Part 4 — On the Day of the Divorce, My Mother-in-Law Demanded That I Be Thrown Out of My House, but Her Smile Disappeared When She Saw the Documents

The call ended as if the man on the other side of the line had even heard my breathing.

For several seconds I held the phone pressed to my ear.

“Who was it?” Nino asked.

“I don’t know. He arranged a meeting at the old station.”

David quickly raised his head.

“Don’t go.”

For the first time there was no command in his voice. There was fear.

“Why?”

He could not answer me.

Nino took the phone from me and wrote down the number.

“You are not going anywhere alone. We will hand this over to the police.”

“He said the second folder would disappear.”

Galina immediately shouted:

“You made all of this up! You are destroying my family!”

The police officer raised his hand.

“Ma’am, be quiet.”

At these words Galina fell silent for the first time. All her life people had backed away from her shouting. But now there was no one in the room who was afraid of her.

Nino handed the documents to the police officers, while I played the recording a second time. Alexi’s voice sounded again.

David avoided my eyes.

“This recording should not exist,” he said.

“But it does.”

“Father was confused.”

“You yourself said that you had problems because of money.”

His face took on a strange color.

“I didn’t say that.”

Nino took a tablet from her bag and placed it on the table.

“Do you want to hear your own words?”

David looked at it.

“What is this?”

“A recording from a bank branch camera. You were there three weeks ago. You tried to transfer the loan money to another account without Anna’s consent. You told the employee that your wife was ill and that you would bring the signature later.”

David stepped back.

“How did you obtain this?”

“By court order,” Nino said. “You yourself failed to notice the camera on the ceiling.”

The video began playing.

On the screen David stood at the bank window. In the same gray coat he had worn that morning. His voice could be heard clearly.

“Anna will believe me anyway. She always signs everything, as long as there is no quarrel.”

In the video, the bank employee asked:

“If your wife does not agree, you cannot transfer the money.”

David snickered.

“She will soon not be in this house either.”

Silence fell over the room.

David heard his own voice and seemed to understand for the first time what he was saying. He buried his head in his hands.

“Turn it off,” he whispered.

“You said that,” I told him.

“Anna, please.”

It was the first time he had pronounced my name the way he used to. Not angrily. Not as a command. As a plea for help.

Marika picked up her phone and walked toward the door.

“I will not return to you.”

“Marika, we have a child.”

“That is exactly why I will not return.”

Galina blocked her way.

“You cannot leave this family.”

Marika answered calmly:

“I was never in this family. I was only part of your lie.”

She left.

The police officers handed David and Galina official notices. No one had been arrested yet. But that evening both of them knew that the old rules had ended.

I went to the old station anyway, although Nino and two police officers were hiding nearby. It was seven in the evening. The wind carried newspapers across the platform, and the iron roof rattled with every gust.

The man appeared ten minutes later. He was holding a brown folder.

“Did you call me?”

“I was looking for David’s former accountant, Irakli,” he said. “I took these records from his safe.”

“Where is Irakli?”

“In the hospital. David threatened him twice when he refused to sign false accounts.”

The folder contained bank statements, transfers, and documents of fictitious companies created by David. It turned out that for years he had transferred money from my salary and from the house account. Galina knew and helped him.

Nino photographed everything. The police officers also recorded Irakli’s testimony.

The next day David called me.

“Let’s come to an agreement,” he told me. “I’ll give you the house, just withdraw the complaint.”

“You cannot give me the house. It was mine anyway.”

“Anna, I will go to prison.”

“That is no longer my decision.”

“Didn’t we love each other once?”

That question exhausted me more than anything. Because once I had an answer.

“Once,” I said. “But love cannot cancel what you did.”

Three weeks later I entered the courtroom. This time I was not alone. Nino sat beside me, and behind us stood Irakli with a cane. Galina and David sat on the opposite side.

The documents were examined. The recordings were played. The bank video was shown. The financial statements were read.

At last David lowered his head.

And Galina was trembling with her whole body.

The court recognized the ownership of the house as mine, while the case of the illegal transfers was sent to the prosecutor’s office. David and Galina were given a deadline to leave the residence. Their debts, lies, and forged documents were already knocking at their door.

I did not wait for their defeat. That day I returned home and opened the windows of the upstairs bedroom.

David’s smell still lingered in the room. Two of his shirts had remained in the closet. A photograph from our wedding lay on the table, and the corner of the frame was broken.

I took out the photograph and put it in a drawer.

The empty room did not frighten me for the first time.

In the following weeks I slowly changed everything. I repainted the hallway walls warm sand color. I installed new shelves in the kitchen. In the morning I still brewed coffee, but now I did not stop at anyone’s voice.

Nino helped me open a small family pastry shop. The apple pie I had baked that day soon became our most popular item. I put up a sign that read: “The Bird’s Wing.”

On the very first day, eight-year-old Nika came. He was Alexi’s grandson, and his mother allowed him to meet me. The boy watched my ceramic bird for a long time.

“Why is its wing broken?” he asked.

“Because it fell once.”

“And why didn’t you throw it away?”

I smiled at him.

“Because it still looks like a bird.”

Nika thought and took out a small drawing from his notebook. A house was drawn on it, and a ceramic bird stood on the roof.

“This is for you,” he told me. “Dad said that this house should be peaceful now.”

Something tightened in my heart. Not from pain. From the realization that sometimes children say the truth that adults avoid admitting for years.

Four months later the first snow came. White flakes clung to the pastry shop window. I had Nika’s drawing attached to the refrigerator, while cinnamon cookies were baking in the oven.

That evening I received a message from David.

“Anna, I understand everything now. Maybe you could listen to me at least once. Only ten minutes. I am standing in front of your house.”

I went to the window. His car stood at the end of the street, but no one barged into the house anymore. No door slammed. No suitcase was brought in.

I typed one reply on the phone.

“Peace protects this house now, not a lock. Please do not come again.”

After sending it, I looked at the screen for a long time. My hand did not tremble.

I returned to the kitchen. My copper-colored bird stood on the shelf, with its broken wing and a small spot near its eye.

Outside the window, snow was falling quietly.

The bird did not fly away.

But for the first time, the house flew together with me.