“— I want you to take me in!” declared the mother who had despised her son, his wife, and her grandchildren.
Two years of silence—and then an unexpected phone call. Galina Stepanovna has lost everything and is demanding that her son give her a place to live, appealing to his duty as her own flesh and blood. Andrei wants to give her a chance without betraying his wife and children, whom she rejected for years. But is it possible to let someone who does not know how to love into your home—and still remain true to yourself?
Two years of silence—and a voice from the past. She has lost everything and is asking to be welcomed into a home where no one wants her. He believes people can change. His wife remembers every humiliation. The children do not know her at all. Who will prove to be right—and what will the answer cost them?
Andrei stood by the kitchen window, holding his phone. A familiar number appeared on the screen—the same one he had not seen in two years. After his father’s funeral, all contact had finally ceased.
“Answer it,” Katerina said quietly as she set the table. “Something might have happened.”
He swiped his finger across the screen.
“Yes?”
“Andrei,” the voice on the other end sounded unusually subdued. “It’s me. Your… Galina Stepanovna.”
“I know. I’m listening.”
“I need to talk to you. In person. It’s important.”
Katerina looked up, and Andrei gave her a barely noticeable nod to show that everything was all right.
“Tell me now.”
“I can’t do it over the phone. Come tomorrow, please. Around two.”
“All right.”
He ended the call and stared at the dark screen for a long time.
“What did she want?” his wife asked, placing a plate in front of him.
“She wants to meet. Tomorrow.”
“Are you going?”
“Yes. I need to understand what’s going on.”
Katerina sat opposite him and folded her hands in her lap.
“Andrei, I don’t want to interfere. But remember: in eight years, she has never once asked about the children. Not a single phone call on their birthdays.”
“I remember.”
“And so do I. I remember how she called me a little gray mouse. I remember how she threw you out of the house with nothing but one bag.”
Andrei reached across the table and covered her hand with his.
“Katya, maybe she’s changed. Two years have passed. People change.”
“People do. Her—I don’t know.”
He smiled at her with the gentle smile she loved.
“Give me a chance to find out. I’m not going to forgive her just like that. But I’ll hear her out.”
The following day, Andrei climbed to the third floor of the familiar apartment building. The smell was different now—not the one he remembered from childhood. One of the neighbors smoked directly on the landing, leaving ash beside the radiator.
The door opened before he had time to ring the bell.
“Come in,” Galina Stepanovna said, stepping aside.
She had changed. She did not exactly look older—she seemed somehow deflated. Her presence had once filled every room she entered, but now she appeared smaller than her own apartment.
“Sit down in the kitchen. Would you like some tea?”
“No, thank you. Tell me what happened.”
She sat across from him, clasping her fingers together.
“I’m in trouble. Serious trouble.”
“What kind?”
“I don’t have an apartment anymore. This apartment,” she said, gesturing toward the walls. “I have to move out in a month.”
Andrei remained silent.
“Aren’t you going to ask why?”
“You’ll tell me yourself if you want to.”
“There was a man. Oleg. I thought… It doesn’t matter what I thought. He wasn’t who he claimed to be. I took out a loan for him. He disappeared with the money. The bank repossessed the apartment.”
“I see.”
“Is that all you’re going to say? ‘I see’?”
“What do you want to hear?”
His mother pressed her lips together.
“I want to hear that you’re willing to help me. You’re my son. I have no one else.”
Andrei leaned back in his chair.
“What kind of help do you mean?”
“I have nowhere to live. You have a three-bedroom apartment. Your father bought it. One of the rooms can be mine.”
“Stop. Let’s make this clear. You want to move in with us?”
“Yes.”
“With Katerina, whom you called useless? A worthless girl? A shrew? With the grandchildren you haven’t known for eight years?”
“I was wrong. I admit it.”
“You admit it now, when you have nowhere else to go.”
His mother lifted her chin—the same gesture Andrei remembered from childhood.
“Are you going to reproach me? After everything I’ve done for you?”
“Tell me exactly what you did for me. Signed me up for activities you chose yourself? Controlled my every move? Threw me out when I dared to fall in love with the wrong woman?”
“I wanted what was best for you!”
“You wanted what was best for yourself.”
“Andrei!”
He raised one hand.
“Wait. I’m not here to make a scene. I came to hear you out, and I have. Now I need to think.”
“How much time do you need?”
“A week. I’ll call you.”
