“Can’t you hear the baby screaming his head off?!” Galina Nikolaevna hissed. “You sleep like the dead! Some mother you are…”
“Mom, he only just started whimpering… I fed him half an hour ago…” Solomiya tried to sit up in bed, rubbing her sleep-deprived, reddened eyes.
“Then your milk must be worthless! Just look at yourself—blue under the eyes, skinny as a rake. If I were Andrei, I would have run away from someone like you too!”
Those words hurt more than a slap.
“Andrei didn’t run away! He left to earn money for a home for us!” Solomiya’s voice trembled.
“Yeah, yeah, keep telling yourself that!” her father, Pyotr Ivanovich, said, poking his head into the room. “Real men stay with their families, not hide out all over Europe. He dumped you and the baby on our shoulders.”
From that moment on, her life turned into a living hell. Her parents never missed a chance to jab at her and humiliate her. Every move she made was met with criticism: “you’re holding him wrong,” “you’re feeding him the wrong thing,” “why is he crying—you’re ruining his psyche.”
Solomiya became afraid to leave her room. She ate cold food in the kitchen at night just to avoid crossing paths with her parents. Little by little, she lost all confidence in herself—both as a woman and as a mother. It seemed to her that she was doing everything wrong.
Her video calls with Andrei grew more and more strained. He came back from exhausting shifts at the factory, worn out, wanting warmth and support, but on the screen he saw only his drained, tearful wife.
“Soly, what happened again?” he sighed one evening, noticing her red eyes.
“I can’t take it anymore, Andrei. They’re destroying me. Today Mom said I’m a bad mother because Matvey cried for a long time after his vaccine. She called me a burden…”
“Soly, just hang in there a little longer. You know what your mother is like. Just ignore it.”
“‘Ignore it’?!” Solomiya snapped, covering her mouth with her hand so they wouldn’t hear through the wall. “You try living here! Easy for you to say!”
“Easy?!” he flared up. “I work twelve-hour shifts here! You know what? If it’s so hard living with your parents, move in with my mother. She’s been offering for a long time. At least she knows how to keep her mouth shut!”
That was the last straw.
Her mother-in-law, Nina Vasilyevna, was a cold, domineering woman. She had never hidden the fact that she considered Solomiya too simple for her son.
“Are you serious?” Solomiya whispered. “You want me to move from one hell into another? To a woman who cried from grief at our wedding?”
“Then what do you want from me?!” Andrei exploded. “I can’t come back right now! Either put up with it or go live with my mother!”
He cut the call abruptly. The next day they didn’t speak. Nor the day after that.
For the first time, a terrible word flashed through Solomiya’s mind: divorce.
She sat on the bathroom floor and cried silently, feeling her family collapsing like a house of cards.
A week passed. It was a cold November morning. Solomiya was walking through the park with the stroller, trying to put off going home for as long as possible. Suddenly, one of the stroller’s wheels got stuck in a deep pothole. She pulled once, then again—and the axle snapped.
Solomiya sank onto a bench and burst into tears from sheer helplessness.
“Soly? Solomiya, is that you?” a familiar voice called out.
She looked up. Denis was standing in front of her—her former classmate. Once, he had been hopelessly in love with her, bringing her flowers and asking her out, but she had chosen Andrei instead. Now Denis looked different—an expensive coat, confidence in his eyes, and a beautiful car parked nearby.
“Denis? Hi…” She quickly wiped away her tears, ashamed of how she looked: a stretched-out jacket, a tired face.
“What happened? Why are you crying? Let me help,” he said, quickly taking in the situation. He lifted the stroller and carried it onto the smooth path.
They got to talking. Denis suggested they have some coffee, and Solomiya—who had not had the chance in a long time to simply talk her heart out to someone—suddenly told him everything. About her parents, Andrei leaving, the constant reproaches, and the loneliness.
Denis listened carefully.
“Soly, you used to be so strong, so bright… What did they do to you?” he said quietly. “You shouldn’t live like this. If your husband can’t protect you… let me do it. I’ve been divorced for a long time. I have my own business, a big house. You and the baby will want for nothing. Just think about it.”
His words fell on the fertile soil of despair. For the first time in a long while, someone saw in her not a burden, but a woman worth saving.
