Part 1. The Extra Person
The summer village floated in the heavy, breathless haze of late July. The air did not move, thick with the smell of overripe apples and dry dust. The old house, covered in darkened wooden paneling, seemed to breathe with effort, creaking through its floorboards even when no one was walking inside.
Nina came out of the bathhouse, feeling the evening breeze cool her heated skin. She loved that sensation of cleanliness, as if water could wash away not only the fatigue of the road, but also the sticky tension that always appeared whenever her mother-in-law was near. Galina Stepanovna was a large woman with a loud, commanding voice, the kind of woman who could fill an entire space with herself.
Nina threw a terry towel over her shoulders and walked toward the veranda, planning to drink some tea. She stepped quietly; her soft slippers barely made a sound on the packed earth. Before she even reached the steps, she heard her husband’s voice. Arthur was speaking quietly, almost apologetically, but his mother’s reply cut sharply through the night air.
“Let your precious wife go to her mother!” Nina overheard her mother-in-law say, and she froze behind an overgrown lilac bush.
“Mom, that’s kind of awkward,” Arthur objected weakly. “We just got here. We planned to spend the weekend here, have barbecue tomorrow… She was going to make the salad.”
“I can cut the salad myself!” Galina Stepanovna snapped. The scrape of a chair being pushed back grated on Nina’s nerves. “Do you hear me or not? Larisa will be here in an hour. You know your sister’s temper. She can’t stand seeing your wife after what happened.”
Nina remembered “what happened” very well. Two years earlier, Arthur’s sister Larisa had decided that Nina was obligated to spend her vacation babysitting Larisa’s three children while Larisa herself flew off to Turkey with her new boyfriend. Nina had firmly said no. Later, when Larisa asked to borrow a large amount of money “for an indefinite period” to buy a fur coat, Nina refused again. Since then, her sister-in-law had considered her enemy number one.
“Larisa called and said she’s coming to stay the night,” Galina Stepanovna continued pressing. “If she sees your… that one… there will be a scandal. Her blood pressure will go up! My heart will act up! Who do you feel sorrier for? Your wife, who will survive just fine, or your mother and sister?”
“Mom, don’t start…”
“I am not starting anything, I am ending it!” Galina Stepanovna declared. “Go and tell her to pack. Make up whatever you want. Say her mother is sick, say the pipes burst. I don’t care. I want her gone in half an hour! And you are staying. I need help moving firewood, and you should spend time with your sister. You haven’t seen each other properly in ages.”
Nina felt her face burn, but not from shame. It burned with cold, furious resolve. She did not storm onto the veranda, did not make a scene, did not demand explanations. She simply turned around and walked back to the bathhouse just as silently, so she could get dressed.
Ten minutes later, she was sitting on the porch, watching the sun sink toward the horizon. Arthur came out of the house. He looked shifty and guilty, though he tried to hide it behind a mask of concern.
“Nina, listen, something came up…” he began, rubbing the back of his neck. “I just got a call from work. An urgent issue. Some kind of system failure.”
She looked straight at him without blinking.
“And?”
“Well… I need to stay here. The internet connection is better, and Mom has a desktop computer in the study, a powerful one. And you… you should probably go home. Or to your mother’s place. You’ll be bored here. I’ll be busy all night.”
“So you want me to leave?” she asked in an even voice.
“Why are you putting it like that? It’ll just be more convenient for everyone. You wanted to see your mom anyway, didn’t you? So this is a good reason. Go, take a break from me. I’ll come back tomorrow evening.”
His lie was so thick it could have been cut with a knife. He did not even try to invent a convincing story. He simply repeated his mother’s order, covering it with a rotten little rag of fake concern.
“All right,” Nina said, standing up. “I understand.”
Arthur clearly had not expected such obedience. His face spread into a smile that looked more like a pathetic grimace of relief.
“That’s my clever girl. You’re so understanding. Go on, pack before it gets completely dark.”
Nina silently went into the room and swept her belongings into a bag. Galina Stepanovna watched her from the kitchen, demonstratively wiping a plate. Triumph was written all over her face. The daughter-in-law was being removed, the son was staying under his mother’s control, Larisa would be pleased. A perfect arrangement.