Katerina was waiting for him at home with a hot dinner. Sonya and Artyom had already eaten and were playing in their room. Their cheerful argument about the rules of some board game could be heard from down the hall.
“Tell me everything,” his wife said, sitting opposite him.
Andrei explained it briefly, without emotion.
“She wants to live with us?” Katerina’s voice remained even. “In our apartment?…”
The continuation is just below, in the first comment.
Two years of silence—and then an unexpected phone call. Galina Stepanovna has lost everything and demands that her son give her a roof over her head, appealing to his duty as her child. Andrey wants to give her a chance without betraying his wife and children, whom she rejected for years. But can you let someone who does not know how to love into your home—and still remain yourself?
Two years of silence—and a voice from the past. She has lost everything and asks to be allowed into a home where no one is waiting for her. He believes that people can change. His wife remembers every humiliation. His children do not know her at all. Who will turn out to be right—and what will the answer cost them?
Andrey stood by the kitchen window, holding his phone. A familiar number had appeared on the screen—the same number he had not seen in two years. After his father’s funeral, all contact between them had finally ended.
“Answer it,” Katerina said quietly as she set the table. “Something may have happened.”
He slid his finger across the screen.
“Yes?”
“Andrey,” the voice on the other end sounded unusually quiet. “It’s me. Your… Galina Stepanovna.”
“I know. I’m listening.”
“I need to speak to you. In person. It’s important.”
Katerina looked up, and Andrey gave her a barely noticeable nod to show that everything was all right.
“Tell me now.”
“I can’t do it over the phone. Please come tomorrow. Around two.”
“All right.”
He ended the call and stared at the dark screen for a long time.
“What did she want?” his wife asked, placing a plate in front of him.
“She wants to meet. Tomorrow.”
“Are you going?”
“Yes. I need to understand what’s happening.”
Katerina sat opposite him and folded her hands in her lap.
“Andrey, I don’t want to interfere. But remember that in eight years, she has never once asked about the children. She didn’t call them on a single birthday.”
“I remember.”
“And I remember too. I remember how she called me a gray mouse. I remember how she threw you out of the house with nothing but one bag.”
Andrey reached across the table and covered her hand with his.
“Katya, perhaps she has changed. Two years have passed. People change.”
“People do. Her—I’m not sure.”
He smiled the gentle smile she loved.
“Give me a chance to find out. I’m not going to forgive her automatically. But I will listen to what she has to say.”
The following day, Andrey climbed to the third floor of the familiar apartment building. It smelled different now—not the way it had during his childhood. One of the neighbors was smoking directly on the landing and leaving ashes beside the radiator.
The door opened before he had time to ring the bell.
“Come in,” Galina Stepanovna said, stepping aside.
She had changed. She did not exactly look older—she seemed somehow deflated. In the past, her presence had filled every room she entered. Now she appeared smaller than her own apartment.
“Sit down in the kitchen. Would you like some tea?”
“No, thank you. Tell me what happened.”
She sat opposite him and intertwined her fingers.
“I have problems. Serious problems.”
“What kind?”
“I no longer have an apartment. This apartment,” she said, gesturing toward the walls. “I have to move out in a month.”
Andrey remained silent.
“Aren’t you going to ask why?”
“You’ll tell me yourself if you want to.”
“There was a man. Oleg. I thought… It doesn’t matter what I thought. He wasn’t who he claimed to be. I took out a loan for him. He disappeared with the money. The bank took the apartment.”
“I see.”
“Is that all you’re going to say? ‘I see’?”
“What do you want me to say?”
His mother pressed her lips together.
“I want to hear that you’re prepared to help me. You’re my son. I have no one else.”
Andrey leaned back in his chair.
“What kind of help do you mean?”
“I have nowhere to live. You have a three-bedroom apartment that your father bought. One of the rooms could be mine.”
“Wait. Let’s make this clear. You want to move in with us?”
“Yes.”
“With Katerina, whom you called useless? A tramp? A nobody? With the grandchildren you have ignored for eight years?”
“I was wrong. I admit that.”
“You admit it now, when you have nowhere else to go.”
His mother lifted her chin—the same gesture Andrey remembered from childhood.
“Are you going to reproach me? After everything I did for you?”
“Explain exactly what you did for me. Enrolled me in activities that you chose yourself? Controlled my every move? Threw me out when I dared to fall in love with the wrong woman?”
“I wanted what was best for you!”
“You wanted what was best for yourself.”
“Andrey!”
He raised his hand.
“Wait. I’m not going to make a scene. I came here to listen to you, and I have. Now I need to think.”
