The apartment door creaked open at half past ten at night. Marina paused in the entryway, slipping the heavy bag from her shoulder. Her legs were buzzing after a twelve-hour shift at the hospital—today had been especially hard. Three emergency admissions, endless tests, discharge after discharge… And at home—the sound of laughter, clattering dishes, and that nasty smell of cheap cigarettes.
“Marin, how are you?” Pavel’s voice drifted from the kitchen, but he didn’t even come out to meet her.
She slowly took off her shoes, hung her coat on the hook, and headed to the bathroom to wash up. The mirror reflected a tired face—deep shadows under her eyes, tousled hair, a wrinkled T-shirt. Forty-two years old… When did she get this old?
Cold water freshened her a little, but didn’t wash away the irritation. Voices carried from the kitchen—Pavel and his buddy Vitya were discussing something, laughing loudly. That guy was hanging around here again! How much longer?
Marina walked into the kitchen and froze. On the table—her groceries. The salami she’d bought for her breakfast, an opened pack of cheese, bread… They’d even hauled out the jar of jam she’d been saving for the weekend.
“Marinka!” Vitya raised a glass of tea. “Join us! We’re talking about life here, philosophizing…”
She looked him over carefully. Vitya—about forty-five, with an unkempt beard and perpetually rumpled clothes. For the third month he’d been “temporarily” living on their couch. Third month eating their food, using their bathroom, watching their TV. And he wasn’t planning to work—he was still “finding himself,” “considering options”…
“There’s plenty of work,” Marina said wearily, opening the fridge. “You could go to a construction site, be a mover…”
“Come on, Marin,” Pavel waved it off. “Vitya’s not young anymore, he needs to find something in his field. He’s an engineer, not some loader.”
Marina took a yogurt out of the fridge—the only thing left untouched. She sat down at the table, feeling everything inside her tighten with fatigue and resentment.
“You know, Marinka,” Vitya went on, breaking off a piece of bread, “I called one firm today. They’ve got an opening, but the pay is ridiculous. Better to wait for a decent offer.”
“Wait…” Marina felt something snap inside. She worked twelve hours a day, came home exhausted, and this guy was “waiting for a decent offer”! On her money, at her table!
“I don’t work day and night so your friends can live at our expense!” she said sharply, getting up from the table.
Pavel choked on his tea.
“Marina! Why are you starting again? The man’s going through a rough patch, he needs support…”
“A rough patch?” Marina turned to her husband. “Three months of a rough patch! And what am I going through, an easy patch? I get up at five, work till night, and this is what I come home to!”
She pointed at the table loaded with the remnants of her groceries.
“I’ll have nothing to eat tomorrow! I bought that salami for myself, and you ate it all!”
Vitya awkwardly put down the piece of bread.
“Marin, don’t be so angry… I didn’t know it was your personal—”
“Everything in this home is my personal!” Marina’s voice trembled with pent-up exhaustion. “I pay the rent, I buy the food, I pay the electricity! And you two are feasting here!”
Pavel stood up and approached his wife.
“Come on, enough, don’t wind yourself up. Vitya will chip in for utilities once he gets a job…”
“When will he get a job?” Marina stepped away from her husband. “Pavel, I’m out of patience. I’m tired of supporting a grown man who can’t even say ‘thank you’ properly.”
Vitya flushed.
“I am grateful, really… It’s just…”
“No ‘just’ anything!” Marina cut him off. “Starting tomorrow you actually look for a job. Any job! Or you look for another place to live.”
Silence hung in the kitchen. Pavel stared at his wife in surprise—usually she put up with everything quietly; at most she’d grumble a little and calm down.
“Marish, why are you getting worked up like this?” Pavel tried to smooth things over. “Have some tea, calm down…”
“I am calm,” she said quietly. “I’m very calm. And I’m very tired.”
She took the yogurt and headed to the bedroom. Behind her were the confused male voices—Pavel was explaining something to Vitya, and Vitya was making excuses…
In the bedroom Marina sat on the bed and cried. Quietly, without sobs—tears just ran down her cheeks. When had she become a stranger in her own home? When had her opinion stopped mattering?
In the morning Marina got up at her usual time—five o’clock. Vitya was asleep on the living-room couch, sprawled full length. His socks lay on the floor; an empty beer bottle sat on the side table. She walked quietly to the kitchen, made herself coffee with what was left in the jar, and left for work.
At the hospital the day passed in a fog. Marina did her duties mechanically—set up IVs, handed out medications, filled out charts. Colleagues asked a few times if everything was all right, but she replied briefly.
During the lunch break the head nurse, Lena, came into the staff room.
“Marin, you’re not yourself today. Problems at home?”
“Something like that,” Marina answered wearily. “I’m completely worn out.”
Lena sat down beside her.
