“Stop bothering me with that sea of yours!” Yegor snapped, throwing the TV remote onto the couch. “Inna is coming tomorrow with her family, and we’re not going anywhere!”
Family vacation tours
Those words crashed down on the living room like an icy shower. Vera froze in the middle of the room, a travel brochure with photos of azure sea trembling in her hands.
What do you mean — bothering me?
She slowly lowered the brochure onto the coffee table. Yegor sprawled in the armchair, flipping through channels, and the light from the screen made his face look distant, indifferent.
“What did you say?” Her voice was quiet, but something dangerous lurked within it.
“I said what I said.” He didn’t take his eyes off the screen. “Inna is coming with Andrey and the kids. For a month. So forget about your sea and stop bothering me.”
A month. The word hung in the air, heavy and unbearable. Vera felt something inside tighten into a knot.
“Yegor, we planned this vacation since winter. I already bought the trip. Paid for it.” She spoke slowly, as if explaining to a child. “I waited a whole year…”
“And I said — forget it!” He slammed his palm on the table. “Family is more important than your whims!”
Whims? Vera felt her face flush. Those sleepless nights with the calculator, counting every kopek? Giving up a new jacket to save for the trip? Dreams of the sea air she imagined every morning on the way to work?
“What whims, Yegor?” She stepped toward him, her movement filled with strange resolve. “I work tirelessly. At home, at work. When was the last time I rested?”
“Don’t start your whining.” He turned the channel louder. “Inna is my sister. She rarely comes. Period.”
Rarely? Vera snorted. Inna showed up at their house every summer like an unavoidable storm. She brought her three children, her husband Andrey — a man who could eat a refrigerator and ask for seconds. And every time Vera turned into the servant staff.
“Yegor, listen to me.” She sat on the edge of the couch opposite him. “I understand family is important. But I’m a person too. I have needs, desires…”
“What desires?” He looked at her mockingly. “To lie on the beach? Swim in the sea? What, are you some kind of chicken?”
Chicken? Vera looked at her husband — the man she’d lived with for fifteen years. When did he become like this? When did his eyes turn so cold?
“Yes, I want to go to the sea.” She stood up. “I want to wake up to the sound of the waves. Walk barefoot on the sand. I want to be just Vera, not the cook, cleaner, and nanny for other people’s children.”
Other people’s? Yegor jumped up from the chair. “Those are my sister’s children!”
“Who will wreck the house on the first day!” Vera could no longer hold back. “Who will scream, break things, demand things! And Inna will lie on the couch complaining about life!”
“How dare you!” Yegor’s face darkened. “Inna is a wonderful mother!”
“A wonderful mother doesn’t raise monsters!” The words tumbled from her lips like stones falling off a cliff. “Remember what they did last year? Broke grandma’s vase, colored the walls with markers, and the youngest almost burned down the kitchen!”
“Kids are kids…”
“And what about me? Am I not a person?” Vera felt something hot and uncontrollable rising inside her. “I have to endure this nightmare because ‘kids are kids’?”
Yegor looked at her, surprised — as if seeing his wife for the first time like this: disheveled, eyes burning, ready for battle.
“Inna is coming tomorrow,” he said quietly. “And that’s final.”
“Then meet them yourself.” Vera headed for the door.
“Where are you going?”
“To the bedroom.” She turned at the doorway. “To think.”
To think about how to live with a person who sees nothing in her but a housekeeper.
The bedroom door slammed shut, and silence fell over the house. Heavy, tense silence before the storm.
Vera lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling. In her hand, she still clenched the crumpled travel brochure. The sea… She had pictured this vacation so clearly. Morning walks along the shore, salty air, freedom from endless housework. And now instead — a month as a servant for spoiled children and their indifferent parents.
But what can I do?
She fell asleep with that thought, clutching the last fragment of her dream.
Outside, the trees rustled, a sound like distant sea surf — the sea Vera would not hear this summer.
Or would she?
Morning greeted Vera with gray rain and the rumble of an approaching car. She stood by the bedroom window, sipping coffee, watching a familiar group climb out of a black SUV.
