Elena stood by the mirror in the bedroom, adjusting her hair. Forty-five years old — an age when a woman either completely gives up or starts living anew. She ran her palm over her face, noticing the barely visible wrinkles near her eyes. No, she looked good. Regular workouts at the gym, proper nutrition, quality cosmetics — all that showed results. The neighbors envied her, friends asked for her beauty secrets. And her husband… her husband seemed not to notice.
“Lena, how much longer are you going to keep fussing around there?” came Sergei’s irritated voice from the kitchen. “The guests will be here in an hour, and you’re primping like a lady of leisure.”
Elena pressed her lips together. Always like this. First, he didn’t help for a whole month with the holiday preparations, and now he was reproaching her. She stepped out of the bedroom, holding a new dress — dark blue, figure-flattering.
“Sergei, maybe you could help now? The salads aren’t ready, the table isn’t set.”
He was sitting in the armchair with his phone, not even looking up.
“Come on, you’ll manage. You’re our hostess after all.”
At that moment, the doorbell rang in the hallway. Elena sighed — it was surely her mother-in-law. Lidia Petrovna had been appearing in their home almost daily in recent months. It was as if Sergei had put her in charge of watching over his wife.
“Open the door,” grumbled Sergei without taking his eyes off the screen.
Lidia Petrovna entered with the air of the lady of the house. A seventy-year-old woman with a sharp gaze and a habit of commenting on every action of her daughter-in-law.
“Dear Lena,” she cast a critical look at Elena. “Is that a new dress? Isn’t it a bit too flashy for your age?”
Elena felt something tighten inside. Just like that, from the very first words. But she only smiled.
“Hello, Lidia Petrovna. Please come in.”
Sergei finally looked up from his phone.
“Mom, you’re just in time. Lena’s getting nervous for no reason.”
“How could she not be nervous,” the mother-in-law interjected. “The house is a mess, the table isn’t set, and she’s just staring at herself in the mirror.”
Elena took a deep breath. After twenty-three years of marriage, she had developed a strategy: not to react to provocations, to think about her daughter. But Katya was grown up now, working in another city, building her own life. What was she still putting up with?
“I’ll go to the kitchen,” she said quietly.
The next hour Elena spent in feverish preparation. She chopped salads, arranged plates, warmed appetizers. Sergei occasionally glanced into the kitchen, not to help, but to criticize her work.
“The Olivier salad tastes kind of bland,” he remarked after tasting it from a spoon.
“Maybe add some mayonnaise?” suggested the mother-in-law, who, of course, also decided to voice her opinion.
Elena remained silent, carrying out the tasks automatically. A strange calm grew inside her. As if she was watching herself from the outside: a woman rushing around the kitchen, preparing a celebration that no one appreciated, living in a house where she was constantly belittled.
At seven in the evening, guests began to arrive. The first were Elena’s friends — Olga and Marina. They enthusiastically hugged the birthday girl, admiring her appearance.
“Lena, you’re simply glowing!” said Olga. “What a stunning dress!”
“Yes, it really suits you,” agreed Marina. “Sergei, you’re lucky to have such a beauty.”
Sergei smiled tensely.
“Yes, really lucky. Too bad the character doesn’t always match the beauty.”
Elena felt her cheeks burn. Right there, in front of everyone. As always.
“Seryozhenka, don’t be modest,” the mother-in-law interrupted. “Lena is a good hostess, though sometimes she spends too much time on herself.”
The friends exchanged looks. The atmosphere became tense.
By eight, about ten people had gathered. Neighbors, Sergei’s colleagues with their wives, distant relatives. Elena fluttered among the guests, making sure everyone’s plates and glasses were full. She was the perfect hostess, as always.
“Lena, you’re simply magical,” praised the neighbor Anna Mikhailovna. “How do you manage it all?”
“Yes, Sergei’s wife is gold,” loudly said one of Sergei’s colleagues. “Such women are rare nowadays.”
Sergei smiled smugly.
“What can you do, I raised her as best I could. Although, to be honest, it’s not always easy to deal with her character.”
Elena placed another dish on the table and looked at her husband. Twenty-three years. Twenty-three years she had endured these barbs, these public humiliations. At first, she thought it was a transitional period, an adjustment. Then Katya was born, and all the attention shifted to their daughter. Elena worked, kept the house, raised the child, and Sergei… Sergei criticized.
“By the way,” her husband suddenly said, “we’ll have another guest. I invited a colleague from work.”
Elena was surprised. He hadn’t warned her about an extra guest. But she said nothing.
Ten minutes later, the doorbell rang again. Sergei hurried to open it. Elena heard his lively voice:
“Anya, come in, don’t be shy!”
Into the living room came a girl about twenty-five years old. A blonde with plumped lips, wearing a short dress and high heels. She carried herself a bit provocatively, yet uncertainly — a provincial beauty trying to make an impression.
