“Greedy, are you? Don’t want to help your sister?!” — her mother was indignant.
“No, I don’t!” Kristina replied. “I’ll be ashamed to even look my husband in the eye now!”
“I knew it. All you ever care about is what he’ll say, what he’ll think. You have no opinion of your own.”
“What does this have to do with an opinion? You and Marina acted dishonestly. How could you even come up with such a thing?” Kristina fumed, but deep down she understood these conversations were useless. Her sister always thought only of herself, and their mother always supported her.
*“At my expense,” Kristina thought bitterly. “Always at my expense…”
Childhood Memories
“Kristya, give your doll to Marinka, come on, be a good girl,” begged their mother, Olga Dmitrievna. Kristina glared from under her brows, silent, clutching her beloved doll Olesya with both hands. Last time Marina had taken another doll “just to play,” she had broken it. Kristina couldn’t even understand what one had to do with a doll to snap its body clean in half.
Their mother didn’t scold Marina.
“So what!” she said, wrapping the doll’s body with duct tape. “It’s always dressed in clothes anyway, no one will see the cracks. Here. Play.”
Kristina hugged the broken doll and cried. She felt so sorry for her toy. Marina, meanwhile, smiled.
“Marina is the younger one, you must let her have her way,” their mother said instructively. “Don’t be mean, it’s not nice.”
But Kristina wasn’t being mean. She simply didn’t understand why Marina couldn’t play with her own toys. Why did she always want her sister’s things? And when Kristina refused, Marina would run to complain to their mother. That way, she always got what she wanted.
Another time, on a walk:
“First Marina rides the scooter, then you. You must take turns,” their mother told six-year-old Kristina.
Marina rode, and rode, and kept riding. The scooter, bought “for both,” had been in the house for a week already, but Kristina hadn’t once touched it. She sat sadly on the swings, waiting patiently for her turn, but it never came.
“Enough walking, it’s lunchtime, let’s go home,” Olga Dmitrievna announced, checking her watch.
Fairness was never spoken of. For some reason, Kristina always had to yield — often at her own expense.
Favoritism
The sisters were close in age, so their mother insisted they go to school together, in the same class. Their father, Oleg Romanovich, stayed out of matters concerning the girls. He worked a lot, providing for the family. Their mother stayed home — first on maternity leave, then unemployed for years, only returning to work when the girls were already eleven and twelve.
“It’s better this way, Olya,” her husband said. “The girls are supervised, well fed, well dressed, go to activities, do well in school. What more could one want?”
He loved his wife and trusted her completely. Olga Dmitrievna didn’t mind staying home. She tried to be a good homemaker and mother. But somehow, her love and attention went more to her younger daughter. Why? Even she didn’t know. She had simply felt it the moment she saw the newborn in the hospital. She loved her second daughter with all her heart. Nothing like that had happened with Kristina.
“My darling girl!” Olga Dmitrievna would think, looking at her sleeping baby. “Such a beauty, a real princess… Why couldn’t Kristina have had even a tenth of that beauty?”
When she looked at her elder daughter, irritation stirred. Everything about her seemed wrong: too large a nose, too thin lips, too wide a forehead. Yes, Kristina had gorgeous thick curly hair — but Olga Dmitrievna thought it would have looked better on Marina, as a worthy frame for her pretty little face. Kristina’s plainness, she believed, no hair could fix.
“Admiring them?” her husband asked quietly, hugging her. “Yes, our girls are beautiful. They take after you.”
“Uh-huh,” Olga forced a smile, hiding her coldness toward Kristina.
Adulthood
Time passed. The girls grew up, studied, married. Kristina first, then Marina. Kristina moved to another city with her husband, Alexander, while Marina stayed close to their parents.
For years Kristina and Alexander lived modestly, saving to buy a bigger apartment. They eventually managed it — purchasing a spacious flat in a neighboring city with a mortgage, while renting out Alexander’s inherited one-bedroom. Years of sacrifices — no vacations, frugal meals, only essentials — paid off when they finally cleared the debt.
“Now we’re debt-free!” Alexander rejoiced. “When the baby comes, you can stay home peacefully.”
Kristina smiled. She was happy. The pregnancy was easy, and they eagerly awaited their child, even preparing a nursery full of lovely things. The small one-bedroom was still being rented out — meant one day for their child’s future.
The Call from Mother
Two years later, when their baby was already born, Kristina’s mother unexpectedly called. Normally she didn’t — she rarely showed interest, never even visited their new apartment, not even for the birth of her grandchild.
This time she had “news”:
“Marina’s divorced. Came to us in the middle of the night with her kid. The child is wild — noisy, restless — and your father is sick, can’t handle it. I can’t go on like this…”
“So… is she moving out?” Kristina asked cautiously.
“Move out to where? She has no money. That’s why I’m calling… Couldn’t you ask your husband to let Marina live in your rental for a while?”
Kristina froze. The memory rang in her mind: “Give Marinka your doll, Kristya, let her play…”
Her mother pleaded. Kristina was torn. Alexander, upon hearing, simply said:
“If it helps, let her stay. What are we, heartless?”
But Kristina recoiled at the thought. “We sacrificed so much for that place… and now, again, everything ready-made for her!”
Eventually, under pressure, she agreed. Her mother gushed with thanks, promising Marina would “pay utilities” and praising Alexander as a “saint.”
The Betrayal
A year later, Kristina received a call from a neighbor: her “tenants” were throwing parties, disturbing the peace. Alexander went to check and discovered strangers living there — young men who claimed they rented it properly.
Kristina confronted her mother and learned the truth: Marina had never moved in. Instead, their parents had rented the flat out themselves, pocketing the money “for Marina’s future.”
Kristina exploded. “You had no right! That apartment doesn’t belong to you!”
Her parents called her greedy, her father scolded her, Marina tried to justify herself — but Kristina reclaimed the keys and cut ties, tired of being used.
Years Later
Her father passed away. Marina, still with her child, had never saved for her own home. It turned out their parents had already gifted their shares of property to Marina long ago.
When her mother later asked Kristina to give up her remaining share “for peace,” Kristina refused firmly:
“No way. That share belongs to my son now. It’s his inheritance.”
Her mother screamed, cursed, but Kristina hung up.
“Just like childhood,” she told Alexander sadly. “Only the toys have become more expensive. Why? Why doesn’t my mother love me?”
“But I love you,” Alexander said. “And Yegor does too. We are your family. Forget about them.”
Kristina thought for a moment, then smiled. “Yes. It’s time to let the past go and live in the present.” She embraced her husband and son. They had everything they needed.
