“Polina, why did you drag yourself here in that gray sack again?” Tamara Ilyinichna’s voice rose above the clinking of glasses. “People are celebrating a sixtieth birthday, and you’re sitting there as if you’re at a funeral.”
I tried to straighten my shoulders, but they felt as if they had been filled with lead. After six months of difficult treatment, every movement was hard.
“I’m comfortable in it, Tamara Ilyinichna,” I answered quietly, trying not to draw the guests’ attention.
“Comfortable, she says,” my mother-in-law snorted loudly and turned to the cousins who had come from Krasnodar. “Just look at her, good people. Nothing but skin and bones. It makes you sick to look at her. There’s no joy from her in the house, only that sour face. Her husband works like a slave, and instead of a blooming woman at home, there’s a walking shadow.”
A snicker passed around the table. Automatically, I adjusted the wide amber ring on my right finger. It kept slipping off now because my hands had grown so thin after three rounds of chemotherapy.
“Mom, that’s enough,” my husband Vadim said lazily, reaching for a slice of boiled pork. “Polina is just tired.”
“Tired, is she!” Tamara Ilyinichna pressed her brightly painted lips together. “And I’m not tired? This entire banquet was on me! Two weeks on my feet so we wouldn’t be embarrassed in front of the relatives. I ordered three kinds of hot dishes alone. And your Polina was even too stingy to get a proper hairstyle. Her hair looks like tow. She put on some kind of cap made of artificial threads and thinks no one notices.”
“Tamara Ilyinichna, it’s a wig,” I said directly, looking her in the eyes. “You know perfectly well why I wear it.”
“Oh, here we go!” my mother-in-law threw up her hands, covered in gold rings. “Playing the martyr again. Enough already, parading your illnesses in public. People came here to celebrate, and you’re turning it into a funeral. Vadik needs a normal, healthy wife, not this bag of bones.”
“Polina, don’t start,” Vadim muttered into my ear, pulling his shot glass closer. “Mom is right. Don’t ruin her anniversary. She was just joking. Why do you have to get prickly right away?”
“I’m not starting, Vadim,” I whispered back.
“Exactly, son. She’s always unhappy,” Tamara Ilyinichna continued booming across the entire hall. “When I was her age, I was raising three children and working two shifts at the factory. And I looked like a picture! But these days, women face the slightest thing and immediately hide in the bushes. Oh, I’m stressed. Oh, my health. Ugh, it’s disgusting to watch.”
I stayed silent. Nothing was exploding inside me anymore. There was only a flat, scorched emptiness. I looked down at the plate where an untouched salad lay. The air smelled of roasted meat, my mother-in-law’s heavy perfume, and cheap air freshener.
“Vadim, pass Mom the caviar,” his sister Elena, who was sitting across from me, asked. “Mom, you’re our queen today. Don’t pay attention to other people’s pale faces.”
“Yes, well, don’t expect congratulations from her,” my mother-in-law demonstratively turned away from me toward the guests from Krasnodar. “Eat, eat, my dears! I chose only the best for you. Paid for everything myself, down to the last kopeck! I didn’t ask anyone for help!”
I touched the amber ring again. The day before, three hundred and fifty thousand rubles had disappeared from my card, the card where I had been saving money for rehabilitation after the hospital. Sberbank had sent a notification saying the transfer had gone to Tamara Ilyinichna’s account. I knew she had secretly taken my phone when she was sitting in our living room a week earlier. But I said nothing. I thought, fine, she is Vadim’s mother, it is her anniversary, she needs to show up her sister. She’ll return it after the party.
“Our mom is a woman with style!” my brother-in-law Kostya shouted loudly from the end of the table. “You have to know what you’re doing to put together a table like this!”
“Of course!” my mother-in-law replied proudly. “I’m used to living beautifully, and my family should see only the best!”
The Long Road in the Dark
Two months earlier, I was still working at the pharmacy near the railway station. After a shift, my legs ached so badly that I could not climb to the fourth floor without stopping. Back then, Tamara Ilyinichna came in right before closing, while I was counting the register.
