— Well… you understand… I wanted to ask if you have received your salary?
Of course, I did. As always — on the fifteenth. As always — I sent money to Mom for utilities and medicine, paid off part of the car loan, topped up the fund for the trip to Italy I’ve been dreaming about for the last three years. And now — as always — Rita calls.
— Got it. What’s wrong with you this time?
Angelina woke up at noon. Saturday morning, a rare day without meetings, and the phone on the bedside table was silent. Swiping away notifications, Angelina glanced at about ten missed calls. Rita — who else could it be…
Reluctantly, Angelina dragged herself to the bathroom, dialing her younger sister’s number on the way.
— Hi, sis! — came a bright voice through the receiver. — Finally awake?
— Yeah, I was sleeping. You know perfectly well it’s pointless to call me early on weekends.
— Well, you see, I have kids who get up at the crack of dawn. You wouldn’t understand… — Rita snorted.
Angelina leaned back on the pillow and stared at the ceiling.
— Oh, yes… I wouldn’t understand.
Images from the past came to mind. How ten-year-old Angelina got up in the morning and instead of calmly getting ready for school, picked up little Maxim so he wouldn’t wake their pregnant mother. And a bit later, when Rita was born, the burden doubled on Angelina’s shoulders.
Rita was babbling something on the phone in the background, but Angelina wasn’t listening.
— What did you want? — Angelina finally asked.
— Well… you understand… I wanted to ask if you have received your salary?
Of course, I did. As always — on the fifteenth. As always — I sent money to Mom for utilities and medicine, paid off part of the car loan, topped up the fund for the trip to Italy I’ve been dreaming about for the last three years. And now — as always — Rita calls.
— Got it. What’s wrong with you this time?
— Oh, nothing special. Just Children’s Day — June first. Can you imagine? — Rita giggled. — I wanted to surprise the kids and looked at some cool cars — you know, the ones with remote controls. Not cheap, of course… But you’re the only one of us without worries and troubles. You’d definitely manage to please the boys!
Angelina bit her lip. Alone… Without worries… Without troubles… She had enough of that in her teenage years: sleepless nights by the crib of children who weren’t hers, walks with a stroller in any weather, lessons with younger brother and sister instead of hanging out with boys, and constant scolding from Mom:
— You’ll have plenty of time to get wasted later! Go help Maxim finish his homework. Don’t you see I’m tired?! Hurry up!
And then some desires and dreams simply disappeared.
— Rita, — Angelina sat up in bed, — I can’t buy presents for my nephews every month. Last time I bought them a tablet, which, by the way, you took for yourself. Before that — mid-season snowsuits. Don’t you think that’s over the top?
There was a hurt pause on the other end.
— You’re successful. Don’t you feel sorry for your own sister? I stay at home, I have no money. My husband earns pennies. And you live like in paradise. Alone, without children. Why not help your nephews?
— I live without children because I never planned to have them. I’m not married because I don’t see anything good in marriage, — Angelina answered sharply. — And you, apparently, copied Mom’s lifestyle — have kids and “pass them off” to someone else. No, dear! That won’t work! If you want to work, I can get you a job with me. The position is simple, but at least you’ll have your own money.
— You say that because you envy me.
— Envy? — Angelina smirked. — I don’t need your judgment, got it? I like my life, and you… well, that’s your business. And I’m not going to finance your family. You have a husband you chose yourself. I’m not your personal wallet.
When Angelina was sixteen and all the girls were kissing on benches, she was feeding Rita porridge. And at eighteen, she didn’t go to the university camp because Mom said, “You won’t leave us with Max, will you?” Because she was reminded every time: you must.
And now, when Angelina finally lives as she wants — without scandals, without children’s cries, and constant cleaning — she still gets calls reminding her of obligations. From Mom, from her sister… The only one who doesn’t call is her middle brother Maxim, who at eighteen moved to a big city, far from childish parents.