“Goodbye, Galina Stepanovna,” Nina said as she passed.
“Go on, dear, go. Drive carefully,” her mother-in-law sang in a syrupy voice, not even bothering to hide her smirk.
Nina got into her car, started the engine, and drove out through the gate without looking back.
Part 2. Emptiness and a Plan
The road stretched into the darkness like a ribbon, lit only by patches of headlight beams. Nina drove fast, gripping the steering wheel tightly. There were no tears inside her. The hurt that usually chokes a person and makes them feel sorry for themselves had burned out in a single second behind that lilac bush. Only crystal-clear understanding remained.
She watched the familiar landscape flash past — trees, utility poles, the occasional oncoming car — and realized there was nowhere for her to return to. Not in the sense that mattered. There was no more “us.” There was Arthur, a cowardly mama’s boy, and there was her — a woman who had just been thrown out like an unwanted cat to satisfy the whims of his family.
She did not go to her mother.
Instead, she drove to their city apartment.
When she entered the empty home, Nina did not turn on the ceiling light. She stood for several minutes in the dim hallway, listening to the silence. Then she went into the bedroom.
The wardrobe was stuffed with Arthur’s things. Shirts, sweaters, jeans — things she had chosen, washed, and ironed. Now those rags seemed foreign to her, almost contaminated.
Nina went to the kitchen and pulled a roll of large, heavy black construction bags from the bottom drawer.
“That’s it,” she said out loud. “Enough.”
She returned to the bedroom and began methodically tossing her husband’s belongings into the bags. She did not fold them neatly. She shoved them in by the handful, along with the hangers, not caring whether they wrinkled or tore. Clothes went into one bag, shoes into another, documents into a third, along with his laptop, chargers, and fishing gear that had always been cluttering the balcony.
She worked quickly, angrily, efficiently. It was not hysteria driving her, but cold rage — the kind of feeling that gives a person enough strength to move mountains. Within a couple of hours, the apartment had been cleared of all signs of Arthur’s presence. A mountain of black plastic stood in the hallway.
She looked at the clock. An hour and a half had passed since she had left the dacha. Her phone was silent. Apparently, back there, they were celebrating her exile.
Nina made herself strong coffee. She sat in the kitchen, tapping her fingers against the countertop. She needed only one thing now — for Arthur to call.
And of course he would call.
He was far too predictable.
Part 3. The Call
At the dacha, the festive mood faded quickly. Galina Stepanovna, pleased with herself, set the table and brought out her famous pickles. Arthur, feeling like a hero who had completed a difficult mission, poured tea.
“There, you see how nice it is now?” Galina Stepanovna cooed. “Larochka will arrive soon, and we’ll sit together as a family, without strangers watching us. Your wife always sits there with that face, like she’s bitten into a lemon.”
At that moment, the woman’s phone rang. She grabbed it, already smiling.
“Yes, my dear daughter! We’re waiting, waiting, the samovar is already hot… What? What do you mean, you’re not coming?”
Galina Stepanovna’s face stretched out, the corners of her mouth sinking.
“You decided to stay at your friend’s? And what about us? I cooked all this… Fine, fine. Enjoy yourself.”
She tossed the phone onto the sofa.
“She’s not coming,” she muttered. “Apparently her friend has a birthday, and she forgot.”
Arthur stopped chewing his pastry.
“So what now?”
“What do you mean, what now?” his mother snapped. “Now it’s boring! And there’s no one to wash the dishes. I’m tired, my back hurts after working in the garden. And you certainly won’t get up and stand at the sink.”
She looked at her son with irritation. Without Larisa, his presence suddenly became a burden to her. What she needed was service staff and grateful listeners. Instead, her son sat there looking sour.
“Call your wife,” Galina Stepanovna ordered.
“Why?” Arthur asked, surprised. “I just sent her aw— I mean, I just told her to go.”
“So what? Tell her the work got canceled, the problem was fixed. Let her come back. Tell her I forgave her… I mean, that I miss her. And tell her to bring a cake or something. Otherwise the evening is wasted.”
Arthur, accustomed to obeying his mother’s every whim, obediently took out his phone.
Nina saw the incoming call and smirked. The scene was unfolding exactly as expected.
“Hello?” Her voice sounded calm, almost sleepy.
