“Alina,” he began over dinner, “and with what money did you buy gifts for your mother? The dress, the certificate, the photo album… As I understand, with your own?”
“Well, yes,” she replied softly. “I saved a little in advance. I ordered the dress two months ago, and I got the spa certificate cheaper thanks to my friend. And… the album, I made it myself, I just bought the album and printed the necessary photos.”
Galina Sergeevna’s birthday was already on the horizon. She was turning 55 and decided to invite her closest people to a cozy restaurant: children, grandchildren, a few old friends, people she hadn’t seen in a long time but still held dear.
Alina’s mother was a wise and generous woman. Throughout her life she had never reproached her daughter. She gave Alina gifts even when times were hard—always sincerely, without conditions or demands.
When Alina was little, there was never enough money for anything, and her mother made up for it with warmth. Now, as Alina had grown up, her mother tried to make up for the past: sometimes with trips to the sea, sometimes with a new dress from the store, sometimes a family outing to a café.
Alina understood all this and accepted it with gratitude. Especially now, having her own daughter, Olesya, she understood her mother better than ever.
That’s why she wanted to make her mom’s birthday special: she ordered a beautiful dress her mother would love, bought a spa certificate, and made a photo album—printing her mom’s best pictures from Alina’s childhood to Olesya’s first steps. Her desire to make her mom’s evening beautiful and memorable was enormous.
She carefully wrapped the gifts and placed them in a box. All she could think about was: “Mom will be so happy…” But right before the celebration, the day before, something unpleasant happened. Alina’s husband, Pavel, looked irritated and moody.
“Alina,” he began at dinner, “and with what money did you buy gifts for your mom? The dress, the certificate, the photo album… As I understand, with your own?”
“Well, yes,” she replied softly. “I saved a little in advance. I ordered the dress two months ago, and I got the spa certificate cheaper thanks to my friend. And… the album, I made it myself, I just bought the album and printed the necessary photos.”
“That’s all well and good. But two years ago, for my mother, you didn’t do anything like that.”
Alina remembered. Indeed, back then for her mother-in-law they only bought a jewelry store gift certificate, because Pavel insisted on an expensive present for his mother, Olga Ivanovna.
“Well… we bought her a thirty-thousand-ruble certificate. All my gifts this year cost less than that. So I don’t see what there is to discuss.”
“Maybe so, but your effort for your mother irritates me a little. You bought gifts for your mom, but didn’t even chip in for mine! Why don’t you ever try so hard for my parents?”
“Perhaps because they’re your parents. And besides, I’ve only been working for a year and a half. With what money should I have chipped in? I was on maternity leave,” Alina answered calmly.
“So what?” her husband snapped.
“So nothing. If you want, you can collect as many gifts for your mom as you like. But I wanted to treat mine this year. She’s done so much for us and still does.”
“So you’re saying my mother doesn’t help us?”
It’s not that Olga Ivanovna never helped, but you could hardly call it help. She would swoop in, take her granddaughter for a couple of hours, and that was it. There was never any financial support from the in-laws.
“I’m saying I love my mom and want to give her a heartfelt gift. That’s all. Let’s end this conversation, I’m tired and want to sleep,” Alina yawned and walked toward the bedroom.
Pavel stayed in the kitchen, watching her go, unable to accept it. He was so irritated by what he felt was unfair treatment toward him and his parents. He understood in his head that all their trips and major purchases hadn’t bypassed Galina Sergeevna, but he didn’t want to admit it.
Pavel grumbled a bit under his breath, noisily pushed his chair back, and went to bed. He expected Alina to at least say something conciliatory, apologize like before, but she was silent. And not out of pride—she truly felt no guilt. She had done what she thought was right. Apologizing for showing love to her mother, who had helped their family countless times, seemed absurd.
The next morning, Alina got up as usual, quietly so as not to wake anyone. She got herself ready, made breakfast, then dressed Olesya for kindergarten, and, saying goodbye to a sleepy Pavel, they left. The day passed in chores and thoughts about tomorrow’s celebration. She wanted everything to be beautiful, so her mom would feel loved.
That evening, after putting Olesya to bed, Alina carefully took hangers with clothes out of the closet. For tomorrow she chose a delicate pastel dress for herself and a cute little dress in the same shade for Olesya. For Pavel she laid out a gray shirt that went perfectly with his pants. Everything looked harmonious.
“What’s with the masquerade?” he smirked when he saw the prepared clothes in the morning. “I’ll wear a white shirt. Leave these trendy things for someone else.”
“As you wish,” Alina replied calmly, though it hurt. Not because of the shirt, but because of his general attitude—as if none of it mattered.
The restaurant was beautiful: light tablecloths, elegant table settings, soft music, the fragrance of fresh flowers. Guests were smiling, hugging, talking. Galina Sergeevna looked magnificent, glowing from within.
Pavel immediately sat at the table, sprawling in the chair like a baron, only missing the call for his coat and hat. Alina, holding Olesya’s hand, approached her mother. She handed over the gift box with a tremor, but without pomp.
“Thank you, darling,” Galina Sergeevna smiled and hugged Alina. “I’ll open it later, okay? I want to savor this moment.”
Alina nodded, and at that moment her phone vibrated in her bag. She looked at the screen—Olga Ivanovna.
“This is definitely not the best time,” Alina thought, but she answered anyway.
“Yes, Olga Ivanovna?”
“Hello, Alina. I wanted to congratulate your mom. Wishing her good health! She helps you so much, right? Not like us. You only want money, and we poor folks aren’t good enough.”
“What are you talking about?” Alina stepped into the restroom to speak louder. “What does poor and not good enough have to do with anything?”
