Yulia sat at a small table, pulling her cup closer and turning it around on its saucer as though she hoped an answer might somehow spin out of it. Galya listened with her cheek resting on one hand, nodding just before her friend finished each sentence. Between them sat a basket of cookies that neither woman touched.
“Try to understand, Galya, I’m not asking for the moon,” Yulia began. “All I wanted was two weeks. Two! Alone with my husband, by the water, without all that screaming from morning until night.”
“That’s sacred,” Galya replied. “Any woman would want that.”
“Exactly. And at first, everything was going perfectly. Mom said, ‘Bring them over, I’ll watch them.’ I had practically packed my suitcase in my head already.”
“And then what happened?” Galya leaned forward.
“Then it turned out that by ‘watch them,’ she meant for a couple of days. She said she couldn’t manage two whole weeks because of her back, her blood pressure, this and that. So naturally, I was crushed.”
“And what did you do?”
“Nothing at first. We were sitting at the country house, having barbecue, everything peaceful. Then Mom suddenly turned to Marina and said ever so sweetly, ‘Marinochka, perhaps you could stay with the children while Yulia gets some rest?’”
“Oh,” Galya breathed. “And what happened?”
“Our Marina”—Yulia pursed her lips—“looked at her as though she were empty space and said, ‘No, I won’t. They aren’t my children.’ Can you imagine? In front of everyone. In front of Mom.”
“She actually said that?”
“Exactly like that. My heart just sank. Mom asked her kindly, as family, and she replied, ‘They aren’t my children.’”
Galya gasped and pressed a hand to her chest as though she herself had been insulted.
“Well, imagine that,” she said slowly. “What did your mother do?”
“At first, Mom was confused. She thought Marina was joking. She asked again, more firmly this time. But Marina repeated herself: ‘I have plans of my own.’”
“Plans of her own!” Galya repeated indignantly. “That’s how she talks about her own family?”
“That’s exactly what I thought. I was sitting there with my cheeks burning. I was ashamed of her in front of Mom. Mom has always treated her like a daughter. She’s never said an unkind word to her in all these years.”
“She humiliated her in front of everyone,” her friend concluded.
“She did,” Yulia agreed. “It would have been one thing if she had simply refused me. But she humiliated Mom. That’s what hurts.”
Galya fell silent, smoothing the napkin in front of her.
“Listen, does Anton know?”
“My brother was working in the neighbor’s garage that day, so he didn’t hear it himself. I told him afterward.”
“And how did he react?”
“He got worked up, of course. My brother may be gentle, but he isn’t stupid. He understood that his wife had crossed the line.”
“And rightly so,” Galya said firmly. “Anyone would have been furious.”
“You should have seen Mom’s face, Galya. It was as though someone had slapped her. She just sat there in silence, stirring her tea, completely unlike herself.”
“Poor woman,” her friend sighed. “She devoted her entire life to her children, and this is what she gets from her daughter-in-law.”
“Exactly—her entire life. And what does she receive in return? ‘They aren’t my children.’”
“You know,” Galya lowered her voice, “if I were you, I wouldn’t let this go.”
“I’m not going to.” Yulia finally took a sip of her cold drink. “I’m going to the seaside. Someone will have to take the children.”
“Marina?”
“We’ll see who does.” Yulia smirked. “Life is long.”
Galya caught Anton outside a store as though they had met by accident. She had spent two days arranging that “accident.” Anton was walking with a shopping bag. When he saw his sister’s friend, he slowed down.
“Oh, Galya. It’s been ages.”
“Hello, Anton. What a lucky coincidence. I was just thinking about all of you.”
“About us?” He shifted the bag to his other hand.
“Yes, I can’t stop thinking about what happened at the country house.” Galya put on a sympathetic expression. “Yulia is terribly upset.”
“I’ve already heard about it.” Anton’s face darkened. “I’m not happy either.”
“And you’re right not to be. May I tell you what I think, as an outsider?”
“Go ahead.”