“Listen, don’t you want a change? I have a friend in Yekaterinburg; she’s inviting you to a private clinic. The salary’s one and a half times higher, great conditions…”
“In Yekaterinburg?” Marina looked up. “That’s far…”
“Well, maybe that’s for the best? Sometimes you need to start your life over, you know?”
Those words resonated inside her with a strange sense of relief. Start over… What if she tried?
“Give me the contacts,” she asked, surprising herself. “I’ll see.”
Marina came home at eight in the evening. The apartment was quiet—Pavel was watching TV, Vitya was reading a book. When they saw her, both gave somewhat guilty smiles.
“Marish, Vitya and I were thinking…” Pavel began. “Maybe he could take a temp job for now? As a courier or something, at least…”
Vitya nodded.
“Yeah, I’m willing. Just need to find something decent…”
“Decent…” Marina repeated as she walked to the bedroom.
She changed, sat down at the computer, and dialed the number Lena had given her. She thought a long while, then finally called.
“Hello, Elena Viktorovna? This is Marina Sokolova, a nurse from Novosibirsk. Lena Petrova gave me your number…”
The conversation lasted half an hour. Yekaterinburg, a new clinic, good conditions, the pay really was higher… She could come for an interview in a week.
“I’ll think about it,” she said into the phone. “I’ll call back tomorrow.”
After hanging up, she sat by the window for a long time. What if? What if she just washed her hands of it all and left? Pavel could sort things out with his buddy. No one was holding her…
There was a knock at the door.
“Marin, may I?”
Pavel came in, shifting awkwardly from foot to foot.
“We talked with Vitya. He’s going to look for a job tomorrow. Seriously look, no excuses.”
“Good,” Marina replied indifferently.
“Why are you so… distant? I realized you were right yesterday. We really went too far…”
Marina looked at her husband. A familiar face, yet somehow foreign. When was the last time they talked about anything important? When did they last speak heart-to-heart?
“Pavel, do you love me?” she asked suddenly.
He was taken aback.
“Of course I do! What kind of question is that…”
“And how do you show it?”
“Well… how… We live together, we’re a family…”
“I work twelve hours a day,” Marina said slowly. “I come home exhausted, and you don’t even ask how I’m doing. But you always have time, food, and attention for your friends…”
Pavel sat on the edge of the bed.
“Marish, I thought you didn’t mind… Vitya’s in a tough situation…”
“And I’m not?” Marina turned to her husband. “Do you even realize what it’s like to see death, pain, people’s suffering every day? At home I want quiet, peace… Not drunken get-togethers every evening.”
Pavel lowered his head.
“I didn’t think… I’m sorry.”
“I was offered a job in Yekaterinburg,” Marina said softly.
Her husband’s head snapped up.
“What?”
“A good job. With good pay. I’m thinking of going.”
“How can you just go? What about us? What about—”
“What ‘us’?” Marina smiled bitterly. “You live your own life; you have your friends, your plans… And I live only for work. And for supporting your little company.”
Pavel stood, paced the room.
“But we can change that! I didn’t realize it was so hard for you…”
“Pavel, I’m forty-two,” she said tiredly. “And I feel like eighty. Because besides work and house chores, I have nothing. No joys, no plans…”
“And a child?” Pavel asked suddenly. “We wanted kids…”
Marina froze. Yes, they had wanted to. About five years ago. But then they put it off—work, money, something always came up…
“What child?” she said quietly. “We don’t even have time for each other…”
The next few days passed under a strange tension. Vitya really did go out job-hunting—left in the morning, came back in the evening with stories about interviews. Pavel became more attentive—asked about her day at work, even cooked dinner a couple of times.
But Marina seemed to wall herself off from everything with an invisible barrier. She did the housework, answered questions, but inside she felt as if she had already started packing.
On Thursday Vitya came home looking especially glum.
“That’s it, guys, it’s really bad. I found a job at an auto shop, but the probation’s three months and the pay is peanuts…”
“At least it’s something,” Marina shrugged.
“Come on, Marin! You can’t buy anything to eat on that money! I think I’ll keep looking…”
Marina put aside the book she was reading.
“Vitya, do you understand that I’ve been living on those same peanuts for half a year? After I pay utilities and buy groceries—what I have left is exactly that kind of ‘peanut’ amount.”
“That’s different…” Vitya mumbled. “You’re a woman; you need less…”
Marina rose from the couch.
“Need less? Vitya, are you serious right now?”
Pavel tried to intervene.
“Vityok, what are you saying? What does being a woman have to do with anything?”
“Oh, come on, Pashka,” Vitya waved him off. “It’s easier for women, they’re not picky. A man needs confidence, prospects…”
Marina felt something tear inside her again. This guy had been living with them for three months, eating their food, using their hospitality—and he still dared to say things like that!
“You know what,” she said quietly but very clearly. “Tomorrow you start work at the auto shop. Or you look for another place to live. There is no third option.”
