Alexey threw his keys onto the nightstand.
“Either we go on vacation with my sister and her kids, or you pack your things and get out of my apartment. You know where the door is.”
He froze in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest, puffing himself up like the captain of a sinking ship. Olga stood motionless in the middle of the living room, holding their open passports in her hands.
“What?”
“You heard me. From now on, your objections are no longer accepted.”
That very morning, after seeing her husband off to work, Olga had carefully placed the travel vouchers inside her and Alexey’s passports, imagining how the airplane would carry them away to the sea, the sun, and the hot sand beneath their feet.
“How wonderful that my boss let me take my vacation earlier,” she had thought, glancing at the pile of things on the bedroom bed that still needed to be packed.
Just the two of them. No endless “Where’s the tablet charger?” or “Aunt Olga, I don’t want porridge, make me an omelet.”
“Lesha, are you serious?” Olga’s voice trembled. “We spent six months saving for this hotel with a sea view. We dreamed of silence, beautiful sunsets, the sound of waves outside our window. I hoped we would finally spend time alone together, instead of me becoming a free attachment to your relatives.”
“Anya needs a rest, Olya. And this is not up for discussion. After the divorce, she’s completely exhausted. Just think about it — three children. Three, five, and seven years old. You wanted to become a mother soon, didn’t you? Well, here’s your chance to practice. I don’t want some inexperienced, helpless woman giving birth to my children if she can’t even handle her husband’s nephews and nieces,” Alexey snapped, as if he were not delivering an ultimatum but offering wise advice from a men’s magazine.
Olga felt her cheeks burn. Three years of marriage. They had lived fairly normally, like everyone else — a shared mortgage, dinners together, TV series on weekends, unless her husband’s many relatives came to visit because, “Your place is spacious, and there’s a park nearby. It’s convenient for walking with the kids.”
Olga had hinted more than once that his family’s presence in their lives should be reduced. Alexey would grumble in response, saying she was “too independent” and “wanted to separate herself from the family,” but it had never reached open ultimatums before.
He might mutter:
“Mom knows better how to pickle cucumbers,” or,
“Let’s buy the car Anya recommended.”
Olga usually agreed, just to keep peace in the family. But now this was not about pickles or a car that, in any case, her husband would be the one driving. This was about turning her long-awaited vacation into a two-week marathon as an unpaid nanny for three noisy children while Alexey’s sister lounged on a deck chair.
“So I’m supposed to spend my entire vacation wiping noses, catching ‘drowning victims,’ feeding them, putting them to bed, entertaining them, and listening to endless ‘Aunt Olga, why?’” she asked with a bitter smile. “And you and your sister will be relaxing?”
“I am the head of the family,” Alexey cut her off. “And I have decided. This is a family trip. Either you accept it, or you pack your things and move out. I’m tired of your whims.”
Olga looked at her husband as if she were seeing a stranger in familiar pajamas. For three years, she had adjusted herself to everyone else. When Anya came “for a couple of days” and stayed for a week, Olga cooked, cleaned, and entertained the children. When her mother-in-law called at eleven at night with advice about laundry, Olga nodded and listened. But this vacation was supposed to be hers.
“All right,” she said quietly but firmly. “I choose the second option. I’m going to my mother’s. Right now. I’ll stay with her while we figure out how to divide the apartment.”
“What?” Alexey lost his confidence at once. It slid from his face like cheap sunburn. “Olya, don’t be stupid. The flight is in two days! Everything is paid for.”
“Then go. Teach your nephews and nieces how to dive and listen to Anya complain about her ex. Sounds like the perfect vacation for you.”
She pulled out a second suitcase and began throwing things into it: dresses, sweaters, a sundress, sneakers, and the favorite book she still had not finished reading. Alexey stood there, slowly turning red.
“You’ll regret this! Anya will never forgive you. She’ll say you abandoned the family at a difficult moment.”
“A difficult moment is when someone is sick, Lesha. When a husband turns his wife into a nanny, that is a moment of awakening. And yes, I refuse to be a free entertainer so you can later brag about what an experienced wife you have.”
