“Give us your vacation package—family needs it more!” the mother-in-law shrieked.
Marina was ironing her sundress. The iron hissed, spitting steam, and she didn’t even notice she’d burned her finger.
Only one thought spun in her head: “In twelve hours I’ll be sipping something cold, looking out at the Mediterranean. No reports. No drivers with their log sheets. No balance sheets.”
She’d waited a whole year for this vacation—putting money aside from every paycheck, denying herself a new coat, denying her husband a fishing rod. They’d booked a five-star hotel in Kemer, ultra all-inclusive. Paradise on earth for 250,000 rubles.
Nearby, on the couch, an open suitcase lay ready: swimsuits, sunscreen, Igor’s flippers—everything packed.
The doorbell rang like an alarm siren: insistent, long, nasty.
Marina startled, glanced at the clock—nine in the evening. Who on earth was that?
Igor went to open the door.
A minute later, a voice came from the hallway that made Marina’s teeth ache.
“Igoryok! Not locked? Well, here we are! We need to talk—serious talk.”
Her mother-in-law, Galina Petrovna: a professional martyr and an award-winning manipulator of the Russian Federation.
Marina turned off the iron, took a deep breath, pasted on her duty smile, and went into the entryway.
Galina Petrovna was already taking off her shoes, groaning and leaning on her son’s shoulder.
“Oh, my back… Oh, my legs… Marina, make some tea with lemon and find the Corvalol—my heart’s acting up.”
Marina silently went to the kitchen.
Five minutes later Galina Petrovna sat at the table, loudly slurping tea from a saucer (she always drank from a saucer, “like a merchant’s wife,” though she was just an ordinary pensioner).
Igor sat opposite, head down. He already knew what was coming—felt it in his spine, trained by his mother for forty years.
“Alright,” Galina Petrovna set the saucer aside. “Here’s the deal. Lenochka and Vika need the sea—”
Marina froze with a rag in her hand.
“Galina Petrovna, we’re happy for Lena. Let them go—there are plenty of flights.”
“You didn’t understand,” the mother-in-law stared at her heavily. “They have no money. Lena’s a widow, an orphan girl, her benefits are pennies, and Vika has adenoids. The doctor said only sea air, otherwise surgery.”
“And?” Marina asked, feeling everything inside her boil.
“And you have to help. You’re family. You have vacation packages. You fly tomorrow.”
“We do have packages,” Marina said slowly. “We bought them. We saved up for them.”
“You’re healthy moose!” Galina Petrovna slammed her palm on the table. “Sea air is pfft—a whim—for you! But for a child it’s life and death! You can stomp around at the dacha—there’s air there too. The river stinks, sure, but you’ll manage.”
“Mom…” Igor tried. “How can that be… We were getting ready… Suitcases are packed…”
“Getting ready!” his mother screeched. “And did you think about your niece?! About your sister?!”
“Rag! I didn’t raise you like this! Egoist! Just like your wife! Greedy, only want to stuff your belly!”
She grabbed her chest, her face reddening.
“Oh… oh, my heart… it’s stabbing… Igor! Water! An ambulance! I’ll tell the doctors my son drove me to a heart attack!”
Igor went pale, jumped up, rushed around the kitchen looking for drops.
“Mom, don’t! Mom, calm down!”
He looked at Marina—his eyes like a beaten dog’s: frightened and pathetic.
“Marin… you see, she’s bad… let’s give them up? Really, Vika needs it more… and we… we’ll go later.”
Marina looked at the man she’d lived with for fifteen years and understood: he had given up.
He’d betrayed her—their dream—for his mother’s performance.
“You’re giving away our vacation?” she asked.
“Oh, Marin, don’t start! It’s my mom!”
Galina Petrovna cracked one eye open, made sure her son had “ripened,” and started moaning again, rolling her eyes.
“Fine,” Marina said, her voice icy. “Take them.”
“Child needs the sea, and you’ll manage at the dacha!” the mother-in-law declared, clutching her chest. I waited for my husband to defend me, but he looked at me pleadingly, and I understood: our vacation was canceled.
Galina Petrovna left ten minutes later, miraculously cured of her “heart attack.”
