Larisa packed with a smile on her face. At last, her dream had come true — she and her husband were moving to the sea. She had worked hard to get permission to switch to remote work. Sergey had already found a job in the new city, where they were expecting him. He was a highly sought-after specialist and could find work anywhere, so he had not been worried. Larisa, on the other hand, had been a little anxious. Still, she too turned out to be valuable enough to her company that, after some reluctance, her boss agreed to let her work from home.
After accidentally knocking over a small jar of glitter, Larisa shook her head and went to the bathroom to wet a cloth and clean it up. That was when she heard a quiet conversation between her husband and his mother coming from the living room. Svetlana Olegovna had stopped by, saying she had just been passing through. While dinner was cooking, Larisa had asked her mother-in-law to sit and watch television, and then returned to packing. When Sergey came home from work, she had not even heard him. Standing still in the hallway, she listened.
“Take your brother with you,” Svetlana Olegovna was saying. “Living by the sea would do him good, and I could finally get a little rest. My health is not what it used to be. You know how hard it is for me to look after him.”
Her voice was calm, but her words carried the weight of an order. Larisa felt her chest tighten and her breathing grow uneven.
Artyom, Sergey’s younger brother, had been in an accident when he was ten years old. For the last ten years, he had been confined to a wheelchair. Of course, he was capable of doing many things on his own, but his mother spoiled him, waited on him hand and foot, and did almost everything for him. He could easily have found remote work and helped support her, yet he had no intention of doing so. He was perfectly comfortable living off his mother, as though that were the most natural thing in the world.
Sergey had always believed he was partly to blame for what had happened. He often said that he was supposed to pick Artyom up from class that day, but got delayed, forcing the boy to make his own way home. Ever since, he had tried to make up for it — helping his mother financially, spending more time with his brother. The burden of guilt dragged him down. At times, he did more for his mother and brother than he did for his own family. Larisa did not judge him for it, but the thought that they would not be living alone, but with Artyom, filled her with dread. It felt deeply wrong.
“You want me to bring him with us for a couple of weeks?” Sergey asked.
Svetlana Olegovna let out a dry, irritated laugh. The sound made Larisa’s stomach clench with a sense of impending trouble before her mother-in-law answered.
“Of course not. I want Artyom to live with you. You understand perfectly well that if you had not been busy that day, your brother might be living a normal life now. He would probably be finishing university by this point, maybe even doing an internship already. I am not blaming you, of course, but he is attached to you. He will miss you. And the sea air would be good for him. Besides, your wife will be at home all day. It will not be difficult for her to keep an eye on him. And I could finally find a job instead of constantly asking you for money.”
Sergey did not refuse. He accepted his mother’s demand in silence, and Larisa felt crushed. Some things could be understood, even forgiven — but she was not supposed to become her husband’s brother’s caretaker. And she certainly was not ready to share her home with him.
As soon as Svetlana Olegovna left, Sergey approached Larisa and pulled her into an embrace. He was trying to find the right words to explain the decision he had already made, but something inside her was burning. Looking up at him, she only shook her head.
“I heard your conversation with your mother. You are not seriously planning to take your brother with us, are you?”
“Larisa, don’t work yourself up,” Sergey said gently. “Artyom is pretty independent. He won’t get in our way. And Mom really does need a break. Living by the sea will be good for him. I don’t think this will be permanent. He can stay with us for half a year, and by then I’ll sort it out with Mom and send him back home. Don’t worry, okay?”
Larisa clenched her teeth. The life she had imagined was crumbling before her eyes like a sandcastle under a harsh wind. She had imagined the two of them settling into their new home, taking evening walks together, starting over somewhere beautiful. She had never expected such a “surprise” to land on her shoulders. She wanted to say so much, but she knew Sergey would not back down. He had already promised his mother, and his sense of responsibility toward his brother would always come first.
“All right,” she said at last. “If that is really what you want. But promise me something: in six months, you will send him back. Promise me.”
Sergey smiled and kissed the top of her head.
“I promise. I will do everything I can — and more — to make that happen. You won’t have to worry.”
“All right.”
She agreed, though every instinct in her resisted it. She tried to tell herself that maybe it would not be so bad. Artyom was lazy, spoiled, and often unpleasant, but he had always behaved normally enough around her and his brother. Perhaps this change would push him to grow up a little and live differently.
The journey to their new home turned out to be much harder than she had imagined. If it had just been the two of them, it would have felt easy. But with Artyom, there were endless complications. He constantly apologized and said how ashamed he was, which stirred Larisa’s sympathy. She found herself no longer angry with Sergey or his mother. She even began to think of Artyom the way she might think of her own younger brother. But that fragile peace did not last long.
After only two weeks, Artyom began revealing his true nature. He did it carefully, and only when Sergey was not home.
“You oversalted the porridge again,” he complained at breakfast one morning. “Do you ever pay attention, or are you always daydreaming?”
“It doesn’t seem salty to me at all,” Larisa replied in surprise. “How can you say it is oversalted?”
“So you made it for yourself, then? Thanks. I’m done. You can throw it away. I’ll just stay hungry until lunch.”
Porridge, sandwiches, omelets, soup — whatever Larisa cooked, Artyom always found fault with it. It was too salty, too sour, too spicy, not good enough. Nothing ever pleased him. Yet at dinner he devoured everything and then sneered that Larisa only knew how to impress her husband, while trying to starve his poor brother.
