“Well, Yulia… here’s the situation. Mom is asking us to come over again,” her husband said during dinner.
“Of course, we can go,” his loving wife replied at once. “No problem. What does she need us to bring?”
“No, that’s not what I mean,” Alik said with an annoyed grimace. “She wants you to come help take care of Sergey Borisovich.”
“But isn’t she already the one looking after him? Besides, he’s never exactly liked me, in case you haven’t noticed. And your mother has never seemed too pleased with me either.”
“Whether they like you or not doesn’t matter anymore. Mom needs help. She says she can’t handle it by herself.”
“I don’t see why this has to be my problem. He’s your stepfather, not mine. He’s the one who raised you.”
“But you know I’m at work all day, and you work remotely. Besides, women are better at this kind of thing. Have you ever seen a male caregiver?”
“Of course not. Men were never trained to deal with chamber pots.”
And as for chamber pots, Yulia had absolutely no desire to be emptying one for her husband’s stepfather — a man who had always treated her horribly.
“Why are you starting this again?” Alik snapped. “The man is seriously ill. My mother is old. Can’t you help just this once? They are your family too, after all.”
“My family?” Yulia shot back. “That ‘family’ nearly destroyed my nerves when we lived with them. Not a single day passed without some kind of scandal.”
And she was right.
Her in-laws had treated Yulia terribly from the very beginning, making it painfully clear that she was not one of them. Their son had married against their wishes, and they never forgave him for it.
But, as often happens, instead of directing their anger at their beloved son, they took it all out on the innocent outsider — the girl from a small town who, in their minds, had come to the city to snatch herself a rich husband.
And in his mother’s and stepfather’s eyes, little Albert was exactly that: a handsome, successful macho man with a high-paying position — though that image was, frankly, debatable. But every hedgehog thinks her baby is the smoothest.
Naturally, such a perfect groom was supposed to bring home a glamorous city bride with her own apartment and solid savings, not some provincial girl who probably didn’t even know how to turn on a dishwasher. Where on earth had he found her?
At the time, Yulia still hadn’t found a full-time job after graduating from university. She only landed a good position a couple of months after the wedding. Until then, she had been working part-time as a waitress in the café where the two of them met.
How could an educated, refined young man marry a cafeteria server? Unthinkable.
And yet Albert had unexpectedly fallen in love. He liked that she was quiet, pretty, and natural — so different from the women around him with overfilled lips, giant nails, and fake eyelashes.
And the fact that she came from the provinces only seemed like another advantage. She’d be grateful to him forever. Better still, her parents weren’t rich, which meant they would know their place and wouldn’t interfere with advice. His own parents were already more than enough.
So after six months of dating, selfish Albert proposed. And she said yes, even though her mother and father had tried to dissuade her after meeting her future husband. For some reason, they had immediately taken a dislike to the polished, charming Alik.
“But why, Mom?” Yulia had asked sincerely, unable to understand. Every girl at the café envied her. “What’s wrong with him?”
“I don’t know, sweetheart,” her mother had answered sadly. “But does he really love you?”
“Of course he does!” Yulia protested.
“Then why didn’t he want us to meet his parents?”
There it was — the first bitter note in the melody.
The groom’s parents had refused to meet “country people,” especially poor ones. There was nothing to gain from them, so let them stay in their little nowhere town and keep quiet.
They even refused to take any money from Yulia’s family for the wedding, making their position unmistakably clear: fine, the bride’s parents could come, but the rest of the provincial relatives had better remain where they belonged so they wouldn’t embarrass anyone.
And all of this was said right in front of Yulia. Even before the wedding, she and Albert had already been living in his parents’ large, warm house. Why bother hiding anything from some awkward village girl?
What hurt most was that her fiancé never once stood up for her, even though he could see perfectly well how deeply those remarks wounded her. That was when Yulia first began to wonder whether she had rushed into marriage.
But Albert could be so tender, so sweet, so attentive — especially in the evenings — that all her doubts dissolved beneath kisses and soft words, the kind that often serve as a prelude to everything else.
