“We actually assumed you’d pay for the vacation packages yourself,” Marina said, lazily stirring her latte macchiato with a spoon in a tall glass. “Your salary allows it, and we’re counting every penny right now.”
Lena froze, still holding the plate with the freshly baked plum pie before she could set it on the table. The warm smell of cinnamon and pastry, which only a second ago had created the cozy illusion of a perfect Sunday afternoon, suddenly felt suffocating. Outside the large panoramic window of her living room, the summer sun shone brightly, and a few cars passed along the neat street. But inside Lena, something dropped and crashed into emptiness.
She slowly lowered the plate onto the oak tabletop.
“What do you mean, ‘pay myself’?” Lena asked quietly, looking at her younger sister. “Marina, we booked a family trip to Gran Canaria back in February. Two weeks, a nice hotel with half board. The total was almost four and a half thousand euros. I paid for everything with my credit card because your limit was maxed out at the time. We agreed that you and Kostya would transfer your share to me — two thousand eight hundred — by the end of May. The flight is in a week.”
Marina clicked her tongue in irritation, adjusting her perfectly styled hair. She was thirty-five and had not worked for five years, enjoying the role of mother to an only child and mistress of a brand-new townhouse in a prestigious suburb.
“Oh, Lena, don’t start with that boring accounting talk!” Marina rolled her eyes theatrically. “‘Two thousand eight hundred, by the end of May…’ We’ve had unexpected expenses! Kostya had to buy extended car insurance, and then we got the annual utility recalculation — almost a thousand euros extra! Where are we supposed to get that kind of money right now?”
Their mother, Lyudmila Petrovna, entered the conversation smoothly, like a heavy cruiser gliding into a harbor. She sat at the head of the table, majestically cutting the pie.
“Lenochka, why are you picking on your sister like this?” her mother sang in that tone that never allowed objections. “The kids have a mortgage, and their child is growing. You’re alone. You live only for yourself. For you, this money is nothing — just one bonus from that IT job of yours. You could have given your family a gift. As Comrade Sukhov said, ‘The East is a delicate matter,’ and family is even more delicate. People should help each other.”
“Mom,” Lena felt the familiar choking lump of resentment rise in her throat, “I also got a recalculation for heating. And I pay for my own apartment myself. Nobody helps me. Four and a half thousand is a huge amount, even for me.”
“Oh, stop pretending you’re poor!” Lyudmila Petrovna waved her off, putting a piece of pie into her mouth. “We know how much you earn. You’re our businesswoman. Remember Katerina from Moscow Does Not Believe in Tears! She also did everything herself, always alone, until she realized that life is empty without close people. ‘Don’t teach me how to live — help me financially instead!’ That’s the right approach. We are your family, Lena. Your only family. Do you want me, with my aching joints, to be left without the sea?”
Lena lowered her eyes. That argument had always been armor-piercing. Mother’s joints, mother’s blood pressure, her sister’s mortgage. Since childhood, Lena had been used to being the locomotive. And a locomotive was not supposed to complain that the wagons were too heavy. Its job was to pull. She was forty-two. An intelligent, attractive woman, head of a department in a major corporation, she skillfully managed multimillion-euro projects, yet became completely powerless whenever it came to her family.
“All right,” Lena exhaled, feeling bitter exhaustion spread through her. “I’ll cover this debt. But on vacation, all excursions and restaurants are on you. Agreed?”
Marina beamed, instantly replacing the martyr’s mask with the face of a loving little sister.
“Of course, Lenusik! You’re the best!” She jumped up and kissed Lena on the cheek. “By the way, Kostya wanted to ask: are we going to the airport in your car? Your trunk is bigger, and we won’t have to pay for parking if you drive.”
Lena only nodded silently.
On Wednesday evening, three days before the flight, Lena stopped by Marina’s house. Earlier that day, her sister had tearfully begged for help.
“Len, my laptop froze, and I urgently need to print the travel insurance papers. Could you stop by after work? You understand these things!”
Lena parked her aging Golf near her sister’s beautiful brick townhouse. Kostya was not home — on Wednesdays, he traditionally played padel tennis with friends and drank beer. Marina greeted her in a fluffy robe.
“Lenchik, my savior! The laptop is on the kitchen island. I’ll just bathe Danka quickly, he’s covered in sand,” Marina called, running upstairs.
Lena walked over to the marble countertop and opened the thin silver laptop. The problem was trivial — the browser update process had simply frozen. Lena restarted the program, and the browser obediently opened, restoring the previous session.
The first tab was the web version of a popular messenger. Lena was already moving the mouse toward the little cross to close the window and find the insurance file when her eyes caught the name of the active chat: “Favorite Family.”
Next to it were the avatars of Marina, Mom, and Kostya. Lena was not in that chat.
She had no intention of reading someone else’s correspondence. All her life, she had respected other people’s boundaries. But the latest message, sent by Kostya literally half an hour earlier, struck her like a slap.
Kostya, 18:45: So, how’s our sponsor? Did she swallow the vacation costs?
Marina, 18:47: Swallowed them, where else would she go? Grumbled a bit for show, whined about her own recalculations. Saved almost three grand, hooray! Tomorrow we’re ordering that rattan terrace furniture I wanted.