“How much time do you need?”
“A week. I’ll call you.”
At home, Katerina was waiting for him with a hot dinner. Sonya and Artyom had already eaten and were playing in their room. A cheerful argument about the rules of some board game could be heard from behind the door.
“Tell me everything,” his wife said, sitting opposite him.
Andrey explained what had happened briefly and without emotion.
“She wants to live with us?” Katerina’s voice remained even. “In our apartment?”
“Yes.”
“What did you tell her?”
“That I would think about it.”
Katerina was silent for a moment.
“Andrey, I understand that she is your… that you’re related by blood. But I can’t pretend that the last eight years never happened.”
“I’m not asking you to pretend.”
“She came to our apartment when Sonya was born. Do you remember? She stood in the doorway and said that you would eventually come to your senses. That this ‘relationship’ was temporary.”
“I remember.”
“She didn’t come to the christening. She didn’t come to Sonya’s first birthday. When Artyom was born, she didn’t even call.”
“I remember everything, Katya.”
“Then tell me why you’re even considering this.”
Andrey rubbed the back of his neck.
“Because my father wouldn’t have turned his back on her. He helped us secretly, even though he knew she would object. He never abandoned anyone.”
“Nikolai Petrovich was a completely different person.”
“I know. But he was my father. And he taught me that you don’t abandon family.”
Katerina took his hand.
“She abandoned you first. When you were twenty-two. When you needed support more than ever.”
“I know.”
“And you still want to take her in?”
“I want to give her a chance. One chance. The final one. Perhaps she really has understood something during these years.”
Katerina looked at him for a long time.
“All right. If you believe it’s the right thing to do, I won’t object. But we will establish the conditions together. And if she breaks even one of them, I will insist that she leave.”
“Agreed.”
Galina Stepanovna moved in two weeks later. She brought four suitcases and a box of photo albums. They gave her the room at the far end of the apartment, which had previously been Andrey’s study.
The first few days passed surprisingly peacefully. She kept quiet and tried to remain almost unnoticeable. She cooked her own meals and did not interfere with the family’s routine. Sonya and Artyom watched her cautiously, but without fear.
“Good morning,” Galina Stepanovna would say when she met the children in the kitchen.
“Good morning,” Sonya would answer before immediately running back to her room.
Artyom was bolder.
“Are you really our grandmother?”
“Yes, I am.”
“Then why didn’t you visit us before?”
Galina Stepanovna would freeze for a second.
“I was busy. Very busy.”
“Doing what?”
“Artyom,” Katerina said, gently placing a hand on her son’s shoulder. “Go and eat your breakfast.”
The first cracks began to appear during the third week.
“Katerina,” Galina Stepanovna said from the kitchen doorway as she watched her prepare dinner. “You’re cutting the onion incorrectly.”
“Excuse me?”
“You need to cut along the fibers, not across them. And you’re using too much salt.”
Katerina slowly lowered the knife.
“I’ve been cooking this way for ten years. My family likes it.”
“I’m only trying to give you some advice. There’s no need to be offended.”
“I’m not offended. But in my kitchen, I cook my own way.”
Galina Stepanovna pursed her lips.
“Of course. I’m sorry.”
She walked out, leaving Katerina standing there for a long time, staring at the cutting board.
“She criticizes everything,” Katerina said that evening after the children had gone to bed. “The way I iron the clothes. The way I fold the towels. The way I wash the dishes.”
“She’s trying to be useful,” Andrey said, attempting to maintain a neutral tone. “In her own way.”
“Doing something in your own way means actually doing something for other people. She makes comments for her own benefit, so she can feel important.”
“Katya…”
“I’m putting up with it, just as I promised. But don’t expect me to be happy about it.”
“I don’t. I’m grateful that you agreed to this at all.”
Katerina lay down and turned toward the wall.
“We’ll see what happens next.”
What happened next was worse.
“Sonya, turn that music off,” Galina Stepanovna’s voice came from the hallway. “It’s impossible to listen to.”
“Dad lets me play it,” the girl replied.
“I don’t care what your father allows. I live here too, and I have a right to some peace and quiet.”
Andrey came out of the kitchen.
“What’s going on?”
“Your daughter is playing some sort of nightmare at full volume. My head is splitting.”
Sonya stood in the doorway of her room, holding her phone against her chest.
“Dad, it wasn’t loud…”
“Not loud?” Galina Stepanovna interrupted. “You call that not loud?”
