Category: ДЕТИ

Vera lifted the laptop lid and checked the time—ten in the morning. In half an hour, an online meeting with clients was supposed to start. Vera worked as a freelance graphic designer; her clients were scattered across different time zones, so her workday started early and ended late. But try explaining that to her mother-in-law. […]

“Olenka, what are you doing?” her mother-in-law burst out. “Where do you think you’re going, and who will ever need you with two kids? Come to your senses!” “Mum, they came again,” Nastya whispered, without lifting her eyes from her textbook. Olga froze in the hallway, clutching the grocery bags. Strange men’s shoes were piled […]

Mom, they’re here again,” Nastya whispered, not lifting her eyes from her textbook. Olga froze in the hallway, clutching the grocery bags. Other people’s shoes were piled up by the door—worn sneakers, work boots, expensive trainers. From the kitchen came the familiar hum of male voices, the clink of bottles and hoarse laughter. Her daughter […]

Olga had always thought that being an adult meant you finally got to run your life the way you wanted. Like a real grown-up. But here she was, standing in an office, holding a promotion order in her hands and feeling as if she were fifteen again. As if the school principal had just praised […]

Galina stood in the middle of her tiny kitchen, where there was barely enough space for a table and two chairs. Her hands were trembling with anger, and tears glistened in her eyes, which she stubbornly held back. Kirill, her husband for the last three years, was leaning against the doorframe with the look of […]

“I’m filing for divorce, Edik.” Eva said it quietly, almost under her breath, but the words hung in the air, thick with the smell of yesterday’s cognac and fried potatoes, with deafening clarity. She was standing in the middle of their kitchen, perfectly cleaned, where every little pot knew its place, and she was looking […]

Little Alisa, even in her boldest and brightest childhood imagination, could not have supposed—could not even for a minute have allowed the thought—that her simple, sincere impulse, coming straight from her heart—to share her modest school lunch with a person who, as she felt, had no food at all—would turn into something as unexpected and […]

Zoya had always felt that her mother didn’t love her. It wasn’t that Yelizaveta Leonidovna ever said it outright or behaved deliberately cold. She never shouted, never reproached her, never said anything openly hurtful. Everything was like in other families, even better: nice clothes, new toys, trips to the sea. She always cooked delicious food, […]