“If it were my brother,” Galya began, “and his wife behaved like that, he would have put her in her place a long time ago. He would have given her some money, put her in the car, and sent her to the country house. ‘Sit with the children,’ and that would be the end of the discussion.”
“Just like that?” Anton chuckled.
“Just like that. A man is still supposed to be the head of the household. If his wife has no respect for his own mother, who is going to discipline her if not her husband?”
“Well, Marina has a strong personality.”
“A strong personality is fine,” Galya said with a sugary smile. “At home, in the kitchen. But when she tells your mother to her face, in front of everyone, ‘They aren’t my children,’ that isn’t personality, Anton. That’s insolence.”
“You make it sound very convincing.” He shifted from one foot to the other.
“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 to endure all this stress.”
“All right, Galya.”
“Think about it. Just don’t wait too long. You can’t allow something like this, or soon she’ll be walking all over you.”
Anton nodded and continued on his way. Galya watched him leave, pleased with herself like a cat that had just finished a bowl of cream.
That same day, Anton stood with a friend in the smoking area behind his workplace. His friend’s name was Kostya, and he always had dark circles under his eyes from the endless storms in his own family.
“Kostya, give me some advice,” Anton began. “I’ve had enough.”
“What happened?”
“My wife. At the country house over the weekend, Mom asked her to watch my sister’s children. She asked politely, like a normal person. But my wife immediately said, ‘They aren’t my children. I didn’t sign up for this.’”
“Oh.” Kostya grimaced. “I know that song.”
“She humiliated Mom in front of everyone. When I heard about it, I nearly exploded.”
“Listen,” Kostya said after taking a drag, “I’m not the person to advise you about things like this. My house is a battlefield without a ceasefire. My wife and my relatives have been at war for three years.”
“How do you live like that?”
“I don’t. I’m caught between two fires. If I upset Mom, my wife nags me. If I reprimand my wife, Mom starts crying. I regret ever getting involved.”
“So what am I supposed to do?”
“Be careful, that’s what.” Kostya looked at him seriously. “You’re emotional right now. Once you say something, you can’t take it back.”
“Do you think I don’t understand who’s right? My mother was insulted.”
“Maybe she was. Or maybe your wife simply didn’t want to sacrifice herself for someone else’s vacation. Think about it. Two weeks is no small thing.”
“My sister isn’t a stranger,” Anton muttered.
“Your sister isn’t. But the children aren’t Marina’s. It depends on how you look at it.”
“You need to look at it the right way.” Anton waved him off. “My mother was humiliated. End of discussion.”
“All right, it’s your life.” Kostya shrugged. “Just don’t say later that I didn’t warn you. I used to end every argument with ‘end of discussion’ too. Now my wife and I sleep on opposite sides of a wall.”
Anton visited his mother that evening. She met him in an apron, her face flushed, while children’s screams and the crash of overturned building blocks came from the other room.
“Antosha, come in,” she exhaled. “You can see how much fun we’re having.”
“Where’s Yulia?” He looked around.
“Your sister is getting ready. She’s going to the seaside after all. With her husband.”
“What? What about the children?”
“The children are here with me.” She nodded toward the room just as a little boy rolled out with a toy car. “What am I supposed to do, throw my grandchildren out?”
“You said you couldn’t manage two weeks.”
“And who asked me?” She sank tiredly onto a stool. “If there’s nobody else, then I have to do it. Bad back or no bad back.”
“Wait.” Anton sat across from her. “We agreed that Marina would—”
“That’s exactly what I wanted to talk to you about.” His mother pursed her lips. “I never expected this from her, Antosha. Honestly, I didn’t.”
“Neither did I.”
“I’ve always treated her with all my heart. I’ve never said a word against her. And she tells me, ‘They aren’t my children.’ It cut me to the bone.”
“I know, Mom.”
“Would it really have been so difficult for her? A week or two. Besides, she could have learned what it’s like to be around little ones. Perhaps she would finally want children of her own.”
“That’s what I’ve been saying.”