“That’s enough,” Andrey said calmly but firmly. “Sonya, turn it down a little. And you,” he said, turning to his mother, “do not order my children around. If there’s a problem, speak to me.”
“I’m not ordering anyone! I’m asking!”
“You aren’t asking. You’re demanding. Those are two very different tones of voice.”
Galina Stepanovna straightened her back.
“So now I don’t have any right to express an opinion in this house?”
“You have the right to express an opinion. You don’t have the right to give orders.”
She turned abruptly and walked into her room, slamming the door behind her.
“Dad,” Sonya said when everything had become quiet again. “She’s mean.”
“She’s complicated.”
“Why does she live with us?”
Andrey crouched so that he was at eye level with his daughter.
“Because she has nowhere else to go. And because she’s my… because she and I are connected.”
“But she doesn’t love you. I can tell.”
“Why do you think that?”
“She looks at you as though you owe her something. But you don’t owe her anything.”
Andrey embraced his daughter.
“You’re a clever girl. Too clever for an eight-year-old.”
“I’ll be nine soon.”
“I know. Go to bed.”
A month later, Katerina’s patience was exhausted.
“She went through my wardrobe,” his wife said, her voice trembling with restrained anger. “She sorted through my clothes and laid everything she considered ‘inappropriate’ on the bed.”
“What?”
“My skirt. The blue one. She said women my age shouldn’t wear things like that. And the blouse you gave me for our anniversary.”
Andrey felt a wave of irritation rising inside him.
“I’ll speak to her.”
“You’ve already spoken to her. Last week. Two weeks ago. Three weeks ago.”
“I’ll speak to her again.”
“Andrey,” Katerina said, grabbing his hand. “Listen to me. She isn’t going to change. She isn’t even trying.”
“Give me one more chance.”
“This is already the fifth ‘one more chance.’ How many more will there be?”
He did not answer.
The conversation took place that same evening.
“Why did you touch Katerina’s things?”
His mother raised an eyebrow.
“Has she already complained about me?”
“Answer the question.”
“I wanted to help. To put things in order. It was a mess in there.”
“It isn’t your wardrobe. It isn’t your room. It isn’t your apartment. It isn’t your business.”
“Andrey, I was only…”
“No. No more ‘only.’ We agreed on rules. You promised to follow them.”
His mother stood up, and something old and familiar flashed in her eyes.
“Rules! I’m not your servant, forced to live according to someone else’s rules!”
“Then why did you agree to them?”
“Because I had no choice!”
“There is always a choice. You could have rented a room. You could have found a job. But you chose to come here.”
“Because you’re my son! You’re obligated to help me!”
“Obligated?” Andrey gave a humorless laugh. “Eight years ago, you said that you no longer had a son. Those were your exact words.”
“I was upset!”
“You’re lying! You were being honest, perhaps for the first time. And now that you need help, I’m suddenly your son again?”
“You’re twisting everything!”
“No. I simply remember.”
Katerina had heard the conversation from the hallway. When Andrey came out, she took his hand and silently led him into the kitchen.
“Tea?”
“Yes.”
She put the kettle on and took out two cups.
“What have you decided?”
“Nothing yet.”
“Andrey, this can’t continue.”
“I understand.”
“The children are afraid to leave their rooms. Sonya hides at her friend’s house after school. Artyom asked if he could live with Grandpa Kolya—he still doesn’t understand that his grandfather is gone.”
Andrey gripped the cup with both hands.
“My father always believed that people could change.”
“People can change. But they have to want to change. She doesn’t. She wants everyone around her to bend to her will.”
“You’re right.”
“Then why are you still delaying?”
“Because I’m afraid of becoming like her. A person who turns his back on his family.”
Katerina walked around the table and embraced him from behind.
“You aren’t turning your back on anyone. You’re protecting your real family—the people who love you.”
“I know.”
“You know, but you aren’t doing anything.”
He remained silent for a long time.
“Give me a week. If nothing changes, I’ll make a decision.”
A week passed. Nothing changed.
Galina Stepanovna continued criticizing, commanding and interfering. She caused a scandal when Katerina bought new curtains without seeking her approval. She scolded Artyom so harshly for spilling some juice that the boy burst into tears. She called an acquaintance and spent an hour describing how difficult it was for her to live “with these people.”
“Was she talking about us?” Sonya asked after accidentally overhearing part of the conversation. “Did she call us ‘these people’?”
“Don’t pay attention to her,” Katerina said.