The taxi carried Olga through the night city. Her mother, Tatyana Ivanovna, opened the door without asking questions. She saw the suitcases, hugged her daughter, and silently put the kettle on.
“Would you like some tea? With blueberry jam, your favorite,” she asked once Olga’s things had taken their usual place in her old room.
“Yes, Mom.”
Over tea, Olga stirred sugar in her cup and said thoughtfully:
“I think I’m getting divorced, Mom.”
On the balcony, where it smelled of jasmine and old memories, they finally talked.
“Because of Anya’s children?” Tatyana Ivanovna shook her head. “I warned you. Lesha was always a mama’s boy, and now he’s his sister’s boy too. But an ultimatum? That’s too much.”
“I’m tired, Mom. For three years, I was convenient. I gave in over little things so we wouldn’t argue. But now he has crossed the line. He decided I should practice on someone else’s children because otherwise he wouldn’t trust me to become the mother of his children. You know, that was the final straw.”
In the morning, Olga’s phone would not stop ringing and buzzing. Alexey called repeatedly. Anya sent messages: “Olya, are you serious? The children were so excited to go with Aunt Olya! You’re almost family.”
Olga put her phone on silent and went to help her mother plant flowers on the balcony.
At lunchtime, the doorbell rang. Anya stood on the doorstep wearing a new beach tunic, her face tired and expensive perfume trailing behind her.
“May I come in?” Her voice was unusually gentle. “Olya, what kind of childish behavior is this?” she began, speaking to her sister-in-law in a patronizing tone, as if calming a child. “Destroying a family over a vacation? Lesha is in shock. The children are upset.”
“Anya, did you ask me whether I wanted to spend my vacation running after your three hurricanes?” Olga did not invite her to sit down. “Or do you agree with what Lesha said — that I should practice?”
“But it would be good for you!” Anya threw up her hands. “You want a child, don’t you? So here’s practice. I’ll rest, and you…”
“And I’ll become a free nanny so Lesha can later boast about how well-prepared his wife is? No, thank you. Go on vacation without me.”
Anya pressed her lips together.
“You’ve become very selfish, Olya. You used to be so agreeable. Is this your mother’s doing? Is she turning you against the family?”
Tatyana Ivanovna came out of the kitchen with a cup in her hand.
“No, Anya. This is called common sense. Olga is thirty-two years old, and you people are still deciding how many diapers she should change for your children and how many spoons of salt she should put in pickles.”
When Anya left, slamming the door behind her, Olga felt a sudden lightness. As if she had finally taken off a heavy backpack she had been carrying for three years.
She refunded her own ticket and bought herself another one to the same resort, but at a different hotel — alone. On the evening before the flight, Alexey arrived. Rumpled and angry.
“I returned your ticket,” he lied.
“I returned it myself, and the money was already back in my account this morning.”
He faltered.
“So you’re serious? Olya, I’m giving you one last chance. Apologize and come with us.”
Olga sat down across from him.
“Lesha, we need to talk, but not about the vacation. I’m tired of being convenient. For three years, I adjusted myself to everyone, but this time you crossed the line. I am not a nanny, and I am not an accessory to your sister. If you want a family, learn to respect me. For now, I’m flying to the sea. Alone. And while I’m there, I’ll think about whether we should continue carrying this mortgage together.”
Alexey opened his mouth, but no words came out. Olga smiled — truly smiled for the first time in days.
Two weeks later, she returned tanned, rested, and full of new thoughts. Alexey was waiting at the airport with flowers and a guilty look on his face.
Anya had gone with the children separately, and according to rumors, the vacation had not turned out the way anyone expected. Alexey had escaped back home after three days.
“I was wrong,” he said. “Let’s start over. No ultimatums and no other people’s children. Maybe we should think about our own instead.”
Olga looked at him and nodded.
“All right. But the rules are changing now. Rule number one: our next vacation will be just the two of us. No nephews, no nieces, and no training.”
She took the flowers. It still hurt inside, but the sun was already shining there.
Sometimes, in order to save a marriage, you have to leave first.
