Silvia began to cry.
Not from happiness.
“Are you sick? Is someone blackmailing you? Has someone deceived you?”
“No.”
“Who is the man?”
“I’ll tell you when the time is right.”
“There is no ‘right time.’ This has to be stopped,” Mikhail said.
At that moment, I realized they weren’t talking about me.
They were talking about the inconvenience.
About people.
About what the family name would look like.
“I’m not ending the pregnancy,” I said.
“You can’t do this!” Silvia shouted.
“I already am.”
After that, the phone calls began.
First every day.
Then several times a day.
“Think about your health.”
“Think about what people will say.”
“Think about us.”
But the words “think about us” gradually began to mean something else.
Mikhail asked whether I had changed my will.