“But she turns up her nose. As though I’m not family, just some stranger passing by.” A roar came from the other room, and she winced. “I’m coming, I’m coming!”
“Stay there, I’ll check.” Anton stood, looked in on the children, and returned. “They made up. They aren’t fighting anymore.”
“You see what it’s like for me?” She spread her hands. “Your Marina could be sitting here helping me right now. But no.”
“I’ll speak to her,” Anton said firmly. “I won’t let this go.”
“Talk to her, son. Not for my sake—for the family. A family should behave like a family, not like a group of people who care only about themselves.”
Anton left his mother’s home even gloomier than when he had arrived. Every word she had said felt like confirmation weighing on his chest: his wife was wrong, his wife had humiliated his mother, and his wife had to answer for it.
That evening, he drove Marina home and stopped the car outside their building without turning off the engine. Marina reached for the door handle, but he placed his hand over hers.
“Wait. We need to talk.”
“I’m listening.” She leaned back in her seat.
“Yulia has gone to the seaside. The children are with Mom.”
“I know. Good for Yulia. She’ll get some rest.”
“Good for her?” He gave a bitter laugh. “Mom is exhausting herself alone with two little children.”
“Why is she alone?” Marina turned toward him. “Those children have a father, by the way. They also have another grandmother. And Yulia herself could have taken them with her.”
“Don’t start. I’m talking about something else. Take a week of unpaid leave and stay with them. Give Mom a break.”
Marina was silent for a moment, studying his profile.
“Anton, have I understood you correctly? You’re suggesting that I take unpaid leave to babysit your sister’s children while she sunbathes by the sea?”
“I’m suggesting that you help the family.”
“What interesting arithmetic.” She smiled faintly. “Yulia gets a vacation, your mother gets relief, and you get peace of mind. I get a week without pay and someone else’s dirty diapers. Where exactly am I in this equation?”
“You’re a wife. A wife has obligations.”
“‘Obligations’ is a powerful word.” She opened the door. “Let me phrase this beautifully so you’ll remember it: there’s no point demanding that the sea stop being salty. I didn’t sign up to be a nanny, Anton. I’m your wife, not an employee on your sister’s household staff.”
“Where are you going? We haven’t finished talking.”
“We’ve finished perfectly well.” Marina got out. “You heard my answer. You simply didn’t like it.”
Anton met his sister at the playground two days later. His nephews were playing in the sandbox while Yulia watched them with only half her attention.
“How was the seaside?” Anton asked.
“The sea was wonderful.” She adjusted her hair. “But I still have a bad taste in my mouth because of your Marina.”
“Again?”
“What did you expect? I’m not angry because she refused to watch the children. After all, she isn’t obligated to.”
“She isn’t obligated?” Anton looked surprised. “I thought that was exactly why you were angry.”
“No, brother.” Yulia waved her hand. “The children are my responsibility. I’ll deal with them. Something else is bothering me. She humiliated our mother. I’ll never forgive her for that.”
“How exactly did she humiliate her?”
“By the way she refused! ‘They aren’t my children,’ right to her face, in front of everyone. Mom is the elder. She deserves respect. Marina rubbed her nose in it.”
“Maybe she just spoke too sharply without thinking?”
“Anton, stop defending her.” Yulia frowned. “Some daughter-in-law thinks she can silence our mother.”
“I’m trying to understand what happened.”
“There’s nothing to understand. She humiliated her, so she needs to answer for it. Once she apologizes, we’ll forget the whole thing.”
“Apologizes?” Anton considered this.
“Of course. Nicely. She can approach Mom and say, ‘I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking.’ That’s all. Will her crown fall off?”
“I don’t know whether she’ll agree.”
“Then make her agree.” Yulia looked him directly in the eyes. “Are you a man or not? Your wife is disgracing your mother, and you’re standing there hesitating.”
One of the children started wailing, and Yulia rolled her eyes.
“See what I have to deal with?” She nodded toward them. “If Marina helped, it would be easier. But no. She’s too proud.”