Mom, 18:50: And thank God, Marinochka. Otherwise she sits on her money like Koschei. A lonely woman is indecent! Let her at least be useful to her nephew. In Office Romance, Lyudmila Prokofyevna also thought work was everything. A real cold old hag. No husband, no children, just spreadsheets in her head. If it weren’t for us, she would have gone completely wild.
Kostya, 18:55: Exactly. The main thing on vacation is to dump Danka on her in the evenings. We’ll say Mom’s blood pressure is acting up, so Lena can sit with the kid. And you and I, Marina, can finally go to the bar like normal people and have cocktails. She doesn’t go anywhere in the evenings anyway. Let her rot in the room.
Lena stopped breathing. In her sister’s huge stylish kitchen, furnished with expensive appliances — some of which Lena had partly helped pay for “as a loan” — there was a ringing silence. Only the new refrigerator hummed quietly.
There were no tears inside Lena. No hysteria. The familiar guilt her mother had cultivated in her for years suddenly evaporated. It was as if someone had flipped a switch in a dark room, and the harsh light exposed all the filth hidden in the corners.
She was not a sister. She was not a beloved daughter. She was a convenient resource. A free ATM and a free babysitter. “Sponsor.” “Cold old hag.”
At that moment, the locomotive derailed. And in its place stood a cold, calculating armored train.
Lena took out her phone. Her hands did not tremble. She carefully took several clear photos of the screen. Then, to be safe, she selected all the messages from the past week, took screenshots, and forwarded them to her email. After that, she calmly closed the browser, found the insurance file in downloads, sent it to the printer, and shut the laptop.
Footsteps sounded on the stairs.
“So, Len? Did it work?” Marina asked.
Lena turned toward her sister. Her face was calm, almost serene. Only her eyes had become dark and hard.
“Yes, Marina. Everything is printed. It’s on the printer. I need to go home. Tomorrow will be a difficult day.”
“Oh, thank you!” Marina tried to kiss her again, but Lena subtly moved away. “Don’t forget, we’re leaving at six in the morning on Saturday!”
“I won’t forget anything,” Lena replied evenly. “See you Saturday.”
For the next two days, Lena acted with the efficiency of a crisis manager — which, in fact, she was at work.
At lunchtime on Thursday, she called her travel agent. Since the tour was booked in her name and paid for with her card, Lena had every right to make changes.
“Frau Mayer, good afternoon. This is Elena. We have a booking for five people to Gran Canaria. Yes… Tell me, can I cancel the tickets and accommodation for four people? And upgrade my room to a suite with an ocean view? Excellent. Yes, I understand there will be a cancellation fee. Deduct it from the refunded amount. Thank you. I’ll wait for the new vouchers by email.”
After that, Lena opened her work laptop and created a new Excel file. She named it simply: “Audit.”
She meticulously pulled up all bank statements from the past four years.
A “gift” to Kostya for winter tires — 800 euros. They had promised to return it from vacation pay.
Payment for her mother’s dental treatment — 1,200 euros. She had promised to repay it in installments from her pension. Not a single transfer had arrived.
A premium stroller for her nephew — 900 euros. It had been framed as a loan for a couple of months.
Small transfers to Marina “until Kostya’s salary,” which were never returned.
Lena added it all up. The final cell turned red: 4,550 euros. And that did not include the vacation packages.
On Friday evening, Lena called her mother and sister.
“Come to my place at seven. We need to discuss logistics and luggage packing,” she said briefly. Her tone was such that no one dared object.
They arrived exactly at seven. Marina fluttered in excitedly, Kostya brought a cheap bottle of sparkling wine from a discount store, and Lyudmila Petrovna solemnly carried a container of cutlets.
“Well, sponsor of our fun!” Kostya laughed, placing the bottle on the table. “Ready for the sea? We bought Danka such an inflatable ring — you’ll be amazed!”
Lena sat at the head of her large dining table. In front of her there were no glasses, no plates. Only three neat red plastic folders.
“Sit down,” she said calmly, without returning her brother-in-law’s smile.
Something in her voice made them exchange nervous glances and silently take their seats. Lena pushed one folder toward each of them.
“Open them. This is your document package before departure.”
Marina happily pulled the tab of the folder, expecting to see colorful hotel brochures. But instead, printed sheets slid onto the table. A4 paper. Color screenshots of the messenger conversation.
The smile slowly slid off her sister’s face like melting snow. She turned pale. Kostya frowned, reading his own words about “the sponsor” and “the bar.” Lyudmila Petrovna reached shakily for her glasses.
“What… what is this?” Marina stammered, her voice cracking. “Lena, were you snooping around my computer?! You read my private messages?! How dare you! That’s illegal! That’s a violation of personal boundaries!”
“Your personal boundaries, Marina,” Lena said in an icy, ringing voice, “end where my wallet begins. Turn the page.”
Kostya, breathing heavily, turned the sheet. There was a printed Excel table.