“Nin, where are you?” Arthur’s voice was cheerful and falsely affectionate.
“Almost home. Why?”
“Listen, everything got sorted out faster than I thought. The system is working again. Mom feels bad that you left, says it was awkward. Maybe you could come back? We’ll sit together, grill some barbecue after all.”
“And Larisa?” Nina asked.
“Larisa… she’s not coming. She has plans. So it’s just us. Come back, baby. It’s boring without you.”
Nina looked at the pile of bags in the hallway.
“All right,” she said. “I’ll come. I need a couple of hours to gather a few things, and then I’ll return.”
“Great! We’ll be waiting! Buy something for tea!” Arthur said happily.
“Of course. I’ll bring you a surprise,” Nina answered, and ended the call.
Loading the bags into the car took about twenty minutes. Nina stuffed the trunk full, and some of the bags had to go on the back seat. The car sagged under the weight of Arthur’s junk.
The road back passed in a blur. Her anger had transformed into icy energy. Nina knew exactly what she was about to do, and the thought gave her a grim satisfaction. She was not going to put on a hysterical performance as a “crying victim.”
Oh no.
This would be an execution.
Part 4. The Return of the Prodigal Son
When the headlights of her crossover lit up the dacha gate, it was already completely dark. Arthur ran out to meet her, waving as if nothing had happened. Galina Stepanovna stood on the porch with her arms crossed, pretending to be the gracious hostess who had mercifully allowed the servant to return.
Nina got out of the car.
She did not smile.
“Hi, my love!” Arthur leaned in to kiss her, but Nina avoided him, pretending to adjust the side mirror.
“Arthur, help me,” she said firmly. “I brought a lot of things. Everything needs to be carried into the house. Right now.”
“Wow! Did you buy half the store?” he laughed. “All right, let’s carry it in.”
He opened the trunk and froze. Instead of supermarket bags, there were black garbage bags packed tight to the top.
“What is this?” he asked, confused, glancing back at his wife.
“Gifts. Take them. Carry them into the living room. We’ll sort them out there.”
Arthur, understanding nothing, grabbed two heavy bags. Nina took another from the back seat. They entered the house.
Galina Stepanovna was already sitting at the table beneath the lampshade.
“Well, finally. The tea has gone cold. What took you so long?” she grumbled. When she saw the black bags, she wrinkled her nose with disgust. “Nina, what kind of garbage is this? Did you decide to move a dump into my house?”
Arthur dropped the bags in the middle of the room, onto the worn carpet.
“Nin, seriously, what’s inside? They’re so heavy.”
Nina came in after him and tossed her bag onto the pile. She straightened up, smoothed her T-shirt, and looked directly into her mother-in-law’s eyes. A dense, ringing silence fell over the room.
“Galina Stepanovna, you asked what is in the bags?” Nina said loudly and clearly.
Her mother-in-law nodded cautiously, sensing something was wrong. Her small eyes darted nervously.
“I am returning your son to you,” Nina said. “Completely and entirely. Together with his underwear, his socks, and all the rot you stuffed into him. Since he betrayed me today on your command, I decided the product was defective. Take him back.”
Arthur stood with his mouth open, looking from his wife to his mother.
“What… what are you saying?” he mumbled.
“SHE HEARD EVERYTHING!” Galina Stepanovna shrieked, instantly turning crimson. She jumped up from her chair, knocking over a cup. Tea spread across the tablecloth in a dark stain. “You were eavesdropping! Shameless woman! Like a thief, standing there and warming your ears!”
Part 5. Payback and Flowers
Arthur tried to say something, tried to take a step toward his wife. His face showed a mixture of panic and stupidity.
“Nina, wait, you misunderstood everything, we were just…”
Nina did not wait. All the restraint, all the culture she had spent years building inside herself disappeared. She grabbed the heavy cookie vase from the table and hurled it to the floor with all her strength. The crash of breaking glass and porcelain made both of them flinch. Cookies scattered across the room.
“I MISUNDERSTOOD?!” Nina shouted. Her rage was terrifying, like a natural disaster. “I heard every single word, Arthur! ‘Let your wife go to her mother’? ‘Make up whatever you want’? You pathetic coward! You threw me out of the house like a stray dog because Mommy told you to?”
