Lyudmila Sergeyevna checked the hotel reservation for the third time that morning. Everything matched: rooms for seven days, breakfast included, a pool, the beach two hundred meters away. Perfect!
“Petya, have you packed?” she called to her husband from the kitchen.
“Relax, Luda! We’ve got three days before we leave,” came the reply from the other room.
“Three days? And what if we forget something? Our granddaughter is coming with us! Nastya needs a real vacation.”
She smiled, imagining how she and Nastya would stroll along the promenade, eating ice cream. Without the daughter-in-law! Now that was a grandmother’s true happiness. Yulia would be offended, of course. But what could you do?
Lyudmila pulled out her phone and dialed her son.
“Oleg, you remember we’re leaving the day after tomorrow?”
“Mom, you already called today. Twice,” her son’s voice sounded tired.
“I’m just worried. Did you get Nastya a new swimsuit?”
“We did. Yulia packed everything.”
“And Yulia herself… how did she take not going?”
There was a pause.
“How do you think?” Oleg sighed. “She’s upset, of course.”
“Oh, come on,” Lyudmila waved her hand, though her son couldn’t see it. “She’ll get a break from us, from her daughter. It’ll do her good.”
“Mom, that’s your decision.”
“You yourself said it’s hard for her with us. Last New Year’s Eve she sat on her phone all evening!”
“That was a work situation, you know that.”
“I know, I know… And at my birthday she ran off after two hours. Work again?”
“Nastya got sick then, she had a fever,” Oleg’s voice turned irritated.
Lyudmila pressed her lips together. Yulia always had excuses! Work, the child, migraines. And in fact—she just didn’t want to spend time with her husband’s family.
“All right, son. The main thing is that we’ll all go together. A real family.”
“Not the whole family, Mom.”
“Oh, enough already! Give her a rest, you can do something romantic later.”
Something clattered on the other end.
“Damn! Shoot! Nastya, careful with the suitcase!” Oleg shouted. “Mom, I’ve gotta go. We’ll talk later.”
He hung up. Lyudmila set the phone down and pursed her lips. Always the same—start talking about Yulia and her son gets nervous and cuts it short.
“Petya,” she called to her husband. “Help me get the suitcase down!”
“It’s still early, Luda.”
“And when are we supposed to get ready? At the last minute like you men?”
Petr appeared in the kitchen doorway with a newspaper in his hands.
“Why are you putting pressure on people? Let the guy say a proper goodbye to his wife.”
“What wife? She’s staying home alone for a week, it’s not like he’s shipping out to war.”
“Luda, you’re going too far.”
“I’m going too far?” Lyudmila flared up. “I just want a nice vacation with my granddaughter and my son! Without the eye-rolling and the constant ‘I have to work’!”
Petr only shook his head and went back to the other room. Lyudmila was left alone in the kitchen. Why was everyone so touchy? She just wanted to gather a real family together, like before. Before that… trendy little madam with her endless complaints showed up.
The morning of departure was a scramble. Lyudmila Sergeyevna checked the bags and documents three times and almost forgot her hat—a nightmare for a seaside vacation!
“Oleg’s late,” she kept glancing nervously at the clock. “Petya, call him!”
“Luda, calm down. We still have half an hour before we need to go.”
“What about traffic? What if we forgot something?”
The doorbell cut off her fretting. Oleg stood on the doorstep with a huge suitcase. Nastya peeked out from behind his leg.
“Grandma!” the girl rushed to hug Lyudmila.
“Nastenka, my darling!” Lyudmila beamed. “Ready for the sea?”
“Uh-huh! Mom bought me a new swimsuit. And a sunhat. And a dress for the restaurant!”
Lyudmila tensed at the mention of Yulia, but smiled at her granddaughter:
“Mom did great. Well then, let’s load up?”
Oleg looked exhausted. He nodded mechanically and carried the things to the car. Lyudmila reached for her own suitcase, but her son intercepted it:
“Let me.”
“You’re acting strange today.”
“I’m fine. Just didn’t sleep.”
Lyudmila gave a meaningful snort. It was obvious what that “didn’t sleep” meant. Yulia must have caused a scene over the trip last night.
An hour later they were on the highway. Nastya had her nose pressed to the window, taking in the scenery. Petr dozed in the front seat. Oleg drove, and Lyudmila sat beside her granddaughter.
“Mom, did you bring your blood pressure pills?” Oleg asked.
“Of course! I’ve thought of everything.”
