Anna wiped the beads of water from the kitchen table and checked the time. Half past eight. Dmitry was still asleep. She let out a heavy breath as she poured herself coffee.
Three months… No — exactly five months had passed since he’d been laid off. Back then he’d sworn he’d find a new job in two weeks, three at most.
“I’ve got experience, qualifications, references,” he’d said, tapping his finger on the table with calm certainty.
But weeks had turned into months, and Dima was still at home.
Anna finished her coffee and started packing her bag. Another twelve-hour shift at the clinic was waiting for her. Work had only increased — this time of year people got sick more often, booked appointments, and she kept taking extra shifts. And they needed money badly. Utilities, groceries, the car loan — the same car Dima now mostly used, driving around the city in search of a “decent” job.
“Dima, I’m leaving!” she called toward the bedroom.
Silence.
She closed the door softly, almost without a sound, as if she was afraid of waking what slept inside her — irritation, exhaustion, disappointment.
That evening Anna came home worn out. Her legs hummed with pain, her back ached. She kicked off her shoes in the hallway and heard the television from the living room. Dmitry was on the couch, staring at the screen where some wildlife program was on.
“Hi,” she said wearily.
“Hi,” he answered without looking away.
Anna went into the kitchen, opened the fridge.
Empty.
She shut it and turned toward her husband.
“Dima, couldn’t you go to the store?”
“Oh. I forgot. Sorry. I had an interview today.”
Anna immediately became alert. It was the first real news in two weeks.
“How did it go?”
“Pointless,” he waved his hand. “They’re offering peanuts. I’m not working for that kind of money. It’s humiliating.”
She lowered herself slowly into a chair.
“Humiliating? Dima, do you understand we’re living on my paycheck alone? I don’t even have time to eat properly between shifts.”
“I can’t take the first thing that comes along,” he said calmly, like he was explaining something obvious. “I have experience. I’m not working for pennies.”
Anna bit her lip. She wanted to scream, but she didn’t even have the strength for that.
“Then at least help around the house,” she asked quietly. “Go to the store, cook dinner, clean up. Anything.”
“I’m not a housewife, Anya,” he muttered. “I’m looking for work. That’s work too, by the way.”
She got up and went to the bathroom without another word. Standing under the hot water, she finally let herself break — and cried.
The next week Dmitry went to another interview. The job was on the other side of the city, and the commute would take an hour with a transfer.
“No, that won’t work,” he said over dinner. “Two hours a day on the road. I can’t live like that.”
Anna finished her soup in silence. She’d stopped arguing. There was no point.
And then Lyudmila Petrovna called.
Her mother-in-law always called at the worst time, as if she could sense when Anna was most vulnerable. This time she rang on a Saturday morning, when Anna could finally sleep in.
“Dimmy,” Lyudmila Petrovna’s voice rang with outrage through the phone, “you haven’t sent me money for two months! Have you forgotten your mother?”
Anna was lying right beside him and heard every word.
“Mom, things are complicated right now,” Dmitry started. “I’m not working at the moment.”
“Not working?!” hysteria crept into Lyudmila Petrovna’s tone. “And what about me? I’m a pensioner! I need money for medicine, for food! You’re my son — you’re supposed to help!”
“Mom, I understand, but—”
“No ‘buts’! I raised you alone, denied myself everything! And now you’re abandoning me! Ungrateful!”
Dmitry shot Anna a guilty look. She turned toward the wall.
“Mom, I’ll figure something out, I promise. Just give me time.”
“I don’t have time! I need the money now!”
The conversation dragged on for another ten minutes. Dmitry made excuses; his mother accused him. When he finally hung up, the room felt heavy and airless.
“I didn’t tell her I was unemployed,” he said quietly.
“Now she knows,” Anna replied flatly.
“It really is hard for her. Her pension is small…”
“It’s hard for us too, Dima. Or do you not notice?”
He said nothing.
Lyudmila Petrovna wouldn’t stop. She called every two or three days, each time demanding, pleading, blaming. Dmitry apologized and promised, but there was no money. Anna overheard those conversations and felt something dark and angry building inside her.
One evening, when she came back from work, Dmitry met her with a guilty expression.
“Anya, I need to ask you something…”
She stopped in the doorway.
“Mom is in a very bad situation. She urgently needs ten thousand. For medicine.”
“No.”
“Anya, please…”
“Dima, no!” her voice rang out. “We don’t have money ourselves! I’m scraping by, taking extra shifts — and you want me to support your mother too?!”
“She’s my mother,” he said softly.