“Over the past four years, your ‘favorite family’ has borrowed 4,550 euros from me. Not one cent of that amount has been returned. You bought a townhouse, you’re ordering rattan furniture, you drink cocktails. And all this time, I was your free ATM.”
“Lena!” her mother shrieked, clutching her heart in a classic theatrical gesture. “How can you! It was a joke! The children were just joking in the chat! You have no heart, shaming your own mother before vacation over some papers!”
“A joke?” Lena smiled bitterly. There was not a drop of amusement in that smile. “‘A real cold old hag,’ ‘let her sit in the room with Danka.’ Great joke, Mom. I appreciated it. That’s exactly why I made a decision. Turn to the third page.”
They turned the pages at the same time. There lay the official response from the tour operator. Cancellation of four passengers. The penalty. And a new voucher: one adult, Suite Ocean View.
“I canceled your bookings,” Lena said sharply, looking straight into her brother-in-law’s shifting eyes. “I’m flying tomorrow morning. Alone. I will drink cocktails, sleep until noon, and enjoy life. And you can spend your vacation on your new terrace. I hope the furniture has already been delivered?”
A dead, deafening silence fell. The kitchen wall clock could be heard ticking softly.
Then all hell broke loose.
Marina burst into tears — this time for real, with sobs and mascara streaking down her face.
“Lena, please! We already arranged time off from work! We can’t just sit at home for two weeks! It’s embarrassing in front of the neighbors! Lend us the money, and we’ll buy tickets ourselves now, any tickets, even to a three-star hotel!”
Kostya jumped up, knocking over his chair.
“Hey, don’t go too far! We’re family, after all! So we wrote some things in the heat of the moment, who doesn’t? Restore the booking. You’ve ruined our whole year!”
Lyudmila Petrovna began to cry, wailing in one continuous tone.
“A snake! I warmed a snake on my chest! Kostik was right about you — nobody will need such a calculating woman! You’ll end up alone, do you hear me? Loneliness is your fate! No sympathy, only numbers in your head!”
Lena stood up. She placed both hands on the table and looked down at them. She felt no fear. She felt absolute, pure freedom.
“My fate, Mom, is to live my own life. Not to sponsor two overgrown parasites.” She turned her gaze to her sister. “Marina, until you return the debt listed in that table, there will be no loans, gifts, or help. My phone number will be unavailable to you.”
She walked to the front door and opened it wide.
“And now, please leave. I need to pack my suitcase. And yes, Kostya, you can take your three-euro swill with you. Celebrate the rattan furniture.”
They left with curses, screams, and threats to erase her from their lives forever. Lena silently waited until the elevator doors closed behind them, then softly locked her door.
She leaned her back against the cool wood. Lena expected guilt to flood over her. She expected to slide down the wall and sob from loneliness, just as her mother had predicted. But instead, she felt her lips stretch into a wide, happy smile all by themselves. She kicked off her shoes, went to the kitchen, took a bottle of excellent Riesling from the fridge, poured herself a full glass, and turned on music. She needed to pack her most beautiful dresses — the ones that had been hanging in her closet for years.
Exactly one month passed. It was the hot middle of July.
Lena was sitting on the balcony of her apartment, sipping iced coffee. Her skin had a deep golden tan, her eyes were shining, and sun-bleached strands played in her hair from the hot Spanish sun. The vacation in Gran Canaria had turned out to be the best of her life. She took surfing lessons, had dinner in seaside fish restaurants, devoured books, and did not think about anyone’s joints, mortgages, or insurance.
At work, noticing her new firm and confident posture, her boss suddenly started talking about a promotion and a transfer to the regional board of directors. The “cold old hag” turned out to be incredibly effective once she stopped wasting her energy on toxic users.
The phone on the small table vibrated softly. An unfamiliar number appeared on the screen, but Lena instinctively knew who it was. She answered.
Through the speaker flowed the painfully familiar, syrupy-sweet voice of Lyudmila Petrovna.
“Lenochka… my daughter, hello. It’s Mom. I’m calling from Kostya’s work phone, since you blocked us everywhere. How are you? Did you have a good rest?”
Lena took a sip of coffee and smiled at the ocean breeze that still lived in her memory.
“I had a wonderful rest, Mom. What do you need?”
Her mother hesitated, and her voice became even sweeter.
“Well, we thought about it… everyone got heated. We are family, after all. Why should we be enemies over nonsense? Listen, dear… Marina’s washing machine broke a few days ago. The warranty is over, and the repairman said fixing it would be expensive. Could you help with a thousand euros until payday? Danka needs laundry washed all the time… And we’ll pay you back little by little, honest!”
Lena laughed. Sincerely, lightly, and brightly.
“Sorry, Mom. My budget is strictly planned. I signed up for yachting courses, and I need to buy equipment. As for the washing machine, Marina can buy one if she sells her wonderful rattan furniture.”
“Lena! How dare you…” her mother tried to switch to shouting.
“All the best, Mom. Say hello to Kostya,” Lena gently interrupted and ended the call.
She blocked that number too. Then she leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes, turning her face toward the sun. The old manipulations no longer worked. Guilt had dried up under the rays of common sense. Life was only beginning, and in that life there was no longer any room for freeloading passengers.
