“Apologize to my mother on your knees, or it’s divorce,” her husband demanded.
Yulia sat at a small table, pulling her cup closer and turning it around on its saucer, as if hoping to spin an answer out of it. Galya listened, propping her cheek on her hand, and nodded a little before her friend even finished speaking. Between them sat a basket of cookies, which neither of them touched.
“You have to understand, Galya, I’m not asking for the moon,” Yulia began. “All I wanted was two little weeks. Two! With my husband, just the two of us, by the water, without all that screaming from morning till night.”
“Well, that’s sacred,” Galya replied. “Any woman would want that.”
“Exactly. And at first everything was going smoothly. My mother said, ‘Bring them over, I’ll watch them.’ I had already mentally packed my suitcase.”
“And then what?” Galya leaned forward.
“Then it turned out that ‘I’ll watch them’ meant for a couple of days. For two weeks, she said, her back wouldn’t handle it, her blood pressure, this and that. So I got discouraged.”
“And how did you get out of it?”
“At first, I didn’t. We were sitting at the dacha, having barbecue, everything was peaceful. And suddenly my mother turns to Marina and says so sweetly, ‘Marinochka, maybe you could stay with the children while Yulechka gets some rest?’”
“Oh,” Galya breathed out. “And what happened?”
“And our Marina,” Yulia pressed her lips together, “looks at her like she’s nothing and says, ‘No, I won’t. They’re not my children.’ Can you imagine? In front of everyone. In front of my mother.”
“She said it just like that?”
“Just like that. My heart sank. My mother asked her kindly, like family, and she said, ‘They’re not my children.’”
Galya gasped and pressed her palm to her chest, as if she herself had been insulted.
“Well, really,” she drawled. “How can someone be like that? And what did your mother do? Continued in the comments.”
Yulia sat at a small table, pulling her cup closer and turning it on the saucer, as if hoping to spin an answer out of it. Galya listened, propping her cheek on her hand, nodding a little before her friend even finished speaking. Between them stood a basket of cookies, untouched by either of them.
“You have to understand, Galya, I’m not asking for the moon,” Yulia began. “All I wanted was two little weeks. Two! With my husband, just the two of us, by the water, without those screams from morning till night.”
“Well, that’s sacred,” Galya replied. “Any woman would want that.”
“Exactly. And at first everything was going like clockwork. Mom said, ‘Bring them over, I’ll watch them.’ I had already mentally packed my suitcase.”
“And then what?” Galya leaned forward.
“Then it turned out that ‘I’ll watch them’ meant a couple of days. She said she couldn’t handle two weeks — her back, her blood pressure, this and that. So I deflated.”
“And how did you get out of it?”
“At first, I didn’t. We were sitting at the dacha, grilling shashlik, everything peaceful. And then Mom suddenly turns to Marina and says so sweetly, ‘Marinochka, maybe you could stay with the children while Yulechka gets some rest?’”
“Oh,” Galya breathed. “And?”
“And our Marina,” Yulia pursed her lips, “looks at her like she’s nothing and says, ‘No, I won’t. They’re not my children.’ Can you imagine? In front of everyone. In front of Mom.”
“She said it just like that?”
“Just like that. My heart sank. Mom asked her kindly, like family, and she said, ‘They’re not my children.’”
Galya gasped and pressed a hand to her chest, as though she herself had been insulted.
“Imagine being like that,” she drew out. “And what did your mother say?”
“At first Mom was confused. She thought Marina was joking. She asked again, more firmly this time. And Marina repeated the same thing: ‘I have my own plans.’”
“Her own plans!” Galya repeated indignantly. “That’s how she talks about her own family?”
“That’s exactly what I’m saying. I’m sitting there, my cheeks burning. I was ashamed of her in front of Mom. Mom accepted her like a daughter, never said a bad word to her all these years.”
“She humiliated her in front of everyone, basically,” her friend concluded.
“She humiliated her,” Yulia nodded. “If she had refused me, fine. But she humiliated Mom. That’s what hurts.”
Galya was silent for a while, smoothing out a napkin.
“Listen, does Anton know?”
“My brother was tinkering in the neighbor’s garage that day. He didn’t hear it himself. I explained it to him afterward.”
“And how did he take it?”
“He got worked up, of course. My brother may be soft, but he’s not stupid. He understood that his wife had gone too far.”
