I got a ticket to the seaside for my birthday. “Surprise!” my sister smiled. I froze from the shock and gratitude. But then she added, “You don’t mind if I send the kids with you, do you? They love swimming.”
That’s how I found out my vacation would be… a children’s one.
Nadya handed me an envelope with documents, and I felt everything tighten inside. Not from gratitude. From realizing I was simply being used.
They gave me a seaside vacation—but only if I took my three nephews along.
Inside the envelope were plane tickets, a hotel voucher for Anapa, and the kids’ medical certificates. Everything was arranged very nicely—Nadya knew how to present things with flair. But the longer I studied the documents, the clearer I understood the scale of the upcoming expenses.
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“Nadya, is food included at the hotel?”
“Breakfasts,” she waved it off. “But there are tons of cafés nearby. And there’s a market.”
So feeding three kids would be on me, too.
“And what kind of room is it?”
“A two-room suite! It’ll be convenient for you and the boys.”
I pictured two weeks in one suite with three boys of different ages. Danil—almost a teenager, likes to sleep till noon. Kolya—a live wire, up at six. Yelisey—still just a little one, afraid of the dark and only falls asleep with the light on.
How are they even going to coexist in one room?
“Olesya, why are you just standing there?” Nadya laughed, hugging me. “Danil, Kolya, and Yelisey have been dreaming of the sea! And you always said you love children.”
Loving children and babysitting three little rascals for two weeks straight are two completely different things.
The boys had already turned my living room upside down. Danil was rummaging through my bookshelf, Kolya was exploring the contents of the kitchen cabinets and the fridge, and Yelisey was trying to climb onto the windowsill.
“Aunt Olesya, do you have any candy?” Kolya poked his head out from behind the table.
“I have cookies.”
“What about ice cream?”
“No.”
“Why not?” He looked genuinely surprised.
Because I don’t buy ice cream often. Because I live alone and buy only what I need.
“Mom, why is Aunt Olesya’s apartment so small?” Danil asked.
“Because she lives alone, she doesn’t need more,” Nadya replied, giving my place an appraising once-over.
At thirty-two, I have neither a husband nor children. Relationships never quite worked out—either work got in the way, or I didn’t meet the right person. And now my relatives think that since I’m free, I ought to help everyone.
I lived in a one-room apartment of thirty-eight square meters. The furniture—only what was necessary. A sofa that folded out into a bed, a desk, a small wardrobe, a kitchen set. No kids’ corners, no toys, no bright pictures on the walls.
“Nadya, why don’t you go with them yourself?”
“I’m going on a business trip to Yekaterinburg! I told you. It’s a big project—the construction of a shopping center. The client is ready to pay serious money, but I’ll have to work without weekends.”
Nadya was a cost engineer at a large construction company. She earned well—twice as much as I did. She could afford a rented three-room apartment in a new building, a car, expensive clothes.
“And the boys have been waiting for this trip…” she went on. “I promised them back in March.”
In March. So the plan had been brewing for a while.
“Nadya, why not move the trip to August? Then you could go yourself.”
“Olesya, are you serious! In August the packages are twice as expensive! And I’ll be on business trips until September.”
Of course. Savings above all.
“And what does their father think?”
Nadya grimaced. Her relationship with her ex-husband was strained, though he paid child support regularly.
“He said summer is for rest, not for him to fuss with kids. He has a new family now, you understand…”
I understood. I understood that for all the adults in this situation, I was the only convenient option.
I looked at my nephews, who were already tearing around my one-room apartment. Danil is eight, Kolya six, Yelisey four. They had enough energy to power a small power plant.
Danil was a calm, thoughtful boy. He read books, built models, didn’t cause much trouble. But the two younger ones were a real trial. Kolya couldn’t sit still for a minute—always breaking, taking apart, investigating something. And at four, Yelisey was still very much a baby—whining, crying, demanding constant attention.
“Aunt Olesya, do you have cartoons?” Yelisey tugged my hand.
“I have some on the tablet.”
“Can we watch?”
I put on a cartoon for them and went to the kitchen to make tea. I needed to collect my thoughts and figure out what I’d gotten into.
My apartment came to me from Aunt Rimma— the only one in the family who didn’t think I was obligated to help everyone just because I had no husband or children.
