I have another man. His name is Denis. He works as a coach in a gym.
He was thirty-one years old. Almost twenty years less than me.
I was just standing in the kitchen, a cup of tea in my hand, without understanding what was going on.
Olga had started going to the room about a year earlier. First a few times a week, then more and more often. I had not seen anything strange. She looked better, smiled more often and came home in a good mood.
I thought everything was fine.
After a few months, I noticed that she had changed. She had become colder. Our conversations were shortened. I asked her how her day went, she answered in a few words and went to another room. The closeness between us had gradually disappeared, but I explained this through fatigue, work and ordinary daily life.
I didn’t even think it could be another man.
