are you covered in mud again? — he asked one day, annoyed, as Alyona came in from a rainy walk. — Is it that hard to look after yourself?
— I didn’t mean to… — she tried to explain.
— You never mean to do anything right! You can’t even manage that!
Alyona lowered her head, clenched her fists, holding back tears. The pain was unbearable.
She remembered who Nikolai used to be — kind, caring, loving.
How he used to say she was his whole world. Now that world held only cold, emptiness, and fear.
The morning started like usual. Liza was already awake — lying in her crib and tightly clutching a rubber duck in her tiny hand. Alyona gently kissed her daughter’s cheek, adjusted the blanket, and headed to the kitchen.
The stove was cold from the night, and yesterday’s porridge sat untouched in the pot.
Her head throbbed, her thoughts scattered from exhaustion.
She automatically turned on the kettle, then sank into a chair and stared into space.
Her fingers trembled from constant fatigue.
Suddenly, her belly gave a small twitch — as if the baby inside whispered: “You’re not alone. You’re strong.”
By evening, everything fell apart. Alyona was cleaning up the remnants of Liza’s breakfast when the front door burst open violently.
Nikolai stormed in, still wearing his coat.
Behind him came the smell of wet snow and cheap tobacco.
— Lazing around again? — he barked. — Where’s the food? Are you even normal?
— I… I didn’t have time, Liza was fussy, — Alyona whispered, avoiding his gaze.
— Where’s the damn food, you bitch?! I’m sick of your excuses!
I work all day like a damn slave, and you sit here like some gutter princess!
He clenched his fists, his face twisted with rage. One more step — and he might have hit her.
Alyona instinctively raised her hands to her face, bracing for the worst.
At that moment, the door creaked in the hallway. Someone entered.
A tall, stern woman in a long winter coat stood at the threshold, holding a travel bag. It was Lidiya Nikolaevna, her mother.
— Take your hands off her, you bastard! — she snapped, stepping into the kitchen. Her voice was like steel.
Nikolai froze, as if doused with cold water. He couldn’t find a single word to say.
Her mother stared at him with such disgust, as if he were something vile. Then she turned to her daughter.
— Alyona, pack up Liza. We’re leaving. Right now. Not a minute later.
Alyona stood still, stunned. Tears welled in her eyes.
Could this really be happening? Had someone finally heard her pain? Seen it?
— Mom… But where will we go? — she whispered.
— Home, — Lidiya Nikolaevna said calmly. — To where you’re valued.
Where no one yells. Where you can be yourself again. And smile.
Nikolai tried to protest, but her mother turned sharply to him:
— Touch her — and that’s it. I recorded everything you just said.
One wrong move, and you’ll find out what real trouble looks like.
He fell silent again. In an instant, he seemed to shrink, lost, as if all his rage had vanished into thin air.
Twenty minutes later, they were leaving the building.
Snow was still falling. Alyona walked slowly, holding Liza close, her mother beside her. A taxi was waiting by the entrance.
— Thank you, Mama… — Alyona managed to whisper, holding back sobs.
Lidiya Nikolaevna hugged her tightly, like when she was a little girl.
— My sweet girl, you don’t owe anyone anything. Just live.
Just be happy. I’m here now.
Snow fell onto their shoulders, melting in the warmth of a mother’s love.
It was cold outside, but for the first time in many months, Alyona felt warmth inside.
A cautious hope. Maybe, just maybe, everything could begin again.
And it was right that there was no turning back.