Aunt Rimma was a math teacher; she worked at school her whole life. She had no children, and she left the apartment to me. She probably understood it would be hardest for me—without a husband, without parental support.
After she passed, my mother said, “You’re lucky, Olesya. At least you’ve got housing.” But no one talked about how much effort and money I had to pour into renovating the place, handling the paperwork, and paying the utilities.
“Olesya, look at the dates I picked—July fifteenth to twenty-ninth. Didn’t you say you were taking vacation in July?”
I nodded. I really had planned to take my vacation for those exact dates.
“I’ll bring the kids’ things a couple days before the flight. Suitcases, clothes, toys. And don’t worry—everything’s paid for. Well, except for entertainment, of course. But you know how expensive tickets are… I had to take out a loan for this trip.”
She took out a loan, and the entertainment—was on me.
“Nadya, hold on. What ‘entertainment’?”
“Well, water parks, excursions, souvenirs. The dolphinarium—the boys really dream about it! And boat trips, too. Little things!”
Little things?
“And how much will that cost, roughly?”
Nadya was already at the door, in a hurry.
“Thirty thousand will be enough for all of it! You’re thrifty, you’ll make it stretch.”
And she left. Thirty thousand.
That’s almost a third of my salary. And to spend it on my nephews, while my sister earns much more.
I sat down at the table and took out a calculator. I tried to estimate the expenses more precisely. If I scrimped, I could manage with less. But then there would be no special outings—only the bare necessities. And the boys were expecting a full vacation.
I sat down on the sofa and looked at the boys. They had already found my tablet and were watching something intently. Danil held the device, and his younger brothers were seated on either side.
“Guys, do you know that a seaside trip is very expensive?”
Danil tore himself from the screen. He’s a smart boy; he understands a lot.
“Aunt Olesya, didn’t Mom pay for everything?”
“For the hotel and the plane—yes. But not for entertainment.”
“How much does that cost?” He looked at me with serious eyes.
I hesitated. Should I talk to a child about money? But he’d asked honestly, so I decided to answer honestly.
“A lot.”
Danil frowned.
“Mom said you have a lot of money because you live alone and don’t support anyone.”
Brilliant logic, Nadya.
Kolya chimed in too:
“And our dad said it’s good that someone’s going to take care of us. He’s tired of being a nanny on weekends.”
Wonderful. So my sister’s ex also thinks I’m a free babysitter.
“Do you yourselves want to go to the sea?” I asked.
“Of course!” all three answered in unison. “We’ve never seen the real sea!”
And that’s when I realized it would be very hard to refuse. Not because of Nadya, not because of family pressure. Because of those sincere children’s eyes, full of anticipation and joy.
All evening I tried to figure out how to wriggle out of this situation. But every time I looked at the boys, who were telling each other about the sea with such excitement, I realized—I wouldn’t be able to say no.
In the morning Nadya called.
“Olesya, hi! How are you?”
“Nadya, we need to talk.”
“Sure! But make it quick—I have a meeting in ten minutes.”
“About the money for entertainment. I won’t be able to spend money on that.”
A pause.
“Olesya, seriously? They’re children! Do you want them to sit in the room?”
“I want you to understand—it’s a lot for me.”
“Listen, maybe you could take a loan? It’s just for a little while.”
A LOAN. FOR THEIR ENTERTAINMENT.
“Nadya, do you hear yourself?”
“Olesya, don’t start! I’m doing this for you. I could’ve given the package to someone else.”
“Then give it.”
“What?!”
“Give it to someone else. If it’s such a favor.”
“Olesya, are you out of your mind? The kids have already told everyone about the sea! Do you want to upset them?”
And there it was—emotional pressure. Our family’s signature move.
“Nadya, if it’s a gift, then why do I have to chip in for it?”
“Because you’re their aunt! Because family means mutual help!”
“And where was that ‘mutual help’ when I was renovating my apartment? When my car broke down?”
“Olesya, those are different things…”
“How are they different?”
Nadya sighed.
“Fine, I’ll try to find another five thousand. But the rest is on you.”
“Nadya, why don’t you cancel your business trip?”
“Olesya, do you know how much I’ll earn there? Fifty thousand!”