“Sunscreen?”
“Yes, Olezha, don’t worry.”
Nastya suddenly tore herself away from the window:
“Mom said I shouldn’t swim too much. My ears hurt last time.”
“Mom’s right,” Oleg nodded.
“Why didn’t Mom come?” Nastya asked.
“Mom has work, bunny,” Oleg answered. “She couldn’t get time off.”
Lyudmila snorted but held her tongue. Her son was lying, covering for his wife. Yulia knew perfectly well she hadn’t been included in the plans.
“I’m going to call Mom every day!” Nastya declared.
“Of course, sunshine,” Lyudmila patted her granddaughter’s head. “But there’s so much to do at the sea! You won’t have time to chat on the phone.”
Oleg shot his mother a displeased look in the rearview mirror.
They arrived at the hotel in the evening. The rooms were spacious, with a sea view. Nastya bounced on the bed, checking out the TV and the balcony.
“Shall we go to dinner?” Lyudmila suggested after unpacking.
“Nastya, call Mom first,” Oleg said, pulling out his phone.
“Now?” Lyudmila made no attempt to hide her disappointment. “We just got here!”
“Mom, Yulia’s worried.”
Nastya happily grabbed the phone and chattered away:
“Mommy! We’re here! You can see the sea! And the bed is huge! I miss you!”
Lyudmila demonstratively stepped out onto the balcony. There it was—they’d barely arrived and already the calls had started. As if they couldn’t last a day without Yulia!
At dinner, Nastya barely ate, nodding off after the long trip. Oleg checked his phone every five minutes.
“Put that thing down,” Lyudmila finally snapped. “We came here to relax!”
“Yulia sent photos of the apartment. They finished the renovation in the kid’s room.”
“Breaking news indeed,” Lyudmila rolled her eyes.
Petr cleared his throat:
“Luda, let’s just have a quiet dinner, okay?”
On their first evening by the sea, Lyudmila felt a strange disappointment. Everything seemed fine—the family was together, the sea murmured beyond the window—but there was no joy.
By the third day of vacation, Lyudmila Sergeyevna began to notice oddities. They were together, but no one seemed to be having fun. After the mandatory morning call to her mother, Nastya would go quiet; Oleg was constantly distracted by messages; even Petr seemed pensive.
On the beach Lyudmila spread out the towels and took out the sunscreen.
“Nastenka, come here so I can put this on you. The sun is strong!”
Her granddaughter came over, but without her usual enthusiasm.
“Grandma, Mom knows how to braid my hair so the sand doesn’t stick.”
“So do I,” Lyudmila said, offended. “Let me braid it.”
“No,” Nastya pulled away. “Mom does it differently.”
Lyudmila pressed her lips together. Each day the girl mentioned her mother more often. And the plan had been for the two of them to grow closer!
“Oleg, want to go in the water?” she asked her son.
“Not now, Mom,” he didn’t look up from his phone.
“Texting Yulia again?”
“Yeah. She sent work photos—pretty funny.”
He turned the screen—Yulia was making a silly face in the office.
“Very professional,” Lyudmila said tartly.
“Mom, it’s a joke. They’re at a corporate event.”
“Ah, so she’s partying, is she. While you’re here…”
“Luda, enough,” Petr cut in. “The girl’s having some fun—good for her.”
That evening they went to a restaurant on the promenade. Music played, vacationers laughed all around them, but the mood at their table was tense.
“Let’s order seafood,” Lyudmila suggested. “Nastenka, do you want shrimp?”
“Nope. Mom says I might be allergic.”
“Good Lord, what allergy? No one in our family has allergies!”
“Yulia does,” Oleg noted calmly. “And Nastya might too.”
Lyudmila clenched her jaw. Yulia again! She hadn’t even come and was still managing to run the show.
“Fine, we’ll order pasta,” she gave in.
When the food arrived, Petr suddenly said:
“Remember, Luda, how last year Yulia found us that Greek place? That tavern was amazing.”
“I remember,” Lyudmila replied reluctantly.
“She picks up languages fast,” Petr added. “She worked things out with the locals and got us the best table.”
“Yeah, Yulia’s great,” Lyudmila muttered through her teeth.
After dinner they walked along the promenade. Nastya began to fuss:
“I want ice cream!”
“It’s late,” Lyudmila objected. “You’ll get a sore throat.”
“Mom lets me!”
“Mom’s not here,” Lyudmila snapped, and immediately regretted it.
Nastya pouted and deliberately took her father’s hand.
