— “What do you mean, they’ll ‘stay here for a while’?”
— “Well, since I’m not paying child support right now, my wife told me that for this month I have to take care of the kids myself.”
— “Actually, I’m your wife.”
— “Well, ex-wife—slip of the tongue. Why do you always nitpick?”
— “You sent them money last month. I gave it to you.”
— “That was last month. Now it’s a new one! Where am I supposed to get the money? You won’t give me any, will you?”
— “And where am I supposed to get it? We have our own expenses—rent, bills—and now you want me to feed your kids too? Maybe you should come up with a solution yourself?”
— “The kids will stay here for now. I’m your husband, so I make the decision!”
Yulia said nothing, waved her hand, and went to her room. What was happening in her life felt wild and incomprehensible. She had no idea what to do.
The boys were noisy and ill-mannered. They had no respect for personal space, barged into every room, even rummaged through closets.
After just a week of living with her husband and his children, Yulia looked exhausted and thinner. Once again, she didn’t have enough money for anything.
She hadn’t seen Anya in a long time, and she was afraid to tell her mother about the situation. It felt like the world had turned upside down.
One evening, Anya called.
— “Yulchik, hi! I’m nearby—can I drop in?”
— “Yes, yes, come over.”
Yulia frantically began cleaning; the boys had made a mess everywhere, while Yura lay calmly on the couch watching TV.
— “Yura, calm the kids down and help me clean up—Anya’s coming over, and the place is a disaster.”
— “What’s she coming here for? Doesn’t she have her own home? Wandering around at night…”
— “She’s my friend, for your information.”
— “You’re married now; maybe it’s time to set friends aside.”
— “Don’t make decisions for me.”
— “I’m your husband!”
— “Then do something useful.”
The doorbell rang—it was Anya. When she walked in, she nearly fainted from surprise. Kids were running around the apartment, a man was lounging on the couch, and Yulia had dark circles under her eyes. It felt like stepping into a bad movie. She just wanted to leave.
— “Yulka, hi… you have guests?”
— “These are Yura’s kids. They’re staying with us for now.”
— “What do you mean, ‘for now’?”
— “Until Yura finds a job.”
— “Where’s their mom?”
— “I don’t know.”
Anya pulled Yulia into the kitchen, grabbed her by the shoulders, and shook her.
— “Yulka, wake up! What’s going on? Did you two agree the kids would live here?”
— “No. Yura just brought them. His ex-wife said, ‘If there’s no child support, you take care of them yourself.’”
— “Yul, this isn’t right.”
— “I don’t know what to do… I mean, we’re a family.”
— “And does he remember that?”
— “He reminds me all the time.”
— “Okay, let’s have tea. I’ll figure something out tomorrow.”
Yulia felt a little better after her friend left, but Yura was unusually sullen. In fact, he was almost always in a bad mood. After the wedding, the sweet, gentle man she’d fallen for had turned into a grumpy, sometimes even nasty guy.
— “Yur, what about work? Any progress?”
— “I have an interview tomorrow. Can you watch the kids?”
— “Why me? Take them to their mother.”
— “Can’t you just look after my kids? We’re a family.”
— “We are. But they aren’t part of my family.”
— “They’re my kids, so they’re part of my family!”
— “Why didn’t you tell me this before the wedding?”
— “I thought it was obvious. I didn’t think you’d be so cold.”
— “Fine, I’ll watch them. But don’t be long.”
— “I’ll try.”
The next day, Yura dressed up and looked more like the man Yulia had fallen in love with. He left, and she stayed home with someone else’s children. This was not how she had pictured married life.
He was gone a long time. When she called, his phone was off. Then she got a WhatsApp photo from Anya.
When Yulia opened it, she froze—there was Yura, sitting in a café with another woman, holding her close. One of the boys saw the photo and smiled, “Oh, mom and dad,” before running off to play.
So Yura was having a cozy café date with his ex-wife. No wonder he had asked Yulia for taxi and lunch money. Instead of job hunting, he was relaxing with his former spouse, leaving Yulia to deal with the kids.
The phone rang—it was Yura.
— “Yul, I’ll be late tonight. Probably after midnight. Feed the kids and put them to bed. Got caught up with work stuff.”
He didn’t come home that night. The next day, he sent a text: “I’ll be back in the evening. Take time off work to watch the kids.”
Yulia realized she’d made a huge mistake marrying this man. She had believed in him, given in to her feelings, but he had never loved her—just used her.
The phone rang again—it was Anya.
— “So, friend, are you ready?”
— “For what?”
— “To kick your husband out?”
— “Anya, how could he?”
— “I asked around. Your Yura’s a total jerk. You’re not the first woman he’s trapped like this.”
— “Why? Why play these games?”
— “It’s convenient—he’s got someone to stay with, someone to feed him and his kids. You’re too trusting, Yul!”
— “He wasn’t like this before!”
— “He used to be an actor. He sees his ex all the time.”
— “How do you know?”
— “I just do. You need to divorce him. Who knows what he’s planning? You’ve got your own apartment; his ex only has a tiny one-bedroom. He could bring the kids, then bring her too.”
— “He wouldn’t do that!”
— “Oh, he would. And you wouldn’t be able to get them out.”
— “What should I do?”
— “Kick him out. File for divorce. It’s painful, yes, but better than living with a useless freeloader.”
— “I understand. I’ll tell him today.”
— “Pack his bags and make him leave!”
Yulia started packing his things, crying and fuming at the same time.
Yura came home late. She was waiting in the hallway.
— “What’s going on here?”
He was in high spirits and even brought a box of chocolates.
— “Us? We’re fine! But you and your kids are going to live with your ex-wife.”
— “Are you crazy?”
— “No. But I’m done living with you.”
She shoved the café photo under his nose.
— “Leave before I call the police.”
Yura grabbed his bags and rounded up the kids.
— “At least call us a taxi.”
— “Walk. Or borrow your wife’s car—the one that’s supposedly ‘in the shop.’”
— “Idiot.”
— “Takes one to know one. What were you even trying to achieve?”
— “It’s unfair for you to live in such a big apartment alone while we squeeze into a one-bedroom!”
— “Earn your own! Don’t be a parasite.”
— “Didn’t think you’d be so materialistic.”
He left. The place was a mess, but Yulia felt lighter. She took a deep breath, turned on the music, and started cleaning.
When you get rid of what you don’t need, it becomes easier to breathe—proven fact.