First out was Inna — tall, bleached blonde in a bright pink tracksuit. Even from a distance, she was waving her arms, shouting something at her husband.
“Andrey, be careful with the suitcase! Those are my new shoes!” a shrill voice carried to the window.
Andrey — a stocky man with a receding hairline — silently carried bags from the trunk. His mouth was tightly pressed, like someone long resigned to their fate.
Children… Vera grimaced involuntarily. Ten-year-old Maxim had already stepped in a puddle and was now jumping, splashing mud everywhere. Seven-year-old Sonya was screaming about a doll she’d forgotten in the car. And four-year-old Dima just screamed — for no reason, just because he could.
“Vera!” Yegor shouted from the hallway. “They’re here! Come down!”
They’re here. As if she hadn’t seen. As if she hadn’t heard this nightmare for five minutes straight.
Vera finished her coffee and slowly went downstairs. The hallway was chaos. Inna hugged Yegor, leaving pink lipstick marks on his shirt; the kids raced between the suitcases, and Andrey unsuccessfully tried to brush mud off his shoes.
“Verochka!” Inna rushed to her with open arms. “How are you, dear? You’ve lost weight! Were you sick?”
Inna smelled of sickly sweet perfume and cigarettes. Vera barely restrained herself from pulling away.
“Hello, Inna. How was the trip?”
“Terrible!” Inna rolled her eyes. “The kids were cranky, Andrey got lost three times, and I almost died from the heat. Where’s the air conditioning? You do have air conditioning, right?”
“Yes,” Vera answered dryly. “In the bedroom.”
“And in the living room?” Inna had already entered the room, looking around. “We’ll be sleeping there. Andrey snores, you know, I need cool air.”
Of course you do. Vera looked at Yegor. He avoided her gaze, fiddling with suitcases.
“Mom, where’s the bathroom?” Maxim tugged at Inna’s hand. “I really need to go!”
“There,” Vera nodded toward the corridor.
The boy ran off, leaving wet footprints. Sonya meanwhile found Vera’s favorite crystal candlestick and examined it with interest.
“Sonya, put that back,” Vera asked.
“What is it?” the girl kept turning the candlestick in her hands. “Can I play with it?”
“No, you can’t. It’s fragile.”
“But I’m careful!”
“Sonya,” Andrey intervened, “listen to Aunt Vera.”
“She’s not my aunt!” the girl snapped. “We’re not relatives!”
An awkward silence hung. Inna laughed tensely:
“Kids are so innocent! Don’t pay attention, Vera.”
Innocent. Vera took the candlestick from the girl and put it higher up. Sonya pouted and went to find other amusements.
“Mom, what’s this?” Maxim returned from the bathroom and was poking his finger at a hole in the wall. “Why is there a hole here?”
Everyone turned. There really was a small hole — where a nail for a picture had once been.
“That…” Vera hesitated. “We wanted to hang a new picture.”
“Can I put my finger in it?” Maxim was already reaching toward the hole.
“No!” Vera grabbed his hand. “It’s dangerous.”
“Why is it dangerous?” Maxim struggled. “Let me go!”
“Maxim,” Andrey said wearily, “don’t bother Aunt Vera.”
“She’s not my aunt!” the kids shouted in unison.
Dima, who had been sitting quietly, suddenly started crying loudly. For no apparent reason, his wails filled the entire hallway.
“What’s wrong, baby?” Inna picked him up. “What hurts?”
“I want to go home!” Dima sobbed. “I want grandma!”
“We’re visiting,” Inna rocked him. “At Uncle Yegor and Aunt Vera’s. Remember, I told you?”
“I don’t want to!” Dima buried his face in her shoulder. “It’s scary here!”
Scary. Vera looked around. Their cozy hallway had turned into a battlefield. Wet footprints on the floor, scattered things, a crying child…
“Maybe the kids are tired from the trip?” she suggested. “Want a snack?”
“Oh yes!” Inna lit up. “We’re hungry as wolves! What do you have?”