“Mom, I don’t want her to live here.”
“Neither do I, sweetheart. Neither do I.”
The point of no return came on Saturday. Andrey returned from a walk with the children and found Katerina in tears. She was sitting on the edge of the bed, clutching a photograph in a broken frame against her chest.
“What happened?”
“She threw it away. She said it was rubbish.”
Andrey took the photograph. It showed Katerina with her parents—the final picture taken before they died in a car accident.
“She did this?”
“I found it in the rubbish bin. The frame broke. Look—the corner is torn.”
Andrey carefully placed the photograph on the table.
“Where is she now?”
“In her room.”
“Watch the children.”
He walked out, and Katerina did not recognize his footsteps. That was how people walked after making a final decision.
He did not knock. He opened the door and walked inside.
Galina Stepanovna was sitting in an armchair with a book.
“You could have knocked.”
“You could have left other people’s belongings alone.”
“What are you talking about?”
“The photograph. Katerina’s photograph of her parents.”
“Oh, that. I simply… It was standing on the shelf and taking up space.”
“That was the last photograph taken before they died.”
“How was I supposed to know?”
Andrey moved closer.
“You didn’t need to know. You simply needed to leave alone something that didn’t belong to you.”
“Andrey.”
“I can see everything perfectly clearly now.”
He sat down on the chair opposite her.
“You’re moving out tomorrow.”
“What?”
“Tomorrow. I’ll give you enough money to cover the first month’s rent. I’ll help you find a room. But you are no longer going to live here.”
“You can’t do that!”
“I can. And I will.”
Galina Stepanovna jumped to her feet.
“After everything I’ve done for you? I raised you! I fed you! I clothed you!”
“That’s called a parent’s responsibility. You accepted it when you decided to give birth to me.”
“I sacrificed everything for you!”
“What exactly did you sacrifice? The career you chose not to pursue? The time you spent in beauty salons? Father’s money, which you considered your own? Or the apartment you threw away?”
“How dare you!”
“I dare because I have put up with enough. And I don’t care what happens to you anymore.”
Galina Stepanovna clutched her chest—a gesture Andrey had seen hundreds of times.
“Are you feeling ill?”
“My blood pressure… my heart…”
“If that’s true, we’ll call an ambulance. The doctors will handle it.”
“There’s no need for an ambulance. Just… let me sit down.”
“Fine. Sit down. But this conversation isn’t over.”
She lowered herself back into the armchair, and Andrey saw how quickly the tension disappeared from her face. There had been no attack. It had simply been another performance.
“You always did that,” he said quietly. “Ever since I was a child. Whenever I disobeyed you, you grabbed your heart. Whenever Father disagreed with you, you fainted. When I chose Katerina, you spent three days ‘at death’s door.’”
“Be quiet.”
“No. I’ve been quiet for long enough. That’s over.”
“You won’t do this,” Galina Stepanovna said, her voice becoming hard. “You won’t throw your own mother out onto the street.”
“Not onto the street. I told you I’ll help pay your rent.”
“Fifteen thousand? That’s an insult.”
“That’s the legally required amount. I checked.”
“It won’t be enough!”
“Then you’ll have to find a job. People work, you know. Even at sixty.”
“I’ve never worked! I have an academic degree!”
“A degree you haven’t used for a single day in your life. Father supported you because he loved you. After he died, you found Oleg—who turned out to be cleverer than you.”
The remark struck its target. Galina Stepanovna went pale.
“Don’t you dare…”
“You gave him the money yourself. You took out the loan yourself. You believed his beautiful words yourself. No one forced you.”
“He deceived me!”
“He took advantage of your greed and vanity.”
She remained silent for almost a minute. Then she lifted her head, and Andrey saw hatred in her eyes—real hatred, with no attempt to disguise it.
“She turned you against me. Your wife.”
“No.”
“She wanted to get rid of me from the very first day!”
“She wanted you to treat her like a human being. Was that too much to ask?”
“I did treat her properly!”
“You’re lying! You called her a gray mouse, a nobody and a tramp. You said she wasn’t good enough for me. You refused to acknowledge our marriage. You didn’t visit when our children were born.”
“Because you could have found someone better!”
“Better according to your standards. Richer. From a ‘respectable family.’ With the right connections.”
“And what’s wrong with that?”
“You never once asked whether I was happy.”
Andrey stood up.
“I’ll bring boxes tomorrow. You’ll pack your things. In the evening, I’ll drive you to your new address.”
“I’m not going anywhere!”
