My husband always took the children to their grandmother’s house, until one day my daughter confessed to me that it was all a lie.
He had always been a reliable person and an exemplary father to our children — our little Ana, seven years old, and mischievous Vanya, five.
He played hide and seek with them in the garden, went to their school parties, told them bedtime stories… the kind of dad any mother could wish for.
So when he started taking them to his mother, Grandma Diana, every Saturday, I didn’t think twice.
Diana adored her grandchildren: she baked cookies for them, taught them to knit, and walked with them in the garden while they played.
After his father’s death, it seemed that Mikhail wanted to ease his mother’s loneliness a little, and that touched me deeply.
These Saturday visits seemed like the most natural thing in the world to me.
But over time, signs began to appear that started to worry me.
First, my mother-in-law stopped telling me about these visits.
She used to call me every week and tell me how happy the children were with her, but one day, when I casually asked,
‘How did it go with the children? It must be great to have them over every week, right?’
she hesitated.
‘Oh… yes, of course, dear,’ she replied, but her voice sounded strange, strained.
I decided that maybe she was tired or sad.
Then Michael began to insist more and more that I stay at home.
‘This is time for my mother and the children,’ he would say, kissing me on the cheek.
“You need to rest, Amina.
Enjoy the peace and quiet.”
And he was right: those quiet Saturdays really did me good.
But something didn’t add up… every time I said I wanted to go with them, he looked away.
For the first time, I felt a twinge of anxiety.
Why did he want to keep me away?
One morning, Mikhail and Vanya were already sitting in the car when Ana ran up to the door, shouting:
‘I forgot my jacket!’
I smiled.
‘Be good to your grandmother,’ I told her.
But she stopped, looked at me very seriously and whispered:
‘Mum… “grandmother” is a secret code.’
My heart skipped a beat.
Ana’s cheeks flushed, her eyes widened, and she immediately ran out into the street.
I froze.
‘Secret code’? What did she mean? Was Mikhail deceiving me? What was he hiding?
Without a moment’s hesitation, I grabbed my bag and keys.
I had to find out the truth.
I followed my husband’s car at a distance.
Soon I realised that he was not heading to Diana’s house at all.
He drove to an unfamiliar part of town and stopped in a secluded park.
I parked a few metres away and began to watch.
Mikhail got out of the car, took the children by the hand and walked towards a large oak tree.
And then I saw her.
A red-haired woman of about thirty was sitting on a bench.
Next to her was a girl of about nine, with the same reddish hair.
When the girl ran to Mikhail, he gently lifted her up, as if he had been doing it all his life.
Ana and Vanya joined them, laughing happily.
Mikhail spoke to this woman with such familiarity that I felt a chill run through me.
I couldn’t stand still any longer.
With trembling legs and a pounding heart, I got out of the car and walked towards them.
When he saw me, Mikhail turned pale.
‘Amina…’ he muttered. ‘What are you doing here?’
‘That’s what I want to ask you,’ I replied, my voice trembling.
‘Who is she? And this girl?’
Ana and Vanya ran up to me, shouting ‘Mummy!’, followed by the unfamiliar girl.
‘Go and play,’ Mikhail said tensely, pointing to the swings.
The woman turned away awkwardly.
Mikhail ran his hand through his hair and muttered,
‘We need to talk.’
Her name was Svetlana, and the girl’s name was Lilia.
Mikhail began to speak, and every word tore at my heart.
‘Before I met you, I had a brief affair with Svetlana.’
I was ready to confront him, but my son stopped me.
He leaned over to me and whispered, ‘Mum, I know.’
The moment I turned onto the street where my daughter lived, I felt it — that sickening, heavy feeling that something was terribly wrong.
Her front yard looked like an explosion had gone off: children’s photographs trampled into the wet grass, clothes dripping with rainwater, furniture overturned as if it had been thrown in a fit of rage.
And what happened next changed everything.
