Five Months After My Divorce, My Ex-Sister-in-Law Showed Up: No One Expected This Conversation

The phone rang just as Natalia was trying to hang a picture. After five months alone in her small apartment, it was finally starting to feel like home. The painting—a mountain landscape—she and Andrei had bought in Crimea back in the ’90s. She ended up with it by chance during the division of their things, and now, half a year after the divorce, Natalia had at last decided to put it up.
“Yes?” she said, pressing the phone to her ear with her shoulder while trying to keep hold of the hammer.
“Natasha, it’s me,” Ksenia’s voice was unusually quiet.
Natalia froze. Hearing her former sister-in-law’s voice after everything that had happened was a shock.
The hammer slipped from her hand and struck her thumb. Natalia cried out in pain.
“What happened?” Ksenia asked, clearly worried.
“It’s nothing, just hit my finger with the hammer,” Natalia replied, sitting down on the couch and inspecting her reddened thumb. “Why are you calling?”
“We need to talk.”
“About what?” Natalia’s tone turned cold. “I thought we’d discussed everything. Or has your brother decided to take something else of mine?”
“Natasha, please,” Ksenia’s voice was gentler than usual. “Can I come over? It’s important.”
Natalia rubbed her temple. She’d been learning to live without the past for five months now—without calls from Andrei’s family, without having to think about the household she’d been part of for thirty years.
“Fine,” she agreed, surprising herself. “In an hour.”
When Ksenia appeared at the door, Natalia couldn’t help but notice how much her former relative had changed. Once always polished and vibrant, Ksenia now looked gaunt and worn, dark circles under her eyes.
“Come in,” Natalia said, stepping aside to let her guest into the apartment.
Ksenia walked uncertainly into the living room, glancing around.
“It’s cozy here.”
“Thank you,” Natalia replied curtly. “But that’s not why you came.”
“No,” Ksenia sat down on the edge of the sofa. “I came because I can’t keep quiet any longer.”
“About what?” Natalia crossed her arms over her chest.
“Andrei is sick.”
Natalia felt something stir inside her. Thirty years don’t just disappear. No matter how hard the divorce was, no matter how much it hurt that Andrei left her for a younger coworker, part of her still cared about him.
“What’s wrong with him?” she asked, trying to keep her voice steady.
“It’s terminal,” Ksenia said softly, almost in a whisper. “Stage three. He found out a month after your divorce.”
Natalia collapsed into the armchair, stunned.
“Why… why are you telling me this?” she asked, gripping the armrests tightly.
“Because he asked not to tell anyone. Especially you. Even Larisa left him when she found out the diagnosis,” Ksenia said with a bitter smile. “That girl wasn’t ready to be a caretaker after all.”
Natalia turned toward the window. A light rain was falling outside. Thirty years of her life raced through her mind. And now Andrei was alone.
“Natasha,” Ksenia leaned forward. “I know he hurt you. And I know I betrayed you by siding with him during the divorce. But everything is different now.”
“So what exactly has changed?” Natalia spun around sharply. “That he got dumped by his young mistress? And now, when he’s sick and alone, they’ve suddenly remembered about me?”
“No, that’s not it,” Ksenia shook her head. “Andrei doesn’t know I’m here. He told everyone not to bother you.”
“Then why did you come?”
Ksenia took a deep breath, as if she were about to dive into icy water.
“He keeps asking about you. Every time I visit. How you’re doing, what’s going on with your apartment, if you’re managing on your own.”
“He sure didn’t think about that when he left,” Natalia replied with a bitter smile.
“He’s an idiot,” Ksenia suddenly agreed. “A complete idiot. I’m embarrassed I ever defended him.”
Natalia looked at her former sister-in-law in surprise. In thirty years of marriage, she had never once heard Ksenia criticize her brother.
“Did he change after he got sick?” Natalia asked.
“Yes,” Ksenia paused. “But it’s not just the illness. Something else happened. Something you don’t know about.”
“What is it?”
“Andrei left you half the summer house and the car.”
Natalia laughed.
“Don’t make me laugh. During our divorce, he fought over every spoon. His lawyer picked apart every single clause in our prenup.”
“I know,” Ksenia lowered her eyes guiltily. “But after his diagnosis, he changed his will. And…” she hesitated, “there’s one more thing. He can only hand these things over in person. That’s the condition.”
“You want me to go see him?” Natalia felt a wave of indignation rise inside her. “After everything that happened?”
“I know how it sounds,” Ksenia raised her hands as if to shield herself. “But there’s another reason I’m here. Dima.”
