'I'm Here for My Things': Why a Husband Was Left Speechless When He Looked into the Crib a Week After the Birth

"Exactly that, Vadim. Five million in debt. The loans you took out for your fun with Yana. I know everything. And my father knows. All your accounts are already frozen."

He turned pale. All his arrogance, all his confidence, evaporated in an instant.

"Ksyusha, wait... You can't do this. We have children..."

"Children?" I interrupted. "Oh yes, the 'biological function.' You wanted to be with a woman, not an incubator. So go be with her. If, of course, she's willing to support a bankrupt."

I opened the door and gestured to the landing.

"Get out."

He stood there, gasping for air like a fish thrown on the shore. He tried to say something but couldn't find the words. There was fear in his eyes. Real, animal fear of a future that had collapsed in a single second.

When the door closed behind him, I slowly exhaled. It was over.

A few days passed. I had completely moved in with my father. We decided to sell the apartment to erase all the memories.

Alisa and Masha were sleeping in their cribs, breathing softly. I sat between them and just watched them. My children, my future.

In the evening, my father came in. He walked quietly so as not to wake his granddaughters. He stood over the cribs, looking at their faces, and an extraordinary softness appeared in his stern eyes.

"Well, daughter, did we manage?" he asked, gently hugging my shoulders.

"We managed, Dad," I replied, looking at him with gratitude. "Thank you. I couldn't have done it without you."