What do I have? Vera mentally ran through the fridge contents. There was just enough food for two people. Clearly not enough for a family of five.
“I… will make something,” she mumbled.
“Great!” Inna headed toward the living room. “We’ll get settled. Andrey, carry the bags. Kids, don’t touch anything!”
The last phrase sounded purely formal. Maxim was already exploring the bookshelves, Sonya found the TV remote and turned on some cartoon at full volume, and Dima was smearing snot on the couch.
Vera stood in the middle of this chaos, feeling something hot and uncontrollable slowly rising inside her. She looked at Yegor. He fussed with the suitcases, happy and lively.
A month. A whole month of this nightmare.
“Vera, do you have baby food?” Inna shouted from the living room. “Dima only eats certain porridges!”
“No,” Vera answered. “I don’t have baby food.”
“Then go to the store,” Inna said matter-of-factly. “I’ll make a list now.”
Go to the store. Vera felt something inside break — quietly, but completely.
“Yes,” she said calmly. “Of course. Make the list.”
And went to the kitchen to prepare breakfast for five suddenly fallen-on-her-head guests.
Three days passed
Three endless days stretched into eternity for Vera. The house had turned into a daycare for difficult children. Maxim broke two plates and somehow managed to put a sock in the toilet. Sonya drew on the hallway wallpaper with markers, and when Vera tried to stop her, the girl threw a tantrum all over the house. Dima wet the bed every night, and Vera washed the bedding like a hospital laundress.
Inna lay on the couch, flipping through magazines and occasionally shouting:
“Kids, quiet! Aunt Vera is nervous!”
Andrey smoked silently on the balcony, escaping the family chaos. Yegor, however, was happy like a child, playing soccer with the nephews in the yard and sitting late every evening with his sister, reminiscing about childhood.
On the fourth morning, Vera was in the kitchen, making yet another pile of pancakes for the insatiable children, when the phone rang.
“Hello?” she answered wearily.
“Vera Nikolaevna?” an unfamiliar female voice said. “This is the ‘Southern Breeze’ travel agency. I have news for you.”
“I’m listening,” Vera stirred the batter automatically.
“Your trip to Sochi… There was a problem with the hotel. We had to move your accommodation to another hotel. Of a higher class, by the way. And we have a room available… today. If you can leave today, there is no extra charge.”
Vera froze, whisk in hand.
“Today?”
“Yes, the train leaves at 16:40. I understand this is sudden, but if you don’t take it, the spot will be lost, and we can’t refund your money. Force majeure.”
Something heavy crashed in the living room. Sonya screamed, and Inna’s voice rang out:
“Kids, what are you doing? Andrey! Andrey, come here!”
Vera looked at the clock. Half past ten.
“I…” she trailed off.
“Vera Nikolaevna, are you there?”
“Yes, I’m here.” She took a deep breath. “I’m going. Send the tickets by email.”
“Great! Sending now. Have a good trip!”
Vera slowly hung up. Her hands trembled. Today. I can leave today.
“Aunt Vera!” Maxim burst into the kitchen. “Are the pancakes ready? We’re very hungry!”
“Almost,” Vera replied mechanically. “Go tell everyone breakfast is in five minutes.”
The boy ran off. Vera finished the last pancake and turned off the stove. Then quietly went upstairs.
The suitcase stood in the closet, still unpacked after yesterday’s scandal. Vera took it out and began packing. Her hands moved on their own — swimsuits, summer dresses, sandals. Everything she had lovingly gathered just a week ago.
“Vera!” Inna’s voice came from below. “Where’s breakfast? The kids are hungry!”
“Pancakes are on the stove!” Vera shouted. “Serve it yourself!”
“What do you mean ‘yourself’?” Inna came upstairs. “You’re the hostess!”
She entered the bedroom and saw the suitcase.
“What are you doing?”
“Packing.”
“Where?”
“I’m leaving,” Vera said calmly, folding sunglasses into the suitcase. “To the sea.”
“To the sea?!” Inna sat on the bed. “Yegor said you canceled the trip.”
“Yegor canceled. I didn’t.”