“Dad, let’s go to the water?”
Oleg and his daughter went on ahead, leaving Lyudmila with her husband.
“What’s going on, Petya? I’m trying, but everyone looks so sour.”
“Maybe you shouldn’t have cut Yulia out so pointedly?”
“I just wanted time with my granddaughter! Is that such a crime?”
“No one said crime, Luda. But the little girl misses her mom. Oleg’s on edge. And you know…”
Petr stopped and looked her in the eye:
“It would’ve been more fun with Yulia. She knows how to lighten the mood.”
Those words hit harder than Lyudmila expected.
“So I don’t, huh? I’m a bad grandmother, a bad mother? Everyone’s bored with me?”
She turned and strode quickly back to the hotel. Behind her she heard her husband’s heavy sigh.
In the room Lyudmila sat on the bed and, for the first time, wondered: what if she really was wrong? Maybe it wasn’t about Yulia at all, but about herself—about her fear of losing her place in the family?
On the fifth day she caught herself thinking something strange—she herself missed her daughter-in-law. Her jokes, her energy, even arguing with her.
On the fifth morning of the trip, Lyudmila woke before everyone else. She stepped onto the balcony, looked at the sea, and suddenly felt empty. The vacation she had planned so carefully wasn’t bringing her joy. She took her phone and opened the family photo chat. In the latest pictures from the dacha, Yulia was making funny faces with Nastya, they were all making dumplings together… and it all looked so easy.
That evening, when Nastya had fallen asleep and Petr had gone to the bar to watch football, Lyudmila knocked on her son’s door.
“Oleg, may I?”
“Come in,” he was sitting by the window with his phone.
“Talking to Yulia again?”
“Not anymore. She went to bed.”
Lyudmila sat on the edge of the bed.
“You know, I’ve been thinking a lot… Maybe I was wrong about Yulia.”
“What do you mean?” Oleg raised his eyebrows in surprise.
“Well… about not inviting her. Nastya misses her. And all of us are… not quite ourselves without her.”
Her son studied her carefully:
“Are you serious right now?”
“Serious,” she sighed. “You see, I felt like Yulia was pushing me aside. Like because of her, you and Nastya came by less and shared less with me.”
“Mom, that’s not true.”
“I get that now,” Lyudmila lowered her eyes. “Yulia isn’t taking you away from me. It’s just… you have your own family now.”
Oleg moved over and put an arm around her shoulders:
“You know, Yulia was really upset about this trip. She even cried. She thought you hated her.”
“What?” Lyudmila looked at her son in alarm. “No! I just… I was afraid of losing you.”
“You’re not losing us. We’ll always be here. Just give Yulia a chance—she’s trying.”
The next morning Lyudmila asked for her son’s phone and called her daughter-in-law herself.
“Yulia, it’s me, Lyudmila Sergeyevna.”
“Hello,” Yulia’s voice sounded guarded.
“How are you there? Managing without us?”
“Yes, everything’s fine, I’m working…”
“Listen,” Lyudmila drew a breath. “I wanted to apologize. It was wrong of me not to invite you. That was… foolish of me.”
Silence on the other end.
“Yulia, are you there?”
“Yes, yes, I just… didn’t expect that.”
“We all miss you. Especially Nastya. And I miss you too, can you believe it?”
Yulia gave a small laugh:
“Really?”
“Really. Without you it’s kind of… bland. No one argues with me about politics, no one drags everyone off to some crazy place.”
When they returned home, Yulia was waiting with dinner. The awkwardness of the first minutes melted quickly. Nastya bounced around her mother, Oleg was beaming, and Petr winked at his wife—as if to say, see how nice this is.
Over tea, Lyudmila took the plunge:
“Yulia, I wanted to tell you something. I realized you’re part of our family. A real part. And I was wrong to try to… well, push you aside.”
“Lyudmila Sergeyevna…”
“Luda. Just Luda is fine. Or Lusya, whichever you like.”
Yulia smiled:
“Thank you… Luda. I probably didn’t always understand how important family traditions are to you, either.”
“We’ll have new traditions now,” Lyudmila said firmly. “Shared ones. And you know what? Next time we all go together. I’ve already got my eye on a nice hotel for the fall.”
That evening, when the guests had left, Petr hugged his wife:
“I’m proud of you, Lusya. Not everyone can change like that.”
“I just realized something simple,” she nestled against him. “Family isn’t about someone being in charge. It’s about everyone mattering.”
