The alarm rang exactly at six in the morning. Vika opened her eyes but didn’t move. Next to her, her husband was peacefully snoring, wrapped up in the blanket with his head covered. The alarm kept ringing loudly, but Artur didn’t even flinch. Vika reached out and turned off the alarm. It was time to get up. Her shift at the supermarket started at eight, and she still needed to make breakfast, get ready, and get to work.
In the kitchen, her mother-in-law was already clattering dishes. Tatyana Petrovna always woke up early, even when there was nowhere to rush to. “All decent people get up with the first roosters,” she liked to say, although there had never been any roosters in their city apartment.
“Good morning,” Vika said as she entered the kitchen.
Her mother-in-law glanced at her daughter-in-law with a displeased look.
“Didn’t sleep well again? You look terrible. And what’s with this habit of walking around like that? At least put on a robe.”
Vika silently went to the cupboard to get a cup. She didn’t want to argue. And it was useless anyway. After three years of living under the same roof, she had long understood: it was easier to keep quiet than to get into a half-hour lecture about how a real woman should look.
“Is Artur still sleeping?” Tatyana Petrovna asked, setting out cups. “Maybe you should wake him up? He has to work too.”
“He has the day off today,” Vika replied, pouring herself some coffee.
“Again?” There was clear disapproval in her mother-in-law’s voice. “The third day in a row? Those days off seem awfully frequent.”
Vika shrugged. It was pointless to explain that taxi drivers have a flexible schedule. Or rather, it could be flexible if Artur really worked. But lately, her husband found a thousand reasons not to go on a shift: the car broke down, there were few orders, or he had a migraine.
“Let him rest,” Vika said. “He wasn’t feeling well yesterday.”
“All illnesses come from idleness,” Tatyana Petrovna retorted. “My Valentin, may he rest in peace, went to work even with a fever. But these men nowadays…” She waved her hand, leaving the sentence unfinished.
Vika finished her coffee and went to the bathroom. Under the cool water, her head gradually cleared. For the third week, she had been sleeping no more than five hours a night. The supermarket had inspections going on, so she had to stay late sorting out documents. And at home awaited a pile of unwashed laundry, an uncooked dinner, and a displeased mother-in-law.
Coming out of the bathroom, Vika saw that Artur was already awake, sitting in the kitchen scrolling through his phone.
“Hi,” Vika smiled. “How did you sleep?”
“Fine,” Artur didn’t even look up from the screen. “What’s for breakfast?”
“Scrambled eggs and sandwiches,” Vika replied, taking out the frying pan. “Not much time, I’m already running late.”
“That scrambled eggs again,” sighed Tatyana Petrovna. “Artur, son, you need to eat properly. You won’t have any strength from that food.”
“Mom, it’s fine,” Artur finally looked away from his phone. “Vika’s just in a hurry.”
“Are you going to work today?” Vika asked, cracking eggs into the pan.
“Don’t know yet,” her husband returned to his phone. “Few orders. And I need to take the car for diagnostics — something wrong with the brakes.”
Vika clenched her teeth. Artur had “diagnosed” the car for the fourth time this month. And when asked why there were few orders, when all taxi drivers complained about the crazy pace, he gave no clear answer.
“Do you want me to leave you money?” Vika asked, putting scrambled eggs on plates.
“Yes, if possible,” Artur nodded.
“And for groceries?” Tatyana Petrovna immediately chimed in. “The fridge is empty. And I need to buy medicine — they gave me a prescription yesterday.”
Vika mentally counted the money left until payday. Utilities, groceries, mother-in-law’s medicine… She would have to dip into her credit card again.
“I’ll stop by the pharmacy after work,” Vika said, packing her bag. “Leave the prescription on the table.”
Tatyana Petrovna pursed her lips but stayed silent. Vika put on her coat, found her transit card in her pocket, and opened the door.
“Bye, see you tonight.”
