Svetlana only put her shoes back on when she reached the elevator. She had walked barefoot across the cold tile floor to get there. So much for appearances. Her feet mattered more.
Her phone vibrated just as she reached the bus stop.
“Svetka!” Andrei barked so loudly that she had to pull the phone away from her ear. “Where the hell are you?”
“I just got off work, Andryusha.”
“I don’t care about your work! We have guests! My parents are here! The table is empty!”
Svetlana closed her eyes. He had said nothing yesterday. Nothing at all.
“When did they arrive?”
“Two hours ago! They’re waiting for dinner! My mother is already hinting that I made a bad choice getting married!”
“Andrei, maybe…”
“Maybe what?” he cut her off. “Do you not understand? Family is more important than your patients!”
The line went dead. He had hung up.
Svetlana sat on the bench and thought. The bus would arrive in twenty minutes. At home, there were people she barely knew who needed to be fed. A husband who shouted. And she was caught between them, as always.
“What can I make quickly?”
Pasta, sausages, salad from a jar. The simplest things. The fastest.
“Or maybe I just won’t go home?”
The thought came on its own. Sudden and frightening. What if she simply… didn’t go?
No, of course she would go. Where else could she go?
At home, voices greeted her from the living room. Andrei was telling some funny story, and his parents were laughing.
“Oh! Svetochka is here!” her father-in-law announced loudly. “We waited after all!”
She stepped into the room. Her mother-in-law, a plump woman in a bright headscarf, looked her over with a critical eye.
“Oh, dear, you’ve gotten so thin! I suppose they don’t feed you at work?”
“Hello,” Svetlana forced out. “Sorry I’m late.”
“Oh, it’s all right, it’s all right!” her mother-in-law waved her hand. “We understand. But now you’re home! Andryusha says you make such delicious pies!”
Svetlana looked at her husband. He was sitting in an armchair, smiling. Like an owner showing off a trained little dog.
“Sveta,” he said softly, “set the table. People are hungry.”
“Of course.”
And she went to the kitchen to cook dinner for people she had seen only three times in her life.
At nine in the evening, Svetlana placed the last dish on the table. Potatoes with meat. The kind her mother-in-law liked. Or was it her father-in-law? She could no longer remember.
“Oh, Svetochka!” her mother-in-law clapped her hands. “We were starting to think we’d be left hungry!”
“I’m sorry,” Svetlana murmured. “It took a while to cook.”
“Oh, nonsense! The result is what matters!”
Andrei poured vodka.
“Well then, to family! To our reunion!”
Svetlana sat down on the very edge of a chair. She wanted only one thing: to lie down. Just lie down and not get up until morning.
“Svetochka, could we have some bread too?” her mother-in-law asked without looking up from her plate.
Svetlana got up and went to get the bread.
“And pickles!” her father-in-law called out. “I saw some in the fridge!”
“And mustard!” Andrei added.
She walked back and forth, bringing whatever they asked for. No one said thank you. It was expected. A wife was supposed to serve.
At the table, they talked about work, children, prices. No one asked Svetlana anything. She was not a guest. She was the staff.
“Do you remember, Andryusha,” his mother laughed, “how we used to go to the dacha when you were little? Grandma baked such wonderful pies!”
“Yes, those were good times,” he agreed.
“By the way,” his mother said, looking at Svetlana, “Andrei is lucky. A wife who keeps a proper home is rare these days.”
Svetlana tried to smile. Something tightened inside her. So that was all they thought of her.
At one in the morning, the guests finally left. They took a long time saying goodbye and hugging.
“Thank you for dinner!” her mother-in-law called from the doorway. “It was delicious! Especially the coffee. Real Brazilian coffee!”
The door closed. Andrei stretched.
“That was nice. We hadn’t seen each other in so long.”
Svetlana silently began collecting the dirty dishes. Mountains of plates, glasses, bowls, and serving dishes.
“Andrei,” she said quietly, “will you help me?”
“What?” He was already getting undressed. “Oh, the dishes. You’ll manage quickly yourself. I have to get up early.”
“I have to get up early too.”
“Sveta, don’t start,” he grimaced. “I have an important job. And what’s the big deal for you? Washing a few dishes?”
She stood in the middle of the kitchen with a greasy frying pan in her hands. Tears rolled down her cheeks.
“Washing a few dishes.”
Twelve hours at the hospital. Saving other people’s lives. Then three hours of cooking. And now washing dishes until two in the morning.
“Washing a few dishes.”
In the morning, Andrei left without saying goodbye. Svetlana made her way to the hospital as if in a dream.
“Svetlana Nikolaevna, are you all right?” her colleague Marina asked. “You don’t look well.”
“I’m fine. We just had guests.”
“I see,” Marina nodded sympathetically. “I know those family gatherings.”
All day, Svetlana worked on autopilot. Injections, procedures, rounds.
“Svetlana Nikolaevna,” Doctor Petrov called to her, “are you going to the conference? They’re discussing new treatment methods tomorrow.”
“I don’t know. I have things to do at home.”
“That’s a shame. The program looks interesting. And honestly, it’s useful to get out of the routine sometimes.”
That evening, Andrei was especially talkative.
“My mother called. She thanked you for yesterday. Said you cook wonderfully.”
“Mm-hmm.”
“And she also said I was lucky to have you as my wife,” he announced proudly.
“Andrei,” Svetlana suddenly said, “there’s a conference at the medical center tomorrow. May I go?”
“What conference?”
“About new treatment methods.”
“And who will make dinner?”
“You could do it yourself just once.”
“Sveta, don’t be ridiculous. What conferences? Isn’t work enough for you? There’s plenty to do at home.”
“But it’s related to my profession!”