“And that’s your responsibility. Not mine!” Anna dropped her bag on the floor. “Find a job — any job — and help her as much as you want. But don’t put it on me!”
He turned away.
“You just don’t understand. She has no one except me.”
“And do I have anyone except myself?” Anna felt her throat tighten. “I’m carrying everything alone! I’m the one paying for the apartment, the food, everything! And you lie on the couch and talk about ‘good enough’ salaries!”
“I’m looking for work!”
“You’ve been looking for three months! Three!” She grabbed her jacket and stormed out, slamming the door.
She went down to the courtyard and sat on a bench. It was cold, but she didn’t care. She just stared into the darkness, knowing this couldn’t go on.
A week later, on Sunday, Anna was trying to sleep after a night shift when the doorbell rang. Dmitry went to answer; she stayed in bed, pulling the blanket over her head.
“Dimmy!” a familiar voice rang out.
Anna froze. Lyudmila Petrovna.
“Mom, what are you doing here?” Dmitry sounded confused.
“I came to talk! You’re not answering my calls, so I decided to come by!”
Anna groaned softly and got up. She threw on a robe and stepped into the hall. Lyudmila Petrovna stood in the entryway — tall, thin, with a cold stare full of righteous fury.
“Hello, Lyudmila Petrovna,” Anna said tiredly.
“Oh, there you are,” her mother-in-law scanned her with contempt. “Sleeping until noon while my son is trying to figure out how to feed his family.”
“I worked a night shift,” Anna said evenly. “Unlike your son, I work.”
“Watch your mouth, girl!” Lyudmila Petrovna snapped. “Dima is a man, a provider! You’re supposed to support him, not make snide comments!”
“Mom, calm down,” Dmitry tried, but his mother didn’t listen.
“A provider who hasn’t worked for five months,” Anna stepped forward. “Who refuses jobs because the salary’s too small or the commute is too far. Who lies on the couch while I work twelve-hour shifts!”
“Lies!” Lyudmila Petrovna flushed deep red. “My son simply can’t find a job worthy of him! And all these years you lived off him!”
“This is my apartment!” Anna’s voice rang. “I pay for it! And he never made that much more than I did! And now I’m the only one working!”
“You’re living just fine, I can see that! So you have money!”
“I have money,” Anna said sharply. “He doesn’t.”
Lyudmila Petrovna spun toward her son.
“Dimmy, tell her! Tell her you’re looking for work! You have to help me! I’m your mother — I gave you my whole life!”
Dmitry looked helplessly from his mother to his wife.
“Mom, I… I’ll try. I’ll figure something out…”
“See?!” his mother crowed triumphantly. “My son won’t abandon me! And you—” she jabbed a finger at Anna, “you can’t support your husband, and you can’t support a mother who needs help!”
Anna looked slowly at her husband. He stood with his head down, silent. He didn’t defend her. He didn’t stop his mother. He just stood there.
“Dima,” she called quietly.
He lifted his eyes.
“Tell her to leave.”
“Anya…”
“Tell her to leave my apartment.”
“How dare you!” Lyudmila Petrovna shrieked. “I’m his mother! I have a right—”
“You have no rights here!” Anna’s voice broke into a shout. “This is my apartment, and I’m exhausted! Exhausted from supporting a grown man who can’t get a job! Exhausted from him promising you money he doesn’t even have! Exhausted from your calls, your accusations, your lies!”
“Dima!” Lyudmila Petrovna pleaded. “Do you hear how she’s speaking to me?!”
“Mom, maybe you really should…” he started, but his mother cut him off.
“You’re taking her side?! Against your own mother?!”
“I’m not taking anyone’s side, I’m just—”
“You’re taking no one’s side,” Anna said, and there was no shouting left in her voice — only cold fatigue. “You’re just standing there in silence. Like always.”
She turned to her mother-in-law.
“Lyudmila Petrovna, maybe your son owes you something. I don’t. I’m not obligated to support you. I’m not obligated to listen to your accusations. And I’m not obligated to tolerate you in my home.”
“You don’t have the right…”
“I do.” Anna stepped to the door and flung it open. “Leave.”
“Dima!” Lyudmila Petrovna grabbed her son’s arm. “You’re going to let her talk to me like that?!”
He stayed silent, staring at the floor.
“Dima! Explain to your wife how you’re supposed to speak to elders!”
“Mom,” he forced out, “maybe you really should go now, and we’ll talk later…”
“Later?!” She recoiled. “When later? I need your help now, not later! Are you rejecting me? Are you choosing her over me?!”