“Meet Anya,” Sergei was clearly excited. “She’s our new secretary. A very talented girl.”
Anya smiled coquettishly.
“Thank you, Sergei Vladimirovich. You’re so kind to me.”
Elena watched the scene closely. The girl looked at Sergei with loving eyes, and he clearly enjoyed the attention. Everything became clear. Finally.
“Elena Nikolaevna,” Anya held out her hand. “Happy birthday. Sergei Vladimirovich tells me so much about you.”
“Thank you,” Elena replied coldly. “Please, make yourself comfortable.”
The rest of the evening Elena observed her husband and his “colleague.” Anya practically clung to Sergei. She laughed at his jokes, admired his stories, constantly touched his arm. And he visibly blossomed.
“Sergei Vladimirovich, you’re so smart,” the girl chirped. “I learn so much useful from you.”
“Oh, Anya,” he modestly said, “experience just comes with years.”
The guests began to notice the host’s strange behavior. Elena’s friends exchanged glances, neighbors whispered. The mother-in-law, however, pretended nothing unusual was happening.
Elena stepped into the kitchen under the pretext of bringing the cake. She stood by the table, looking at the birthday cake with forty-five candles. She thought about what she was feeling… relief. At last, it was clear what was going on. Finally, no more tormenting doubts.
She brought the cake into the living room. The guests applauded and began to make toasts. Elena listened to the congratulations, thanked everyone, smiled. Inside, she felt surprisingly calm.
“Dear Lena,” said her friend Olga, “I wish you happiness and joy in the coming year of your life. You deserve it.”
“Yes, yes,” supported a neighbor. “Good health to you, Lena, and may your husband cherish you.”
Sergei raised his glass.
“Well, here’s to my wife. For always showing her character.” He laughed, and the guests laughed along.
Anya giggled loudly.
“Oh, Sergei Vladimirovich, you’re such a joker!”
Elena looked at the scene: her husband joking about her on her birthday, and his mistress laughing the loudest. The mother-in-law nodded approvingly. The guests smiled, unsure how to react.
She stood up and raised her glass.
“Thank you all for coming to congratulate me. Thank you for the gifts, for the kind words. This birthday is truly special.”
The guests quieted, awaiting more.
“I want to thank you for being here, by my side,” Elena continued. “And I want to give myself a gift.”
She took the keys to an apartment from her purse and placed them on the table in front of Sergei.
“These are the keys to your apartment. I’m keeping the car.”
Complete silence fell. Sergei turned pale.
“Lena, what are you doing? In front of everyone…”
“I’m giving myself the best birthday gift,” she answered calmly. “Please, don’t hesitate to continue celebrating, help yourselves. There’s still cake.”
Anya looked at Sergei, confused, then at Elena. The mother-in-law threw up her hands.
“Lena, what are you saying? Come to your senses!”
“I have never been so clear-headed in my thoughts,” Elena replied. “Thank you all for this evening. Goodbye.”
She went to the bedroom, took a pre-packed bag, and headed for the door. Sergei tried to stop her.
“Lena, wait! We can discuss everything!”
“There’s nothing to discuss,” she turned around. “For twenty-three years, I waited for you to start respecting me. Apparently, I waited until I realized — you never will.”
She left the apartment, leaving stunned guests behind. Outside, it was a warm June evening. Elena got into her car, started the engine, and drove to her friend Olga’s, who hadn’t been able to come to the party.
On the way, she felt a strange lightness. As if a heavy burden had fallen from her shoulders. Forty-five is not the end, but the beginning. The beginning of life for herself, not for those who don’t value her efforts.
Her phone rang nonstop. Sergei, the mother-in-law, friends — all tried to reach her. But Elena did not answer. Today she had given herself freedom. The best birthday gift she could imagine.
A week later, Katya arrived from another city. Her daughter was on her side.
“Mom, I’m so glad you finally made the decision. I’ve long seen how he treats you. You deserve happiness.”
Elena rented a small apartment in the city center. With the money she had saved, she opened a small travel agency — she had always loved traveling. Sergei tried to win her back, promised to change, but she didn’t believe him. Too many years had passed, too many humiliations endured.
Anya, it turned out, quickly lost interest in Sergei once she realized he was not just formally married, but really had problems dividing property. The mother-in-law kept calling for a long time, trying to convince Elena to return, but she was adamant.
Six months later, Elena met Mikhail — a widower, an architect, a man who knew how to appreciate a woman. He admired her strength, supported her initiatives, treated her with respect.
“You know,” she said to him once, “I thought forty-five was almost the end. But it turned out to be only the beginning of real life.”
Mikhail smiled.
“Life begins when we stop living for others and start living for ourselves.”
Elena nodded. The best gift she ever gave herself was the decision to leave the house where she was not valued. And now every day was a gift.