“Marin, come on…” Vitya faltered. “I didn’t mean any harm…”
“Harm or not—I don’t care. I’m tired of ingratitude and rudeness in my own home.”
She headed to the bedroom, but turned in the doorway.
“And one more thing. Utilities for three months—twenty thousand. You can pay now or in installments, but by the end of the month.”
The bedroom door slammed, leaving two stunned men in the living room.
On Friday morning Vitya was still at home, but Marina didn’t even speak to him. She got ready for work and left without breakfast.
At the hospital Lena was waiting for her.
“So, did you think about the offer?”
“I did,” Marina nodded. “Can I get more details? When do you need an answer?”
“By Monday. If you agree—Skype interview on Tuesday, and in a week you can start.”
“That fast?”
“They urgently need an experienced nurse. The previous one went on maternity leave.”
Marina thought it over. A week… Very fast. But wasn’t it good—to break out of this situation?
“Len, what about housing there?”
“At first you can stay in the nurses’ dorm. Later you’ll find your own place.”
A dorm… After her own apartment that would be hard. But—no Vityas, no reproaches, no one to support…
“All right,” she decided. “I’ll give you a definite answer by Monday.”
She got home at half past six. Vitya sat on the couch looking dejected; Pavel paced the room nervously.
“Marin,” her husband came up to her at once, “Vitya decided to go to his mother’s in Omsk. He’s leaving tomorrow.”
“Good,” she answered calmly.
“And about the money… He can’t pay the full amount now, but he promises to transfer it in parts…”
“Pavel,” she cut him off. “I don’t care. Let him figure it out.”
Vitya looked up.
“Marin, I really didn’t mean to offend you… That thing about women—I said something stupid…”
“Vitya,” Marina said wearily. “Let’s just forget it, okay?”
She went to the kitchen, took food out of the fridge, and started making dinner. Behind her she heard muffled male voices—clearly they were discussing something.
“Marish,” Pavel came up. “Can we talk?”
“Go ahead.”
“Are you really going to Yekaterinburg?”
Marina didn’t answer right away. Was she? Or was it an attempt to get through to her husband?
“I don’t know,” she admitted honestly. “Maybe.”
“What if I change too? What if we start living differently?”
“Differently how?”
“Well… so you don’t work so much. So that we have time for each other…”
Marina set the knife down.
“Pavel, are you planning to work?”
Her husband hesitated. He’d been home for two years—first after being laid off, then he “looked for himself,” then he “considered options”… They lived on Marina’s salary and his small benefit.
“I thought… maybe I’d start my own business…”
“With what money?”
“Well, take out a loan…”
“And I’ll be the one paying it?”
Pavel lowered his head.
“Marin, we have to live somehow…”
“Exactly—live. Not scrape by on one paycheck.”
She went back to making dinner. Thoughts spinning in her head… What if he really did find a job? What if they tried to fix their relationship?
“Pavel, I’ll be honest,” she said without turning around. “I don’t have the strength for experiments anymore. If you want to keep this family—prove it with actions. Go work. As a security guard, a janitor—doesn’t matter. I just need to see that you’re willing to try for us.”
“And Yekaterinburg?”
“Give me a week to think.”
Vitya left Saturday morning. Pavel saw him off to the bus station and came back gloomy.
“He promised to transfer a thousand a month,” he told his wife.
“Mm-hmm,” Marina replied indifferently.
She cleaned the apartment—washed Vitya’s sheets, did the dishes, wiped beer stains off the table. Without the extra presence, the apartment seemed bigger and brighter.
“Marin, how about we go out somewhere today?” Pavel suggested. “To the movies or just for a walk?”
“I’m tired,” she said. “I just want to be at home.”
They ate dinner in silence. Pavel tried to start a conversation, but it came out stiff.
“Remember,” he said over tea, “how we used to visit your parents on weekends? Your mom made those pancakes…”
“I remember,” Marina nodded.
“We haven’t gone in a while…”
“You don’t really like them.”
“No, that’s not it… We just didn’t have time…”
Marina looked at her husband intently. When did they not have time? When she was working twelve hours and he was sitting at home with his friends?
“Pavel, don’t. Don’t pretend things were good. They haven’t been good for a long time.”
“But we can fix it…”
“We can,” she agreed. “But only if you really want to. Not because you’re afraid of being alone.”
On Monday morning Pavel got up early—together with Marina.
“I’m going to look for a job today,” he said at breakfast. “Seriously look.”
“Good,” she replied.
“And it doesn’t matter what kind. As long as it brings in money.”
Marina nodded, finishing her coffee. In her pocket was the clinic’s phone number in Yekaterinburg. She had to give an answer by evening.
She still didn’t know what she would say.