“What time will you be home?” Artur asked.
“Until ten, if they don’t keep me late again,” Vika replied and left the apartment.
The workday at the supermarket began as usual — reviewing yesterday’s reports and giving instructions to the staff. As an administrator, Vika was responsible for everything: from cashiers’ work to cleanliness in the sales area. Plus the endless headache with suppliers, difficult customers, and inspectors.
Around two in the afternoon, another conflict arose — a customer demanded a refund for yogurt she allegedly bought yesterday. She couldn’t show the receipt, the yogurt was half eaten, but the customer insisted it was expired.
“You understand that without a receipt I cannot process a refund?” Vika repeated for the tenth time, feeling a headache coming on.
“I demand to see the manager!” the customer raised her voice. “You don’t want to do your job!”
The next half hour was spent on fruitless negotiations and filling out a complaint. The woman left, promising to write to the consumer protection agency, and Vika got reprimanded by management “for poor customer handling.”
At six in the evening, Tatyana Petrovna called.
“Vika, you didn’t forget my medicine, did you? And buy some potatoes, we ran out. And some meat for dinner. Artur wanted cutlets.”
“Okay,” Vika answered tiredly. “I’ll buy everything.”
“And stop by the hardware store, we need a new frying pan. This one is all peeling.”
Vika sighed deeply.
“Tatyana Petrovna, I don’t have money for a frying pan right now. Let’s get it next time.”
“When will that next time be?” irritation was heard in her mother-in-law’s voice. “You always say that! And what am I supposed to cook on? This wreck?”
“I’ll get my paycheck in three days, then we’ll buy it,” Vika tried to speak calmly.
“Fine, suit yourself,” the mother-in-law snorted and hung up.
Vika came home around eleven — she had to stay late again. The apartment was quiet. Artur was sleeping on the sofa in front of the running TV. Judging by the closed door to her room, Tatyana Petrovna had also already gone to bed.
Vika put groceries in the fridge, took out the medicine for her mother-in-law, and placed them in a visible spot. She didn’t feel like eating — fatigue dulled her hunger. After a shower, she lay down next to her husband, who didn’t even wake when she got into bed.
The next morning it all repeated. And the next day. And a week later. Life turned into a vicious circle: work, home, cooking, cleaning, an unhappy mother-in-law, an always tired husband. And everywhere — only she, Vika, spinning like a hamster in a wheel trying to manage everything and please everyone.
On Sunday, a friend of Tatyana Petrovna, Klavdiya Mikhailovna, stopped by. Vika was cooking lunch when she heard the conversation in the living room.
“How do you live here?” Klavdiya Mikhailovna asked. “Does Artur work?”
“Sometimes,” Tatyana Petrovna replied evasively. “He has his own business — a taxi. He’s his own boss.”
“And your daughter-in-law? Still in the store?”
“Yes, as an administrator. Vika is a bit rough, but at least she has money. It’s enough to live on.”
Vika froze with a ladle in her hand. So that’s how it is? She was just a source of money? All her efforts, all attempts to create comfort, maintain peace in the family — it was nothing?
In the evening, when Tatyana Petrovna went to a neighbor and Artur again buried his head in his phone, Vika decided to talk.
“Artur, we need to talk,” she started, sitting beside him.
“Hm?” Her husband reluctantly looked up. “What’s wrong?”
“Don’t you notice I’m the only one holding the whole house?” Vika tried to speak calmly. “I work without days off, pay all the bills, buy groceries, medicine for your mom. And you? When was the last time you brought money home?”
Artur frowned.
“Here you go again? I’m going through a tough time now. You know how the market is.”
“What market? All taxi drivers complain about overwork, and you sit at home all day.”
“Why are you panicking?” Artur waved it off. “We have a roof over our heads, food on the table. What else do you want?”
“I want you to participate in this family too!” Vika felt anger boiling inside. “So I’m not the only one solving all the problems!”
