That July morning was especially scorching. Anastasia had spread her summer dresses across the bed, carefully deciding which ones to pack for the seaside. In three days, she and Denis were supposed to fly to Sochi—tickets bought a month ago, the hotel fully paid, even the excursions already booked.
“Anya, are you home?” her mother-in-law’s voice came from the hallway.
Anastasia jumped. Elena Pavlovna had a key to their rented three-bedroom apartment and often let herself in without warning.
“I’m home,” Anastasia called back, sliding the dresses into the wardrobe.
Her mother-in-law walked into the bedroom without knocking. Concern was written all over her face—mixed with a barely hidden sense of entitlement.
“We need to discuss something important,” she said without any greeting. “Marina’s children are sick. Both of them. They caught chickenpox at daycare.”
“I’m sorry,” Anastasia replied honestly. “That must be really hard for Marina.”
“Exactly!” Elena Pavlovna cried. “That’s why you have to help. She has a business trip in four days, and she can’t cancel. The contract is worth a million, do you understand?”
Anastasia’s shoulders tightened.
“And what, precisely, do you want from me?”
“You’ll stay with the kids. Only two weeks. Marina will come back from Novosibirsk, and that’s that.”
“Elena Pavlovna, we’re leaving for vacation in three days. You know that.”
Her mother-in-law waved it off as if it were a trivial detail.
“A vacation can be moved. A business trip can’t. That’s work, do you understand? WORK!”
“Our vacation matters too. We’ve worked all year—we’re exhausted…”
“Don’t exagg—don’t start whining,” the older woman snapped, cutting her off. “Family matters more than your little развлечения. Marina needs help, and you’re going on about some sea!”
Anastasia took a deep breath.
“Why me? Marina has a husband. She has his parents too…”
“Igor is on the road—he’s a long-haul truck driver, you know that! And his parents live in Omsk. You’re the ONLY one who can help!”
“Elena Pavlovna, the tickets are nonrefundable. The hotel too. We’ll lose over a hundred thousand.”
“Money!” her mother-in-law scoffed. “Always money with you! The family is in trouble, and you’re counting money!”
At that moment the front door slammed. Denis had come home from work.
“Mom?” he called in surprise from the corridor. “You’re here?”
“Come in here, son,” Elena Pavlovna called. “We have a problem.”
Denis entered the bedroom, kissed his wife on the cheek, and looked at his mother expectantly.
“What happened?”
“Marina’s kids are sick. Chickenpox. She has to go on a business trip, and there’s no one to watch them. I’m asking Anastasia to help, and she’s refusing!”
“I’m not refusing,” Anastasia objected. “I’m telling you we fly out in three days.”
Denis looked from his wife to his mother, visibly torn.
“Mom, but we really are leaving. Everything’s paid for…”
“Denis!” Elena Pavlovna’s voice turned hard. “Your sister has ALWAYS helped you! When you were in college, who loaned you money? When you got fired, who hired you at her company? And now that she needs help, you’re turning your back on her?”
“Mom, don’t…”
“And how should I? Marina has been crying for two days! The kids have fevers, she could lose her job if she doesn’t go! And you’re talking about your precious sea!”
Anastasia stood up from the bed.
“Why are we obligated to change our plans because of your daughter’s children?” she said with a bitter little laugh.
Elena Pavlovna went red.
“What did you just say? How DARE you talk about my daughter like that!”
“I’m telling the truth,” Anastasia answered calmly. “Marina knew about her business trip. She could have arranged something ahead of time. Hired a nanny, for example.”
“A nanny? A STRANGER around sick children?” her mother-in-law snapped. “Have you lost your mind?”
“And I’m not a stranger?” Anastasia shot back.
“You’re FAMILY!” Elena Pavlovna shouted. “Or at least you should be!”
Denis tried to step in.
“Mom, let’s talk this through calmly…”
“What is there to talk about?” his mother spun toward him. “Your wife is OBLIGATED to help! It’s her duty!”
“My duty?” Anastasia almost laughed. “And why would it be?”
“Because you’re married to my son! You live off the money he earns!”
“I work too, by the way!”
“Oh please—don’t talk about your salary, it’s laughable,” Elena Pavlovna sneered. “Don’t make me laugh. Denis supports both of you!”
Anastasia went pale. She worked as an administrator at a large shopping center, and even though she earned less than her programmer husband, she still contributed a significant share to their household budget.
“Mom, why would you say that?” Denis looked flustered.
“I’m telling the truth! Marina NEEDS help! She’ll come by today and you’ll work out the details.”