“Polina, get me those expensive wrinkle creams,” she announced from the doorway, examining the display case. “You have an employee discount, don’t you? And while you’re at it, pay my utility bill. It’s piled up to six thousand five hundred rubles. Vadik said you have money on your card.”
“Tamara Ilyinichna, I’ve put that money aside for medicine,” I tried to explain, holding on to the edge of the table because I felt so weak. “I have to pay for my next course in two weeks.”
“Oh, stop making things up,” she waved me off. “The state gives everything for free through insurance. And helping your mother is sacred. Vadik is breaking his back for you, paying for the apartment while you lie around at home. You could show some respect.”
Back then, I simply took out my Sberbank card and paid her bill. And I bought the creams. I had no strength to argue. I thought that if I gave in, the house would be quiet. Vadim wouldn’t grumble that I was offending his mother.
Then came the day when I returned from the oncology center after a difficult procedure. Tamara Ilyinichna was sitting in our kitchen, drinking tea from my favorite cup. My medical reports and receipts for an expensive imported medication were lying on the table.
“You’re always sour, Polina, but a man needs joy in the house, not an eternal pharmacy,” she said calmly, not even turning her head toward me. “Look at yourself. Your hair has fallen out. You walk around like a ghost. Vadik has shut down because of you. He doesn’t meet his friends anymore. You can’t be so selfish. Even being sick has to be done discreetly, so you don’t ruin other people’s lives.”
“I’m trying,” I answered quietly, walking into the room.
“You’re not trying hard enough,” I heard behind my back. “I’m embarrassed in front of my sister Lyuba from Krasnodar. She’s coming for the anniversary. Her son-in-law is a factory director, her daughter walks around covered in gold. And what do I have? A sickly daughter-in-law and a son in debt because of your examinations. At least behave properly at the party. Smile wider.”
I sat on the bed and looked at my hands. That was when I first noticed that the amber ring my grandmother had once given me had become too large. It slid over my knuckle.
“Mom, why did you take Polina’s phone yesterday?” Vadim asked at dinner a couple of days later.
“Oh, I just wanted to look up a recipe online,” my mother-in-law said, brushing him off without blinking. “I forgot mine at home. Why are you interrogating me? As if I stole a million from her.”
I stayed silent that time too. I knew that those same three hundred and fifty thousand rubles were lying on my card, money I had been saving for two years while working one and a half shifts. I had seen the SMS password that came while I was sleeping and then disappeared from the message history. I did not tell Vadim. I thought that if I started a scandal, Vadim would go to his mother, and right now I could not be left alone. Physically, I would not even make it to the store for bread. I chose silence because it was easier. And that was my biggest mistake.
A Careless Word from My Sister-in-Law
The noise in the Golden Ear banquet hall kept growing. The guests had become tipsy, and the Krasnodar relatives were loudly praising the aspic and asking Tamara Ilyinichna where she had found so much money for such a luxurious banquet.
“You just have to know the right places!” my mother-in-law laughed coquettishly, adjusting her elaborate hairstyle. “I’m a prudent woman. I saved up. Nothing is too good for my beloved family!”
Vadim had been called outside to smoke on the porch. His sister Elena moved closer to me, holding a glass of champagne in her hand. She looked at me with a strange, satisfied pity.
“Polina, when are you moving to the suburban settlement?” she asked quietly, putting an olive into her mouth.
I turned to her, not understanding the question.
“What settlement?” I asked.
“Well, you know,” Elena raised her eyebrows in surprise. “Mom said you’re leaving the apartment to Vadim, and you’re moving into her old little house to live out your days. For the fresh air, because it’s good for your health. And Kostya will move into your two-room apartment with his new girlfriend. Mom says you don’t care about city comforts now anyway, and the guy needs to get settled.”
The air in the hall suddenly became hot and thick, like syrup. It was hard for me to breathe.
“Tamara Ilyinichna said that?” My voice sounded surprisingly even.
“Well, yes,” Elena shrugged, not noticing my condition. “She said everything had already been decided. That you agreed yourself because you understand how many problems your illnesses are causing the family. Don’t worry, there’s a bus in that settlement three times a day. You can get to the district center if you need to see a doctor.”
