“Katya, maybe it’s time for you to start your maternity leave,” Galina Petrovna said gently. “Just look at yourself—you’re pale, your hands are shaking. And judging by the dates, it’s already long overdue.”
Katerina automatically lowered her eyes to her fingers, which really were trembling slightly around a mug of tea that had gone cold long ago.
The seventh month had been especially hard. The nausea still had not gone away, her legs swelled badly by evening, and at work she had to stay on her feet almost all day.
“And what about money? What about my paycheck?” she said, shaking her head. “Maternity payments are tiny, Galina Petrovna. Roma won’t be able to carry everything alone. I’ll work a little longer, at least another month…”
Her mother-in-law waved a hand dismissively.
“You’re carrying his child. Let Roman figure out how to support you both. He’s a man, isn’t he?”
Katerina had no strength left to argue. A week later, she gave in. She filed the paperwork, emptied out her locker, and walked out through the factory gates with a strange feeling of emptiness.
The first few days felt unreal. She no longer had to wake up at six in the morning, run for the bus, and spend hours standing at the conveyor belt. But little by little, she began to recover.
She started sleeping properly, taking walks in the park, and cooking real meals instead of grabbing quick bites on the run.
Color returned to her cheeks, the nausea eased, and at her next appointment even the doctor was surprised—her test results were back to normal.
Her son was born in early March—strong, loud, weighing three point seven kilos. Katerina lay in the hospital room and could hardly believe that this tiny little person was her child, her Misha.
The first year passed in a blur: sleepless nights, feedings every three hours, endless laundry, endless rocking.
Later, she could barely remember the last time she had slept through the night or eaten in peace. Her entire world narrowed to one thing only—her son.
His crying, his sleep, his first smile, his first tooth. The childcare payments came in, but disappeared instantly—diapers, formula, medicine for colic.
Roman worked, brought home money, and Katerina was sincerely grateful to him. There was nothing hidden in that gratitude. Her husband was providing for the family—that was how it was supposed to be.
When Misha turned three, she went back to work. A new shift, a new coworker, but her hands quickly remembered the familiar routine.
Her first paycheck after such a long break filled her with real joy. It was not much, but it was hers.
She bought boots for her son, the lipstick she had dreamed about since before maternity leave for herself, and cooked Roman’s favorite borscht.
That evening, the three of them sat at the table. Misha poked lazily at his food while Roman ate in silence. It was an ordinary evening.
Then Roman pushed his plate aside.
“Katya, when are you planning to pay back your debt?”
Katerina froze.
“What debt?”
He took out his phone and turned the screen toward her.
“Look. I wrote everything down.”
On the screen was a spreadsheet: dates, amounts, notes. Groceries, utilities, diapers, medicine, clothes, the stroller, the car seat. Three years of life turned into numbers.
“Nine hundred and forty thousand. Almost a million,” he said calmly. “I was the only one carrying this family the whole time.”
Katerina stared at him and did not recognize him. He looked like the same man—but inside, he was someone else entirely.
“Roma, I was on maternity leave… I was raising our son!”
“And that’s fine,” he said with a nod. “But in a family, things should be equal. You didn’t work for three years, I worked for both of us. Now it’s your turn to make up the difference.”
Misha started asking to go watch cartoons. Katerina wiped his mouth automatically and let him go.
“I’ve been wanting to replace my car for a while now,” Roman continued. “So when should I expect the money?”
“Just give me a little time…” she said quietly. “I’ll pay it back.”
He looked satisfied and went on talking about work.
But inside her, everything had changed. The gratitude was gone. In its place was something cold and hard—contempt. Contempt for a man who had counted every coin spent on his own child.
A month later, he brought it up again.
“So, Katya, what about the money?”
“Soon…”
She waited until the day he left for work, and then she started packing.
First Misha’s things. Then her own.
Two bags and a few plastic sacks—that was all their life had come down to.
The rented apartment greeted them with emptiness.
Misha ran around the room, delighted by the echo. Katerina sat down on the floor and finally let herself cry.
An hour later, the phone rang.
“Where are you?!” Roman shouted. “I’m home and the place is empty! Where are you?!”
“I’ve filed for divorce, Roma.”
He laughed.
“Have you lost your mind?”
“You’re the one who said I owe you money. Then go collect it in court. And I’ll file for child support.”
“You’re so selfish!” he shouted. “I supported you!”
Katerina ended the call.
The phone kept vibrating, but she set it aside and went to her son.
At that moment, only one thing mattered—his peace.
The divorce lasted three months.
Roman came to court with a printed copy of his spreadsheet.
“You are asking the court to reimburse you for expenses spent on your former wife and child?” the judge asked.
“On the family,” he corrected.
“She was on childcare leave. There are no legal grounds for this claim. Denied.”
Child support was granted immediately.
Roman walked out without even looking at her.
On the courthouse stairs, Galina Petrovna caught up with her.
“Katya… forgive me. I’m ashamed of my son.”
Katerina said nothing.
“May I still see Misha? Please…”
Katerina was silent for a moment, then nodded.
“Of course. I divorced Roma, not you.”
She stepped outside.
A new life was beginning.