At the wedding, her mother and father sat quietly in a corner the whole time. That hurt Yulia deeply. Her parents were intelligent, dignified people, both schoolteachers in their hometown, and there was absolutely nothing shameful about them.
Soon after the wedding, Yulia — who had graduated with honors — was offered an excellent job that she could do remotely.
Her husband was against it. He wanted her at home: cooking, creating comfort, maintaining the household, being his dependable support system. But for the first time, Yulia resisted. She had no intention of letting her skills go to waste. Besides, she wanted financial independence from Alik. Life could turn in ways no one expected.
So she took the job as an expert analyst at a respectable company, where she quickly earned recognition. And that turned out to be a blow to her husband’s ego. The “country wife” was suddenly earning more than he did. He was supposed to be the generous benefactor, the man who had taken in a poor girl and given her a better life.
But in his parents’ eyes, she remained what she had once been: a waitress. And everyone knew, according to them, what kind of women did that sort of work. Loose girls, of course — the kind men tucked money into aprons for and smacked below the waist. Hadn’t they seen enough movies?
And what kind of job was this, anyway — sitting at a computer all day? She was probably just playing solitaire. Surely she wasn’t capable of anything else.
Their contempt seeped into everything: their tone, their behavior, their glances, their words — sometimes open, sometimes disguised as hints.
And while in many families the mother-in-law is the main source of hostility and the father-in-law stays neutral or at least tolerable, here it was the opposite. Sergey Borisovich was the one who pecked away at Yulia every single day.
Her husband’s stepfather seemed to have found his ideal target. He’d always had a nasty character. Albert had once told his wife that Sergey Borisovich had spent years trying to turn him into a “real man.”
Now he poured that same energy into trying to mold quiet Yulia into a “proper daughter-in-law,” because, in his own mind, he was a brilliant educator and disciplinarian. And unlike Albert, who could now tell him to get lost, Yulia couldn’t. Where was she supposed to go?
He would burst into their room without knocking — everything here belonged to him, after all — and begin making demands or airing complaints even while she was in the middle of a Skype meeting.
“You can finish your meeting later. Show me where I’m supposed to click to log into the bank online. What do you mean, not now? Your husband’s father comes to you and you can’t even show him respect? No wonder Alik ought to beat some sense into you. I’ll talk to him tonight.”
His shouting carried right through her microphone, and Yulia burned with humiliation. She would disconnect, then spend hours trying to catch up.
And the criticism came nonstop, like machine-gun fire.
“What kind of disgusting weeds have you cooked this time?” Zoya Petrovna asked one day.
“Alik wanted sorrel soup.”
“And why isn’t there egg in it?” her mother-in-law demanded. She always cracked a raw egg directly into the soup while it was boiling.
“Alik said he doesn’t like it that way.”
“What nonsense are you talking? How could I not know what my own son likes?”
“He said he never really liked your sorrel soup,” Yulia muttered timidly. “He just didn’t want to upset you. He asked me to add the egg directly into his bowl.”
That was a direct hit.
How dare her precious son contradict his beloved mother? How dare he suggest she didn’t even know how to make his favorite soup correctly?
Needless to say, no work got done that day. Yulia, trying not to let anyone hear the tears in her voice, called in and asked for time off.
“Why didn’t you soak the towels first?”
“Who irons shirts like that?”
“When are you finally going to dust properly? And wipe the cups better too. What exactly did they teach you in that village of yours?”
Eventually, Yulia had had enough. She decided to move into a rented apartment.
Her husband objected. But that changed nothing, to his frustration. Yulia had made up her mind.
“But why?” Alik asked in genuine disbelief. “Renting a place is expensive.”
“It’s peaceful,” his usually compliant wife said firmly. Then she added, “You can stay if you want. But I’m leaving.”
Albert froze. After a moment, he realized she wasn’t bluffing and reluctantly started packing too.
