The apartment door creaked open at half past ten at night. Marina stopped in the entryway, slipping the heavy bag from her shoulder. Her legs hummed after a twelve-hour shift at the hospital—today had been especially hard. Three emergency admissions, endless tests, one discharge after another… And at home—laughter, clattering dishes, and that nasty smell of cheap cigarettes.
“Marin, how are you?” came Pavel’s voice from the kitchen, but he didn’t even come out to meet her.
She slowly took off her shoes, hung her coat on the hook, and headed to the bathroom to wash up. The mirror reflected a tired face—deep shadows under her eyes, tousled hair, a rumpled T-shirt. Forty-two… When did she manage to get this old?
The cold water refreshed her a little, but it didn’t wash away the irritation. Voices drifted from the kitchen—Pavel and his buddy Vitya were discussing something, laughing loudly. That guy again! How much longer?
Marina walked into the kitchen and froze. On the table—her groceries. The sausage she’d bought for her breakfast, an open pack of cheese, bread… They’d even dragged out the little jar of jam she’d been saving for the weekend.
“Marinka!” Vitya raised a glass of tea. “Join us! We’re discussing life, philosophizing…”
She looked at him closely. Vitya—about forty-five, with an unkempt beard and perpetually wrinkled clothes. He’d been “temporarily” living on their couch for the third month now. Three months eating their food, using their bathroom, watching their TV. And he had no intention of working—he was “finding himself,” “considering options”…
“There’s plenty of work,” Marina said wearily, opening the fridge. “Construction, loaders, whatever…”
“Oh come on, Marin,” Pavel waved it off. “Vitya’s not young anymore; he needs something in his field. He’s an engineer, not some loader.”
Marina took a yogurt from the fridge—the only thing left untouched. She sat down at the table, feeling herself cinch tight inside with fatigue and hurt.
“You know, Marinka,” Vitya went on, breaking off a piece of bread, “I called a company today. There’s a vacancy, but the pay is laughable. Better to wait for a decent offer.”
“Wait…” Marina felt something snap inside. She worked twelve hours a day, came home shattered, and this guy was “waiting for a decent offer”! On her money, at her table!
“I don’t work day and night so your friends can live at our expense!” she said sharply, pushing back from the table.
Pavel choked on his tea. “Marina! Why are you starting again? He’s going through a rough patch; we need to be supportive…”
“A rough patch?” Marina turned to her husband. “Three months of a rough patch! And I’m what—having an easy patch? I get up at five, work till night, and at home—this!”
She pointed at the table, littered with the remains of her groceries.
“I won’t have anything to eat tomorrow! I bought that sausage for myself, and you ate it all!”
Vitya awkwardly put down the piece of bread. “Marin, don’t get so mad… I didn’t know it was your personal…”
“Everything in this home is my personal!” Marina’s voice shook with pent-up exhaustion. “I pay the rent, I buy the food, I pay the electricity! And you two are feasting!”
Pavel stood up and came over to his wife. “Enough, don’t work yourself up. Vitya will help with the utilities once he lands something…”
“When he lands something?” Marina stepped away from her husband. “Pavel, I’m out of patience. I’m tired of supporting a grown man who can’t even say a proper ‘thank you.’”
Vitya flushed. “I am grateful, of course… It’s just…”
“Just nothing!” Marina cut him off. “Tomorrow you start seriously looking for work. Any work. Or you find somewhere else to live.”
Silence settled over the kitchen. Pavel looked at his wife in surprise—usually she swallowed everything in silence; at most she’d grumble a bit and calm down.
“Marish, why are you getting so wound up?” Pavel tried to smooth things over. “Have some tea, calm down…”
“I’m calm,” she said quietly. “I’m very calm. And I’m very tired.”
She took the yogurt and headed to the bedroom. Behind her, the men’s voices sounded confused—Pavel was explaining something to Vitya, Vitya was making excuses…
In the bedroom, Marina sat on the bed and cried. Quietly, without sobs—tears simply ran down her cheeks. When had she become a stranger in her own home? When had her opinion stopped mattering?
In the morning Marina got up at her usual time—five o’clock. Vitya was sleeping on the couch in the living room, sprawled full length. His socks lay on the floor; on the side table, an empty beer bottle. She quietly went to the kitchen, made herself coffee from the dregs of the jar, and left for work.
The day at the hospital passed in a haze. Marina did her duties on autopilot—hung IVs, handed out medications, filled out charts. A few times her colleagues asked if everything was all right, but she answered curtly.
During the lunch break in the staff room, the head nurse, Lena, came in.
“Marin, you’re not yourself today. Problems at home?”
“So-so,” Marina replied tiredly. “I’m just wrung out.”
