“She was treated for a long time. A very long time. She went everywhere: to irrigation and to springs. Nothing helped. Yes, she plowed the whole city in search of good and smart doctors. They just shrugged their shoulders: they say, all hope is in God. And at that time there was no God at all. More precisely, there was, of course, but he was not officially recognized. And she was treated and believed. She believed and was treated. I spent a long time in gynecological departments. And I got so used to it that I began to consider every hospital a second home. In the hospital I could lie down and think. She always thought only about the child. About the future child. Perhaps this was that same maternal instinct. The thought of a child haunted Lyusa. And she also remembered her husband’s heavy, gloomy gaze, sliding over her figure and stopping at her stomach. Having met this gaze, she instantly tucked her stomach, holding her breath. I was waiting for what he would say. Maybe he’ll swear or throw himself onto the bed. But the husband silently snorted and left the room. She let go of her stomach and ran her hand over her chest, along her thighs, along her sides. Her palms slid over her even, smooth body, and she could hardly restrain herself from sobbing: well, what, what is he missing? The body is good, she is clean, her breath is fresh, and she doesn’t smell like her neighbor Tomka. And time quietly clicked away moments turning into days, weeks, years and decades. They lived like that: quietly, without swearing, as if holding their breath. Everyone was waiting for something. And melancholy settled in the house. However, she always lived in this house. Lucy immediately felt melancholy as soon as she crossed the threshold after the wedding. The groom did not deign to carry her in his arms, he just took her by the elbow...”