That evening, she got a message from him:
“I’m serious. Pack your things, I’ll come for you tomorrow. You deserve a peaceful life.”
Solomiya sat in the dark, staring at the screen. The temptation was enormous. To run. To escape the daily taunts: “you’re nothing,” “you were abandoned.”
And at that very moment, the door flew open. Galina Nikolaevna walked in, as always without knocking. When she saw her daughter with her phone while the baby was asleep, she rolled her eyes.
“Still texting that loser of yours again? Good Lord, what kind of daughter did I raise? Sitting on my neck and still staring at a screen. At least you could wash the floors!”
“Mom, please leave,” Solomiya said quietly.
“What?! Is that how you speak to your mother in my house?!” she shouted.
Solomiya stood up, feeling something inside her finally snap.
“This isn’t a home. It’s a prison. And you’re my jailer. I hate what you and Dad have turned me into!”
Galina Nikolaevna gasped in outrage, spat at her feet, and stormed out with a bang. The door slammed so hard that Matvey woke up and started crying loudly.
At that moment, the phone in Solomiya’s hands vibrated. It was Andrei calling.
She answered and said in a completely empty, чужим voice:
“Andrei, I’m leaving you. I can’t live like this anymore. Tomorrow I’m taking Matvey and leaving with another man. He promises me peace. Forgive me…”
“To be continued in the first comment 👇👇”
There is one small leftover in the original: “чужим” should be translated as “strange” or “unfamiliar.” So that sentence should read:
“She answered and said in a completely empty, unfamiliar voice:”
“They’re my parents — of course they’ll help,” Solomiya used to reassure herself back then. “Mom is already retired, she has plenty of time, and Dad works shifts. Things will get easier for us.”
How wrong she was…
Solomiya was thirty when her son was born — little Matvey. The baby had been long-awaited, but he was not an easy child. The first months of his life blurred together for her into one endless day filled with sleepless nights, anxiety, and exhaustion.
Her husband, Andrey, worked as an engineer, but they were desperately short of money — barely enough for rent and diapers. After many long evening conversations, they made a painful decision: Andrey would go to Germany for work to save up for a down payment on an apartment, while Solomiya and the baby would temporarily move in with her parents.
“They’re my mom and dad… they’ll help,” she kept telling herself then.
But that help quickly turned into something entirely different.
For the first few days, Galina Nikolaevna really did try to support her daughter. But soon that care turned into total control and endless criticism. The once-spacious three-room apartment suddenly began to feel like a cramped cage to Solomiya.
One morning, she woke up to her mother literally snatching the baby out of her arms.
“Can’t you hear him screaming?!” Galina Nikolaevna hissed. “You sleep like the dead! And you call yourself a mother?”
“Mom, he’s only just started crying… I fed him not that long ago…” Solomiya tried to sit up, rubbing her inflamed eyes.
“Then your milk must be worthless! Just look at yourself — pale, skinny. If I were Andrey, I would’ve run away from someone like you too!”
The words cut deep.
“Andrey didn’t run away! He left to earn money so we could have a home!” Her voice trembled.
“Oh yes, sure, keep telling yourself that,” her father, Pyotr Ivanovich, cut in, poking his head into the room. “Real men stay with their families, not hide out abroad. He dumped you and the baby on our shoulders.”
From that day on, the nightmare truly began. Her parents never missed a chance to humiliate her. Everything she did was met with comments: “you’re holding him wrong,” “you’re feeding him the wrong thing,” “why is he crying — you’re ruining his psyche.”
Solomiya grew afraid to leave her room. She ate at night, when everyone was asleep, just to avoid running into her parents again. Little by little, she stopped believing in herself — both as a woman and as a mother. It seemed to her that she was doing everything wrong.
Her video calls with Andrey became harder and harder. He came home from work exhausted, wanting warmth and comfort, but all he saw was his tearful, crushed wife.
“Soly, what happened again?” he asked tiredly one day.
“I can’t do this anymore, Andrey… They’re destroying me emotionally. Today Mom said I’m a bad mother because Matvey cried for a long time after his vaccination… She called me a burden…”
“Soly, just hold on a little longer. You know what your mother is like. Just try not to pay attention.”