Lena sat down beside her. “Listen, don’t you want a change? I have a friend in Yekaterinburg—she’s inviting you to a private clinic. Salary is one and a half times higher, conditions are excellent…”
“In Yekaterinburg?” Marina looked up. “That’s far…”
“Well, maybe that’s for the best? Sometimes you need to start over, huh?”
Those words echoed in Marina’s soul with a strange sense of relief. Start over… What if she tried?
“Give me the contact,” she heard herself say. “I’ll see.”
Marina got home at eight in the evening. The apartment was quiet—Pavel was watching TV, Vitya was reading a book. When they saw her, both gave somewhat guilty smiles.
“Marish, Vitya and I were thinking…” Pavel began. “Maybe he could take a temp job for now? Courier or something…”
Vitya nodded. “Yeah, I’m willing. I just want to find something decent…”
“Decent…” Marina repeated, heading to the bedroom.
She changed, sat at the computer, and dialed the number Lena had given her. She thought for a long moment, then called.
“Hello, Elena Viktorovna? This is Marina Sokolova, a nurse from Novosibirsk. Lena Petrova gave me your number…”
The conversation lasted half an hour. Yekaterinburg, a new clinic, good conditions, the pay really was higher… She could come for an interview as soon as next week.
“I’ll think about it,” she said into the phone. “I’ll call you back tomorrow.”
After hanging up, she sat at the window for a long time. What if? What if she just said to hell with everything and left? Pavel would sort things out with his buddy somehow. And nothing was holding her…
There was a knock at the door. “Marin, can I come in?”
Pavel entered, shifting from foot to foot. “Vitya and I talked. He’ll go look for a job tomorrow. For real—no excuses.”
“Good,” Marina answered indifferently.
“Why are you so… distant? I got it—you were right yesterday. We really went too far…”
Marina looked at her husband. A familiar face that seemed somehow foreign. When was the last time they talked about anything important? When was the last time they spoke heart-to-heart at all?
“Pavel, do you love me?” she asked unexpectedly.
He was taken aback. “Of course I love you! What kind of question is that…”
“And how do you show it?”
“Well… we live together, we’re a family…”
“I work twelve hours a day,” Marina said slowly. “I come home exhausted, and you don’t even ask how I am. But there’s always time, food, and attention for your friends.”
Pavel sat on the edge of the bed. “Marish, I thought you didn’t mind… Vitya’s in a tough spot…”
“And I’m not?” Marina turned to her husband. “Do you have any idea what it’s like to see death, pain, and suffering every day? And at home I want quiet, peace… Not drunken hangouts every evening.”
Pavel lowered his head. “I didn’t think… I’m sorry.”
“I was offered a job in Yekaterinburg,” Marina said quietly.
Her husband’s head snapped up. “What?”
“A good job. With good pay. I’m thinking of going.”
“What do you mean, going? What about us? What about…”
“What ‘us’?” she smiled bitterly. “You live your own life, with your friends and your plans… And I live only with work. And with supporting your little company.”
Pavel stood and paced the room. “But we can change that! I didn’t realize it was so hard for you…”
“Pavel, I’m forty-two,” Marina said tiredly. “And I feel eighty. Because besides work and household chores, I have nothing. No joys, no plans…”
“And a child?” Pavel asked suddenly. “We wanted to have kids…”
Marina froze. Yes, they had. Five years ago. But then it got postponed—work, money, something always came up…
“What child?” she said softly. “We don’t even have time for each other…”
The next few days passed in a strange tension. Vitya really did go out to look for work—left in the morning and came back in the evening with stories about interviews. Pavel became more attentive—he asked about work, even cooked dinner a couple of times.
But Marina felt as if she had walled herself off behind an invisible barrier. She did the housework, answered questions, but inside she seemed already to be packing her bags.
On Thursday Vitya came home looking particularly glum. “It’s bad, guys. I found a job at a car service, but the probation is three months and the pay is peanuts…”
“It’s something,” Marina shrugged.
“Come on, Marin! You can’t buy food on that! I think I’ll keep looking…”
Marina set down the book she was reading. “Vitya, do you understand that I’ve been living on those ‘peanuts’ for six months now? After I pay utilities and buy groceries, I’ve got exactly that kind of ‘peanut’ money left.”
“That’s different…” Vitya mumbled. “You’re a woman—you need less…”
Marina stood up from the couch. “Need less? Vitya, are you serious right now?”
Pavel tried to intervene. “Vityok, what are you saying? What’s being a woman got to do with it?”
“Oh, come on, Pashka,” Vitya waved him off. “It’s easier for women—they’re unpretentious. A man needs confidence, prospects…”
Marina felt something tearing inside again. This guy had been living with them for three months, eating their food, taking advantage of their hospitality—and he dared to say things like that!
“You know what,” she said quietly but very clearly. “Tomorrow you start at the car service. Or you find another place to live. No third option.”