“Tomorrow morning Lena will come for the documents,” she tossed from the doorway. “Reissue everything there, and give them money for excursions. A thousand dollars will do—don’t be stingy.”
The door slammed.
Marina stood in the hallway.
Igor tried to hug her.
“Marish, forgive me… I just can’t when she gets like that…”
Marina stepped back.
“Don’t touch me.”
She went into the bathroom, turned the water on full blast.
Sat on the edge of the tub and cried.
Not because of the vacation package—because of the humiliation.
She pictured Lena coming tomorrow. That “poor widow” who in reality lived with an Armenian guy from the market, but hid it so she wouldn’t lose benefits.
She’d come with Vika—a thirteen-year-old lanky girl who already smoked and swore at teachers.
They’d take the tickets and laugh: “Suckers—sponsoring us again.”
And Marina would go to the dacha to weed beds.
“I hate them,” she thought. “I hate all of them. And Igor—weakling, rag.”
She wanted to pack and leave, but where? The apartment was mortgaged—five more years to pay. To leave would mean giving them everything.
No. She couldn’t leave.
Marina wiped her tears, looked in the mirror.
Swollen red face. But her eyes… were angry.
“Alright,” she told her reflection. “You want Turkey? You’ll get an unforgettable Turkey…”
“Don’t cry, sweetheart, next year we’ll go,” her husband coaxed her. He didn’t know I wasn’t crying from hurt—I was crying from rage, and in my head a plan for a truly “unforgettable” vacation for his relatives had already ripened.
That night Marina didn’t sleep. She lay beside Igor snoring and thought.
A plan formed: mean, harsh, and satisfyingly folk-style.
In the morning, as soon as Igor left for work (he escaped early so he wouldn’t have to meet her eyes), Marina called Lyuska.
Lyudmila worked at the travel agency they’d used—her childhood friend, her own person.
“Lyusya, hi, it’s Marina. I’ve got an emergency.”
“What, flight canceled?”
“Worse—my mother-in-law squeezed the tour out of me.”
“No way?! You gave it up?”
“I had to: heart attack, ambulance, Igor panicking… Listen carefully. Lena will come to reissue the tour. Make her believe everything’s ready, but give her… different documents.”
“What do you mean?”
“Cancel our tour. Refund the money back to my card—quietly. And for them, book a new one. The cheapest last-minute garbage: ‘Fortuna, 2 stars.’”
“Marin, what are you doing? That’ll be a dump.”
“I don’t care. Cheap, far from the sea, and no meals.”
“And what do I put in the voucher?”
“Write ‘5 stars,’ fix it in Photoshop. Tell her the system glitched so the name is different—Lena will believe it. And tell her it’s all-inclusive. Let them fly.”
“Marin… that’s cruel.”
“Cruel, Lyusya, is when they take my vacation away. This is justice. Do it—I’ll pay for their ‘dump’ out of my own money. Don’t worry.”
At ten in the morning Lena arrived.
She was already in a hat and huge sunglasses; Vika chewed gum, glued to her phone.
“So what, the documents ready?” Lena asked without greeting. “We’re waiting for a taxi.”
Marina silently handed her an envelope.
Inside were tickets and vouchers printed on Lyusya’s color printer.
The hotel name—“Sun Beach Garden Hotel”—sounded pretty, but in reality it was a flop house fifty kilometers from Alanya, up in the mountains, where only the most desperate poor souls ended up.
“And the money?” Lena asked. “Mom said you’d give a thousand bucks.”
Marina pulled five thousand rubles from her wallet.
“That’s all I have. Enough for magnets.”
Lena grimaced.
“Cheapskates. Come on, Vika—drag the suitcases.”
They left.
Marina closed the door, leaned against the frame.
Her heart pounded.
“God, please let them fly, please don’t let them check.”
But she knew: they wouldn’t check. Lena never checked anything. She was used to everyone owing her—and giving her the best.
“You monster! Where did you send us?!” the sister-in-law screamed from Turkey while my husband stared at me in horror. I calmly picked up the phone and answered with one phrase—after which he started laughing.
The evening passed in silence.