“I’ll speak to her. Tonight.”
“Do that. And be strict. You’ve allowed her too much freedom.”
Anton walked home, working himself into a greater rage with every step. His sister’s words, his mother’s words, Galya’s words—all of them twisted together into one tight knot that squeezed his throat. The apartment was empty. He grabbed his phone and called his wife.
“Yes, Anton?” Marina answered calmly.
“Where are you? Why aren’t you home?”
“What happened is that you humiliated my mother, that’s what!” he exploded immediately. “Twice now! And you’re sitting in a café as though nothing happened!”
“I’m listening,” she said without the slightest tremor in her voice.
“Stop listening! You disgraced her! ‘They aren’t my children!’ Do you even understand what you did?”
“I refused to work as an unpaid nanny for two weeks. Is that my terrible crime?”
“Don’t act clever! Mom is crying, my sister is offended, and I’m walking around feeling humiliated! You’re going to apologize, do you hear me? You will apologize to her!”
“Anton, you’re emotional. Calm down, and we’ll talk later.”
“There will be no later!” He was almost shouting into the phone. “When you get home, we’re settling this. I’m not letting it go!”
“All right, I’ll come home,” Marina said evenly. “We’ll talk.”
Then she ended the call.
Three people were sitting at the table in the café: Marina, her friend Lena, and Lena’s husband, Artyom. Marina set down her phone and shrugged.
“My husband is fighting another war.”
“Still because of the country house?” Lena leaned closer. “You told us about it. So how did it end?”
“It hasn’t ended yet. My mother-in-law suggested that I watch Yulia’s children. I refused. Apparently that makes me a monster.”
“Wait,” Artyom interrupted. “They asked you to babysit someone else’s children for two weeks without pay, and you’re the guilty one because you refused?”
“Apparently so.” Marina smirked.
“That’s absurd.” He leaned back in his chair. “It isn’t your responsibility. Not at all.”
“That’s what I think. According to their version, I also humiliated my mother-in-law merely by saying no.”
“Marina, you did the right thing,” Lena said firmly. “If you give in once, you’ll spend the rest of your life carrying other people’s burdens.”
“I know. I’m not giving in.”
“And what does Anton say?” Artyom asked.
“Anton is demanding that I apologize. To his mother.”
“What are you supposed to apologize for?” Lena exclaimed. “For having a life of your own?”
“Apparently.” Marina smiled. “All right, I should go. I have a feeling an entire welcoming committee has gathered at home.”
“Call us if you need anything,” Lena said. “We’ll come and get you.”
“I’ll manage.” Marina stood. “I’m not easily frightened.”
When Marina opened the door, the entryway was already crowded with guests. Anton stood in the middle of the room, his mother sat on the sofa with tightly pursed lips, and Yulia was holding the hands of two overexcited children.
“She’s finally here,” 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 pretend.” He stepped toward her. “You know perfectly well why everyone is here.”
“I have no idea. But since we have guests, I’ll put the kettle on.”
“What tea?” her husband shouted. “My mother is standing before you! The woman you humiliated! Twice!”
“Good evening.” Marina gave her mother-in-law a polite, even nod.
Her mother-in-law pursed her lips even more tightly and spoke in a sweet but barbed voice.
“Marinochka, I’ve always treated you with all my heart. I only want to ask you one more time. Kindly. Will you take the children for a week while Yulia rests? It would be good practice before you have children of your own.”
“No,” Marina answered simply. “I won’t.”
“You see?” Anton threw up his hands. “Again! Right in front of you! To your face!”
“Anton.” Marina turned toward him. “I have a counterproposal. Do you want your sister’s children to be well cared for? Take unpaid leave yourself. Stay with your nephews. They’re related to you by blood, not to me.”
“What?” He was visibly outraged. “Me? You’ve completely lost your mind!”
“Why should I abandon my work and lose money for someone else’s vacation while you shouldn’t?” she asked evenly. “Explain this advanced mathematics to me.”