I looked at my mother-in-law. At that moment, she was laughing loudly, holding out her glass for expensive sparkling wine, which the waiter was pouring from a bottle with a gold label. Three hundred and fifty thousand rubles. The cost of the banquet, the hall rental, gifts for the guests, and three kinds of hot dishes. And my little suburban house, where the roof had been leaking even when my late father-in-law was still alive. Everything added up to the last kopeck.
They had already divided everything. My apartment, my money, my life. They were just waiting for me to quietly disappear so I would not spoil the overall picture of their celebration.
“Why did you go so pale?” Elena frowned. “Oh, fine, I thought you knew. I probably shouldn’t have said anything. Mom asked me to keep quiet until the end of the banquet so Vadik wouldn’t freak out.”
“No, thank you, Lena,” I said. “It’s good that you told me.”
I reached for the bag lying on the neighboring chair and took out my phone. My fingers were not trembling. Something cold and pharmaceutical in its precision had switched on inside me. When the dose of poison has been exceeded, it is too late to save the patient. You simply have to record the time.
The Moment of Truth and the Torn-Off Wig
Tamara Ilyinichna rose from her seat at the center of the table. Her eyes glittered from the alcohol she had drunk, and her face was flushed. She tapped a fork against her glass to get everyone’s attention.
“My dears!” she began in a booming voice. “I want to make a toast to my strong family! To the fact that we are always together, that we are a force! Just look at my Vadik. He is pure gold, not a son. Everything for the home, everything for his mother. Though, truly, he was given no easy lot…”
She turned toward me, and her gaze became sharp.
“…living with a burden, never hearing a kind word,” my mother-in-law continued, raising her voice. “And there sits that pale scarecrow, ruining the entire celebration for us! Polina, take off that ridiculous bonnet already. Stop disgracing yourself in front of people! Who are you trying to fool? Everyone can see you’re bald as a knee!”
The guests at the table fell silent. Someone lowered their eyes. Sister Lyuba from Krasnodar gasped in surprise. Vadim, who had just returned to the hall, froze by the door with a confused smile.
Tamara Ilyinichna, fueled by her own boldness and the silence of the room, took three steps toward me. She moved heavily, confident in her absolute power over that space, over my silence, over my weakness.
“Come on, come on, show your true beauty!” she shouted.
Before I could raise my hand, her fingers, covered in gold, grabbed the edge of my artificial wig. With one sharp, triumphant movement, my mother-in-law ripped it off my head and threw it onto the floor, right under the guests’ feet.
“Scarecrow!” she shrieked, looking around the hall triumphantly. “Everyone look! Here she is, our little station-side princess! No face, no body, nothing but rot left!”
A terrible, vacuum-like silence hung over the hall. You could hear dishes breaking in the restaurant kitchen. Vadim took a step forward, but immediately stopped, hiding his hands in his pockets. Elena turned away, studying her manicure. Lyuba from Krasnodar covered her mouth with her hand.
I did not cover my face with my hands. I did not cry. I slowly rose from my chair. My completely bare, smooth head after treatment was level with my mother-in-law’s face. I could see every pore on her powdered nose. I could see tiny drops of saliva frozen on her lower lip.
Tamara Ilyinichna suddenly stopped short. My calmness was clearly not part of her festive script. She had been waiting for tears, hysteria, for me to run away with my hands over my face. She had been waiting for me to become a convenient victim again.
“Why… why are you looking at me like that?” she drawled, condescending yet unsure, taking half a step back. “I meant it with love… For your own good, so you wouldn’t hide…”
Silently, I picked up my phone from the table. The screen was glowing. I opened the Sberbank app. In the “Transactions” section, there was still a pending bill from the Golden Ear restaurant for two hundred and eighty thousand rubles, created through a QR code that my mother-in-law had linked to my card a week earlier. The payment was supposed to be charged in full in fifteen minutes, after the banquet ended.