Natalia tensed up. After their parents’ divorce, their son refused to speak to his father. Finding out about the affair, he took his mother’s side. Despite Andrei’s attempts to reconnect, Dima stayed firm.
“What about Dima?”
“Andrei wants to make peace with him. Before…” Ksenia didn’t finish her sentence, but Natalia understood.
“Before he passes away,” she finished the thought.
A heavy silence filled the room. Natalia walked over to the window and pressed her forehead against the cold glass. The rain picked up, drumming against the ledge.
“He doesn’t have much time left,” Ksenia said quietly. “The doctors say maybe six months. Maybe less.”
“And you want me to convince Dima to make peace with his father?”
“I want you to come. Talk to Andrei. And then decide for yourself.”
Natalia closed her eyes. Scenes from their last encounter replayed in her mind—shouting, tears, accusations. Andrei packing his things. His cold words: “I don’t love you anymore, Natasha. I’m sorry.”
“I don’t know if I can,” she admitted honestly. “I’m not sure I’m ready to see him.”
“I understand,” Ksenia got up from the couch. “But please think about it. Not for him. For yourself. For Dima.”
For three days, Natalia paced her apartment like a caged animal. Thoughts of Andrei kept her from sleeping.
She ran through all sorts of possible reunions in her head. Several times she reached for the phone, found Ksenia’s number. But at the last moment, she would hang up before calling.
On the fourth day, Dima called.
“Mom, do you know what’s going on?” her son’s voice sounded anxious.
“What exactly do you mean?” Natalia asked, though deep down she already knew.
“Aunt Ksyusha called. She said Dad is very sick.”
Natalia let out a heavy sigh. Ksenia had decided to reach out through her son.
“Yes, I know.”
“And you didn’t say anything?” Dima’s tone was almost accusing.
“I only found out a couple of days ago. I didn’t know how to tell you.”
“Is he really dying?”
Natalia closed her eyes tightly. How do you explain to your grown son that the death of your ex-husband is a nightmare you never could have imagined, not even on the darkest days of the divorce?
“Aunt Ksyusha says the prognosis isn’t good.”
There was silence on the line. All Natalia could hear was her son’s heavy breathing.
“He wants to see you,” she finally said. “To make peace.”
“And you?” Dima suddenly asked. “Will you go see him?”
Natalia hadn’t expected that question. She thought her son would be angry, would refuse, would insist on his own resentment. But instead, he had asked her the very same question she’d been asking herself these past days.
“I don’t know,” she replied honestly. “I’m not sure I can.”
“Mom,” Dima’s voice became serious, almost distant, “you always taught me that grudges need to be let go of. That anger is like a poison you drink yourself, expecting the other person to get sick.”
Natalia smiled faintly. That was her favorite saying.
“You’re right,” she said softly. “But it’s one thing to say it, another to actually do it.”
“Let’s go together,” Dima suggested. “I’ll take the day off. I’ll come get you, and we’ll go.”
Natalia felt tears rise in her throat. Her boy, her son. He had always protected her. Now he was offering to do with her what she couldn’t bring herself to face alone.
“Alright,” she finally agreed.
The next day, they stood at the door. Andrey had moved here after the divorce. He sold their shared three-room apartment and bought this smaller place.
“Ready?” Dima asked his mother.
Natalia nodded, and Dima pressed the doorbell.
Ksenia opened the door. She saw them both and couldn’t hide a sigh of relief.
“You came after all. Both of you.”
She let them inside. The apartment smelled of medicine and something else—that particular scent that always lingers in homes where someone is seriously ill. Natalia’s heart tightened.
“He’s in the bedroom,” Ksenia said quietly. “He just woke up. The doctor visited this morning, and he’s feeling a bit better.”
They walked down the short hallway. Dima squeezed his mother’s hand tightly, and Natalia couldn’t tell if she was supporting her son, or if he was supporting her.
Andrey was lying in bed, propped up by pillows. Natalia barely recognized him—his face was gaunt, his eyes sunken, his skin had a grayish tone. The strong, fit Andrey she remembered was now just a shadow.
He saw his ex-wife and son and tried to smile, but his lips only twitched painfully.
“Natasha,” he rasped. “Dima. You came.”
Natalia looked at her ex-husband in silence. All the words she had prepared suddenly vanished from her mind.
“Hi,” Natalia finally managed to say.
Dima stopped at the door. His gaze wandered around the room, avoiding his father.