“He understood correctly,” Galya said firmly. “Anyone would get worked up over that.”
“You should have seen Mom’s face, Galya. As if she’d been slapped. She sat there silently, stirring her tea, but she wasn’t herself.”
“Poor woman,” her friend sighed. “Her whole life was for her children, and then this from her daughter-in-law.”
“Exactly — her whole life. And what does she get in return? ‘They’re not my children.’”
“You know,” Galya lowered her voice, “if I were you, I wouldn’t let this go.”
“I’m not planning to,” Yulia finally took a sip of her cold drink. “I’m going to the sea. And someone will have to take the children.”
“Marina?”
“We’ll see who,” Yulia smirked. “Life is long.”
Author: Vika Trel © 5125
Galya caught Anton outside, near the entrance to a store, as if by chance. She had been preparing that “chance” meeting for two days. Anton was walking with a shopping bag, saw his sister’s friend, and slowed down.
“Oh, Galya. Long time no see.”
“Hi, Anton. Good thing we ran into each other. I was just thinking about you all.”
“About us?” He shifted the bag into his other hand.
“Yes. That whole story at the dacha won’t leave my mind,” Galya put on a sympathetic expression. “Yulia is terribly upset.”
“I’ve already heard,” Anton darkened. “I’m not thrilled myself.”
“And rightly so. I’ll tell you as an outsider, may I?”
“Go ahead.”
“If he were my brother,” Galya began, “and his wife behaved like that, he would have put things in order long ago. He would give her some money, put her in the car, and send her to the dacha — sit with the children, and that’s the end of it.”
“Just like that?” Anton snorted.
“Just like that. A man is still the head of the house. If a wife doesn’t respect his own mother at all, who will rein her in if not her husband?”
“Well, my Marina has a character.”
“Character is good,” Galya smiled sweetly. “At home, in the kitchen. But when she says ‘they’re not my children’ to your mother’s face in front of everyone — that’s not character, Anton. That’s arrogance.”
“You make it sound neat,” he shifted from foot to foot.
“I’m speaking from the heart. I feel sorry for Yulia. And for your mother. She isn’t getting any younger, and now she has all this stress.”
“All right, Galya.”
“Think about it. Just don’t take too long. You can’t let something like that slide, or they’ll climb onto your neck.”
Anton nodded and left, while Galya watched him go, pleased with herself like a cat after cream.
That same day, Anton stood with a friend in the smoking area around the corner from his office building. His friend’s name was Kostya, and he always had circles under his eyes from family storms.
“Kostya, help me out with some advice,” Anton began. “I’m fed up.”
“What happened?”
“My wife. Over the weekend at the dacha, Mom asked her to sit with my sister’s children. Asked her like a human being. And mine cut her off: ‘They’re not my children, I didn’t sign up for that.’”
“Oh,” Kostya grimaced. “Familiar song.”
“She humiliated Mom in front of everyone. When I found out, I nearly boiled over.”
“Listen,” Kostya took a drag, “I’m no adviser in these matters. I’ve got a war zone at home myself. Mine has been at daggers drawn with my family for three years.”
“And how do you live?”
“I don’t. I’m between two fires. Offend Mom, and my wife nags me. Pull my wife up short, and Mom starts crying. I’m not even glad I get involved anymore.”
“So what am I supposed to do?”
“Be careful, that’s what,” Kostya looked serious. “You’re emotional right now. Say one word and you won’t be able to take it back.”
“You think I don’t understand who’s right? My mother was offended.”
“Maybe she was. Or maybe your wife simply didn’t want to carry someone else’s vacation on her back. Think about it yourself — two weeks is no joke.”
“My sister is not a stranger,” Anton muttered.
“Your sister isn’t. But the children are not Marina’s. It depends which side you look at it from.”
“From the right side,” Anton waved him off. “My mother was humiliated. Period.”
“Well, look,” Kostya shrugged. “Just don’t say later that I didn’t warn you. I used to put ‘periods’ on everything too, and now I sleep through the wall at home.”
Anton went to his mother’s place toward evening. She met him in an apron, her face flushed, while children’s screams and the crash of overturned blocks came from the room.
“Antosha, come in,” she exhaled. “See what fun we’re having.”
“Where’s Yulia?” he looked around.
“Your sister is packing. She’s going to the sea after all. With her husband.”