“What new thing could you possibly learn there?” Andrei scoffed. “How to give injections? You’ve been doing that for twenty years. Enough with these conferences.”
Svetlana fell silent. She got up and started clearing the table.
“Enough with these conferences.”
And once, she had wanted to become a doctor. She had entered medical school. But then she met Andrei, fell in love, and got married.
“Why do you need to become a doctor?” he had said back then. “Being a nurse is a good profession too. And you’ll still have time for the house.”
And she had listened.
The next day, Marina went to the conference. She came back inspired.
“Sveta, did you know the clinic next door offers yoga for medical workers? Free, in the evenings!”
“Yoga?”
“Yes! They say it helps with stress. Want to go together?”
Svetlana looked at the bright flyer. “Yoga for the Soul. Find Your Balance.”
“I don’t know.”
“Oh, come on!” Marina took her by the arm. “We’ll go once. What do we have to lose?”
And Svetlana went. Simply because she was tired of constantly explaining to someone why she could not, why it would not work, why she had no time.
There were about fifteen people in the room. Women were spreading out their mats. The instructor, a young woman with a gentle voice, asked everyone to lie down and close their eyes.
“Feel your body. Listen to your breathing.”
For the first time in many years, Svetlana truly felt her body. Her tired shoulders. Her tense neck. Her clenched jaw.
And for the first time in many years, there was silence in her head.
“Did you like it?” Marina asked after the class.
“Yes. Very much.”
“Then shall we come again on Thursday?”
“I’ll come.”
At home, she was met by a displeased Andrei.
“Where were you? I’ve been waiting for dinner for half an hour!”
“I was at yoga.”
“Yoga?” he snorted. “At your age? Sveta, have you lost your mind?”
For two weeks, she went in secret. She said she was staying late at work. And every Thursday, she felt alive.
Then came that phone call.
Svetlana was standing in tree pose, trying to keep her balance, when her phone rang.
“Don’t answer,” the instructor said. “This is your time.”
But the voicemail switched on.
“Where are you?! My parents arrived unexpectedly, and there’s no dinner! Come home immediately!” her husband roared through the phone.
Everyone turned around. Svetlana stood there, red with shame.
“You can call him back later,” the instructor suggested quietly.
Svetlana looked at the screen. Five more missed calls.
And suddenly, something inside her clicked.
“No,” she said. “I won’t.”
She turned off the phone.
“Let’s continue,” she told the instructor.
She walked home slowly, preparing for battle.
“Where were you?!” Andrei met her, furious. “My parents left without dinner! What a disgrace!”
“I was at yoga.”
“What yoga?! Why didn’t you answer the phone?”
“Yoga is my time. And I turned off the phone on purpose.”
“What?!” he shouted. “When I call, my wife is supposed to answer!”
“She is,” Svetlana nodded. “A wife. Not a slave.”
“What nonsense are you talking?”
“If guests come to see you, cook for them yourself. Or order food.”
“I don’t know how to cook!”
“I didn’t know how to give injections either. I learned. You can learn too.”
“Sveta, have you gone crazy?”
“On the contrary,” she smiled. “I’ve finally come back to myself.”
Andrei stared at his wife and did not recognize her. This calm woman looked nothing like his obedient Sveta.
“Have you stopped loving me?” he asked, suddenly confused.
“I love you,” she answered honestly. “But now I love myself too.”
A month later, Svetlana applied for vacation leave.
“Sveta,” Andrei said over breakfast, “maybe you shouldn’t? I’m swamped at work. You could stay home.”
“I’ve already bought the trip.”
“The trip? Where?”
“To a sanatorium. By the Azov Sea. For ten days.”
“Alone?”
“Alone.”
“But that’s not right! Wives don’t do that!”
“They do,” Svetlana smiled. “I checked.”
At the sanatorium, she woke up without an alarm clock for the first time in thirty years. Outside the window, the sea murmured.
Her phone lay switched off on the nightstand.
At breakfast, there was a buffet. She took a croissant with jam. The kind she never bought at home.
At the next table sat a woman her age, reading a book.
“Is it interesting?” Svetlana asked.
“Very!” the woman smiled. “It’s about a woman who decides to change her life at forty-five.”
“And does she succeed?”
“I’m still reading. But I think she will.”
After breakfast, Svetlana went to the beach. She sat in a lounge chair and closed her eyes.
“Maybe I don’t have to go back.”
The thought was frightening. And tempting.
Of course she would go back. She had work, an apartment, a life. But now she knew that she could choose not to. If she wanted.
She returned home tanned, with a new haircut.
“Well, finally!” Andrei greeted her. “I missed you!”
He hugged her. She did not push him away. But she did not press herself against him the way she used to either.
“How are things?” she asked.
“Fine. Though I lost a little weight. I mostly ate sandwiches.”
“Did you try making soup?”
“How am I supposed to make soup?”
“The same way I learned thirty years ago. From a recipe.”
She walked into the kitchen. The sink was full of dirty dishes. On the table lay takeout containers and food packaging.
“Andrei,” she said calmly, “tomorrow I’m going back to work. And the day after tomorrow, I have yoga. Every Thursday.”
“But…”
“No buts. That is my time.”
Andrei looked at her and understood that something had changed forever. This woman would no longer come running at the first whistle.
“And dinner?” he asked helplessly.
“We’ll cook together. Or take turns. Like adults.”
She poured herself some tea and looked at her husband.
“Well? Shall we learn? Or keep living on ready-made food?”
Andrei sighed.
“I suppose we’ll learn.”
“Good,” Svetlana nodded. “We’ll start with borscht. And then we’ll see.”
They would see what else might change in her new life. In the life where she had found the strength to tell herself:
“I have the right to be happy too.”
And you know what?
It turned out to be true.