His stepfather, a toxic man and what people commonly call an energy vampire — which, in his case, was basically the same thing — started shouting.
He sensed that his daily source of fresh homemade food was slipping away, and with it, the emotional energy he fed on. That, in his mind, could not be allowed.
Then, in the middle of his rage, something in his head gave way. Sergey Borisovich collapsed to the floor unconscious. When the ambulance arrived, they diagnosed a cerebral circulation disorder. Later it turned out to be a hemorrhagic stroke.
Her father-in-law was taken away, and Alik went with him. Yulia packed her things and left for the rented apartment, even though her mother-in-law — suddenly meek and affectionate — begged her to stay, calling her “dear daughter.” For some reason, she had become very frightened.
Apparently, Zoya Petrovna realized that peaceful life was over. Her husband had lost the use of his legs.
Better if he had lost his mind instead, Yulia thought darkly when she heard the news. That would have been easier on everyone.
But his mind remained intact. And his personality grew even worse. Now everything was magnified by illness, and even his wife found him nearly unbearable.
Once he came home from the hospital, it was obvious he would need proper care. A professional caregiver was clearly necessary — his wife could not handle it alone.
But no caregiver lasted more than a couple of days. Things may look amusing in movies, but in real life it was anything but funny.
So Zoya Petrovna asked for help.
Naturally, from her son and daughter-in-law. Who else was she supposed to turn to but family? And besides, Yulia, dear, you’re one of us too now. Remember how well we all lived together?
Yulia, the young analyst with an excellent memory, would have loved to forget how “well” they had all lived together. But she couldn’t.
So when her husband suggested moving back, she told him she wasn’t ready.
“Well? Have you packed?” Albert asked a couple of days later.
“No.”
“Is it really that hard to get ready? You barely have any things.”
“It’s not about the things. I just don’t want to go back to your parents’. And don’t look at me like that. I don’t want to go.”
“And how exactly am I supposed to look at you? If I refused to help your parents, how would you feel about me?”
“You already refused,” Yulia reminded him. “When my parents asked for money, you wouldn’t send them anything. I had to take out a loan myself. And I’m not even going to mention the wedding.”
“That’s different,” Alik grimaced. He hated being reminded of the less flattering parts of his life.
“Is it? Back then I tried to understand you and didn’t hold it against you. So why are you being so stubborn now? Just pay for a caregiver. Why is that impossible? Why do we need to drag ourselves over there? It’s obvious you don’t want this either.”
Alik winced again. She was right. He absolutely did not want to move back in with his mother. Having a seriously ill person in the house was exhausting enough, and when that person also had a vile personality, it became pure torment. And unlike before, he couldn’t simply tell him off.
But admitting that his wife was right again was unthinkable. So instead he said:
“My stepfather doesn’t want a stranger in the house.”
“Don’t you think Sergey Borisovich is asking for a little too much from a bedridden, seriously ill man? People who demand too much usually end up getting very little.”
“So let me get this straight,” Alik said coldly. “You’re refusing to move?”
“What’s unclear about it? Yes, I am refusing.”
Albert fell silent for a moment. His wife’s behavior was way outside the bounds of what he considered acceptable and, in his mind, required immediate correction.
“Then we’re getting divorced,” he said sharply.
He expected his Yulia to throw herself into his arms, beg him not to destroy their heavenly love, and plead with him not to take such a rash step.
Instead, she only gave him a crooked little smile and walked out of the kitchen.
A second later he shouted after her:
“I’m giving you twenty-four hours to think it over!”
“Well?” he asked the next evening over dinner. “Have you thought about it?”
“I have.”
“Then I’m going to call my mother. What should I tell her? When can she expect us?”
Albert simply could not imagine any other outcome. Surely Yulia would agree. She loved him so much.
“Me? Never,” she said calmly. “As for you, decide for yourself when it’s convenient.”
“What do you mean, never? Are you saying—”
“Yes,” she cut in. “I’m saying that tomorrow I’m moving out and filing for divorce. And you’re free to do whatever pleases you.”
