Mom, shall we video call Dad? Let’s поздравulate him!” the older daughter suggested, looking at Yulia.
“Yeah, Mommy! Me and sis will recite a poem… And Daddy will bring us presents from his business trip,” the younger one clapped her hands. The kids adored their father and were very upset that Daddy had left urgently—and not just for the weekend, but on his birthday!
“Yes, my dears. I’ll call Dad a bit later and we’ll поздравulate him together. Right now he’s busy, working…”
Yulia had already called her husband more than once. But for some reason he wasn’t picking up. And then… the phone came alive. Boris was calling on video—something he almost never did.
“Kids, Dad’s calling himself! Guess he heard we wanted to поздравulate him…”
The older daughter grabbed the phone before her mother could and, tapping “accept,” saw something unbelievable—then quickly handed the phone to Mom…
Three days earlier
Yulia had planned exactly how she would celebrate her husband’s birthday.
Every year, she arranged a small surprise. She knew he loved meeting up with friends—staying up till morning, wine flowing freely, and for dessert, instead of a cream cake, a pie with fresh strawberries.
This time, too, Yulia didn’t want to break the tradition: she booked a table at a new restaurant and invited their closest friends. She also arranged for her mom to take the kids so the celebration could continue late into the night.
Over seven years, the initial passion had dulled a little, and Yulia understood it was time to throw some firewood on the love flame. So the “cake” was meant to be presented after the official part—just the two of them, without prying eyes—along with a thrilling dance Yulia had been practicing for a whole month, so her husband would definitely be impressed.
Everything was going to plan… but three days before the birthday, Boris came home gloomier than a storm cloud.
“Did something happen?” his wife worried.
“Yeah…” He sat down beside her, gathering his thoughts. “I know you always prepare for my birthday, but this time we’ll have to move it. If you were planning anything, that is…”
Yulia’s eyes flew wide.
“Yes, of course! I planned it! I’ve already prepared everything!” she blurted, flustered.
“Sorry. I can’t be home that day. The bosses are tearing their hair out—we have to fly to Kazan urgently. A new site, unplanned, but really profitable. Without me, the whole thing will fall apart. I’m the most experienced in the department. You understand… I tried to find a replacement, but it’s vacation season, and on such short notice… it’s just impossible. I don’t know what to do. Unless you all come with me.”
“Where would we go?” Yulia said quietly. “The little one just got better, and we’re going to drag her around on trains? No… out of the question. And Mom still hasn’t recovered after Dad’s death. I’m afraid to leave her alone with the kids for long. You never know.”
“Yes, I know all that.”
He sighed. You could tell it was hard for him to say.
“I negotiated with my boss to make the trip as short as possible—just three days. I’ll come back and we’ll celebrate. I promise. No guests—just our little family, the closest ones.”
“Of course. We’ll celebrate later. I’ll call the restaurant and cancel the reservation. Yeah…” Yulia was disappointed. She’d already paid a non-refundable deposit. And it was awkward in front of their friends, too… but you can’t celebrate without the birthday man, can you?
“Thank you…” He hugged Yulia, and for a while they just stood in silence. “And, Yulyok—if you can, take Mom and file the paperwork for the car. You have the power of attorney in my name. It’s about to expire, and I’m always too busy. And your mother… she’s not the most reliable woman after all that…”
Yulia nodded. Six months earlier, her father had died. Her mom took it hard—she even ended up in the hospital with heart problems. And recently she’d finally entered the inheritance: an apartment, a dacha… and also an expensive foreign car, a brand-new SUV her father never even got to drive. No one in the family had a license except Boris, so the question arose: what to do with the inheritance.
Sell it—and you’d have to pay a huge sales tax. Keep it—the upkeep and property taxes were too expensive for her mother-in-law, and the family’s breadwinner was gone. So Boris offered his solution:
“Transfer your dad’s car to me. I’ll drive it, take the family around. And I’ll sell my old car, and the money from the sale—plus my savings for a new car—I’ll give to your mom. It’ll come out to a good sum.”
Her mother didn’t want to take money from her son-in-law, but then she thought it over and decided she wouldn’t take the whole amount—just part. The rest would be a birthday gift. But as the saying goes: first the chairs… then the money.
They were going to go to the registration office right after the celebration, on Monday.
Yulia canceled the booking and apologized to the guests. That Saturday became an ordinary day. The kids stayed home, playing and tugging at Mom, begging her to call Dad. Dad, who was working his fingers to the bone.
Still, the habit of congratulating him wouldn’t let go. Yulia kept calling Boris again and again.
“The subscriber is not answering.” Busy. Working. All right then.
Meanwhile, in the glorious city of Kazan, Boris, thinking everything had worked out perfectly, was humming some tune as he soaped up in the shower. He sang off-key, but happily, from the heart. His phone was left in the bedroom, and he didn’t hear how his wife was calling over and over to поздравulate him on his birthday. Boris was glad he’d managed to shake off his wife and kids.
Mila—his girlfriend—walked past and heard the ringing. She frowned. Something about the insistent call from “Sister” on Boris’s screen didn’t sit right.
“Borya?” she called, cracking open the bathroom door. “Your ‘Sister’ is calling. Probably to поздравulate you.”
“Forget it,” he answered over the sound of water. “I’ll call back later. I’m not going to chat with relatives in the shower. Better come here and scrub my back.”
“Yes, my love, right now…” Mila smiled and, closing the door, tapped the screen—calling back on video.