— You’re just selfish! — Rita snapped. — That’s why you’re alone in your bachelor apartment. Getting older every day, nobody needs you. If you were kinder, you’d have been married long ago.
— I’m kind… — Angelina said quietly. — But only to those who truly deserve it.
And she pressed “end call.”
She sat in silence for a long time. Outside birds chirped, sunlight poured through the window. In her head was her mother’s voice: “You don’t choose your parents,” followed by Rita’s: “You’re the eldest, you have to.”
These thoughts quieted briefly, but intrusive, clingy relatives kept digging up old wounds that Angelina carefully hid deep inside.
It wasn’t hard for her to help. But there was a turning point — buying the apartment. When Angelina worked day and night, writing reports, checking tables, preparing new projects — no one saw any of that.
But the apartment in the city center in a prestigious complex was visible to everyone right away. Mom first boasted to everyone how clever her daughter was, that she earned the apartment herself, but then doubts appeared.
— Why don’t you give this apartment to Rita? She has growing boys, they need space.
That phrase stunned Angelina. That apartment, even by her standards, was very expensive. And just to “give it away”? No way!
— I’m not going to give the apartment to my sister. Why should I?
— You noticed it right. Because you and Rita are sisters. You’re the older one, you have to help the younger all your life.
— When am I supposed to live if I devote my whole life to that?
— You’ll live later. You’ll get married, then you’ll live…
Since Angelina refused to give the apartment to Rita, her mother, Anfisa Vladimirovna, stopped communicating with her. She called only on those rare days when rent had to be paid, and her voice was icy, as if Angelina was not her daughter but a street beggar.
The next week was tougher. Always is when vacation is about to start, but there’s still a little work left.
Angelina closed her laptop, stretched, and went to the bathroom. There, in the mirror, she saw not herself, but fatigue: gray skin, wrinkles under the eyes, a dull gaze. She looked closely into her own eyes:
“I live for myself. So why do I feel every time like I owe everyone but myself?”
Ten minutes later she was on a tour operator’s website, scrolling pages marked with red letters: “hot tour,” “departure tomorrow,” “last spot.” Egypt. Why not?
Within an hour, the ticket was bought.
She packed the suitcase automatically, pulled out the charger, packed sunglasses, and for the first time in years — consciously left her work laptop at home and left. At the airport, the phone buzzed again. Of course, Rita. She didn’t answer. And didn’t answer anymore, even when Rita sent messages ranging from passive aggression to accusations and “you’ve completely forgotten you have a family.”
Angelina arranged a detox. Not from sugar or social media, but from toxic people called relatives. The first two days passed in apathy. She lay under an umbrella by the pool, watched other people’s children swim, and realized for the first time she didn’t hate it. It simply wasn’t about her. She didn’t have to do anything. No wiping, no persuading, no arguing.
On the third day, during breakfast, he approached.
— Good morning. Is this seat taken? May I sit here?
She looked up. A man. Pleasant appearance. Short beard. Smile. No cheap show-off.
— It’s free, — she shrugged.
— Dmitry, — he introduced himself, sitting opposite.
— Angelina.
He said simple things, nothing rehearsed or silly that makes you want to run to the bathroom. By evening, they were at a restaurant, drinking cocktails, talking about how strangely life is arranged.
— I’m thirty-two, — Dmitry said, glancing away. — And I woke up one day realizing all my friends already have families, kids, dogs… and I’m alone. Career, goals, clients, flights. But at home — silence. And I understood I don’t know where to go next or why.
Angelina was silent. The conversation felt risky. She waited for him to start making plans. Hinting at serious relationships. Or, on the contrary, to joke it off.
— And you? — he asked.
— I’m not looking for family or children, — she said simply. — I lived not my own life for many years. Now I want peace and air. And that no one expects anything from me.
He didn’t object. Didn’t say she’d “change her mind.” He just smiled.
— Sounds honest.