“I’m not going anywhere, and I’m not discussing anything with anyone,” Anastasia said firmly.
Elena Pavlovna narrowed her eyes.
“Denis, explain to your wife what family obligations are!”
“Mom, but we really did pay for everything…”
“I DON’T CARE!” the older woman exploded. “I don’t care about your vacation! Marina matters more!”
“For you, yes. For me, no,” Anastasia cut in.
“You… you’re just selfish!” Elena Pavlovna gasped. “Denis, did you hear that?”
Denis hesitated, not knowing what to say. On one hand, he understood his wife—they had been waiting for this trip. On the other, his mother wasn’t wrong: Marina had always helped him.
“Maybe we can find a compromise?” he suggested. “Anya can help until we leave, and then you can step in, Mom.”
“I can’t!” Elena Pavlovna snapped. “My back, you know that! I can’t run after children!”
“But you can make demands,” Anastasia muttered.
“What? WHAT did you say?”
“I’m telling the truth! You always do this—demand, command, order people around! But asking whether it’s convenient for us, whether we can even do it—that never crosses your mind!”
“Anya…” Denis tried to stop her.
“No!” Anastasia stamped her foot. “I’m tired! Every time it’s the same! Help Marina, go to the dacha, cook food for your gatherings! And what do I get? Zero gratitude—only complaints!”
“Ungrateful,” her mother-in-law hissed.
“Ungrateful? What exactly have you done for me? What? Allowed me to marry your son? That’s not a favor!”
Elena Pavlovna turned to her son.
“Denis! Are you going to stay silent while she insults me?”
Denis looked lost.
“Anya, don’t talk to Mom like that…”
“And how should I talk? Stay quiet and do whatever she wants?”
“It’s not about what she wants. It’s helping the family!”
“Your family, Denis. YOURS. The one that stopped seeing me as a person a long time ago!”
At that moment the doorbell rang. Elena Pavlovna marched to the door.
“It’s Marina. She’ll explain everything herself!”
Marina entered the apartment like she owned it. Tall, polished, wearing a strict business suit—she always emphasized her superiority over the “shopgirl,” as she called Anastasia behind her back.
“Hi,” she nodded at her brother, then gave her sister-in-law a cold look. “Mom explained the situation?”
“She did,” Anastasia said. “And she got a no.”
Marina lifted an eyebrow.
“A no? Since when do you refuse family?”
“Since the moment I’m cornered three days before a vacation.”
“Oh, come on,” Marina waved her hand. “What vacation? Go some other time.”
“The tickets are nonrefundable. The hotel is paid.”
“So what? Money—big deal. Denis will earn it again.”
Anastasia’s face flushed.
“Why should Denis lose money because you can’t organize your own life?”
“Can’t organize?” Marina burst out laughing. “I run a whole department. And you’re who, exactly? A shopgirl.”
“An administrator.”
“Same thing. Service staff.”
“Marina!” Denis tried to interrupt.
“What?” she snapped, turning to him. “You deserve better, and you got tangled up with this…”
“Finish the sentence!” Anastasia shouted. “Go on—say what you really think!”
“Fine. You’re nobody. No education, no connections, no future. Denis married you out of pity.”
“Marina, enough!” Denis went white.
“And why? Let her know her place!” Marina turned back to Anastasia. “You’re OBLIGATED to help. It’s your chance to be useful to the family!”
“Go to hell!” Anastasia exploded. “To HELL—with your kids and your trips and your demands!”
Everyone froze. Elena Pavlovna recovered first.
“How dare you! In front of me! Denis, did you hear that?”
“I heard,” Denis said dully.
“And you’re silent? She insulted your sister!”
Denis looked at his wife.
“Anya, apologize.”
“What?” Anastasia stared at him. “I’m supposed to apologize—after everything she said?”
“You crossed a line.”
“Me?” Anastasia laughed, but there was no joy in it. “And calling me ‘service staff’ is fine?”
“Marina got carried away…”
“Carried away?” Anastasia looked straight at him. “She humiliates me, and you’re demanding I apologize?”
“Anya, please…”
“No!” Anastasia screamed. “No, no, no! Enough! I’m done being the punching bag. Done staying quiet. Done enduring it!”
“Hysterical,” Marina spat. “Denis, she’s unhinged.”
“GET OUT!” Anastasia grabbed a thick book from the table. “GET OUT OF MY HOME!”
“It’s not your home,” Elena Pavlovna fired back. “It’s a rental your son pays for!”
“And I pay too! Half—every month!”