“What? And the children?”
“The children are here with me,” she nodded toward the room, from which a boy rolled out with a toy car. “What am I supposed to do, kick my grandchildren out?”
“You said you couldn’t handle two weeks.”
“Well, who’s asking me?” she sat tiredly on a stool. “If there’s no one else, then it’s me. Back or no back.”
“Wait,” Anton sat opposite her. “We agreed that Marina…”
“That’s what I wanted to talk about — Marina,” his mother pursed her lips. “I didn’t expect that from her, Antosha. Honestly, I didn’t.”
“Neither did I.”
“I treated her with all my heart. Not once did I say a word against her. And she says to me, ‘They’re not my children.’ Like a knife to the heart.”
“I know, Mom.”
“Would it have been so hard for her? A week, maybe two. At the same time she would understand what it’s like with little ones. Maybe then she’d want children of her own.”
“That’s exactly what I’m saying.”
“And she turns up her nose. As if I’m not family to her, just some passerby.” A roar came from the room, and she winced. “Coming, coming!”
“Sit, I’ll look,” Anton got up, checked on the children, and returned. “They’ve made up. They’re not fighting.”
“You see what it’s like for me here,” she spread her hands. “And your Marina could be sitting here right now, helping. But no.”
“I’ll talk to her,” Anton said firmly. “I won’t leave it like this.”
“Talk to her, son. Not for me — for the family. Family should be family, not everyone for themselves.”
Anton left his mother’s place even darker than when he had arrived. Every word she said landed on his chest like confirmation: his wife was wrong, his wife had humiliated her, his wife had to answer for it.
That evening he gave Marina a ride and stopped the car by the entrance, leaving the engine running. Marina reached for the door handle, but he covered her hand with his.
“Wait. We need to talk.”
“I’m listening,” she leaned back in her seat.
“Yulia went to the sea. The children are with Mom.”
“I know. Good for Yulia. She’ll get some rest.”
“Good for her?” he smirked. “And Mom is tearing herself apart alone with two toddlers.”
“Why alone?” Marina turned to him. “Those children have a father, by the way. And a grandmother on the other side. And Yulia herself could have taken them with her.”
“Don’t start. I’m talking about something else. Take a week off at your own expense and sit with them. Relieve Mom.”
Marina was silent for a while, studying his profile.
“Anton, did I understand you correctly? You’re suggesting I take unpaid leave to babysit your sister’s children while she sunbathes by the sea?”
“I’m suggesting you help the family.”
“What interesting arithmetic you have,” she smiled softly. “Yulia gets rest, Grandma gets relief, you get peace. And I get a week without pay and someone else’s diapers. Where am I in this equation?”
“You’re a wife. A wife must.”
“Must is a strong word,” she opened the door. “I’ll say it nicely so you remember it: it’s pointless to demand that the sea stop being salty. I didn’t sign up to be a nanny, Anton. I’m your wife, not a staff unit in your sister’s schedule.”
“Where are you going? We’re not finished.”
“We’re perfectly finished,” Marina got out. “You heard the answer. You just don’t like it.”
👉 “You’ve made something of yourself. So you’ll sign the apartment over to me,” her father demanded viciously.
Stories for the Soul by Elena Strizh
2 days ago
Anton met his sister at the playground two days later. His nephews were digging in the sandbox, and Yulia was watching them with half an eye.
“The sea?” Anton asked.
“The sea was wonderful,” she fixed her hair. “Only a bitter aftertaste remained. Because of your Marina.”
“Again?”
“What did you think? I’m not angry because she refused to sit with the children. After all, she isn’t obligated.”
“Not obligated?” Anton was surprised. “I thought that was exactly why.”
“No, little brother,” Yulia waved her hand. “The children are my children. I’ll deal with them. Something else is eating at me. She humiliated our mother. That I won’t forgive.”
“How exactly did she humiliate her?”
“In the way she refused! ‘They’re not my children,’ to her face, in front of everyone. Mom is the elder. She’s supposed to be treated with respect. And Marina rubbed her nose in it.”
“Maybe she just said it sharply without thinking?”
“Anton, don’t defend her,” Yulia frowned. “Some daughter-in-law is shutting Mom’s mouth.”
“I want to understand.”
“There’s nothing to understand. She humiliated her, so let her answer for it. She apologizes, and we’ll forget it.”
