— Olivia, let’s talk, — said Alex, without lifting his eyes. His voice sounded muffled, as if he didn’t believe himself. — I’m in love with someone else, forgive me.

She stood at the sink. The cup squeaked under the sponge in her hands. For a few seconds, Olivia was silent, then she slowly rinsed the dishes, carefully placed the cup in the drainer, and wiped her hands with a waffle towel.

Her movements were measured, almost meditative, and only then, without any tension, she turned to him. — Okay, if you’re in love, go.

No tears, no drama, just simple words, as if it wasn’t the collapse of a life, but an ordinary household conversation.

— I… I didn’t want to hurt you, — he muttered, looking guiltily at her face, as if seeing for the first time how much fatigue was in it.

— Then don’t hurt me, just leave with dignity.

Her voice was calm, even too calm, without hesitation, without strain, and he felt everything inside him contract, not from guilt, but from shame, as if his soul had been scooped out with a spoon, and it became scary to look inside.

She approached the table, poured herself strong tea into a large ceramic mug with a chipped edge, and sat opposite him, not looking at him.

— We’ve been together for so many years, — she said, without raising her voice. — Our son has grown up, we built the house, we did everything together, you worked, I supported you, there were difficulties, joys, it wasn’t all for nothing.

He was silent, with his shoulders slumped.

— You can take the house, I don’t need anything, — she said finally, except for one thing.

She took a sip of tea, placed the mug on the coaster, and continued, looking him straight in the eyes.

— Mom’s birthday is in a month, seventy years, she loves you like her own, I don’t want her to know about the divorce. Give me one gift, stay with me this month, without scenes, without coldness, just like family. Smile at the table, bring her her favorite donuts, help with the coffee maker, and then go, I won’t hold you, just don’t ruin her celebration…

Alex nodded; he hadn’t expected such a reaction. He had approached this conversation like an execution, prepared for tears, screams, throwing cups, but received silence, peace, and a request, the last one, but so human that it became unbearably heavy.

— You’ve already decided everything, right? — she asked quietly….

— Not today, — he replied, — but inside, probably a long time ago.

She picked up the mug again, warming her fingers on the ceramic. Outside the window, a rare May rain was falling, drops tapping on the windowsill like a metronome of someone’s exhausted love.

The next month passed in a strange, almost tangible state, as if time had frozen in indecision.

Olivia remained as attentive and welcoming as always. When friends came over, she joked, laughed, kept the conversations going, filling the house with warmth and lightness, but as soon as the guests left, she plunged into her thoughts.

In the evenings, she sat by the window, gazing at the dark outlines of the trees beyond the glass.

Silence enveloped her like a cloak. She didn’t cry, didn’t complain, just stayed silent, and in that silence there was something deep, almost solemn, as if she were talking to someone invisible.

Alex, meanwhile, increasingly caught himself thinking that he didn’t want to pick up the phone and call the other one; her voice, her endless complaints and whims, which had once seemed cute, now irritated him like persistent noise.

He couldn’t understand when it had started, maybe when she demanded attention again that he no longer wanted to give, or when her calls began to seem unnecessary, like interference on the radio.

And at home? Home was different. Calm, familiar, reliable, as if he had returned to a place where everything was in its place, where he didn’t need to pretend or prove anything.

He started bringing home flowers. Not out of habit, but from some inner impulse. First, modest bunches of daisies, then lush roses, which Olivia had loved in her youth…

She accepted them without extra words, just smiling slightly as she put the flowers in a vase. Her hands moved habitually, but her gaze was different, attentive, deep, as if she wanted to capture every moment.

She cooked his favorite dishes, meat with potatoes like his mom’s in childhood, or that very apple pie he could never refuse….

Sometimes she looked at him longer than usual, as if trying to memorize every feature of his face, every wrinkle that had appeared over the years.

«You look good,» he said one evening at dinner, looking at her across the table, lit by the soft light of the lamp.

«Thanks,» Olivia replied, and a light smile touched her lips.

«Just don’t look too closely, my whole face will soon go crazy from fatigue.»

He laughed, for the first time in a long while sincerely, from the heart, so that warmth spread in his chest. That laughter was like a bridge connecting them to those days when they could talk about anything in the world without fear of being misunderstood.

Olivia looked at him with mild surprise, but a genuine joy flashed in her eyes, quickly replaced by the same thoughtful silence.

She set aside her spoon, propped her chin on her hand, and looked out the window again, where branches swayed in the darkness.

Alex suddenly felt a pang of guilt.

Not for something specific, but for everything at once. For not noticing before how beautifully she was silent, how her presence filled the house with something more than just habit.

The long-awaited day of the mother-in-law’s birthday arrived.