“Because you’re a woman! Because that’s how things are done!” He advanced toward her, hurling words. “You spat in my mother’s face twice, do you hear me? Twice!”
“I said no twice. That isn’t spitting in anyone’s face. It’s simply a refusal.”
Anton’s face turned crimson. He was boiling inside, while his sister murmured agreement behind him and his mother shook her head. Their support made him lose control completely.
“You know what?” he said through clenched teeth. “I’ve had enough. Apologize to my mother. On your knees. Otherwise, we’re getting divorced. Do you hear me? On your knees!”
The room fell silent. Yulia froze, the children quieted down, and the mother-in-law raised an eyebrow, anticipating the spectacle.
Marina looked at her husband for a long moment, her gaze clear and steady.
Then, without saying a word, she knelt directly in front of him.
“There,” Anton breathed triumphantly. “You should have done that from the beginning.”
But Marina did not look up at her mother-in-law. She leaned toward Anton’s shoe, gently picked up the loose lace, and slowly, calmly tied it into a neat bow. Then she rose easily, brushed off her knees, and stood at her full height.
“Your shoelace was untied,” she said matter-of-factly. “You might have tripped.”
“You… What are you doing?” Anton stammered.
“Tying your shoelaces. Don’t expect anything more, sorry.” She smiled calmly, without anger. “Now you can go to the country house. I’m letting you leave for the full two weeks while your sister is at the seaside. Stay with your nephews and give your relatives a break. A family should behave like a family, as you said yourself.”
“I…” Anton opened his mouth.
“Shall I help you pack your suitcase?” She tilted her head. “Or can you manage by yourself?”
His mother rose halfway from the sofa, opening her mouth to protest, but something in Marina’s posture made her stop. Yulia also remained silent, pulling her children closer.
Then Anton suddenly saw what he looked like from the outside. His wife had been kneeling in front of him to tie his shoelaces. An entire crowd of relatives had gathered to watch her humiliation. His own shouting still rang in his ears. The color slowly drained from his face.
“All right,” he forced out, turning toward his relatives. “That’s enough. Everyone go home. It’s late.”
“But Antosha, what about—” his mother began.
“I said it’s late.” He grabbed one of the children’s jackets and thrust it at his sister. “Yulia, take the children. I’ll call you tomorrow.”
“But we only just—” Yulia could not believe what she was hearing.
“Tomorrow. Everything tomorrow.” He practically pushed them toward the door without meeting their eyes. “Go on. Go.”
When the door closed behind his relatives, only Anton and Marina remained in the apartment. He stood there, not knowing what to do with his hands, staring at the floor.
“I’m sorry,” he finally said in a muffled voice. “I… I don’t know what came over me.”
“It happens.” Marina walked into the kitchen. “You listened too closely to other people’s advice. Everyone pulled you in a different direction until you forgot which direction was your own.”
“I genuinely thought you had hurt Mom.”
“I didn’t hurt anyone. I simply refused to sacrifice two weeks of my life for someone else’s suntan.”
He approached her and stood nearby.
“It won’t happen again.”
Marina turned and looked at him without smiling, very calmly.
“Remember one simple thing. If you ever speak to me in that tone again or try to humiliate me like that, you’ll be outside that door the very same second. You’ll live with your mother, your sister, and her children. Then you’ll have all the time in the world to babysit your nephews.”
“I understand,” Anton said quietly.
“Good.” She placed a cup in front of him. “Drink your tea. And learn to distinguish between a request for help and an attempt to climb onto someone else’s shoulders. That’s a skill many people could use.”
Anton took the cup in both hands and looked his wife directly in the eyes. He felt more ashamed than he ever had in his life.
“Thank you for not leaving,” he said.
“I wasn’t going anywhere.” Marina shrugged. “I simply don’t like kneeling before anyone. Even when I tied your shoelaces, I remained standing in spirit, even if not physically.”
She turned toward the window but did not look outside. She simply finished her tea, calmly, down to the final drop.