“Mom, I’m not rejecting you, it’s not a choice, I’m just…”
“Then it is a choice!” her voice shook. “Ungrateful! I raised you! I gave you my whole life! I denied myself everything! And you… you’re betraying me for this—”
“Enough,” Anna said quietly.
Lyudmila Petrovna turned on her, hatred burning in her eyes.
“You! You turned my son against me!”
“I’m the one feeding your son,” Anna answered. “For three months. And you want me to feed you too.”
“He promised he’d help me!”
With what? Anna felt everything inside her boil.
“With my money?! The money I earn while breaking myself at work?!”
“You’re his wife, which means you must—”
“I don’t have to do anything! Not for you, not for him!”
Dmitry jerked as if waking up.
“Anya, that’s too much…”
“Too much?!” She spun on him. “Too much?! You’ve been sitting at home for three months! Three! Turning down jobs! Lying on the couch while I work myself to the bone! And your mother comes here demanding money you don’t have — and you stay silent! You don’t defend me, you don’t stop her — you just stand there mumbling that we’ll ‘figure something out’!”
“I’m trying…”
“You’re not trying. You’re hiding!” Her voice trembled. “Hiding from responsibility — for yourself, for your family, for your mother! And I’m tired, Dima. Tired of being alone. Tired of carrying everything. Tired of you letting her insult me in my own home!”
“I didn’t mean—”
“You never mean anything! You don’t want to work for a ‘small’ salary! You don’t want to commute! You don’t want to upset your mom! What do you want — to lie on the couch and feel sorry for yourself?!”
“Anna!” Lyudmila Petrovna snapped. “You have no right to talk to him like that!”
“Yes, you can’t talk to me like that!” Dima finally found his voice. “My mother really needs help. She needs medicine…”
Anna turned to him, and something dangerous flashed in her eyes.
“So you don’t work, and now you’ve decided to help your mother too?” she hissed, staring at Dmitry. “That’s it! Both of you — get out of my apartment!”
Silence fell. Lyudmila Petrovna stared with her mouth open. Dmitry went pale.
“Anya, you can’t…”
“Yes, I can. This is my apartment. And I don’t want to see either of you anymore. Not her. Not you.”
“But…”
“Out,” her voice became calm and icy. “Now.”
Lyudmila Petrovna grabbed her bag.
“Come on, Dimmy. She’s gotten way too bold.”
Dmitry didn’t move.
“Dim,” his mother called.
He looked at Anna. Confusion, resentment, fear all flickered in his face.
“Are you serious?”
“Completely.”
“Where am I supposed to go?”
“To your mother,” Anna nodded toward Lyudmila Petrovna. “Since you two need each other so badly.”
“Anya, let’s talk…”
“No. I’ve said everything. Leave.”
Lyudmila Petrovna tugged her son toward the door.
“Come. See what she’s like. Kicking you out like a dog. I’ll always take you in.”
Dmitry moved slowly toward the exit. At the threshold he turned back, anger in his eyes.
“You’ll regret this.”
Anna gave a thin, bitter smile.
“I already do. I regret not doing it sooner.”
The door shut. Anna leaned against it and slid down to the floor. She sat in the empty hallway, listening to their footsteps fade — and for the first time in a long time, she felt something close to relief.
A week passed. Dmitry called — she didn’t answer. He texted — she didn’t read. Lyudmila Petrovna tried to call — Anna blocked her number.
She went to work, came home, and the emptiness of the apartment no longer felt oppressive. It felt lighter. Roomier. As if, along with Dmitry and his mother, something suffocating had left as well.
One evening Anna sat in the kitchen with a cup of tea, staring out the window. Her phone buzzed. An unknown number. She almost declined, but something made her pick up.
“Hello?”
“Anna Sergeyevna?” a woman’s voice asked. “This is Marina Vladimirovna, Lyudmila Petrovna’s neighbor.”
Anna went still.
“I’m listening.”
“I got your number from Dima. I wanted to tell you… Lyudmila Petrovna was taken to the hospital. Nothing serious — her blood pressure spiked. But Dima is very worried. He asked me to pass it along and say you should call.”
Anna said nothing.
“Anna Sergeyevna?”
“I understand. Thank you.”
She ended the call and finished her cold tea. Then she stood up, washed the cup, and went to bed.
She didn’t call.
And she didn’t feel guilty. More than that — she didn’t feel anything at all.
For the first time in a long while, she slept peacefully, not bracing herself for someone to demand more than she could give. Not afraid that the morning would bring another load she’d have to drag alone.
She was alone. And she was fine.
Because sometimes being alone isn’t emptiness.
Sometimes it’s freedom.