The preparations took weeks, but everything went perfectly, like clockwork. The house was decorated with such care that it seemed every corner radiated warmth and festive mood.

Garlands softly twinkled, the table featured bouquets of her mother’s favorite peonies, and the air was filled with the aroma of freshly brewed coffee and home baking that Olivia had prepared all night.

Guests filled the living room: relatives, old friends, neighbors, everyone who knew her mother as a kind, wise woman who always knew how to support with words and deeds…

Congratulations flowed like a river, toasts followed one another, and the clink of glasses merged with sincere laughter. The atmosphere was imbued with joy, that rare and genuine kind when everyone feels part of something big and important.

Alex, standing at the head of the table, held a glass of champagne in his hands. He rarely liked speaking in public, but this time the words came on their own.

He gave a speech that tugged at everyone’s heartstrings.

Looking at his mother-in-law, sitting in the center of attention with a light smile and shining eyes, he called her his second mom. His voice carried genuine pride mixed with warmth and gratitude.

He recalled how she was always there in tough times, how she taught him to cook her signature pot roast, how she encouraged him when things at work weren’t going well, how she could defuse any tense situation with one phrase…

«You’re not just a mother-in-law to us,» he said, and his voice trembled with emotion. «You’re the soul of our family, the person who makes us all better. Thank you for everything.»

The guests applauded, and his mother-in-law, usually reserved, couldn’t hide her tears. Her eyes, full of gratitude and love, sparkled in the chandelier light.

She stood up to hug Alex and, pulling him close, whispered quietly in his ear.

«Olivia. Your happiness, son. Don’t lose her.

A wife like that comes once in a lifetime.» Her words, spoken with such sincerity, struck Alex like lightning. He froze, not knowing what to say.

He just nodded, feeling something click inside him, as if someone had turned a key in a long-rusted lock.

It wasn’t just a fleeting feeling. It was the moment when he suddenly realized clearly that Olivia, with her quiet strength, with her ability to create comfort even on the darkest days, was what kept his life in balance.

He remembered how that morning, despite her fatigue, she straightened the tablecloth, how she smiled at the guests, how she unobtrusively ensured everyone was comfortable.

And in that moment, the image of the other woman, who had recently seemed so important, began to fade like a mirage.

Alex glanced at Olivia, who stood a little aside, adjusting the flowers in the vase…

She looked tired but beautiful, with that beauty that doesn’t catch the eye immediately but reveals itself gradually over the years. Her movements were smooth, almost weightless, and in them one could feel the care she surrounded everyone with.

He suddenly understood that he hadn’t noticed this before, or perhaps didn’t want to notice.

His mother-in-law’s words echoed in his head, and every time he looked at his wife, warmth spread in his chest, mixed with a sense of guilt.

He recalled how in the last weeks Olivia had cooked his favorite dishes, how she silently accepted his bouquets, how she looked at him with that strange thoughtfulness, as if saying goodbye. And that thought stung him more than he expected.

The celebration continued, but Alex was no longer fully in it. He watched Olivia, how she laughed at an old friend’s joke, how she poured tea for her mother, how she hugged her niece who had come from another city.

All of it was so familiar, so dear, that he suddenly felt fear…

Fear of losing it forever. His mother-in-law, still wiping her tears, smiled at him across the table, and in her gaze was something he couldn’t decipher. Either a warning or hope.

— What are you thinking about? — Olivia asked quietly, approaching him with a glass of wine.

— Nothing, — he hesitated, trying to hide his confusion. — You really look beautiful today.

She looked at him with mild surprise but said nothing, just smiled slightly and went back to the guests…

And Alex remained standing, holding an empty glass, feeling something changing inside him. As if the veil clouding his eyes was beginning to lift, and for the first time in a long time, he saw Olivia not just as a wife, but as the woman he had once loved so much that he couldn’t imagine life without her.

And, perhaps, still loved.

The next morning, Alex woke up alone. A note lay on the table.

«Went out for errands. Be back in the evening. Love.

Olivia.»

He couldn’t wait for the evening. He wanted to hug her, say «forgive me, you’re my home, I want to start over.»

But Olivia didn’t return. Not in the evening, not in the morning.

Closer to noon, the hospital called.

«Are you Alex Thompson? Your wife was admitted for a scheduled operation, oncology. Unfortunately, we couldn’t save her.»

He stood with the phone in his hands, not believing.

The world collapsed. It turned out she knew. She knew she was leaving.

And didn’t say a word, so he wouldn’t feel guilty.

Everyone came to the funeral – colleagues, neighbors, friends. Even his mother cried, pressing a photo of her daughter-in-law to her chest.

And Alex sat on a bench by the house, looked at the sky, and whispered «I didn’t make it, Olivia, forgive me, you were everything, and I understood when nothing could be brought back.»