“But you can’t!” Inna jumped up. “What about us? Who will cook? Clean? Watch the kids?”
Vera turned to her. There was something in her eyes that made Inna back off.
“Andrey can cook. You can clean. And the parents should watch their children.”
“But…” Inna waved her hands in confusion. “We’re guests! That’s not hospitable!”
“You know what’s not hospitable?” Vera closed the suitcase. “Coming for a month unannounced. Turning the house into a pigsty in three days. Treating me like the help.”
“Yegor!” Inna screamed. “Yegor, come here! Your wife has gone crazy!”
Yegor burst into the bedroom, red from running up the stairs.
“What’s going on?”
“Your wife is going to abandon us and go to the sea!” Inna pointed at the suitcase. “Talk to her!”
Yegor looked at the suitcase, then at Vera.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m going to the sea.” Vera took the suitcase and headed for the door. “As planned.”
“Stop!” Yegor blocked her way. “You can’t just take off like that!”
“I can.” Vera looked up at him. “And that’s exactly what I’ll do.”
“What about family?” Yegor spread his hands confusedly. “Inna, the kids…”
“Inna is your family. The kids are your family.” Vera walked around him. “Have fun with them yourself.”
“Vera!” Yegor ran after her. “This is stupid! Immature! You’re acting like a child!”
Vera stopped at the front door.
“You know what’s immature?” She turned to her husband. “Ruining other people’s plans without asking permission. Expecting your wife to serve your relatives. Ignoring her needs.”
“But where will you go?” Inna followed down. “You don’t have tickets!”
“I do.” Vera took out her phone and showed the electronic ticket. “Train at 16:40.”
“How do you have them?” Yegor’s eyes widened. “When did you get them?”
“An hour ago.” Vera put on her jacket. “The travel agency moved the date. Lucky coincidence.”
“Mom!” Maxim ran into the hallway. “When’s breakfast?”
“Ask Dad,” Vera said. “Or Uncle Yegor.”
“Vera, don’t do anything stupid!” Yegor grabbed her hand. “Stay! We’ll discuss everything!”
“There’s nothing to discuss.” Vera freed herself. “I’ve been discussing for fifteen years. Now I’m just doing.”
She opened the door. The neighbor from the upper floor — Mikhail Ivanovich, a retiree who sometimes helped them with repairs — stood on the doorstep.
“Good afternoon, Vera!” He smiled. “Where are you off to with your suitcase?”
“To the sea, Mikhail Ivanovich.” Vera smiled for the first time in four days. “Finally, to the sea.”
“Well, that’s right!” The old man nodded. “You have to work, but you need rest even more. Some people forget about rest.”
He glanced meaningfully at Yegor.
“Mikhail Ivanovich,” Vera suddenly said. “Would you like to earn some money? Sit with the kids for a couple of days?”
“What kids?” The old man peeked into the hallway and saw the screaming bunch. “Oh… And will you pay?”
“Yegor will pay.” Vera looked at her husband. “Right, dear?”
Yegor opened his mouth but said nothing.
“Then it’s settled!” Mikhail Ivanovich rubbed his hands. “I raised five grandchildren. I can handle it.”
Vera kissed him on the cheek.
“Thank you. You’re a guardian angel.”
“And you’re brave to go to the sea,” the old man whispered. “I’m tired of watching you turn into a rag here.”
Vera went down the stairs. Her heart pounded so hard it seemed it would leap out of her chest. She didn’t look back but heard Yegor shouting after her about irresponsibility and selfishness.
Selfishness. For the first time in her life, she was doing something for herself, and they called it selfishness.
It drizzled outside, but Vera didn’t notice. She walked to the bus stop, and with every step, her soul grew lighter. The sea was waiting for her. Finally, waiting for her.
Two weeks in Sochi flew by like one day. Vera woke up to the sound of waves, had breakfast on the terrace with a sea view, walked the promenade until sunset. She read books she had put aside for years, drank coffee in small cafés, talked to fellow travelers.
For the first time in fifteen years, she was just Vera. Not Yegor’s wife, not the housekeeper, not the nanny for other people’s kids. Just Vera — a woman who has the right to her own life.