At work Lena asked several times about her decision, but Marina was evasive. By lunchtime her mind cleared—she realized she wanted to give Pavel a chance. One last chance.
At six in the evening she called the clinic.
“Elena Viktorovna? This is Marina Sokolova. I’ve decided to stay in Novosibirsk for now. If your offer is still open later…”
“Of course, Marina. Get in touch anytime; we’re always glad to have good specialists.”
Marina came home at half past seven. Pavel sat in the kitchen with some papers.
“How did it go?” she asked, taking off her jacket.
“I got a job,” he said, looking up. “Driving a taxi. I start tomorrow.”
“Really?”
“Really. The money’s not big, but it’s steady. And there are tips sometimes.”
Marina sat down beside him.
“How did you come to that decision?”
Pavel was silent for a moment.
“I realized I’m losing you. And that no job is worse than losing my family.”
“Pavel…”
“No, let me finish. I thought all day while I was running around the city looking for work. I thought about what an egotist I’ve been. You’re killing yourself to support us, and I even make demands…”
Marina took his hand.
“I decided to stay.”
“Really?” Hope sounded in Pavel’s voice.
“But with conditions,” she added firmly. “No more friends on our necks. We don’t feed or entertain anyone at our expense. And equal chores at home.”
“Agreed,” Pavel nodded quickly.
“And one more thing. We start dating again. Going to the movies, talking, spending time together.”
“Of course! I really want us to get back on track.”
Marina looked into her husband’s eyes. She saw sincerity and a readiness to change. Maybe they really would make it?
“Then let’s start tomorrow,” she said. “After your first shift we’ll go out for dinner. Celebrate a new beginning.”
Pavel started working as a taxi driver and, unexpectedly, came to like the job. He told Marina about his passengers, about the city he was rediscovering, about how good it felt to earn money.
He spent his first paycheck on groceries and cooked a celebratory dinner himself. When Marina came home from work, she saw a set table and lit candles.
“What’s this?” she asked, surprised.
“I wanted to surprise you,” Pavel said, embarrassed. “Thank you for believing in me.”
Over dinner they talked about everything—work, plans, what their relationship had been missing. For the first time in a long while, Marina felt they were a couple again, not two strangers living in the same apartment.
“You know,” she said, sipping her wine, “I realized something. Love isn’t just feelings. It’s actions—every day.”
“I agree,” Pavel nodded. “And I promise my actions from now on will be worthy of you.”
Marina smiled—for the first time in many months, a genuinely happy smile.
“Then we’ll be fine.”
Six months passed. Their lives changed dramatically—Pavel worked, helped around the house, and they spent weekends together. Marina transferred to a less demanding position at the same hospital; the pay was lower, but she had time for herself and for family.
One evening, as they watched TV, Pavel said,
“You know what I’ve realized? Happiness is when you’re not ashamed to look the person you love in the eye.”
Marina set aside the magazine she’d been flipping through and turned to her husband.
“Remember how I yelled about your friends living at our expense?”
“Oh, I remember,” Pavel smirked. “You were like an enraged tigress.”
“I was so afraid we were going to fall apart for good…” she admitted. “Every day I thought: just a little more, and I’ll run away.”
Pavel took her hand.
“I’m glad you didn’t. And I’m glad I came to my senses in time.”
Snow was falling outside. A cozy apartment, warm lamplight, two people learning to be happy together again. Marina nestled against her husband’s shoulder and thought: sometimes you have to reach the very edge to understand what truly matters.
“Pashka, what if we try for a baby after all?” she asked softly.
Pavel froze.
“Seriously?”
“Why not? I’m forty-two, but it’s not too late yet… And now that we both work, now that we have time for each other…”
“I really want that,” he said, kissing the top of her head. “I want it very, very much.”
They sat in silence, making plans for the future. A future that might not have happened if not for that memorable phrase spoken in a moment of exhaustion by a tired woman: “I don’t work day and night so your friends can live at our expense!”
Sometimes the most important words are born of simple fatigue. And if they’re heard in time, they can save an entire family.
A month later Vitya sent a text: “Got a job as an engineer in Omsk. I’ll transfer the utility money soon. Thanks for not kicking me out right away.”
Marina showed the message to Pavel.
“Looks like it did him good, too.”
“Yeah, sometimes a kick in the pants is the best motivation,” her husband laughed.
And a year later they really did have a son. Marina went on maternity leave; Pavel bought his own car and started working as an independent taxi driver.
At night, when she fed the baby, she sometimes remembered the day she almost broke. How good it was that she found the strength to tell the truth. How good it was that her husband managed to hear it.
“You know, little one,” she whispered to baby Andryusha, “Mama almost did something foolish. Good thing she stopped in time.”
The baby snuffled, nestled comfortably in her arms. And behind the wall Pavel slept—tired after his shift, but happy. Their family had come together. Against all odds, it had come together.