‘And my little monkey is cleaning my mother-in-law’s house right now!’ — he loudly declared at the corporate event. But at home, a very different mood awaited him…
The corporate evening began for Vadim in great spirits: New Year’s was just around the corner, the bonuses were already in his pocket, the room was filled with laughter, the clinking of glasses, and upbeat music. He was the life of the party — witty, cheerful, and capable of telling any story in a way that even the most reserved colleagues couldn’t help but laugh. He was loved for his ability to lighten any situation.
‘And my little monkey is cleaning my mother-in-law’s floors right now!’ — he loudly announced, raising his glass. ‘So she doesn’t distract me here while I entertain you!’
The room erupted with laughter again. Some clapped approvingly, some chuckled nervously. Only one girl from the neighboring department lowered her gaze sharply. The word “monkey” stung her. It reminded her of the way her husband used to joke about calling her sister the same thing… and then he simply left her for a young student.
But Vadim didn’t notice anyone else’s feelings. He felt like the king of the ball. Life seemed lucky, cloudless, and generous.
Meanwhile, at home, Olya, his wife, was standing by the stove in their small kitchen. Her palms were cracked from endless washing and the use of harsh chemicals. Since morning, she had been washing windows, helping her mother-in-law prepare preserves for the winter, running to the store, then returning to the stove. Vadim’s mother was a strict woman, demanding and impatient. ‘The daughter-in-law must be the housekeeper!’ she always said.
Olya didn’t complain. She understood that her husband worked hard and got tired, and she wanted to be his support. Sometimes she longed for a simple word of thanks or attention. But she endured it. Because she loved him.
Late in the evening, when the children were asleep, and her mother-in-law had gone to her own room, Olya opened her phone and accidentally stumbled upon a live broadcast from the corporate event. One of the employees was streaming it. Laughter, music could be heard… and then suddenly:
‘And my little monkey is cleaning my mother-in-law’s floors!’
Olya froze. She didn’t immediately understand who this was about.
Monkey?
Was it about her?
When Vadim returned home early in the morning — happy, smelling of alcohol and someone else’s perfume on his clothes — Olya didn’t say a word. She simply looked at him. Long, silently, without tears.
And for the first time, he felt fear.
‘What’s wrong?’ he asked, taking off his coat.
His wife silently placed the phone in front of him and played the recording.
A smile disappeared from his face. Silence hung in the room like a thick curtain.
‘It was just a joke… You know how things are at these events,’ he mumbled.
‘A joke?’ Olya replied calmly. ‘And did you know that I spent the whole day cleaning at your mother’s? That I barely ate anything because I had to do everything first? That I, your ‘monkey’, did all of this for you? And when our child got sick — fever, medicine needed — I ran to the pharmacy alone while you were having fun?’
Her voice was steady, but inside — ice.
Vadim lowered his eyes.
‘I’m so sorry…’
‘I’m sorry too.’
She stood up, walked into the children’s room, and returned with a bag and jacket. Slowly, she began to dress. He remained silent. Not a single word came to his lips.
‘Where are you going?’ he asked.
‘To a place where no one will mockingly call me a monkey.’
She left. Without scandal, without shouting. She just left. Not from fatigue, not from the everyday grind — but from the pain of seeing her work become a reason for someone else’s laughter.
Three days later, Vadim came to her himself. Without the mask of a fun-loving guy, without jokes, without a glass in hand. In front of her stood a man who had realized the cost of loss.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said, stopping at the door.
She said nothing. There was no malice in her eyes. Only exhaustion and deep silence.
‘I was a fool… I won’t do it again.’
‘Don’t be. Start appreciating instead.’
He nodded.
From that day on, he stopped making jokes about his family in company settings. He started helping more, saying ‘thank you’, and trying to notice what he had previously ignored. And he learned one important truth: even the strongest women can get tired — especially those who work while others are celebrating.
A week passed.
Olya didn’t return home immediately. She stopped by her younger sister’s — in the warm apartment where the kitchen smelled of homemade baked goods and care. There was no pressure, no judgment, no cold stares — just a simple ‘sit down, I’ll pour you some tea.’
She didn’t cry. She just sat and looked out the window, where rain drops slid down the glass. Memories swirled in her mind: Vadim’s voice, his laughter, the looks of others… and emptiness inside.
And Vadim… For the first time, he was left alone with his conscience.
At first, Vadim’s mother was outraged:
‘What does she think she’s doing? Left, offended! So, I’m to blame?’
But, watching her son sit in silence at the table, not touching his food, not answering questions, she began to wonder: maybe it’s not so simple?
One evening, she knocked on his door.
‘Vadim… She’s a good girl. You overreacted. Bring her back. But not just with words — with your actions.’
He nodded without saying a word.
The next day, Vadim asked for a day off. He bought a modest bouquet — not grand roses or sophisticated lilies, but simple daisies, which Olya had loved since childhood. He stopped by the pharmacy for hand cream. Then, he went to an appliance store. And also — to a kitchen accessories department. Not for a grand gesture, but as the beginning of something new.
