The unexpected turn.

Chapter 2 — 

Alina

Yelena turned first. Very slowly. Like she had all the time in the world.

Boris made a strangled sound and shoved her off him.

"Alina—"

I stared at Yelena. She stared back. For one second I thought about turning around, walking away, pretending I hadn't seen anything, going home to break where nobody could watch.

I didn't.

I stepped inside and shut the door behind me instead.

"Explain," I said to Boris. My voice didn't shake. I was proud of that. It was the last thing I'd be proud of for a long time.

He opened his mouth. Nothing came out.

Yelena answered for him. "I'll explain, since he doesn’t want to."

"Yelena—" he warned.

"No, let her know." She straightened her blouse. "Boris and I loved each other before you ever existed in his life, Alina. I found you for him. Rich father, sweet face… exactly what an illegitimate son needs if he wants a seat at his father's table."

"You're lying." My voice cracked on the second word. "You held my hand at the clinic. You cried with me every time it failed. You're lying."

"Was I crying for you," she said, tilting her head, "or because every failed round meant another month pretending I didn't want him for myself? You never once asked why I never brought a man to dinner in three years, Alina. Not once. You were too wrapped up in your own tragedy to wonder why your best friend never dated anyone."

My mind raced backward, searching every memory for the moment I should have seen it. Every birthday dinner she sat too close to him. Every late night she called "work." Every time she offered to drop by the house when I was too tired to host, insisting she didn't mind, insisting she just wanted to help. I trusted every excuse because trust had never once cost me anything before today.

"Three years," I said, more to myself than to her. "Three years of you holding my hand while I cried about losing a baby you didn't even want me to have."

"That part was real," Yelena said, almost gently, like that should comfort me. "I never wanted you hurt, Alina. I just wanted what was already supposed to be mine."

"Nothing about this was ever yours," I said, and my voice finally rose. "You planned it. You said it yourself. Don't stand there and act like you're the victim in this."

She shrugged, unbothered, like I'd said nothing worth responding to.

"How long?" I asked, quieter now. "Before we married? During? Was any of it real, Boris, or was I just… what did she call it, a rich name and a sweet face?"

Boris just shook his head, and swallowed hard on his saliva. 

"What? Are you dumb now?" I laughed, short and ugly.

Something flickered across his face. Guilt, maybe. It didn't stay.

"Boris." My voice broke completely. "So you used me? You used me to get to where you are now. The illegitimate son, who wanted a place in the company. And not even for once did any of you stop to think about my feelings."

I paused, taking in a deep breath. 

"Every single thing I endured in the hands of your over bearing mother for 3 long years, Boris. All of it has just collapsed!"

He said nothing. He didn't even have the decency to look ashamed anymore, just tired, like my grief was an inconvenience keeping him from something more important.

"Say something," I begged. "Anything. Tell me you're sorry. Tell me you fought this. Tell me it wasn't this easy for you."

"What do you want me to say, Alina?" His voice finally cracked, but not with the guilt I was hoping for, but with irritation. "You want me to lie to you now, on top of everything else?"

Yelena crossed to the shelf, pulled out a folder, dropped it on the desk. Divorce papers. Already drawn up. Already dated, weeks before today.

"Sign it," she said. "Let's move forward like adults."

"Adults." I stared at her, disbelieving. "You've been planning my replacement since before now, Yelena. Don't call me the immature one."

My mind spun. My family lost everything two years ago , the house, the accounts, my father's company, all of it. My father had signed the wrong documents, and lost everything in one day. Boris was the only thing I had left. If I signed this, I had nothing. No home. No name. Nowhere to run.

"Boris, please." I was crying now. "Look at me. We built a life. You promised we'd keep trying together."

He spoke again, flat and quiet. "Don't make this harder than it already is, Alina."

That was it. That was all he had for me.

"You'll be fine," he said quietly, like saying it might make it true.

"Alina, you don’t have to do this to yourself. Sign the damn papers already. Do you think it was easy for me? Watching you every day for 3 years with my man? I was hurting too, but it’s over now. Just let it go already." 

"Boris…"

I didn’t know what I was thinking. Was I going to forgive Boris after this? Definitely! I didn’t want my marriage to end. 

"You know we can fix this, right? We can pretend like nothing happened and move on. We don’t have to do this." 

"Sign the damn papers!" Boris whispered in the meanest tone I’ve heard since I knew him. 

My hand picked up the pen before my heart agreed to it. I signed with my trembling hands, as I blinked rapidly to stop my tears from falling. I watched the ink dry through blurred eyes, three years reduced to a single signature nobody would ever look at again. My throat felt like burning coal. 

Yelena didn't even hide her smile. "Smart girl. This is easier for everyone. You'll thank me one day."

"I will never thank you," I said, and for the first time my voice went cold, steady, even as my hands shook too hard to hold the pen straight. "Whatever you two think you won today. I hope it costs you everything it cost me."

Boris flinched. Yelena didn't.

"Save the curses for someone still listening," she said, already turning back to the desk, already moving on with her life like I'd stopped existing in it. "You'll be gone by tonight. We have a wedding to plan."

I looked at Boris one last time, searching his face for even a flicker of the man I married. I found nothing. Just a stranger in an expensive suit, avoiding my eyes like I was the one who'd done something wrong.

I folded the paper, and set the pen down

with more care than either of them deserved.

Then I ran, tears dropping freely down my eyes.