“You are. Otherwise, I’ll drag you out myself.”
“You wouldn’t dare!”
“I would. Because you aren’t officially registered at this address. Because the apartment is in my name. And because I’m tired of your arrogance.”
Galina Stepanovna rushed toward him and grabbed his sleeve.
“Andrey, wait! I’ll change! I’ll behave differently!”
“You promised that two months ago.”
“Give me one more chance!”
“You have no chances left. No.”
“You’ll regret it! When I die, you’ll regret it!”
He carefully removed her fingers from his sleeve.
“Perhaps. But right now, I regret letting you into our home.”
The move took place three days later. Andrey found her a room in a communal apartment on the outskirts of the city. It was inexpensive and clean, and the neighbors appeared respectable. He paid the first month’s rent in advance.
“You’re abandoning me in this dump?” Galina Stepanovna stood in the middle of the small room, staring at the peeling walls.
“It’s temporary accommodation. Once you find a job, you can rent somewhere better.”
“A job? I’m sixty years old!”
“People work even when they’re seventy. It’s a question of willingness.”
“I’m not willing!”
“Then live on fifteen thousand. It will cover the utilities and some basic food.”
She lowered herself onto the bed.
“Andrey… please. Don’t do this.”
“I’ve already done it.”
“But I’m your…”
“You were my mother when it was convenient for you. Now you aren’t.”
He left an envelope of money on the table and walked out without looking back. On the staircase, he took out his phone and dialed a number.
“Katya, I’m coming home.”
“How did it go?”
“It was difficult. But it was the right thing to do.”
“The children are waiting for you. Sonya baked some cookies. They’re misshapen, but they were made with love.”
Andrey smiled.
“I’ll be home soon.”
The following six months were peaceful. Galina Stepanovna called several times. Andrey answered briefly and ended the calls.
She came to their apartment twice. The first time, she shouted on the landing until the neighbors threatened to call the police. The second time, she stood outside the building in silence, staring up at the windows. Andrey saw her from the room but did not go outside.
“Dad, Grandma is down there,” Artyom said, pressing himself against his father’s leg.
“I know.”
“Aren’t you going to invite her inside?”
“No.”
“Why?”
Andrey crouched down and placed his hands on his son’s shoulders.
“Because some people don’t know how to love properly. They only take. When there’s nothing left for them to take, they leave. And they return only when they need something again.”
“Is she like that?”
“Unfortunately, yes.”
“I feel sorry for her.”
“So do I. But pity isn’t a reason to destroy your family.”
In the spring, Andrey made a decision. The family would move to another city. A new place, a new life and a new address that no one would learn.
“Are you sure?” Katerina asked when he showed her the advertisement offering their apartment for sale.
“I’m sure.”
“The children have only just settled into their school…”
“They’ll settle into a new one. They’re young. And we deserve to live without being afraid whenever the doorbell rings.”
Katerina embraced him.
“I love you.”
“I love you too.”
They left in June, while the lilacs were in bloom. The apartment sold quickly, and they gave no one their new address. Money continued to be transferred to Galina Stepanovna’s bank card every month—the law was the law.
She learned about the move from a neighbor who had seen the truck carrying their belongings. She rushed from one acquaintance to another and called everyone she could remember. She accused her daughter-in-law, her son and the entire world of conspiring against her.
But no one knew the new address. Or no one wanted to tell her.
A year later, Galina Stepanovna found a job as a sales assistant in a grocery store. She stood behind the counter for ten hours a day, weighing apples and sausages and ringing up purchases.
Sometimes, during rare moments of quiet, she thought about the grandchildren she had never truly known. About the son who had walked away and never returned. About the life she herself had destroyed.
The understanding that a parent’s responsibilities and a child’s responsibilities formed a two-way street came far too late, when nothing could be repaired.
Somewhere far away, in a city with broad streets and shady parks, Sonya and Artyom attended their new school. Katerina grew flowers on the balcony. Andrey returned home every evening knowing that he would be greeted with smiles instead of scandals.
He still thought about his mother sometimes. Not with hatred, but with something resembling regret. She could have been part of this life. She could have known her grandchildren. She could have been loved.
But she had chosen differently. She had made that choice long ago, twenty years earlier, when she decided that control mattered more than love. When she decided that her wishes were the only ones that mattered.
Now she was reaping the consequences of that choice—alone behind a shop counter, counting every coin until her next paycheck.
And him?
He was happy.
And that was the best proof that he had made the right decision.