“Your pennies—”
“Shut up!” Anastasia shouted. “All of you—OUT!” She hurled the book; it hit the table with a dull thud.
Marina backed toward the door.
“She’s insane. Mom, let’s go!”
“Denis!” Elena Pavlovna stared at her son. “Are you going to let her throw us out?”
Denis stayed silent. His confusion teetered on panic.
“Denis!” his mother repeated.
“Maybe you really should leave,” he said quietly.
“What? You’re choosing THIS hysterical woman? THIS bitch?”
“Mom—just go. We’ll talk later.”
Elena Pavlovna straightened, every inch offended dignity.
“Fine. But remember, son—you’re making a choice. And that choice will have consequences!”
She left with royal indignation. Marina followed, tossing over her shoulder:
“You’ll regret this, brother!”
The door slammed. Silence filled the apartment, broken only by Anastasia’s heavy breathing.
“Have you lost your mind?” Denis finally said. “Throwing books? Screaming at my mother?”
“And what was I supposed to do—swallow the insults in silence?”
“You could’ve talked calmly!”
“Calmly?” Anastasia let out a sharp, hysterical laugh. “With them? They only hear themselves!”
“They’re my family, Anya!”
“And who am I—your maid?”
“Don’t start again.”
“I never stopped. Denis, have you ever taken my side? Even once? Have you ever protected me from them?”
“They’re not attacking you…”
“Oh really? Your mother constantly reminds me I’m not worthy of you. Your sister calls me ‘service staff.’ And you just sit there!”
“They don’t mean harm…”
“Then what do they mean—love? Fine. I kicked them out out of love.”
Denis dropped onto the couch, exhausted.
“Anya, let’s not fight. Mom is right about one thing—Marina really does need help.”
Anastasia went still.
“Are you serious?”
“Well, what are we supposed to do? The kids are sick, you won’t find a nanny…”
“Denis, we planned this vacation for a YEAR.”
“Plans can change.”
“And the money? More than a hundred thousand?”
“We’ll earn it again.”
“Just like that?” Anastasia stared at him in disbelief. “And my feelings? My need to rest?”
“Don’t be selfish…”
“What?” Anastasia flared. “I’m selfish? Me—who has spent three years tolerating your mother and your precious sister? But it’s not selfish to come running whenever they snap their fingers. And your mother—she’s the grandmother, not me.”
“Don’t talk about them like that!”
“How should I talk—like they’re saints?”
“Anya, enough. You’ll help Marina. End of discussion.”
“No,” Anastasia said clearly. “I’m going on vacation. With you or without you.”
“Don’t say stupid things.”
“It’s not stupid. I’m tired, Denis. Tired of my opinion not mattering. Tired of being disrespected. Tired of always having to give in.”
“No one is forcing you to always give in.”
“Really? Then what is this?”
Denis stood up.
“Right now I’m asking you to help my sister. Is it that hard?”
“Yes. It’s hard—because she humiliated me and you said nothing.”
“I asked them to leave!”
“After I threw the book. And before that?”
“Anya…”
“No.” Anastasia walked toward the bedroom. “Conversation’s over. I’m going on vacation.”
“If you leave, I’ll never forgive you!” Denis shouted after her.
Anastasia turned back.
“And I won’t forgive you if you stay.”
Three days later, Anastasia boarded the plane alone. Denis stayed behind. He chose his mother and sister—like always. Their last conversation had been short.
“You’re really going?” he asked, watching her pack her suitcase.
“Yes.”
“Alone?”
“Alone.”
“This is absurd!”
“What’s absurd is demanding I cancel my vacation because of someone else’s problems!”
“Marina isn’t someone else!”
“To you, no. To me, yes. She has a mother—let her take care of her grandkids.”
“Anya, think again!”
“I did, Denis. For the first time, I really did.”
She took a taxi to the airport. Denis didn’t even come out to see her off.
Two weeks by the sea passed in a blur. Anastasia sunbathed, swam, went on excursions—and thought. Thought a lot about her life, her marriage, her future.
She barely checked her phone. Denis sent only two messages: “How could you?” and “Mom is shocked by your behavior.” Anastasia didn’t answer either.
Marina, meanwhile, sent a flood of venomous texts about how ungrateful, selfish, and unworthy Anastasia was. Anastasia blocked her number.
The day before she returned, Anastasia made a decision—firm, final, irreversible.
Anastasia came home tanned and calm. Denis met her in the hallway, his face like stone.
“Well? You get your rest? Happy with yourself?”