Those ‘mere thirty’ are a third of my monthly income.
“Then spend part of that fifty on your own children.”
“I need that money for a down payment on a mortgage! We’re buying a new apartment!”
“And I need my money to live.”
“Olesya, stop being so selfish!”
SELFISH.
Me, who often spends weekends with her kids. Who buys them birthday presents. Who helps with homework over the phone.
“You know what, Nadya? Go yourself with your kids. Or find another ‘selfish’ person.”
“Olesya, you can’t do this! The children…!”
“The children are yours. And the responsibility for them is yours, too.”
I hung up.
An hour later my mother was at my door.
“Olesya, what is going on? Nadya called me in tears.”
Of course. She ran straight to Mom to complain.
“Mom, come in. Want some tea?”
“I don’t want any tea! Explain what’s happening.”
I told her everything as it was.
“So what?” Mom threw up her hands. “Thirty thousand is astronomical for you? You have your own place; you don’t pay anyone.”
“Mom, I have utilities, food, clothing, gas…”
“Nadya has three children! Do you realize what that costs her?”
“I do. That’s why I don’t have children yet.”
“Olesya!”
“What ‘Olesya’? I don’t want to and shouldn’t support someone else’s children!”
“Not someone else’s! Your nephews!”
“Who are not my kids.”
Mom sat down on the sofa and sighed heavily.
“Olesya, I’m ashamed of you. I didn’t raise you like this.”
HOW MUCH THAT HURT.
“Mom, aren’t you ashamed of Nadya? Who gave me a ‘gift’ at my own expense?”
“She’s trying to give her children a better life!”
“At my expense.”
“At the family’s expense! Olesya, when you were little, who bought your toys? Who took you to Grandma’s dacha?”
And again this. Childhood debts I’m supposed to repay for the rest of my life.
“Mom, I didn’t ask to be born.”
“What?!”
“You decided to have me—so you provided for me. That’s a parental duty, not a loan I have to pay back.”
Mom stood up.
“I don’t recognize you, Olesya. You’ve become so hard.”
“I’ve become an adult.”
“Adults help family!”
“Adults don’t let themselves be used.”
After Mom left, I sat in the quiet and thought.
Maybe I really am selfish? Maybe I should’ve agreed?
But then I remembered last year. Nadya’s birthday. I gave her a spa certificate for five thousand. And she gave me a set of towels for eight hundred.
I remembered how two years ago she asked to “borrow” twenty thousand for children’s furniture. And still hasn’t paid it back.
I remembered how she told her friends that I’m “free, don’t support anyone, so I can afford it.” NO. I’M NOT SELFISH. I’m just tired of being convenient.
That evening my cousin Kostya called.
“Olesya, I heard about the scandal with the trip.”
“And what do you think about it?”
“I think you did the right thing.”
I almost burst into tears from relief.
“Seriously?”
“Seriously. You’re not an ATM.”
“Mom says I’ve become hard.”
“Kostya, maybe I should still go with the boys? I feel sorry for them.”
“Olesya, if you go—you’ll end up paying for everyone for the rest of your life. Nadya will decide her method works.”
HE WAS RIGHT.
The next day Nadya sent a message:
“Olesya, I’ve found a solution. We’ll go together—I canceled the business trip. I’ll lose the money, of course, but family is more important.”
I stared at the message and understood—this was a last try at pressure. Now it was my fault my sister lost fifty thousand. But I wasn’t playing these games anymore.
“Nadya, great! It’ll be nice to spend the vacation all together. But expenses—each pays their own.”
The reply came half an hour later:
“Forget the trip. I’ll sell the package.”
And that’s how the story with the ‘gift’ ended.
The boys, of course, were upset. But Nadya told them that Aunt Olesya couldn’t go.
I didn’t contradict her.
Let me be the bad aunt in their eyes. At least I won’t be convenient anymore for the adults who are used to solving their problems at my expense.
A month later Nadya did go to the sea with the kids. And I ended up having enough money for my own vacation—a week in the mountains, in silence, alone with myself.
And you know what? It was the best vacation of my life.
Because for the first time in many years I didn’t owe it to anyone and wasn’t responsible for anyone. Because for the first time, I chose myself. And it was the right choice.