“Everything. Pasha told me all about how you prepared this party for your mother.”
“I didn’t prepare anything. Mom booked the restaurant herself. I don’t even understand what this conversation is about.”
“It’s about this, dear, that you’ll have to work hard to keep good relations with me if you want to keep your marriage. You know I can snap my fingers and have you divorced from Pavel,” Olga Ivanovna said with a victorious smirk.
“Really? Don’t bother. I’ll handle that myself since you and Pasha can’t seem to live in peace. Tomorrow he’ll move in with you. After all, we live in my mother’s apartment,” Alina replied sharply.
“Wait!” Olga Ivanovna changed her tone. “I didn’t mean that at all.”
“What then? That you can insult me and my mother and stay unpunished? Pavel has long since crossed all boundaries of rudeness and behaves horribly. I can endure a lot, but all patience has its limit.”
Alina hung up, looked in the mirror, fixed her hair, and returned to the guests. She stayed friendly, smiled, poured Olesya some juice, chatted with her cousin, but inside she was boiling.
Within ten minutes of returning to the table, Pavel had downed a glass of wine, then another—“to mom,” then “to the birthday girl’s daughter,” and finally just “to good company.” He joked and laughed loudly, as if he were free and single.
When an unfamiliar lady in a glittering tight dress invited him to dance, he didn’t think to refuse. He even winked at Alina with a smirk, as if challenging her. Alina said nothing, only met her mother’s eyes. Galina Sergeevna frowned, but Alina barely nodded—everything was fine.
“Don’t ruin the evening for yourself,” she repeated to herself.
Olesya happily ran between tables, spinning near her mom, enjoying candies, balloons, and the beautiful surroundings. It was her celebration too—she adored her grandmother and wanted her to enjoy her birthday.
The party ended late in the evening. Everyone left in a good mood, and as they approached home, Pavel said:
“I’ll go grab a couple of beers. For the mood.”
Alina said nothing, just locked the door from inside. She helped Olesya undress, put her in pajamas, and tucked her in. Then she went to the kitchen and silently sat down at the table.
For the first time in a long while, she didn’t feel scared or anxious. She felt calm. That very moment when everything inside settles like a heavy mist—and suddenly you can see clearly that you can, and must, move forward on your own.
When Pavel started rattling the handle from outside and ringing the bell, Alina didn’t open. She went to the door and said:
“Stay at your mom’s tonight. You’re closer to her anyway.”
“Are you out of your mind? Open up!”
“No. And don’t call. I won’t open anyway.”
She heard him curse, then footsteps going down the stairs.
Alina locked all the bolts, turned off the light, and went to Olesya’s room. The girl was almost asleep, and Alina lay down next to her.
That evening Alina, for the first time in a long time, allowed herself to be honest not just with others but with herself.
Alina woke up surprisingly refreshed. For the first time in ages, she slept deeply, without anxious dreams or sudden awakenings. Olesya was peacefully snoring beside her. When the girl opened her eyes and saw her mom still there, she was surprised:
“Mom, you slept with me?”
Alina smiled and stroked her daughter’s head:
“Today is a special day, sunshine. That’s why I slept with you.”
Olesya didn’t fully understand what her mom meant, but happily yawned and stretched.
Pavel didn’t call. Not in the morning, not later. It was even strange that he was silent, but overall—understandable.
The phone rang closer to eleven. It was mom.
“Sweetheart, did you get home okay yesterday? Everything all right?” Galina Sergeevna’s voice was warm, as always. “I just wanted to thank you for yesterday. It was an amazing evening. And for the gifts too, you moved me so much…”
“Mom,” Alina sat on the edge of the bed, “I wanted to tell you something… I decided to divorce Pasha.”
“You know, I’m not surprised!” her mom replied after a short pause. “He’s not your person, honey. He’s too immature, too incomplete for his age. And you’ve always been trying to convince yourself it’s not that bad with him. But that’s not life.”
“I’ve realized that too. And I don’t want to convince myself anymore. I don’t want to live with someone who thinks he’s the most important person in the world.”
“And you’re right, Alina. Don’t be afraid of anything. You’re strong, smart, you have me, you have Olesya. Everything else is secondary. We’ll manage!”
Olga Ivanovna, on the other hand, was furious. Drunk Pavel had stumbled into her house at 2 a.m., reeking of alcohol and wounded pride. First she scolded him, then listened, and in the morning, unable to contain herself, she stormed over to Alina’s.
She banged for a long time, loud and shameless. Alina looked through the peephole and simply didn’t open. Everything she needed to say had already been said. There was nothing to talk about.
Olga Ivanovna wasn’t going to give up:
“You wretch! Who even are you without my son?! You wouldn’t last a day on your own! He put up with you, and you kicked him out! Disgrace! Brainless little brat!”
Alina calmly leaned against the wall behind the door, listening as a neighbor from the fifth floor came out and asked indignantly:
“Lady, do you have any shame? People are sleeping! Should we call the police or will you leave on your own?”
“I came to see my daughter-in-law!”
“And she clearly doesn’t want to see you. And neither do we, by the way.”
A couple of minutes later Olga Ivanovna left. Alina exhaled. That was it. The boundary had been drawn.
The divorce process went quickly and without scandals. Pavel came to see Olesya, but otherwise disappeared from Alina’s life. And she was only glad about that. There was no grief. No emptiness. On the contrary—life seemed to have more air.
Alina didn’t think she’d never love again. On the contrary. She believed everything was just beginning. Now she was truly herself—calm, whole, and happy. And life really began to smile at her—in the smallest, but most important things: the morning sun, Olesya’s funny phrases, old songs on the car radio, and in the fact that she wanted to dream again.