“If you don’t like what I make, cook for yourself,” Larisa snapped one day, finally losing patience. “Your hands work. You can reach the stove just fine.”
Then she got up from the table and walked away.
Sergey did not follow her. He stayed behind, listening to his brother complain. Larisa burned with anger. She understood that if things continued this way, she would not last much longer.
Then came the phone calls from her mother-in-law. Svetlana Olegovna began accusing her of mistreating her younger son.
“I never expected this from you,” she said coldly. “He is weak and defenseless, and you take advantage of that to bully him. How can you behave like this, Larisa? When you become a mother, maybe then you will understand what it means to worry about your child.”
Looking at Artyom, Larisa wanted to say that he was no child anymore, and that if Svetlana Olegovna was so worried, she was free to take him back home.
“Larisa, why are you and Artyom always fighting like cat and dog?” Sergey asked one evening. “Now he says he doesn’t even want to leave his room because he doesn’t want to run into you.”
“And somehow that is my fault?” Larisa shot back. “I haven’t had a single peaceful day since we got here. I can barely work. Your brother torments me. He smashes a glass and expects me to drop everything and clean it up immediately. He overturns a plate of food and leaves me to deal with it. Sergey, I’m not a servant. I can’t live like this. I’m exhausted. I’m a human being too. Why won’t you even try to understand me? Why do you always defend him? Am I really that unimportant to you?”
“My brother is helpless,” Sergey answered. “You’re not. You can stand up for yourself. I just want peace in this house. If you can’t understand something that simple, then what else is there to discuss?”
He always took Artyom’s side. He never gave her even the smallest chance to explain herself. That hurt more than anything. Little by little, Larisa began to feel emotionally numb. Life in the house she had once dreamed of no longer brought her any joy. She did not even want to leave her room, afraid of yet another argument. Artyom deliberately made messes, constantly provoked her, but now she no longer had the strength to respond. What was the point, when he would go on behaving like someone determined to turn their home into a pigsty?
The final straw came when he crossed a line she had never imagined he would cross. Realizing that his usual tricks no longer got a rise out of her, Artyom went further — he began to make advances toward her. Larisa had no intention of tolerating that. She slapped him across the face and told him she would tell Sergey everything.
“Go ahead,” Artyom sneered. “My brother owes me. He’ll take my side anyway. And if you really want to tell him, think about this — I can say that you came on to me. What do you think he’ll believe then? He’ll throw you out, and you’ll be the one left with nothing. We’ll stay here together, and he’ll keep looking after me. You’ve seen it yourself — no matter how many times I pushed you, Sergey always chose me over you. That won’t change. He’ll always choose me, and you’ll always be the outsider. Tough luck for you. So if I were you, I’d think carefully. Give me what I want, and maybe I’ll stop trying to turn him against you.”
“I would rather get divorced than keep putting up with you,” Larisa shouted.
Artyom laughed.
Then the front door slammed.
Sergey stepped into the living room, his fists clenched so tightly that his knuckles had gone white. He looked ready to hit his brother, though he clearly held himself back with enormous effort. Rage pulsed through him.
“You are pathetic,” he said through clenched teeth. “A lazy, vile parasite. That’s what you are. For years you’ve used my guilt to manipulate me. You took advantage of my sympathy and did everything you could to poison my life. I ignored so much. I thought you were miserable and unfortunate. I pitied you. But apparently your life was too easy, wasn’t it? You tried to turn me against my wife, and you did everything possible to make her miserable. I kept my temper, and even that wasn’t enough for you. Then you decided to lay your hands on her? That, I will never forgive.”
Every word struck like a blow. The fury he had buried for so long now filled the room. A shiver ran through Larisa, but she knew better than to interfere.
“You should be grateful that a decent man does not beat someone weaker than himself. You’ve gone too far. I want nothing more to do with you.”
Artyom tried to explain it away. He claimed Sergey had misunderstood, claimed he had meant something else, claimed Larisa was to blame. But it was too late. Sergey had heard everything with his own ears.
He called his mother immediately and told her that first thing in the morning he was sending Artyom back home. No matter how much Svetlana Olegovna protested, Sergey was no longer willing to let anyone torment his wife.
“If it is really that hard for you, and he refuses to help himself,” Sergey said coldly, “then put him in a specialized care facility. Maybe that would finally force him to grow up. He is not bedridden. He handles the wheelchair perfectly well. You spoiled him, and if you keep doing it, life will hit him much harder later.”
“But you can’t do this!” his mother cried. “This is your fault! You are the reason your brother is like this!”
Sergey did not listen. He had spent too many years punishing himself already. But even if he had dropped everything back then, things might still have ended the same way. Fate had done what it had done, and nothing could change that now.
He sent his brother home and cut off contact. He still intended to help his mother when he could, but from that moment on, he chose to focus on his own family — on the wife who had endured far too much because of his relatives.
Larisa was relieved that her husband had finally seen the truth and that they had been able to make peace. She loved Sergey and wanted to support him in everything, and at last he understood what truly mattered in his life. Together, they hoped that one day Artyom might change, take responsibility for himself, and become a decent man instead of continuing to poison the lives of everyone around him.