“Please, take a seat,” Andrey gestured toward the chairs by the bed. “Thank you for coming.”
Natalia sat down carefully. Dima stayed standing, but took a step forward.
“How are you?” Natalia asked, knowing how ridiculous the question sounded.
Andrey offered a faint smile.
I’ve had better days. The doctors say a new round of chemo could help, but they’re not promising any miracles.
The room fell silent. Natalia studied her ex-husband, barely recognizing the frail man before her. This was the same man she had spent thirty years with.
“Dima,” Andrei turned to his son, “I’m so glad to see you.”
“Mom said you wanted to talk,” Dima replied bluntly.
“Yes,” Andrei tried to sit up straighter, wincing from the pain. “I wanted to apologize. To both of you.”
Natalia flinched. In all their years of marriage, she couldn’t remember Andrei ever being the first to apologize.
“I was selfish,” he continued. “And a coward. I should have talked to you, Natasha. Been honest about what was going on. Not run away.”
“Why are you doing this now?” The bitterness in Natalia’s voice was unmistakable. “Because you got sick?”
Andrei shook his head.
“No. I thought about all this before I got sick. Larisa left me a month before my diagnosis,” he gave a sad smile. “She said I was too stuck in the past. Our past, Natasha.”
Dima snorted.
“So now you’ve decided to fix everything?”
“No, son. Nothing can be fixed now,” Andrei looked at his son with deep sadness. Natalia’s heart clenched. “But I can at least ask for forgiveness.”
“So why did you want to see us?” Natalia asked, recalling Ksenia’s words about inheritance.
Andrei pointed to the nightstand.
“There’s a folder there. Take it.”
Natalia reached over and picked up the brown folder. Inside were documents.
“I’ve signed the dacha over to you,” Andrei said. “And the car, too. You always loved that little place.”
“That’s not why I came,” Natalia said sharply. “I don’t want your…”
“I know,” Andrei interrupted her. “I know you didn’t come for this. But I want you to have it. As a reminder of the years when we were happy.”
Natalia lowered her eyes. The dacha by the Volga—a small house with a terrace where they spent so many summer evenings. Where Dima learned to swim. Where they planted apple trees that had no doubt grown tall by now.
“There’s also a letter in there,” Andrei added. “For you. And for Dima.”
Finally, Dima stepped closer.
“Dad,” he said quietly, and Natalia heard in that single word a question, pain, and forgiveness all at once.
Andrei reached out his hand, and after a moment’s hesitation, Dima took it.
“I haven’t been a good father lately,” Andrei said. “But I’ve always loved you. And I’m proud of you.”
Natalia saw her son’s lips begin to tremble. He leaned in and hugged his father tightly. Andrei closed his eyes, a single tear trailing down his cheek.
“I don’t want you to go,” Dima said suddenly.
“Neither do I,” Andrei replied. “Just remember, I loved you both.”
He turned to Natalia:
“We spent thirty years together. It was a good life, wasn’t it?”
Natalia nodded.
“I wish I could change it all,” Andrei continued. “Go back five years and make different choices. But time can’t be turned back.”
“No, it can’t,” Natalia agreed.
She stood up and walked over to the bed. She looked into the eyes of the man she once loved more than life itself. The one who became the father of her child. The one she shared three decades of joys and sorrows with.
“I forgive you,” she said simply.
Andrey took her hand.
“Thank you,” he whispered.
When they stepped out of the apartment, night had already fallen. Dima walked in silence, his hands stuffed in his pockets. Natalia clutched a folder of documents to her chest.
“How are you feeling?” she asked her son.
“I don’t know,” he answered honestly. “It’s strange. Sad. But at the same time… it feels lighter.”
Natalia nodded. She felt exactly the same. It was as if the heavy burden she had been carrying inside for all those months had suddenly disappeared.
“Will we come back again?” Dima asked.
“Yes,” Natalia took her son’s hand. “We’ll definitely come back.”
A week later, they came again. Then again, two weeks after that. Andrey was gradually getting weaker, but every time he greeted them with a smile.
Andrey passed away quietly, in his sleep, at the beginning of December. Natalia and Dima were with him during his last days.
On that day, Ksenia stood beside Natalia. They held on to each other.
“Thank you for coming that day,” Natalia said when everything was over.
“You’re the one who saved him,” Ksenia replied. “You and Dima. He left in peace.”
That spring, for the first time since the divorce, Natalia went to the dacha. The apple trees she and Andrey had planted had really grown tall. She stood on the terrace, looking out at the river. Life went on. And so did she.