“Quite,” Anastasia replied evenly, wheeling her suitcase toward the bedroom.
“Do you even understand what you’ve done?” Denis followed. “Mom won’t speak to us now! Marina thinks you’re the lowest scum!”
“That’s their choice.”
“How can you be so indifferent? They’re my family!”
“Yours. Not mine.”
“You married me—so they automatically became your family!”
“No, Denis. Family is the people who love you and respect you. Not the people you’re connected to on paper.”
“Nonsense.”
“For you, maybe. For me, it’s the truth.”
Anastasia pulled two envelopes from her purse.
“Pick one.”
“What are those?”
“A surprise. Choose either.”
Denis smirked.
“Trying to make up for it with a gift?”
“You could call it that.”
He took the envelope on the left, tore it open, pulled out the papers, scanned them… and went pale.
“This… what is this?”
“A divorce filing.”
“ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR MIND?”
“No. I finally grew one.”
“Over one fight? Because I asked you to help my sister?”
“No, Denis. Because once again you chose them over me. Because you let them humiliate me. Because with you, I’m always last.”
“That’s not true!”
“It is. And you know it.”
Denis threw the papers onto the floor.
“I’m not signing!”
“You will. Sooner or later.”
“You’re just… you’re out of control! You listened to your girlfriends!”
“I don’t have girlfriends, Denis. You know that. Your mother scared them all off with her lectures.”
“Don’t you dare talk about my mother!”
“I’m not planning to. Ever again.”
Anastasia went to the wardrobe and took out bags she had packed in advance.
“Where are you going?”
“Leaving.”
“Where? To your mom?” Denis sneered. “She won’t take you after your little stunt.”
“To a friend’s. Olga said I can stay with her.”
“Olga? That divorcee?”
“Yes. That happy, free woman.”
“Anya, stop. Let’s talk calmly!”
“We’ve talked dozens of times, Denis. Same result—zero. Enough.”
“You can’t just pack up and leave!”
“I can—and I am.”
“What about the apartment? We pay together!”
“Pay alone. Or move in with your mommy. She’ll be thrilled.”
“Anya!”
But Anastasia was already walking out. Denis rushed after her.
“Wait! What about the second envelope?”
“You can open it. It’s the same thing.”
“What? Why two identical envelopes?”
“So you understand: you don’t have a choice. Just like I didn’t have a choice when you stayed behind to babysit for your sister.”
The door slammed shut.
Denis stood in the hallway. Then slowly returned to the living room, picked up the second envelope, opened it. Sure enough—another divorce filing.
He sank onto the couch. It didn’t make sense. Anya—his quiet, agreeable, always accommodating Anya—had rebelled and left.
For the first week, he waited for her to come back. He called—she didn’t answer. He texted—his messages stayed unread.
When his mother heard about the divorce, she was practically giddy.
“I told you she wasn’t your match! Good—now her true face is showing!”
Marina chimed in:
“You’ll find a normal one. From a good family. Not that shopgirl.”
But their triumph didn’t last long. Paying for a three-bedroom apartment alone was too expensive for Denis. He had to move out. His mother, of course, welcomed him with open arms—for a week.
Then the nightmare began.
Marina dumped her kids on them almost every day. “Watch your nieces and nephews!” she’d bark, and disappear for hours. The children, recovered from chickenpox, tore through the apartment, screaming, fighting, demanding attention.
“Mom, I work remotely! I need quiet!” Denis begged after missing yet another deadline.
“Oh, stop it. They’re children! Be grateful you have them. You won’t have your own now anyway.”
“Why wouldn’t I?”
“And who would marry you?”
A month later, Denis realized his work was falling apart. Orders were piling up, deadlines were burning, clients were leaving, his reputation going down in flames. It turned out Anastasia had been quietly doing all his bookkeeping, reminding him of deadlines, even communicating with clients while he “created.”
His mother started demanding money for living there—for food, for utilities.
“You’re a grown man, not a freeloader!”
Marina kept dumping the kids on him, sometimes even overnight.
“I have things to do. Deal with it.”
Denis finally understood he hadn’t just lost a wife—he’d lost his support, his stability, his peace. He tried calling, wrote long apologies, even showed up outside Olga’s building. But Anastasia had blocked him everywhere and wouldn’t open the door.
Half a year later, Denis saw her by chance—happy, laughing, sitting in a café with some man. She had rented a cozy studio apartment, switched to a better job, made new friends, and at last started living for herself.
Anastasia cried a lot after the divorce, but she accepted it as liberation—and was grateful she’d found the strength to leave in time.