“Apologizes?” Anton thought for a moment.
“Of course. Nicely. She comes up and says, ‘Forgive me, I didn’t think.’ That’s it. Will her crown fall off?”
“I don’t know if she’ll agree.”
“Then make her agree,” Yulia looked him straight in the eye. “Are you a man or what? Your wife is disgracing your mother, and you’re hesitating.”
One of the little ones started crying, and Yulia rolled her eyes.
“See what I’m dealing with?” she nodded toward the children. “If Marina helped, it would be easier. But no. She’s too proud.”
“I’ll talk to her. Today.”
“Talk to her. And be stricter. You’ve let her get too loose.”
Anton walked home, winding himself up more with every step. His sister’s words, his mother’s, Galya’s — all of it twisted into one tight knot, and that knot was squeezing his throat. Home was empty. He snatched up his phone and called his wife.
“Yes, Anton,” Marina answered calmly.
“Where are you? Why aren’t you home?”
“At a café with friends. What happened?”
“What happened is that you humiliated my mother, that’s what!” he snapped immediately. “Twice already! And you’re sitting in a café as if nothing happened!”
“I’m listening,” her voice did not tremble.
“Enough listening! You disgraced her! ‘They’re not my children’! Do you understand what you did?”
“I refused to work as a nanny for free for two weeks. Is that my terrible sin?”
“Don’t clown around! Mom is in tears, my sister is offended, and I’m walking around like I’ve been spat on! You will apologize, do you hear me? You will apologize to her!”
“Anton, you’re emotional. Cool down, then we’ll talk.”
“No ‘then’!” he almost shouted into the phone. “You’ll come home and we’ll settle this. I won’t leave it like this!”
“All right, I’ll come,” Marina said evenly. “We’ll talk.” And she hung up.
At the café table sat three people: Marina, her friend Lena, and Lena’s husband Artyom. Marina put down the phone and shrugged.
“Mine is at war again.”
“Because of the dacha?” Lena leaned closer. “You told me. So how did it end?”
“So far, it hasn’t. My mother-in-law suggested I sit with Yulia’s children. I refused. And ever since then, apparently, I’m a monster.”
“Wait,” Artyom cut in. “They asked you to babysit someone else’s children for two weeks for free? And you’re guilty because you refused?”
“Looks that way,” Marina smirked.
“What nonsense,” he leaned back in his chair. “That’s not your duty at all.”
“That’s what I think too. But according to them, I also humiliated my mother-in-law just by saying no.”
“Marisha, you did everything right,” Lena said firmly. “If you bend once, you’ll spend your whole life carrying other people’s business on your back.”
“I know,” Marina took a sip from her cup. “That’s why I’m not bending.”
“And Anton?” Artyom asked.
“Anton demands that I apologize. To his mother.”
“What are you supposed to apologize for?” Lena was indignant. “For having your own life?”
“Apparently, yes,” Marina smiled. “All right, I’ll go. I have a feeling there’s an entire welcoming committee gathered at home.”
“If anything happens, call,” Lena said. “We’ll come get you.”
“I’ll handle it,” Marina stood. “I’m not the timid kind.”
💯 “Unblock my accounts!” her husband shouted, not yet knowing he was already her ex.
Family Whirlpool | Stories People Stay Silent About
2 days ago
When Marina opened the door, the hallway was already full of guests. Anton stood in the middle of the room, his mother sat on the sofa with pursed lips, and Yulia was holding the hands of two overexcited toddlers.
“So you’ve shown up,” Anton exhaled. “We’ve been waiting for you.”
“I can see that,” Marina calmly hung up her bag. “A whole delegation. To what do I owe the honor?”
“Don’t act innocent,” he stepped toward her. “You know perfectly well why everyone is here.”
“I have no idea. But since there are guests, let me put the kettle on.”
“What tea!” her husband’s voice shot up. “My mother is in front of you! The woman you humiliated! Twice!”
“Hello,” Marina nodded to her mother-in-law evenly and politely.
Her mother-in-law pursed her lips even tighter and spoke in a honeyed but prickly voice.
“Marinochka, I’ve always treated you with all my heart. I just want to ask you once more. Kindly. Will you take the children for a week while Yulechka rests? It’s good practice, after all, before you have your own.”
“No,” Marina answered simply. “I won’t.”