“Well, sorry I don’t meet your expectations,” Artur said sarcastically. “But you knew who you were marrying.”
“A responsible person, not a lazy man who hides behind a sick mother to avoid work!”
Artur got up sharply.
“Don’t you dare speak like that about my mother! She’s sacrificed her whole life for me!”
“And now I’m supposed to sacrifice my life for both of you?” Vika also stood up. “I didn’t sign up for this!”
“Then leave!” Artur shouted. “No one’s holding you here!”
“Fine! Maybe I will!”
Slamming the bedroom door, Vika collapsed on the bed. Tears choked her, but she held back, biting her lip hard. No, she wouldn’t cry. Not today.
The next morning, Vika woke with a headache and swollen eyes. Artur had already gotten up and gone somewhere — unusual for him. Tatyana Petrovna was busy in the kitchen.
“Finally awake,” the mother-in-law greeted. “I thought you’d be late for work.”
“I won’t be late,” Vika croaked, pouring water. “I have a late shift today.”
“And breakfast? You didn’t even make anything for your husband.”
“Artur is a big boy, he can manage.”
Tatyana Petrovna shook her head.
“What’s happening to you, Vika? You’ve stopped looking after the house and yourself. Artur complained to me that you constantly snap at him.”
Vika put the glass down and looked carefully at her mother-in-law.
“And hasn’t Artur complained that for six months he hasn’t brought a single kopeck home? That I pay all the bills, buy all the food, all your medicine?”
“Don’t start,” Tatyana Petrovna frowned. “The boy is going through a tough time. You, as a woman, should support him, not nag.”
“Sure,” Vika smiled bitterly. “I should work around the clock, cook, clean, pay everything, and also support the poor boy. And what should he do?”
“He’s a man,” the mother-in-law said firmly, as if that explained everything.
Vika shook her head and left the kitchen, feeling despair growing inside.
Work was chaotic again. One supplier didn’t deliver goods, customers complained about empty shelves, the director demanded explanations. By evening, Vika had a splitting headache and black spots in front of her eyes.
“Vika, are you okay?” her colleague Natasha asked as they closed the shift together. “You look pale as a wall.”
“Fine,” Vika replied mechanically. “Just tired.”
“You say that every day. Maybe you should see a doctor?”
“I don’t have time for doctors.”
Natasha looked at her carefully.
“Vika, you’re burned out. It’s obvious. You need to take a vacation, rest.”
“I can’t take a vacation,” Vika rubbed her eyes tiredly. “Who will pay for everything? Husband without work, mother-in-law retired…”
“And if you break down, who will pay then?” Natasha said reasonably.
Vika was silent. What could she say? Natasha was right, but she had no choice.
At home, it was unusually quiet. Artur had gone somewhere again, and Tatyana Petrovna was watching a series in her room. Vika went to the kitchen and found a pile of dirty dishes. Apparently, mother-in-law and son had a nice dinner and didn’t even bother to wash their plates.
The last straw was the next morning. Vika woke up screaming — she’d had a nightmare in which she couldn’t get out of an endless supermarket with disappearing exits.
“What’s wrong with you?” Artur mumbled sleepily.
“Everything’s fine,” Vika got out of bed, feeling her hands tremble. “Just a bad dream.”
In the bathroom, looking at her reflection in the mirror, Vika barely recognized herself. Pale face with dark circles under her eyes, dull gaze, tense shoulders. When did she change so much? When did life turn into an endless race for someone else’s approval?
At work, Vika couldn’t concentrate. She twice made mistakes calculating with suppliers, was rude to a client, forgot to sign an important document. After lunch, the director called her in.
“Victoria, what’s going on with you?” Sergey Nikolaevich asked, looking over his glasses. “You’ve been working terribly lately.”
“Sorry,” Vika lowered her eyes. “I’ll do better.”