Igor came home guilty, with a little cake.
“Marin… how are you? Calmed down?”
“Calmed down,” Marina said, chopping salad. “Eat.”
“They took off,” Igor reported, staring at his phone. “Mom called—said they boarded, happy.”
“Good.”
“Marin, forgive me… Next year I will… I swear…”
“Eat, Igor.”
Five hours later the call came.
The screen showed: “Lena.”
Marina put it on speaker.
“HELLO!!!” Lena’s shriek was so loud the cat sleeping on the windowsill fell onto the floor. “MARINA!!! YOU BITCH!!! WHERE DID WE END UP?!”
Igor choked on his tea.
“Len, what—” he stammered. “What happened?”
“THIS IS A SHED!!!” Lena screamed. “There are chickens walking around the grounds, there’s no pool! It’s dry, full of trash! The room—iron beds like a hospital! No AC, no water!”
In the background Vika sobbed:
“Mom, I want to go home, it stinks!”
“They’re not feeding us!” Lena kept screeching. “I go to the reception: ‘Where’s dinner? We’ve got ultra all-inclusive!’ And the Turk says: ‘What all-inclusive? You’ve got room only! Just a room!’ I shove the voucher at him—he’s laughing! Says it’s fake!”
“Igoryok! Do something! Your wife is going to get us thrown in jail! Call the embassy!”
Igor sat with his mouth open, staring at Marina.
Marina calmly took the phone.
“No one tricked you.”
“What do you mean?!” Lena cut off mid-scream.
“You wanted a vacation package. For free. You got one. Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth.”
“You… you swapped the hotel?!”
“I arranged your tour according to your status. You’re poor relatives, little orphans. Two stars is plenty for you—luxury has to be earned or bought with your own money.”
“I’ll kill you!” Lena yelled into the phone. “We’ll come back—I’ll scratch your eyes out!”
“You won’t,” Marina smirked. “Your return tickets are in ten days. You can’t fly out earlier. So enjoy your vacation—get some sun. They say the mountain air is clean—those adenoids should clear right up.”
She hit “end call” and turned off the phone.
Silence hung in the kitchen.
Igor looked at his wife as if seeing her for the first time—horrified and… impressed.
“You… you did that on purpose?”
“On purpose, Igor.”
“And the money? Our 250,000?”
“Refunded to my card—minus the penalty and the cost of their ‘dump.’ That part was peanuts—around thirty thousand. The rest is intact. Tomorrow we’ll either fix your car or buy me a fur coat.”
Igor was quiet for a minute, processing.
Then he snorted.
Then he giggled.
And finally he burst out laughing—nervously, almost hysterically, but genuinely.
“You’re a witch, Marin… What a snake…”
“A snake,” Marina agreed, pouring herself some wine. “Better that than a doormat by the door.”
The ten days went wonderfully.
Marina and Igor didn’t go anywhere—they stayed home.
Slept till noon, walked in the park, went to the movies.
They turned their phones off.
She knew that in Turkey a drama was unfolding: Lena and Vika, used to comfort, were eating instant noodles (the store was far, money was tight), walking to the sea (the bus came once a day), roasting in the sun without air conditioning.
Lena came back dark with tan and rage.
Vika was so covered in mosquito bites there wasn’t a clean spot left.
Galina Petrovna met them at the airport (Marina and Igor didn’t go) and immediately threw a tantrum—only now without Marina.
The mother-in-law doesn’t speak to Marina anymore. She tells all relatives and acquaintances that her daughter-in-law is “Satan in a skirt.”
Marina doesn’t care.
But Igor is obedient now.
Before he promises his mom anything, he looks at Marina—questioningly, with wary caution.
He’s afraid.
And he should be.
And now it’s your turn.
Girls, confess—who has ever wanted to tell their beloved mother-in-law or brazen sister-in-law to go to hell? Not necessarily to Turkey—you can send them on a long erotic hike, too. Who endured it when their last scrap was taken away for “poor relatives,” and who managed to show their teeth? Write in the comments—we’ll discuss! And don’t forget to send this story to that one friend who’s always saving everyone at her own expense. Let her learn how to “book the right vacation packages.”