“How dare you scream in my house!” Galina Stepanovna roared back, stepping toward her. “Get out! Psycho! I always knew you were unstable! Get out!”
“BE QUIET!” Nina barked, sharply stepping toward her mother-in-law.
Galina Stepanovna stumbled backward in surprise and missed the chair, landing heavily on the sofa.
“I will leave by myself! But first, you are going to listen. You, Galina Stepanovna, are an evil, greedy egoist who devoured her husband and is now finishing off her son. You hate everyone around you because deep down, you are miserable. And you…”
She turned to Arthur. He stood with his head pulled into his shoulders, pale, his lip trembling.
“You betrayed me, Arthur. Not by cheating with another woman — no, that would at least have been honest. You betrayed me by allowing them to wipe their feet on me. You chose Mommy’s comfort over your wife. Did you think I would swallow it? That I would come back and smile?”
“Nin, please, let’s just talk calmly…” he whined, reaching a hand toward her. “Please forgive me. I made a mistake. I was stupid…”
“Don’t touch me!”
Nina slapped him hard across the face.
The sound was dry and loud. Arthur’s head jerked to the side, and a red mark immediately appeared on his cheek. He grabbed his face and stared at his wife in horror. He had never seen her like this before. He was used to her patience, her willingness to compromise.
But now a fury stood before him.
“That is for the ‘work call,’” she hissed. “And those are your things. Live with your mother. Sleep with your mother. Eat her pickles. You’ll pay off the loan for your car yourself. The keys to my apartment — on the table. NOW.”
With trembling hands, Arthur pulled out the key ring and placed it on the edge of the table.
“And I don’t want to see you anywhere near me. File for divorce if you want. If you don’t, I’ll do it myself. And don’t hope I’ll change my mind. You died to me tonight when you lied to my face on that porch.”
Nina turned, stepped over the shards of the vase and the scattered cookies, and walked out of the house. Her mother-in-law shouted after her, throwing curses, clutching at her heart and demanding heart drops, but Nina no longer heard any of it.
She got into her now-empty, lighter car and pressed the gas.
Two weeks passed.
Nina was sitting in a café during her lunch break. Life was gradually settling into a new rhythm. The divorce was already in progress. Arthur had tried calling a couple of times, but she had blocked him everywhere possible. According to mutual acquaintances, he was living with his mother, who now nagged him around the clock for “losing a woman with an apartment and a good salary” and becoming a burden on her instead. As it turned out, Galina Stepanovna despised losers — even when she had created them herself.
A tall woman approached Nina’s table, carrying a large bouquet of white lilies.
It was Larisa.
Nina tensed. The last thing she wanted was another round of family drama.
“May I?” Larisa asked, pointing to the chair.
“If you came to tell me how awful I am, don’t bother,” Nina replied coldly.
Larisa shook her head and placed the bouquet on the table in front of Nina.
“These are for you.”
“What for?” Nina asked, surprised.
“For doing what I never had the courage to do,” Larisa said with a faint smile, though there was sadness in it. “Mother told me her version, of course. That you were hysterical, that you almost destroyed the house. But I know our mother. And I know my brother.”
Larisa sat down and ordered coffee.
“That’s why I didn’t come that night,” she continued. “Not because of you. I simply didn’t want to see my mother. But as always, she twisted everything. Arthur… he is spineless, Nina. I always knew that. He deserved what he got. And Mother is in shock now. She is used to everyone being afraid of her. But you weren’t afraid. You humiliated her by refusing to play her games.”
“I didn’t want to humiliate anyone,” Nina said. “I was just protecting myself.”
“Exactly. And that’s why I respect you. Forgive me for the past. I was stupid back then, with the children and everything… I was just jealous because you were free and independent.”
Larisa pushed the flowers closer to her former sister-in-law.
“Arthur is howling now. Mother is eating him alive. She says he is not a real man because he couldn’t keep his wife under control. So those two deserve each other. But you… you did the right thing.”
Nina looked at the lilies, then at Larisa. For the first time in all the years they had known each other, she saw not envy in her sister-in-law’s eyes, but genuine understanding.
“Thank you,” Nina said.
She breathed in the scent of the flowers.
They smelled like freedom.