“Not pay attention?!” she snapped, barely holding back a scream. “You try living here! Easy for you to say!”
“Easy?!” he flared up. “I’m working twelve-hour days here! If it’s that hard for you, move in with my mother. She’s been offering for a while. At least she knows how to keep quiet!”
That was the last straw. Her mother-in-law, Nina Vasilyevna, was a cold, stern woman. She had never hidden the fact that she considered Solomiya unworthy of her son.
“Are you serious?” Solomiya whispered. “So I should leave one nightmare just to move into another? To a woman who cried demonstratively at our wedding?”
“Then what do you want from me?!” Andrey exploded. “I can’t come back right now! Either put up with it, or go live with my mother!”
The call disconnected. They didn’t speak the next day, or the day after that.
And for the first time, a terrible word surfaced in Solomiya’s mind — divorce.
She sat on the cold bathroom floor and cried soundlessly, realizing that her family was falling apart.
A week passed. It was a cold November morning. Solomiya was out walking with the stroller, delaying going back home as long as she could. Suddenly one of the wheels got stuck in a deep pothole. She yanked once, then again — and the axle broke.
Solomiya simply sank onto a bench and burst into tears.
“Soly? Is that you?” a familiar voice said.
She lifted her head. Denis stood before her — her former university classmate. He had once been in love with her, brought her flowers, asked her out. Now he was standing there as a confident, successful man.
“Denis… hi…” She quickly wiped away her tears.
“What happened? Let me help,” he said, quickly figuring out the stroller.
They got to talking. Denis offered her coffee, and suddenly Solomiya poured everything out — about her parents, the loneliness, the constant pain.
He listened attentively.
“Soly, you used to be so strong… What have they done to you? You shouldn’t be living like this. If your husband can’t protect you… let me do it. I have everything: a house, a job. You and the baby will want for nothing. Just think about it.”
His words felt like a lifeline.
That evening, he wrote:
“I’m serious. Pack your things. I’ll come for you tomorrow.”
Solomiya sat in the dark, staring at the screen. The thought of escaping was so tempting…
At that moment, her mother stormed into the room.
“Texting your loser again?” she sneered. “Sitting on my neck and glued to your phone on top of it. At least you could wash the floors!”
“Mom, please leave,” Solomiya said quietly.
“What?! How dare you talk to me like that?!”
Solomiya stood up.
“This isn’t a home. It’s a prison. And you are my jailer. I hate what you’ve turned me into!”
Her mother, gasping with rage, rushed out and slammed the door. The baby began to cry.
At that very moment, the phone rang. Andrey.
“Andrey, I’m leaving you…” she said coldly. “I can’t do this anymore. Tomorrow I’m leaving with Matvey to be with another man. He can give me peace. I’m sorry.”
She hung up.
To Andrey, those words landed like a blow. Everything he had been working for suddenly lost its meaning. He remembered her tears… and his own cruel words.
A few hours later, he was already flying home.
Meanwhile, Solomiya was packing her things. Denis was supposed to arrive very soon.
And then — noise in the hallway. The door opened.
Andrey stood on the threshold. Exhausted, shaken, desperate.
He walked past her parents and dropped to his knees in front of Solomiya.
“Forgive me… I was a blind idiot. I left you alone… in this hell. Don’t go. Please. We’ll leave this place right now.”
Her parents froze.
“Shut your mouths,” Andrey said quietly but firmly, turning to them. “You almost destroyed my family.”
Then he looked at Solomiya.
“Are you ready?”
She nodded.
That same day, they left.
She sent Denis a short message:
“My husband came back. Thank you for helping me understand that.”
Life started over. A small rented apartment, financial difficulties… but most importantly, peace and quiet. Years passed. Their family grew stronger. They became truly close.
Solomiya hardly spoke to her parents anymore. She only called them occasionally on holidays.
And one day, she made herself a promise:
“When my son grows up and brings a wife home, I will tell him:
‘Son, I love you. But you must live separately. Even if it’s just a tiny apartment — it will be your home, your rules, and your life. I will help you, but I will never live with you. Because I love your family too much to destroy it.’”