I pressed the button: “Block card and cancel authorization.” The screen flashed with a gray strip.
Request declined. Card canceled.
“What are you poking at over there?” Tamara Ilyinichna narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “Vadik, tell her to pick up the wig. People are watching.”
I put the phone into my bag. Then I slowly removed the wide amber ring from my finger. It slipped off easily, without the slightest resistance. I placed it directly onto my mother-in-law’s plate, on top of the half-eaten aspic.
“I said no,” I said quietly, but very clearly. In the silence of the hall, my voice sounded like the crack of a whip.
“What did you say?” my mother-in-law was stunned. “What do you mean, no? Is that how you speak to your mother?”
“I am not your daughter, Tamara Ilyinichna,” I answered, looking her straight in the eyes. “And I will not live out my days in your rotten settlement. I will not give my apartment to Kostya. And this banquet, which you arranged with my rehabilitation money, you will pay for yourselves. Right now.”
“What money of yours?!” my mother-in-law’s face instantly became covered in red blotches. “Vadik! Stop her! She’s gone mad from her pills! She’s delirious!”
“Vadik knows,” I turned to my husband. “Or he suspected. But now it doesn’t matter. The card from which you took three hundred and fifty thousand has been blocked. The final transfer to the restaurant has been canceled. The manager will come to you now, Tamara Ilyinichna. You have fifteen minutes to find the money. You can borrow it from the relatives from Krasnodar.”
I turned around and walked toward the exit of the hall. I walked with my completely bare head, shoulders straight, past the frozen relatives, past Vadim, who did not even try to take my hand. The wig remained lying on the parquet floor near the leg of the table.
Two Days Later
There was a short, rapid knock at my apartment door. I opened it. Elena, my sister-in-law, was standing on the threshold. She no longer had yesterday’s polished appearance. Her jacket was unbuttoned, and dark circles lay under her eyes.
“Polina, may I?” she asked quietly, slipping into the hallway.
“Come in,” I stepped aside.
“Vadik is at Mom’s,” Elena sat down on the edge of the shoe cabinet without taking off her boots. “It’s… well, in short, it’s absolute hell there, Polina. Mom has been on IV drips for two days. The restaurant manager wanted to call the police back then because the bill didn’t go through. Mom had to get down on her knees in front of Krasnodar Lyuba and ask to borrow money.”
I listened silently, leaning against the doorframe. Inside me there was a strange, unfamiliar emptiness. No anger. No triumph. Just a fact.
“Lyuba gave her the money, of course,” Elena gave a bitter smirk. “But with a written IOU and interest. And in front of all the guests, she called Mom a beggarly thief who steals the last pennies from a sick daughter-in-law’s card. All of Krasnodar is laughing at her now. Mom screams that you ruined her life, tries to justify herself, but who will believe her after that wig… Everyone saw everything.”
“She ruined it herself, Lena,” I said evenly.
“Yes, I understand…” my sister-in-law lowered her head. “It’s just… how are we supposed to live now? Vadik is running back and forth, Kostya is screaming that he’s been left without an apartment. Are you really kicking Vadik out for good?”
“His things are in boxes by the door,” I nodded toward the corner of the corridor. “You can take them, or he can come himself. I don’t care. I sent the divorce papers through Gosuslugi today.”
“Polina, what about you?” Elena looked at my smooth head. “You’ll be alone. No money, no husband… Aren’t you scared?”
I looked at the window, behind which the first flakes of wet snow were slowly swirling. On the windowsill stood an old ficus in a clay pot. The soil in it had dried out, and I realized I had not watered it in a long time.
“I don’t know, Lena,” I answered, and caught myself smiling for the first time in six months, weakly but sincerely. “I don’t know what will happen next. And for the first time, that doesn’t scare me.”
Elena sighed, stood up, and dragged the first box toward the exit. I locked the door behind her with two turns of the key.
Walking over to the windowsill, I took an old plastic scoop, filled it with water from the tap, and slowly poured it in a thin stream under the dry root of the ficus. The soil absorbed the moisture with a faint hiss. The apartment was filled with absolute, untouched silence.
