Page 217 of Cashmere Cruelty

A letter.

A letter from April.

And it’s addressed to me.

With shaking hands, I tear the envelope open and start to read.

Dear Matvey,

I’ve been staring at this page for five minutes, trying to figure out what to write. I figured I owed it to you to at least say goodbye. To explain why I’m saying it.

But in the end, all I can say is: I’m sorry.

I’m sorry I wasn’t good enough for you. I’m sorry that what we had wasn’t good enough. That it wasn’t as strong for you as it was for me.

I’m sorry I couldn’t give you what you wanted.

“Blyat’,” I swear out loud.

She couldn’t give me what I wanted? Is that what she thinks?

“No,” I mutter into the silence. “You didn’t give me what I wanted. You gave me more. You gave me?—”

What I needed.

Grinding my teeth into dust, I keep reading.

I hope you’ll be happy with Petra. I know you will. I’ve seen you at your best, Matvey: how kind, warm, andamazing you can be. I’ve seen her at her best, too. (I think.) I’m still not sure how much of it was an act, but I’m choosing to believe that part was genuine: the best of both of you.

I hope you’ll give each other that.

And I hope you’ll give it to your child, too.

There is no child, I want to scream.The only child I have is the child I have withyou.

But even if I did, April couldn’t hear me. I could shout it from the rooftops and still, April wouldn’t hear me.

So I curse myself and keep reading.

But you see, I have a child, too. A child who’s going to need lots of love to brave this world.

And they’ll need to feel accepted.

You have no idea how much this is tearing me apart, Matvey. Even as I write, I keep hoping you’ll come in through that door. That you’ll see your child and fall in love just like I did.

But you’re not coming.

You weren’t there for the birth, either. You weren’t there when our baby needed you most—whenIneeded you most. And I’m afraid that, as time passes, you’ll barely be there at all.

I don’t want my kid to grow up like that, Matvey. I’ve had enough of it for a lifetime. Being second choice, being second-best… you have no idea how painful it can be. How badly it can scar you.

Our baby deserves better than that. Better than a divided heart.

So now, I’m going to do the hardest thing I’ve ever done. The hardest thing any mother can do, really.

I’m going to do what’s best for my daughter.

I’m going to leave, and I’m not going to come back.

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