“It’s not about apologies. You have clear professional burnout. I see it by all signs.” The director sighed. “Listen to my advice: take a vacation. Rest. And if you can’t — resign. Because in this state, you only harm yourself and the store.”
“Are you firing me?” Vika asked quietly.
“I’m giving you a choice: either rest or quit. Decide yourself.”
Vika was silent, looking out the window behind the director. Outside, life went on as usual. People hurried about their business, laughed, talked. And she was stuck in this vicious cycle of endless duties and guilt.
“I quit,” Vika said, surprised by the firmness of her voice.
The director nodded as if he expected that answer.
“Write a resignation letter. You’ll get your payment at the end of the week.”
Leaving the office, Vika felt a strange relief. As if an invisible burden fell from her shoulders. Yes, there would be money problems now. Yes, Artur and mother-in-law would be displeased. But for the first time in a long while, she made a decision not for anyone else, but for herself.
At home, Tatyana Petrovna met her.
“You’re home early,” the mother-in-law said surprised. “What happened?”
“Yes,” Vika nodded, going to the kitchen. “I quit.”
Tatyana Petrovna froze, then slowly sat down, staring at her daughter-in-law as if she had announced the end of the world.
“What do you mean — quit?” the mother-in-law tilted her head as if she didn’t hear well. “Were you fired?”
“No,” Vika took a bottle of water from the fridge. “I wrote the resignation myself.”
“But why?” Tatyana Petrovna spread her hands in confusion. “You had a good salary!”
Vika took a sip and calmly looked at her mother-in-law. Strange, but there was no irritation — only fatigue and some detached calm.
“I’m burned out, Tatyana Petrovna. I need a break. I want to think about where to go next.”
“What break?” the mother-in-law exclaimed. “In our time, only the rich could afford breaks! Work is work, whether you like it or not, you have to go!”
“I need to rest,” Vika repeated. “Just a couple of weeks, no more.”
“And what will we live on for those two weeks?” Tatyana Petrovna raised her voice. “What about buying food? And my medicine?”
“I have savings,” Vika shrugged. “Enough for now.”
At that moment, Artur came into the kitchen, sleepy and tousled, although it was already past noon.
“What’s going on here?” her husband asked, scratching his head. “Why are you yelling?”
“Your wife quit!” Tatyana Petrovna announced as if Vika had committed a serious crime. “Just took and quit!”
Artur froze in the doorway, staring at Vika.
“What do you mean? Why?”
“I’m tired,” Vika answered simply. “I need a break.”
“And the money?” Artur asked — not “how do you feel” or “I understand you,” but straight to “and the money.”
“I’ll get my paycheck on Friday,” Vika passed by her husband to the bedroom. She wanted to take a shower and lie down. Just sleep, without an alarm, without obligations, without constant tension.
Artur followed.
“Vik, what’s wrong? That was a decent job. You’re an administrator, not a loader. What didn’t you like?”
Vika looked at her husband tiredly.
“I didn’t like working like crazy while at home another front of work was waiting. Didn’t like being the only one holding this house. Didn’t like being seen only as a source of money.”
“Well, you’re exaggerating,” Artur waved it off and left the room.
Vika heard her husband turn on the TV in the living room. No word of support, no sympathy. Only annoyance that the usual way of life might be disrupted.
They had dinner in silence. Artur silently stared at the TV, occasionally throwing annoyed looks at his wife. Tatyana Petrovna sighed loudly, rattled dishes, and muttered something under her breath.
After dinner, the phone rang. Tatyana Petrovna’s sister, Valentina Petrovna, sometimes dropped by without warning. Vika hadn’t finished clearing the table when loud voices were heard in the hallway.
“I’ll tell you this!” Valentina Petrovna was excited. “Ninka’s grandson bought an apartment! Himself! At twenty-five!”
The women moved to the kitchen, and the mother-in-law nodded to Vika to put on the kettle.
“Guess what news we have,” Tatyana Petrovna said ominously, looking at her daughter-in-law. “Vika quit.”