They didn’t plan to meet again after the vacation. They didn’t promise to write or call each other after the trip. Everything was easy and without pressure. And that was the most valuable thing.
On the last night, Angelina ordered ice cream and champagne to her room. Sat on the balcony, watching stars. During the whole vacation, she didn’t open a single message from Rita, nor from her mother, nor a single work email.
And probably for the first time in thirty-five years felt the lightness of life. A few days after returning home, without opening her bag, she deleted all accumulated “unread” messages.
Angelina entered the office building with unusual ease. After vacation, it felt like she had new breath — she smiled at the guard, exchanged a few words with colleagues she used to avoid. Ideas for a new ad campaign swirled in her head — fresh, bold, alive.
At ten in the morning, all employees were gathered in the meeting room.
— Friends, — the branch director began, — I want to introduce you to the new director of our branch. From today, Dmitry Alekseevich Sirotin officially starts work. And I… am retiring.
At that moment, he walked into the room…
The very Dmitry. Egypt. Sand. Champagne. Stars. Angelina almost dropped her notebook. Dmitry looked at the staff calmly and confidently — professionally. Not a single glance at her, no hint as if that vacation hadn’t happened.
Later, after the formal introduction ended and everyone returned to their desks, Angelina noticed Dmitry lingering by the coffee machine. She approached.
— Is this a joke? — she asked quietly.
He turned. A barely noticeable smile lit his face.
— No. I knew you worked here. Even when we talked at the hotel, I was already in the process of handing over my duties. Just didn’t want to say it then. Wanted you to see me as a person, not a position.
Angelina looked at him, unsure what to say. She was confused. But another feeling arose — she felt… interest.
— And you came on purpose then?
— Of course, — he replied calmly. — I recognized you immediately. You were sitting by the pool with a cup of coffee and a notebook. So focused. Then you smiled at a girl with a ball. I thought — I just want to sit nearby.
Angelina looked down. It was hard to believe. It was all too… beautiful.
— We’re at work, Dmitry Alekseevich, — she said a little coldly. — I hope you’re not expecting anything here. Because I’m not.
He nodded.
— Of course. Professionalism first.
They went separate ways.
That evening… everything fell apart.
Angelina inserted the key into the lock of her apartment door and shuddered — Rita was standing on the landing, leaning on the railing, her face twisted with anger.
— You actually came! — she burst out. — Have you lost your mind?! You ran off on vacation… And I’ve been looking for you! How dare you not answer calls?
— Hello, Rita, — Angelina said calmly, opening the door. — Come in. Actually no — stay there. I just came back from vacation. And I really don’t want to spoil my evening.
— You think I’ll just go away? — she hissed. — Sure, you’re in your imaginary paradise, but don’t forget you’re the older sister! You have to help us!
Angelina sighed. Leaned against the door. Looked Rita straight in the eyes.
— I don’t owe you anything. Neither you, nor Mom, nor the past. You chose this life. You got married, gave birth, refused to work. And I chose mine. No kids. No debts. No relatives yelling at me constantly. I don’t owe anyone anything, Rita. And you need to understand this. You’re twenty-three, it’s time to realize you’re not a child. You managed to have a baby at nineteen. But you still can’t take responsibility.
— You bitch! You’ll get what’s coming! — shouted her sister and abruptly turned, going down the stairs.
The next morning Angelina arrived at work earlier than usual. She wanted to distract herself, dive into the project, drown the leftover anger in tasks, tables, ideas. But from the start of the day, she felt something changed in the air. As if she had become the center of someone’s attention.
Dmitry, as before, kept his distance. Didn’t say too much. But his gaze… It seemed to follow her everywhere. Steady, attentive, even gentle. And the more she noticed it, the less she wanted to look away.
He proved to be a good boss: didn’t yell or act like a hero, didn’t give empty promises, but demanded results. Fairly, clearly, and competently. And most importantly — he appreciated his employees’ efforts and work. Once, during a general meeting, he openly praised Angelina’s project, and she caught sideways looks from colleagues. But she didn’t care.
