Andrey was spreading butter on his bread when the phone rang. The screen showed ‘Mom’ and that familiar heaviness gripped his chest.
«Andrey,» his mother’s voice sounded plaintive, with that tone that always meant a request was coming. «My joints are hurting, I can’t handle the cleaning myself. Come tomorrow with Lena—let her scrub the bathroom, and you can wash the floors.»
Lena, sitting across from him with her coffee, raised her eyebrows. Two-year-old Maxim was happily smearing porridge on the table.
«But what about Katya?» Andrey slowly set down the knife. «Wasn’t she supposed to take care of you? Do you remember saying that?»
There was a pause. Only the ticking of the old clock in his mother’s apartment could be heard on the line.
«What are you talking about?» his mother’s voice became surprised and offended. «Katya is far away, she has her own life. And you’re the son, you have to…»
«Mom,» Andrey met his wife’s gaze, «I need to think. I’ll call you back.» He hung up. Lena quietly began clearing the table, while Maxim kept laughing, unaware of the grownup concerns.
After the call, Andrey sat quietly in the kitchen for a long time. His hands cradled a cup of cold tea, absentmindedly turning it around. In the next room, Lena was putting Maksim to bed, and the whole apartment was steeped in silence.
He remembered the hospital room, that day when his father could barely speak. «Take care of Mom and Katya…» his father rasped, barely moving his lips. Andrey nodded. There was just no time to argue or think back then.
At first, he truly made an effort. Every weekend he would visit his mother. Fixing the faucet, buying groceries, driving her to the dacha. Katya had just split up with some man—she said she had no money and asked him for help. He sent her fifteen thousand each time, hardly asking any questions.
His mother never greeted him with gratitude, only with complaints. «Well, finally. The bathroom tiles have been hanging by a thread for ages. Why did it take you so long to come?» She wiped her hands on her apron and added, «Katya called yesterday, she was crying, said she didn’t have enough money.» And she always brought up the neighbor: «Svetlana’s son stops by every day. What about me? Only on Sundays—and not even always.» At first, Lena tried to be polite, helping out around the house—washing the dishes, dusting. But his mother always found something to criticize.
«You didn’t clean the mirror well. And the floor is still dirty. Katya would’ve scrubbed everything perfectly by now.»
After a few visits like that, Lena told him that from now on, Andrey should go by himself. He didn’t argue.
Then the most unpleasant thing happened. Grandma’s apartment—a three-room on Molodezhnaya—was always considered the family’s. His mother used to say, «I’ll split it between you, everything will be fair.» But then, silence. Suddenly, news came: it was all signed over to Katya.
«She’s nearby, she promised to take care of me until the end,» his mother said, not looking up. Andrey didn’t say a word. He just walked out and left. He felt a tightness inside, but he didn’t argue. At home, he simply nodded to Lena. There was no need to explain—she already understood everything.
Now he sat in the same kitchen, the same cup in his hands, wondering: When did it all go wrong? When did «watch over her» turn into «I do it all alone»? And how did it end up that you get no thanks for doing what’s expected of you?
In the evening, he sat in the nursery, rocking Maksim in his arms. Thoughts kept circling: no matter how hard you try, it’s never enough. Not fast enough, not good enough. Everything always seems wrong.
The little boy snuggled up against his shoulder, breathing softly. Andrey stroked his son’s back, picturing Maksim all grown up, with his own family—would he ever demand the same «sacrifices» from him? Compare his wife to others, reproach, manipulate with illness, duty, grievances?
«Never,» he whispered almost inaudibly.
In the kitchen, Lena was doing the dishes after dinner. Ever since her mother-in-law last called her «useless,» Lena had simply stopped asking about the visits. They both pretended nothing had happened.
Andrey walked out holding their child. «Lena,» he began calmly, «I’m not going to rush over to Mom’s at her every call anymore.»
Lena turned around, hardly able to believe what she just heard.
“I’m honestly exhausted,” he went on. “Always feeling guilty. Always having to prove something—to her, to Katya, to myself. Katya got the apartment? Great. Then it’s her turn to take responsibility. I’ve done my part. And that’s it. I’m not in debt anymore.”
He spoke calmly. There was no bitterness, no anger. Just the plain truth.
“I want a normal life. For us. For Max. No more fights, resentment, or manipulation. I don’t want him growing up around all that…”
He didn’t finish. He didn’t have to.
Lena turned off the water. She came over and hugged them both. She just held on, not saying a word.
“That’s it,” Andrey said. “Enough. From now on, I’m living for my own family.” Maxim whimpered, and his father gently held him close. In that moment, the house finally felt truly peaceful.
Two weeks went by—no calls, no messages. Andrey began to think his mother had finally heard him. Or at least realized she couldn’t pressure him anymore.
Saturday morning carried on as usual. Maxim was playing with blocks on the rug, and Andrey was helping him build a tower.
And then—the phone rang. It was his mom.
Andrey looked at the screen, sighed, and picked up. “Hello.”
“Andryusha,” his mother’s voice was upbeat, as if nothing had happened. “My place is an absolute mess. Come over with Lena, help me clean up. I just can’t manage anymore.”
Andrey didn’t look up as he continued stacking blocks. “Mom, you made your choice. The apartment is Katya’s now—let her help you.”