“No way!” Valentina Petrovna raised her hands. “Why?”
Before Vika could answer, her mother-in-law blurted out:
“She lost her mind! Who will bring money home now?! Is she crazy?!”
Vika froze by the stove. Those words were like a splash of icy water. No sympathy, no understanding. Only anger because their source of funding had dried up.
“I was holding everything alone for three years,” Vika said slowly, turning to the women. “And where were you when I was feeling bad?”
Tatyana Petrovna pursed her lips.
“I don’t understand what you mean. I was always in this house. Cooking, cleaning…”
“When I came home from work broken, when I cried at night from fatigue, did you ever ask how I felt?” Vika’s voice was surprisingly calm. “Did you ever offer help?”
“What can I do?” Tatyana Petrovna was indignant. “I’m an old woman! And don’t play the pity card. At your age, I had two kids and two jobs!”
“Great,” Vika nodded. “That explains a lot.”
Valentina Petrovna shifted her gaze between the daughter-in-law and her sister, clearly enjoying the scandal. Vika put down the cups of tea and left the kitchen.
In the bedroom, she stared at the ceiling for a long time, recalling the events of recent years. How she gradually took on all expenses. How she got used to constant fatigue. How she learned to ignore her mother-in-law’s barbs and her husband’s indifference.
When did she allow herself to become domestic help? When did she accept being the sole breadwinner?
Artur came into the bedroom after midnight, when the aunt had already left and the mother-in-law had locked herself in her room.
“Vik, are you asleep?” her husband whispered, sitting on the edge of the bed.
Vika turned to him.
“No, not asleep.”
“Look, Mom went too far,” Artur started. “But you understand, she worries. She’s used to everything being stable.”
“Stable?” Vika propped herself on her elbow. “That I work like a horse while you’re sitting on my neck — is that stability?”
“Come on…” Artur frowned. “I work too. Sometimes.”
“Sometimes is the key word. But bills come every month, and food is needed every day.”
Her husband sighed and tried to hug Vika, but she pushed him away.
“Let’s talk tomorrow,” Vika said. “I’m tired.”
The next morning Vika woke clear-headed. No alarm, no rush. She lay listening to sounds in the apartment. Artur was apparently still sleeping. But the mother-in-law was already busy in the kitchen.
Vika got up, dressed, and left the bedroom. Tatyana Petrovna was fussing by the stove.
“Good morning,” Vika greeted.
Her mother-in-law silently nodded without looking at her. Clearly offended.
“I’m going to the bank today,” Vika said, pouring herself coffee. “Need to sort out some financial matters.”
“Probably want to take a loan,” Tatyana Petrovna snorted. “Since you’re not going to work.”
Vika didn’t reply. She calmly drank coffee, took her bag, and left the apartment.
At the bank, Vika closed the joint account into which she had transferred money for family expenses for several years and transferred the balance to her personal account. Then she went to an insurance company and canceled the insurance for Artur’s car, which she also paid for monthly.
Vika spent the whole day in town. She visited her friend Marina, who had long invited her for coffee. She told her about quitting.
“You’re brave,” Marina said. “I’ve wanted to tell you for a long time that you let them walk all over you. Artur has become brazen. And your mother-in-law…” The friend shook her head. “In short, it was time to change something.”
“I don’t even know how I got here,” Vika sighed. “Everything just fell on me unnoticed.”
“And what are you going to do now?”
“Not decided yet. Maybe I’ll take some courses. I’ve long wanted to learn web design.”
“And where will you live?” Marina asked. “They won’t leave you alone now.”
Vika thought. Indeed, she didn’t want to return home. She already felt constant pressure, reproaches, and manipulations awaited her.
“You can stay with me for now,” Marina offered. “I have a sofa bed.”
“Thanks,” Vika smiled. “But I think I’ll rent something. Need personal space.”