Only it wasn’t “Sister” who answered.
A little girl, about six, appeared on the screen…
“Mommy… why is there a strange lady on the screen?..” the little girl asked in amazement. She looked very much like Boris.
“Probably his niece,” Mila smiled and waved cheerfully.
“Hi! What’s your name?”
But the girl had already handed the phone to her mother.
Now Mila saw a woman on the screen. Ordinary-looking: light-brown hair pinned back with a clip. Mila noticed a crease on her forehead—tense, wary… Mila needed to lighten the mood; she didn’t know the “family” of her beloved man.
“Hello!” Mila said, breaking the pause. “I’ve wanted to meet you for a long time!”
“Excuse me… who are you?” Yulia clarified.
“I’m Mila. Boris’s girlfriend. Well… your brother’s.” She smiled brightly. “He’s in the shower right now, getting ready for the evening. You probably know it’s his birthday today and we’re going to a restaurant. Too bad you can’t be there… And I just thought—maybe we can congratulate him together? It’s a special day, after all! Right here, by video… He’ll be pleased, I’m sure.”
Yulia took in the torrent of information without blinking. Only the crease on her forehead deepened.
“Mila… Boris’s girlfriend?” she repeated quietly.
“Yes. We’ve been together almost a year… I wanted so much to meet you, but for some reason Borya just can’t arrange it. I’m ready to fly to Moscow, or you come visit us in Kazan! Our city is very beautiful… I’ll show you everything. You know, I’m so glad you called. Otherwise we might have gone on for ages not knowing about each other. Borya is so secretive, but he’s very good. And I think soon we’ll finally move to the next stage.”
Yulia stretched her lips into a smile. Everything was clear—clear as day.
She didn’t show that she wasn’t Boris’s sister at all—she was his wife. The kids, thankfully, stayed silent.
“All right,” Yulia said. “Let’s surprise him. I’m glad we found out about each other too. Just don’t hang up. I’ll put on a party hat and grab the cake, we’ll blow out candles with the kids, sing ‘Happy Birthday’ together, okay?”
“Yes!” Mila beamed like a star. In that moment she looked happier than the birthday man himself.
“Borya! Are you coming out?” she called. “We’ll need to leave soon.”
“Yeah…” Boris’s voice came from behind the door. “Couldn’t wait for you, my sunshine, my love. We’ll have to save something sweet for the night…”
When Boris came out of the bathroom—smug, wrapped in a towel—Mila was sitting on the bed with the phone in her hand. Her smile was so joyful, as if she’d won the lottery.
“Who are you talking to?” Borya tensed.
“I’m on with your sister. She’s so… sweet. And the kids…” Mila gushed. “They agreed to поздравulate you. Live.”
Mila turned the phone toward him, and the screen lit up.
“Surprise!” Mila and Yulia shouted together, and Boris froze.
Yulia sat in front of the camera wearing a party hat. Next to her were two girls, also in little party hats.
“Daddy! Happy birthday!” Boris’s daughters yelled over each other—and he… he didn’t know where to put himself. He wanted the ground to swallow him whole.
In Yulia’s hands was their marriage certificate.
“Girls, now confetti for Daddy!”
“My beloved husband,” she said calmly. “Happy birthday.”
She lifted the document carefully—then tore it into tiny pieces under Mila’s stunned stare. Mila didn’t understand what was happening.
“We won’t be giving you the car,” Yulia continued. “It stays with my mom. But yours will have to be sold—same with that little apartment… everything acquired in the marriage.”
She paused.
“I hope Mila has her own place. Because from now on, you live with her. And I’ll be filing for child support… Children are sacred.”
Her face vanished. The screen went black. And there was silence—so deep you could almost hear Boris’s heart pounding.
“So you’re married,” Mila finally put it together. “And the name in your phone… so I wouldn’t guess. Clever…”
Boris didn’t answer.
“But that’s not even the main thing…” Mila whispered, disbelief and disappointment flickering in her eyes. “You have children. Two lovely little girls. What else do you even need? Your wife is gorgeous. Your daughters call you ‘Daddy’…”
“Mila, listen, it’s not like that. I just didn’t want—”
“…to be honest?”
She stood up and started packing. The weekend had gone off the rails for everyone, and she no longer wanted to stay under the same roof with Boris.
“Mil! Don’t go… At least you be smarter!”
“You told me you had nobody! That you were alone, all alone! That it was so bitter and lonely to spend your birthday by yourself, because all your friends already have families!”
Boris tried to speak, but Mila wasn’t listening. She understood everything—and chose to leave.
Now his birthday really had no one to celebrate with.
Yulia didn’t know what to say to the girls. She wasn’t ready for a serious conversation, so she simply turned to her mother. The older woman understood without a word.
“Yes, sweetheart… I’ll keep the granddaughters busy, and you go. Get out, clear your head…”
Yulia put on that very new dress, called Boris’s friends, and invited them to celebrate the birthday of her new life. Some refused, but many came.
That evening, Yulia had fun the way she hadn’t since she was eighteen. At the end of the night, she happily ate the very strawberry pie that had been meant for Borya. Her friends supported her, unanimously condemned Boris, and drew their own conclusions.
On Monday, instead of going to the registration office, Yulia went to a lawyer and filed for divorce. Boris was left with nothing—plus child support for two kids.
Was it worth it? Unlikely. But nothing could be undone now