“You see!” Anton threw up his hands. “Again! In front of you! Right to your face again!”
“Anton,” Marina turned to him. “I have a counterproposal. Do you want your sister’s children to be well cared for? Take unpaid leave yourself. Sit with your nephews. They are your blood relatives, not mine.”
“What?!” he was clearly outraged. “Me?! Have you lost your mind?”
“Why am I supposed to abandon my job and money for someone else’s vacation, but you aren’t?” she looked at him steadily. “Explain this higher mathematics to me.”
“Because you’re a woman! Because that’s how things are done!” he advanced on her, hurling words. “You spat in my mother’s face twice, do you hear me? Twice!”
“I said no twice. That isn’t spitting. It’s simply a refusal.”
Anton turned crimson. Everything inside him was boiling, his sister was agreeing behind his back, his mother was shaking her head, and because of it he completely lost control.
“You know what,” he said through his teeth. “I’ve had enough. Apologize to my mother. On your knees. Otherwise, divorce. Do you hear me? On your knees!”
The room fell silent. Yulia froze, the toddlers quieted down, and his mother-in-law raised an eyebrow, waiting for the spectacle.
Marina looked at her husband with a long, clear gaze. Then, without a single word, she sank to her knees right in front of him.
“There,” Anton breathed with triumph. “You should have done that long ago.”
But Marina did not lift her eyes to his mother. She bent toward his shoe, gently picked up his untied lace, and slowly, calmly tied it into a neat bow. Then she rose easily, dusted off her knees, and straightened to her full height.
“Your shoelace was untied,” she said in an everyday tone. “You might have tripped.”
“You… what are you doing?” Anton was bewildered.
“Tying your shoelaces. Don’t expect anything more, sorry.” She smiled without anger, calmly. “And now you can go to the dacha. I release you. For all two weeks, while your sister is at the sea. Sit with your nephews, relieve your relatives. Family should be family, as you yourself said.”
“I…” Anton opened his mouth.
“Should I help you pack your suitcase?” she tilted her head. “Or can you manage yourself?”
His mother rose slightly from the sofa, opening her mouth to object, but something in Marina’s posture made her stop. Yulia also fell silent, holding the children close.
And then Anton suddenly realized what he looked like from the outside. His wife on her knees, tying his shoelaces. A whole crowd of relatives who had come to watch the humiliation. His own shouting still ringing in his ears. The color slowly drained from his face.
“All right,” he forced out, turning to the guests. “That’s it. Everyone go home. It’s late.”
“Antosha, but how…” his mother began.
“I said it’s late,” he grabbed a child’s jacket and shoved it toward his sister. “Yul, take the little ones. I’ll call tomorrow.”
“But we only just…” Yulia couldn’t believe her ears.
“Tomorrow. Everything tomorrow,” he almost pushed them out the door, not looking them in the eyes. “Go on, go.”
When the door closed behind the relatives, only Anton and Marina remained in the apartment. He stood there, not knowing what to do with his hands, staring at the floor.
“Forgive me,” he finally said dully. “I… I don’t even know what came over me.”
“It happens,” Marina went into the kitchen. “You listened too much to other people’s advice. Everyone was pulling you in their own direction, and you forgot where yours was.”
“I really thought you had offended Mom.”
“I didn’t offend anyone. I simply didn’t want to give away two weeks of my life for someone else’s tan.”
He came closer and stood beside her.
“It won’t happen again.”
Marina turned and looked at him without a smile, very calmly.
“Remember one simple thing. If you ever dare to order me around in that tone or humiliate me like that again, you will be on the other side of that door in the very same second. And you’ll live with your mother, along with your sister and her children. Then you’ll get all the time with your nephews you could ever want.”
“I understand,” Anton said quietly.
“Good,” she placed a cup in front of him. “Drink your tea. And learn to tell the difference between a request for help and an attempt to climb onto someone’s neck. That’s a skill many people could use.”
Anton took the cup in both hands and looked his wife straight in the eyes. And he felt ashamed in a way he had never felt before.
“Thank you for not leaving,” he said.
“I wasn’t planning to go anywhere,” Marina shrugged. “I just don’t like standing on my knees. Not before anyone. Even when I tied your shoelaces, I stood in my soul, not in my heart.”
She turned toward the window, but did not look out of it. She simply finished her tea, calmly, to the very bottom.