“What are you even talking about?” Alik snapped, suddenly angry. Divorce had never actually been part of his plan. Neither had emptying his stepfather’s chamber pot himself, which now looked increasingly likely. “Tell me you’re joking. We love each other!”
“That’s only what you think,” Yulia replied. “We were both in love with the same person — I loved you, and you loved yourself. So now you can go on doing what you’ve always done: loving yourself. Only you’ll be doing it from a different address, with your beloved mother.”
“And this time, you’ll be doing it alone. I won’t be there to keep you company, because my love is gone.”
“So I’m removing myself from the picture. I was only getting in your way anyway. And I doubt your parents would want their hated daughter-in-law around.”
The always quiet Yulia said all of this in an even voice.
Albert could barely process what he was hearing. She was leaving him? Him — a strong, attractive man in his prime? Men like him didn’t get left.
After all, he had “rescued” her from her village life. He had given her comfort, security, a better existence.
And besides, living with such a pretty, tidy wife had been very convenient. Everything in the house was always in order, and she somehow had time for everything. And the way she made sorrel soup — unforgettable.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” a shaken Albert said, trying desperately to force reality back into the shape he preferred. “They’re waiting for you.”
“They’re not waiting for me,” Yulia said tiredly. “They’re waiting for a free caregiver.”
“Do you understand what could happen now? I might actually agree to this divorce. Think very carefully about what you’re doing.”
“I already have,” she answered. “That’s all I’ve been doing lately. And even if you don’t agree, we’ll still be divorced eventually.”
“So this is your final decision?”
“Yes,” she said. “And it’s not going to change.”
Then she walked out of the room.
Half an hour later, she walked out of the apartment too, carrying only a small backpack. Yulia had always been a minimalist, and the rental apartment she was moving into had already been paid for.
Albert was left behind like a man staring at a broken life.
Then his phone rang. It was his mother.
“Son, when are you coming?” she asked tearfully. “I didn’t sleep all night. He completely wore me down.”
“Ask Yulia to pick up some sedatives from the pharmacy tomorrow — the kind they sell without a prescription.”
Then she added:
“And have her bring them right away. She’s free now anyway, isn’t she? She can help me too. I need to go get my hair cut. Sergey’s diapers have to be changed all the time — you know his problems.”
Well… this looks grim, Albert thought. Smart Yulia had escaped just in time. How was he supposed to manage without her now?
“Mom, why don’t you just tie your hair back for now? It makes you look younger,” he said weakly, trying to postpone the inevitable trip. “And I think I saw something calming in your bathroom cabinet.”
“Where’s Yulia?” Zoya Petrovna asked sharply.
“We’re getting divorced,” he said. “That’s what you always wanted. Well, your wish has come true. Happy now?”
There was a short silence on the other end.
Then came the scream.
“Have you lost your mind? Of all times, now you choose divorce? Couldn’t you wait? Do you expect me to break my back here lifting and cleaning everything by myself? I thought Yulia would help me! And instead, you’re getting divorced? So that’s how you care about your mother!”
Then she hung up.
There was no point continuing the conversation. Her son clearly had no time to take care of his stepfather. And judging by everything, he had driven away the one person who might have helped. What luck she had with a son — always thinking only of himself.
Meanwhile, Yulia walked through the evening city and, for the first time in a very long while, felt peace inside.
There were no thoughts, no emotions, no feelings left. Everything had burned out to the bottom.
What was it she needed to do?
Oh yes.
Yulia swung her arm and threw something into the trash bin nearby.
“Miss, you dropped your keys!” someone called behind her.
“I didn’t drop them,” she replied. “I threw them away.”
“But why?”
“Because they belong to my old life. I locked that life behind me and threw away the key. I’m not going back there, so I won’t need them anymore.”
And that was the truth.
The past should stay in the past.
As for winter clothes, she could buy new ones — she had just been promoted.
So Yulia adjusted the slipping strap of her backpack and stepped forward into her future, certain that it would finally be bright.