He went to Olya’s sister’s house. He stood at the door, gathered his thoughts, rang the doorbell.
She opened it. Again, silence hung in the air. But now it was different — not heavy, but filled with something almost imperceptible.
‘Hello,’ he said quietly. ‘I’m not great with words, but I realized one thing: I’ve backed myself into a corner. And you’re not a ‘monkey’. You’re my home, my peace, my support.’
He handed her the bag. Inside were daisies, the cream, and a note without any grandiose phrases:
‘You’re tired. I didn’t notice. I want to start again. With love, Vadim.’
She looked at him for a long time. Then took the bag.
‘I’ll think about it,’ she said.
‘I’ll wait,’ he replied.
She returned home two days later. Not because she had forgotten or forgiven everything. But because he was not just asking — he was already taking steps toward change.
Now they began cooking dinners together. Vadim’s mother, noticing how her son began to treat his wife differently, softened a little. Sometimes she even offered:
‘Olya, rest, I’ll manage.’
And one day, when there was another corporate event, Vadim refused to go.
‘Why?’ his boss asked, surprised.
‘Because there’s someone at home, more important than any toast. I’d rather wash the dishes than allow myself to devalue her work again.’
Later, one regular evening, when the children were asleep, Olya walked up to him and rested her head on his shoulder.
‘You know… I don’t feel that tiredness anymore. Thank you.’
He didn’t answer with words. He simply kissed her hair.
And he realized: those were the words he had been waiting for his whole life — not loud, not theatrical, but the most real ones.
Months passed.
Vadim and Olya’s family became different. Not in events, but in feelings. In the air of the house, in their tones, in how they looked at each other. Vadim changed: he started noticing when Olya was tired, when she was lost in thought, when her silence lasted too long.
If his mother started grumbling, he didn’t look away anymore.
‘Mom, stop. She doesn’t have to please everyone. This is my family, not a servant.’
At first, the woman was offended. But over time, she began to remain silent more often, intervening less. Perhaps, for the first time in her life, she saw her daughter-in-law — not as a duty, but as a woman.
One evening, they were sitting at the table together. Vadim was pouring tea. Olya was cutting the cake. And suddenly, Vadim’s mother looked at her and softly said:
‘You’re actually quite good. I wish I had a daughter-in-law like you when I was young — maybe I would have been kinder.’
Olya didn’t answer. She just gave her the biggest slice of cake. And for the first time in many years, they smiled at each other — sincerely, without any inner struggle.
At work, Vadim stopped being the joker. He became more serious, paying attention to his words. Colleagues initially wondered — where did the fun guy go? But soon they began to appreciate him for his maturity and restraint. Especially those who had also experienced the consequences of indifference.
When one of the new employees joked:
‘Hey, Vadim, where’s your monkey?’
He answered calmly:
‘I don’t have a monkey. I have a woman who taught me how to be a real husband.’
And everyone understood — it was better not to go further.
One evening, when the first snow was falling outside, and the children were peacefully asleep in front of the TV, Olya pulled out an old box. Inside were her letters — writings from a young woman, newly married.
‘Do you want to hear?’ she asked quietly.
‘Of course.’
She opened one of them. The letters were uncertainly written, but full of hope:
‘I want him to laugh, but not at me. To kiss my hands after cleaning, knowing their scent. To be proud of me, even if I’m at home. After all, the home is a whole world. And I am its heart.’
He listened. Silently. With each word, something tightened inside.
‘Sorry I’m hearing this so late,’ he whispered.
‘The important thing is that you heard.’
In spring, they went to the sea together for the first time in a long time — without children, without parents. Grandma stayed with the little ones. On the shore, Vadim bought a shell from an old man and handed it to Olya.
‘You said you wanted to be seen. Now, let yourself shine. Like the sea, like the sunset. Not for others — for yourself.’
She held the shell in her hands.
‘You know, a shell only gives pearls after pain.’
He nodded.
‘But you are my most precious pearl. And now I know how to see it. Not through pain, but through love.’
And in the evening, they walked along the promenade, hand in hand. Without words, without promises. They no longer needed proof. Their story was not about a joke or humiliation. It was a story about a woman who was almost made invisible but remained herself. And about a man who found the strength to become better.
Two years passed.
Vadim no longer went to corporate events. He was content with family dinners — with Olya, the children, tea, and cookies baked by his wife, his wife, not some ‘monkey.’
One day, while cleaning old things, he found that very blue shirt — the one he had worn when he said that fateful phrase. He held it in his hands. He remembered the laughter, the faces, her gaze afterward… And simply threw it away. Not in the closet, not in a box — in the trash.
Olya noticed.
‘What happened?’
He looked her straight in the eyes.
‘I just realized I never want to be the person who wore this shirt.’
She came up and hugged him.
And he said what meant the most:
‘You’ll never be alone again.’
And in her eyes, there was a spark. Not from tears.
But from the fact that she finally believed — in him. And in herself.
It was the price they both had to pay for one foolish joke.
But it was the one that changed their life. Forever.