In the evening, Vika packed the essentials and documents. Seeing her packing, Artur frowned.
“Where are you going?”
“I’ll stay with Marina for now,” Vika replied. “I need to figure things out.”
“So you’re leaving us?” Artur crossed his arms. “First you quit, now you leave. Great!”
“I’m not leaving,” Vika calmly retorted. “I’m taking a break. I need space to think.”
“What to think about?” Tatyana Petrovna appeared in the doorway. “What’s there to think about? Go work like all decent people!”
Vika zipped her bag and straightened up.
“You know what? I worked for three years. Carried this family on my back for three years. And in return, I got no gratitude. Only complaints and demands. You both see me as an ATM, not as a person. It’s time to change that.”
“How dare you!” Tatyana Petrovna gasped indignantly. “After all we’ve done for you!”
“And what exactly have you done for me?” Vika asked quietly. “Remind me.”
The mother-in-law opened her mouth, closed it, but couldn’t find an answer.
Artur tried one last tactic:
“And what about me? You don’t love me at all?”
“I don’t know,” Vika answered honestly. “But I do know this can’t go on.”
She kissed Artur on the cheek, nodded to her mother-in-law, and left the apartment.
Vika lived with Marina for only three days. She quickly found a small but cozy studio near the center. She couldn’t afford such before — all the money went to the family. But now, spending only on herself, she discovered she could live quite comfortably.
In the first days, her phone rang nonstop with calls from Artur and her mother-in-law. Vika answered briefly, not going into explanations. No, she would not return soon. No, she wouldn’t give money — she needed to pay rent. No, she didn’t know when she’d work again.
A week after leaving, Vika enrolled in web design courses. She had been interested in this field for a long time but never had time or energy to learn.
That same evening, Artur called.
“Vik, I understand everything,” the husband’s voice sounded repentant. “Forgive me. I was an idiot. Please come back.”
“What exactly do you understand?” Vika asked.
“Well…” Artur hesitated. “That you worked a lot. That I helped little. That you were more reliable than anyone, and I didn’t appreciate it.”
Vika smiled. Even in his apology, her husband couldn’t get beyond his usual mindset. “You were more reliable than everyone” — meaning, better at providing his comfort.
“Thanks for the apology,” Vika said. “But I’m not coming back. At least not yet.”
“But Vik…”
“Artur, I started a new life. Without constant reproaches, without having to carry the whole family. I finally get enough sleep, do what interests me. And you know what? I like this life.”
“You don’t love us anymore,” Artur said in a defeated voice.
“I don’t know,” Vika answered honestly. “But I definitely love myself. And that’s already something.”
After that conversation, Vika blocked her mother-in-law’s number and stopped answering Artur’s calls. She needed time and space to build a new life without the burden of others’ expectations.
A month later, Vika was working as a junior designer in a small company. The salary was less than at the supermarket, but the work gave her pleasure. She rented a nicer apartment, got a cat, and started meeting friends she had almost forgotten during her years of marriage.
Sometimes she thought about Artur and her mother-in-law. She wondered how they managed. Had her husband learned to take responsibility for his life? Had he found a decent job?
But every time such thoughts came, Vika remembered the day she announced quitting. She remembered not care and sympathy but indignation: “Who will bring money home now?!”
After three months of independent living, Vika filed for divorce. The decision was not easy but inevitable. Artur came to her, trying to persuade her to return, promising to change, to find a job.
“It’s too late,” Vika replied. “I don’t want to go back to being the one who owes everyone and everything.”
“But we’re family,” Artur said confused.
“Family is when both support each other,” Vika calmly explained. “And we never had that.”
The divorce process went surprisingly smoothly. There was nothing to divide — the apartment belonged to Artur before the marriage, and other property was insignificant.
No, in that family there was no husband and wife, only a sponsor and consumers. And Vika no longer intended to play the sponsor’s role. That role was in the past. Ahead was a new life — her own, full of meaning and joy.