“Marin, what are you…?” Vitya faltered. “I didn’t mean any harm…”
“Harm or no harm—I don’t care. I’m done with ingratitude and rudeness in my own home.”
She headed for the bedroom, but turned at the door. “And another thing. Utilities for three months—twenty thousand rubles. You can pay now or in installments, but by the end of the month.”
The bedroom door slammed, leaving two stunned men in the living room.
On Friday morning Vitya was still at home, but Marina didn’t even speak to him. She got ready for work and left without breakfast.
At the hospital, Lena was waiting for her. “Well? Have you thought about the offer?”
“I have,” Marina nodded. “Can I get more details? When do they need an answer?”
“By Monday. If you agree—Skype interview on Tuesday, and in a week you can start.”
“That fast?”
“They urgently need an experienced nurse. The previous one went on maternity leave.”
Marina thought it over. A week… That’s very fast. But isn’t it good—to break out of this situation?
“Lena, how about housing there?”
“At first you can stay in the medical dorm. Then you’ll find your own place.”
A dorm… After her own apartment, that would be tough. But then—no Vityas, no reproaches, no one to support…
“All right,” Marina decided. “I’ll give you a definite answer by Monday.”
She got home at half past six. Vitya sat on the couch looking mournful; Pavel paced the room nervously.
“Marin,” her husband came straight up to her. “Vitya’s decided to go to his mother’s in Omsk. He leaves tomorrow.”
“Good,” she answered calmly.
“And about the money… He can’t pay the whole amount right now, but he promises to transfer it in installments…”
“Pavel,” Marina cut him off. “I don’t care. He can figure it out himself.”
Vitya looked up. “Marin, I really didn’t mean to offend you… That thing about women—I said something stupid…”
“Vitya,” Marina said wearily. “Let’s just forget it, all right?”
She went to the kitchen, took out some groceries, and started making dinner. Muted male voices murmured behind her—they were clearly discussing something.
“Marish,” Pavel approached. “Can we talk?”
“Talk.”
“Are you really going to Yekaterinburg?”
Marina didn’t answer right away. Was she? Or was it just an attempt to get through to her husband?
“I don’t know,” she admitted. “Maybe.”
“What if I change too? What if we start living differently?”
“Differently how?”
“Well… so you don’t work so much. So we have time for each other…”
Marina set down the knife. “Pavel, are you planning to work?”
Her husband hesitated. He’d been at home for two years—first after being laid off, then “finding himself,” then “considering options”… They lived on Marina’s salary and his small benefit.
“I was thinking… maybe open my own business…”
“With what money?”
“Well, take out a loan…”
“And I’ll be the one paying it?”
Pavel lowered his head. “Marin, we have to live somehow…”
“Exactly—to live. Not scrape by on one salary.”
She went back to cooking. Thoughts spun in her head… What if he really did find a job? What if they tried to set things right?
“Pavel, I’ll be honest,” she said without turning around. “I don’t have the strength for experiments anymore. If you want to save our family—prove it with actions. Go work. Security guard, janitor—doesn’t matter. I just need to see you’re willing to try for us.”
“And Yekaterinburg?”
“Give me a week to think.”
Vitya left on Saturday morning. Pavel saw him off to the bus station and came back gloomy.
“He said he’ll transfer a thousand a month,” he told his wife.
“Uh-huh,” Marina replied indifferently.
She cleaned the apartment—washed Vitya’s sheets, did the dishes, scrubbed beer stains off the table. Without the extra presence, the place felt bigger and brighter.
“Marin, how about we go out today?” Pavel suggested. “A movie, or just a walk?”
“I’m tired,” she said. “I just want to be home.”
They ate dinner in silence. Pavel tried to start a conversation, but it came out stiff.
“Remember,” he said over tea, “how we used to go to your parents’ on weekends? Your mom made those pancakes…”
“I remember,” Marina nodded.
“We haven’t been in a while…”
“You don’t really like them.”
“That’s not true… We just didn’t have time…”
Marina looked at her husband carefully. When did they not have time? When she was working twelve hours and he was hanging out at home with friends?
“Pavel, don’t. Don’t pretend everything was fine. It hasn’t been fine for a very long time.”
“But we can fix it…”
“We can,” she agreed. “But only if you truly want it. Not because you’re afraid of being alone.”
On Monday morning, Pavel got up early—with Marina.
“I’m going to look for work today,” he said over breakfast. “I mean it.”
“Good,” she said.
“And it doesn’t matter what. As long as it brings in money.”
Marina nodded, finishing her coffee. In her pocket was the phone with the clinic’s number in Yekaterinburg. She had to give them an answer by evening.
She still didn’t know what she’d say.