Her phone buzzed nonstop with calls from her husband. At first, he yelled on the line, demanding she return immediately. Then he apologized, promising everything would change. Then he yelled again. Vera listened to his voice like a distant noise — it could no longer hurt her.
“Vera, when will you come back?” he asked on the last day of her vacation. “The house isn’t a home without you.”
“I’m coming back tomorrow,” she answered calmly. “But not to you.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’ll live at a friend’s until I find an apartment.”
“Vera, don’t say stupid things!” Yegor’s voice became hysterical. “You’re my wife! Your place is here!”
“My place is where I’m valued.” Vera watched the sunset over the sea. “And I no longer feel that in this house.”
“Because of what? Because of Inna? She left! I kicked them out the day after you left!”
Kicked them out. Vera smirked. After she left, not before.
“It’s not about Inna, Yegor. It’s that you don’t see me as a person. To you, I’m a function. To cook, clean, serve your relatives.”
“But I love you!”
“You love convenience.” Vera closed her eyes. “And I’m tired of being convenient.”
Back in the city, Vera really moved in with her friend Sveta. The apartment was small but cozy. Sveta, divorced for five years, welcomed her with understanding.
“Finally, you came to your senses!” she said while helping unpack. “I’ve been watching you become a shadow for so many years.”
“I didn’t even notice,” Vera admitted. “I thought that was how it should be. That family is sacrifice.”
“Family is mutual.” Sveta put on the kettle. “You had a one-sided game.”
Yegor came every day. Stood under the windows, rang the doorbell, begged her to come back. Brought flowers, candies, wrote notes. Vera looked down at him and felt a strange emptiness. This man had once been dear to her but now seemed a stranger.
“Vera, open up!” he shouted. “Let’s talk like adults!”
“We already talked,” she answered from the window. “We talked for fifteen years. Now I listen to myself.”
“What do you want from me?” Yegor spread his hands. “I’ve changed! I clean the house myself, cook myself!”
“Too late, Yegor.” Vera closed the window.
A month later, she filed for divorce. She signed the papers calmly, without tears. The lawyer — a young woman about thirty-five — looked at her sympathetically.
“Are you sure?” she asked. “Maybe you should try family therapy?”
“I’m sure.” Vera signed. “I spent fifteen years being someone else. Now I want to live the rest of my life as myself.”
Yegor signed silently. He grew pale, aged, confusion in his eyes. He never understood what happened.
“Vera,” he said as they left the registry office. “I really don’t understand. What did I do wrong?”
She stopped and looked at him. There was finality in that look.
“You did nothing wrong, Yegor. That’s the problem. You just lived, and I existed beside you.”
“But we were happy!”
“You were happy. I pretended.”
She turned and walked away. They never saw each other again.
Six months later
Vera rented a one-room apartment in the city center, started a new job — at a travel agency. Now every day she told people about trips, new places, how important it is to allow yourself to dream.
Clients often asked for her advice on resorts, and Vera spoke with such expertise, with such genuine love for travel, many asked specifically for her help choosing.
“You speak so passionately!” an elderly woman once told her. “It’s clear you’ve traveled a lot.”
“No,” Vera smiled. “I’m just beginning to travel. But I know exactly what it means to dream.”
On weekends, she went to small towns, discovered new places. Bought souvenirs, photographed sunsets, talked to fellow travelers. Every trip was a little celebration of freedom.
The only thing she didn’t do was go to the sea. Somehow, she felt the sea should be saved for something special. For the moment when she would finally understand who she was.
That moment came in December. Vera stood by the window of her apartment, watching the falling snow, and suddenly realized — she was happy. Simply happy, without conditions.
She took her phone and called the travel agency where she used to work.
“Hello, this is Vera Nikolaevna. I want to buy a trip to Sochi. For the New Year holidays. Yes, just me. No, that’s not a problem. That’s exactly what I need.”
Outside, snowflakes swirled, but Vera already heard the sound of waves. The sea was waiting for her. And this time — forever.