There was a pause.
“Which Katya?” his mother sounded genuinely confused, almost hurt. “She’s in Yekaterinburg. Pregnant, by the way. Terrible morning sickness, it’s rough for her. She rented out the apartment and now she’s living with her mother-in-law. She’s not in any shape to help me right now.”
Maxim gleefully knocked down the tower, sending blocks flying across the rug.
“Well, if she rented it out,” Andrey said calmly, “then she can just use the rent money to hire a cleaning service. They’ll have the place spotless in two hours.”
“What?” his mother immediately raised her voice. “Let strangers go through my things? Are you out of your mind? You have no heart! My hands barely work, my knees ache, and you’ve abandoned me like I’m nothing…”
Andrey looked at his wife, then at his son, who was already gathering the blocks into a pile again. “Mom, I really can’t talk right now. I’ll call you back later.”
He ended the call before she could answer, and quickly put his phone on silent, screen down.
Lena was in the kitchen making dinner, but her mind was elsewhere. “Does she really think everything will just be forgotten?” kept running through her head. As if there hadn’t been any fights, reproaches, or the whole apartment scene. As if it was normal—to call, ask for help, and pretend like nothing had changed.
The kitchen was quiet. Maxim sat in his high chair, with puree smudged on his nose and under his chin. Andrey was feeding him with a spoon—patiently, carefully. Every so often he’d dab Maxim’s cheek with a napkin, smile, and mumble something softly to his son.
The phone rang again. On the screen—’Katya.’
— Andrey, what are you doing? — his sister started in right away. — Mom is in tears! You’re an adult, how could you act like this? She’s hurt, she’s upset! You’re her son! What are you even doing? — Katya, — Andrey’s voice was calmer than ever, — don’t call me again. We’ve made our decision. He hung up. For a moment, he stopped to think — then switched his phone off completely.
continued in the comments
Lena turned around. She just looked at him — silently, no questions. He was sitting there with Max in his arms, and something about him was different. He didn’t look tired or irritated — just calm. Steady. Real.
The little boy reached for him with his small hands, babbling, laughing. Andrey hugged him tighter, kissed the top of his head.
— That’s it, — he said softly. — Enough. No one will ever yell in our house again.
Six months passed.
Maxim was running confidently now. Lena sat nearby on the carpet, watching her son.
The door slammed — Andrey was home from work. He didn’t even take his coat off before scooping up his son. Maxim, beaming, clapped his hands and then suddenly, clearly said:
— Papa! Andrey froze for a second, like he couldn’t believe it. — Did you hear that? — he turned to Lena. — He said ‘Papa’! Did you hear it? — I heard, — Lena smiled. — Loud and with feeling. Andrey laughed and playfully spun around the room with his son, tossing him gently into the air. Maxim squealed with delight.
Lena smiled, watching them. The house was filled with the lightness they’d missed for so long. Warm food on the stove, clean floors, not a hint of tension in the air. Lena suddenly caught herself thinking: this is how it’s supposed to be. Normal. Simple. Without constant anxiety.
Six months without calls full of reproach. No sudden demands, manipulations, or hints about ‘family duty’. Just the occasional neutral message from Katya — no more than a couple of lines. From his mother — nothing. No admissions, no apologies, no threats. She simply disappeared.
The other day, a neighbor on the landing asked, — So, the grandma doesn’t see her grandson? Lena shrugged. — She doesn’t. She’s busy. Lena didn’t explain any further. That evening, as she put her son to bed, Lena hugged him tight and thought: «I will never treat you the way your grandmother treated your father. I will never demand sacrifices, never make conditions, never turn love into a transaction.»
Andrey quietly entered the room. He hugged them both — Lena still holding their son in her arms.
— Do you regret it? — she asked softly, not looking up.
He didn’t answer right away. He just held them a bit tighter. — Not for a second, — he said. — We did the right thing.
Someone was arguing again behind the wall — muffled voices, a fight in front of the TV. But in their own home, it was quiet. No tension, no fake perfectness — just peace. Their real, genuine life.
Two years passed.
Maxim zoomed around the apartment with a toy car, making loud engine noises. There were tracks of pillows and books on the floor, and a mountain of freshly folded kids’ clothes on the couch. Lena was putting things away, adjusting her belly — the due date was close, soon the family would welcome another little one.
Suddenly, the phone rang. On the screen — «Mom.»
Before, this would have made her pulse race. Now — nothing. Just a phone call.
Andrey glanced at the screen for a couple of seconds before picking up. «Hello.»
«Andryusha… I’m having trouble with the bathroom again… The plumber promised to come but never showed up. I just don’t know who to call anymore…» Her voice sounded tired, almost lost. There was no blame, no accusations. Just exhaustion.
Andrey nodded, mostly to himself. «Mom, just call a service. Nowadays all that can be solved in five minutes. Search online—‘plumber’, the city, and pick someone with good reviews. Okay?»
«Well… alright…» came the muffled reply from the other side.
He hit ‘end call’ and set the phone down. A simple ‘no’ that didn’t need explanation anymore.
Meanwhile, Maksim poked Lena’s belly with his finger:
«Is the baby there?»
«Yes,» Lena confirmed, smiling. «Soon your little brother or sister will be here.» She stroked her son’s head, then her belly. Everything was in its place.