One day, at the end of the week, Angelina stayed late at work. She needed to finish a presentation. The office was mostly empty, only rare voices of guards below. She was finishing cold coffee when she heard footsteps.
— Maybe it’s time to rest? — she heard behind her.
She turned. Dmitry stood in her office doorway. No tie, hair slightly tousled, and a light smile.
— May I come in? Am I distracting you? — he asked.
— I’m almost done. Needed to finish so I don’t have to return to this on Monday.
He nodded and stepped forward.
— I have an idea. Let me walk you home, and on the way, we’ll stop at a restaurant. Just dinner.
— Not sure that’s a good idea… especially since I’m driving.
— You can say “no,” and we’ll forget about it. I’ll remain your director, and everything will be as before. Or you can agree. And we’ll just have dinner like two people who might enjoy each other’s company.
Angelina looked at him for a long time. Her intuition protested: don’t, don’t let it in, it will hurt again. But… there was something else. She was tired of spending all evenings and weekends alone.
— Okay, — she said, closing the laptop. — Just dinner and then home. I’ll leave the car in the parking lot.
— Deal, — Dmitry confirmed, handing her his jacket.
It was drizzling outside, but somehow she felt warm inside.
The next morning Angelina woke up at Dmitry’s place. The room was unfamiliar but cozy: dim light, smell of coffee and something else — calm. She propped herself on her elbows and looked toward the kitchen. Dmitry stood there, wearing a home T-shirt and holding a mug. Seeing she was awake, he smiled and came closer.
— Good morning, — he said softly. — I only made coffee. Let’s go to the bakery downstairs for breakfast if you don’t mind. Unfortunately, my fridge is empty.
Angelina pulled the blanket up to her chin. A strange feeling overwhelmed her: it wasn’t shame or awkwardness, but rather… anxious confusion. She hadn’t planned this. Didn’t think she’d just let someone access her personal silence. She was about to say something — maybe apologize or joke it off — but Dmitry beat her to it.
— I don’t expect or demand anything, — he said calmly. — I just feel good next to you.
And in that “just” was everything. For the first time, Angelina didn’t feel pressure. Didn’t have to justify, conform, guess. She smiled. Doubts disappeared as suddenly as they had come.
Six months passed. Life flowed steadily and calmly, but with each day, it gained more color. Dmitry didn’t interfere with Angelina’s work, didn’t demand attention, didn’t pry — he was simply always there. Calm, friendly, restrained. And that turned out to be the safe space she lacked all her life.
They registered their marriage at a simple registry office. No guests, no dresses, no photographer. At work, people found out only when Angelina brought a copy of the certificate to HR.
— That’s a twist! — laughed one colleague.
But no one gossiped or judged. On the contrary, everyone treated it with respect — even warmth. And at that moment Angelina realized: she didn’t need loud declarations, raucous toasts, or approval.
Relatives still didn’t communicate with her. Angelina, as before, sent money to her mother once a month — silently. No calls, no messages. No “thank you,” no “how are you.” And she didn’t care. Probably Mom was angry — about Rita, the apartment, the refusal to play someone else’s role. But Angelina stopped feeling guilty.
Dmitry cautiously brought up the topic of children several times. He didn’t insist, just said:
— If someday… you decide — I’ll be happy. But if not, I’m already happy. With you.
Angelina didn’t answer. She was anxious, but not as strongly as before. With Dmitry, fears lost shape and weight. And maybe someday she’d wake up and say “yes.” Or maybe not — and that would be right too.
Because now she knew for sure: family isn’t about sacrifice or debts. It’s about freedom to be yourself. And about a person next to whom it’s not scary to wake up every day. Even on a rainy morning. Even with a sad past behind.
Angelina felt loved for the first time in her life.