At work, Lena asked several times about her decision, but Marina dodged. By lunchtime, her head had cleared—she realized she wanted to give Pavel a chance. One last one.
At six in the evening she called the clinic. “Elena Viktorovna? This is Marina Sokolova. I’ve decided to stay in Novosibirsk for now. If your offer is still open later…”
“Of course, Marina. Reach out—we’re always glad to have good specialists.”
Marina came home at half past seven. Pavel sat in the kitchen with some papers.
“How’d it go?” she asked, taking off her jacket.
“I got a job,” he said, looking up. “Driving a taxi. I start tomorrow.”
“Really?”
“Really. The money isn’t huge, but it’s steady. And there are tips.”
Marina sat down beside him. “How did you come to that decision?”
Pavel paused. “I realized I was losing you. And that no job is worse than losing a family.”
“Pavel…”
“No, let me say it. I thought all day, driving around the city looking for work. I thought about what an egoist I’ve been. You were breaking your back to keep us afloat, and I was still making demands…”
Marina took his hand. “I decided to stay.”
“Really?” Hope crept into Pavel’s voice.
“But with conditions,” she added firmly. “No more friends on our necks. We don’t feed or entertain anyone at our expense. And equal household duties.”
“Agreed,” Pavel nodded quickly.
“And one more thing. We start dating again. We go to the movies, we talk, we spend time together.”
“Absolutely! I really want us to get back on track.”
Marina looked into her husband’s eyes. She saw sincerity there, and a willingness to change. Maybe they really could make it?
“Then let’s start tomorrow,” she said. “After your first shift, let’s go out to dinner. We’ll celebrate a new beginning.”
Pavel started working as a taxi driver and, unexpectedly, came to love it. He told Marina about his passengers, about the city he was discovering anew, about how good it felt to earn his own money.
He spent his first paycheck on groceries and cooked a festive dinner himself. Marina came home from work to find the table set and candles lit.
“What’s all this?” she asked, surprised.
“I wanted to surprise you,” Pavel said, embarrassed. “Thank you for believing in me.”
Over dinner they talked about everything—work, plans, what their relationship had been missing. For the first time in a long while, Marina felt that they were a couple again, not two strangers sharing an apartment.
“You know,” she said, sipping her wine, “I’ve realized something. Love isn’t just feelings. It’s the things you do every day.”
“I agree,” Pavel nodded. “And I promise my actions will be worthy of you.”
Marina smiled—the first genuine, happy smile she’d managed in many months. “Then we’ll be fine.”
Half a year passed. Their life changed completely—Pavel worked, helped around the house, they spent weekends together. Marina moved into a less stressful position at the same hospital; the pay was lower, but she finally had time for herself and their family.
One evening, as they watched TV, Pavel said, “You know what I’ve realized? Happiness is when you’re not ashamed to look the person you love in the eye.”
Marina set down the magazine she was flipping through and turned to her husband. “Remember how I yelled about your friends living at our expense?”
“Oh, I remember,” Pavel grinned. “You were like a raging tigress.”
“I was afraid we’d fall apart completely…” she admitted. “Every day I thought: just a little more and I’ll run.”
Pavel took her hand. “It’s good you didn’t. And it’s good I came to my senses in time.”
Snow fell outside the window. A cozy apartment, warm lamplight, two people learning to be happy together again. Marina leaned against her husband’s shoulder and thought: sometimes you have to come right up to the edge to understand what really matters.
“Pashka, what if we try to have a baby after all?” she asked softly.
Pavel froze. “Seriously?”
“Why not? I’m forty-two, but it’s not too late… And now that we both work, now that we have time for each other…”
“I want that so much,” he said, kissing the top of her head. “So, so much.”
They sat in quiet, making plans for the future. A future that might not have happened if not for the memorable line an exhausted woman blurted out in the heat of the moment: “I don’t work day and night so your friends can live at our expense!”
Sometimes the most important words are born of the simplest exhaustion. And if they’re heard in time, they can save an entire family.
A month later Vitya sent a text: “Got a job as an engineer in Omsk. I’ll transfer the utilities money soon. Thanks for not kicking me out right away.”
Marina showed the message to Pavel. “Looks like it did him good, too.”
“Yeah—sometimes a swift kick is the best motivation,” her husband laughed.
And a year later, they really did have a son. Marina went on maternity leave, Pavel bought his own car, and started driving for the taxi service as an independent contractor.
At night, when she fed the baby, she sometimes remembered the day she almost broke completely. How good that she found the strength to tell the truth. How good that her husband was able to hear it.
“You know, little one,” she whispered to tiny Andryusha, “Mama almost did something foolish. It’s good I stopped in time.”
The baby snuffled, nestled comfortably in her arms. And behind the wall, Pavel slept—tired after his shift, but happy. Their family had come together. Against the odds, it had come together.
