Marina stopped on the kitchen threshold and felt the unspoken words catch in her throat. Her hand tightened around her phone—still warm from the director’s message about her bonus. Three voice notes from Lena, her friend with whom she had almost bought tickets for a two-week vacation in Turkey.
“What?” was all she managed to say.
Her mother didn’t even turn away from the stove, where she was stirring her signature borscht. Laughter floated in from the living room—Anya, the younger sister, was watching yet another reality show.
“You heard me. Anya and that… what’s his name…” Her mother winced, trying to recall, “Kirill decided to rent an apartment. The landlady wants six months up front. Where is she supposed to get that kind of money? Your bonus is exactly what’s needed.”
It wasn’t a question, but a statement. As it always was in their house.
Marina took off her coat and carefully hung it on the hook in the entryway. Her movements were unhurried, deliberate—that was how she always handled inner tension. Twenty-eight years of practice keeping her emotions in check around her mother.
“Mom, I was going to use that money,” she began cautiously. “Lena and I were planning—”
“Oh, Lena again,” her mother waved a hand, checking the pies in the oven. “She’s always dragging you somewhere. You’re almost thirty, and you’re still gallivanting around the seas with your girlfriend. You’d do better to think about starting a family.”
Anya drifted into the kitchen—a twenty-three-year-old copy of their mother, only younger and with a tattoo on her wrist. She went to the fridge, took out a yogurt, and leaned against the doorframe, watching her sister with a slight smirk.
“Marinka, why the long face? You got a bonus, right? That’s awesome,” she scooped up a spoonful of yogurt. “Kirill found such a great place yesterday, can you imagine? Two rooms, windows facing the courtyard, and the landlady’s a decent woman. She just says—either six months up front, or look elsewhere.”
Marina looked at her sister. Unlike Marina herself—with her dark hair pulled into a strict bun and perpetually tired eyes—Anya glowed. Light curls, dimples in her cheeks, a serene gaze. Mommy’s princess, as their dad used to say before he left three years ago for the bookkeeper in his office.
“Anya, why can’t Kirill pay for this apartment himself?” Marina asked, trying to keep the irritation out of her voice. “He’s already twenty-six. His parents could give him money.”
Anya rolled her eyes.
“You know they’re having business problems right now. Temporary difficulties. And he’ll pay it all back later. Besides, we’re a couple, we’re supposed to help each other.”
“Supposed to. Each other,” Marina stressed the last words. “Not ask your sister to hand over the money she set aside.”
“Oh, come on, Marinka,” Anya came closer and put a hand on her sister’s shoulder. “You’ll have plenty of time to go to your precious sea. But we really need this apartment now. You get that, right? Kirill and I want to live together, to test our relationship.”
Their mother snorted loudly without looking up from the cooking.
“They’re going to ‘test’ it… You’d do better to get married properly.”
“Mom, everyone lives like that first these days,” Anya drawled. “Right, Marina?”
Marina stayed silent. For four years she had worked at an international company, for the last year as a senior analyst. Every day she got up at six, came home at nine in the evening. She often spent weekends with her laptop. Her last real vacation had been two years ago.
And Anya… After college, Anya had changed jobs three times, never staying anywhere longer than three months. Now she was “finding herself,” while taking an online nail-design course on the side. Kirill was also “finding himself,” promising to start a business, then become a trader, then get into web design.
“Marina,” her mother’s voice grew harder. “Don’t be selfish. Your sister needs help. This is family, do you understand? Family.”
Marina felt something crack inside. Selfish? She, who handed over half her salary every month for household expenses, while Anya spent her odd earnings on new dresses and outings with Kirill?
“I was going to take a vacation, Mom,” she said quietly. “Just for two weeks. I’ve been saving all year for this trip.”
“Vacation!” her mother threw up her hands. “What vacation when your sister is getting her life in order? You only think about yourself. It’s always been that way.”
Anya stepped up to Marina and looked into her eyes with that signature pleading gaze.
“Marinka, please. I’ll pay it all back. Later. When I find a proper job.”
“When will you find it, that job?” Marina couldn’t hold back. “You’ve been about to for three years already.”
“Not everyone’s a careerist like you,” her mother chimed in, clattering a pot lid. “Anya still needs to start a family. Have children.”
“And I’m not supposed to start one or have children, is that it?” burst out of Marina.
Her mother looked at her with a strange expression—a mix of pity and irritation.
“And when would you have time, with that job of yours? Always tired, always busy. Men don’t like women like that. But Anya—she’s homey, warm.”
Marina pressed her lips together. Meanwhile, Anya casually took her sister’s phone and started scrolling through photos of Turkish hotels.
“Wow, you were going for five stars?” she whistled. “Yeah, not cheap. But you know, you could go for three stars. Or just go to Sochi. There’s a sea there too.”
Marina took the phone back.
“I wanted a good hotel,” she said. “Once every two years I can afford that.”
“Of course you can,” her mother nodded. “But right now it’s more important to help your sister. You can rest later.”
Later. The eternal “later.”
“Anya,” Marina looked at her sister. “Why can’t you find a place that takes monthly payments?”
“Because those end up more expensive!” Anya exclaimed. “And this one has the metro nearby and shops. And the landlady doesn’t mind that Kirill has a dog. You know how he loves his Charlie.”
Charlie. A German Spitz, whom Kirill walked three times a day—the only thing he did regularly.
“How much do you need?” Marina asked, already knowing she had lost.
Anya beamed.
“Two hundred fifty thousand. But that’s for six months! Can you imagine? That’s under fifty a month. A great deal.”
Marina froze. Two hundred fifty. Almost all of her bonus.
“Anya, I…”
“Marina,” her mother turned her whole body toward her. “You won’t refuse your sister. You’re not that kind of person. I didn’t raise you to be that way.”
At that moment the doorbell rang. Anya jumped.
“That’s Kirill! I told him to come for dinner. Mom, set the table. Marinka, are you joining us?”
Marina slowly shook her head.
“No, I… I’ll go to my room. I’m tired.”
In her room, Marina sat on the bed, staring at a single spot. Five new messages from Lena lit up her phone.
“So? Did you get the bonus? Are we buying swimsuits tomorrow?)))” “Marinka, you alive over there?” “I found another great hotel, but we need to book today, rooms are running out” “Hellooo?” “Why so quiet? Everything okay?”
From the kitchen came Anya’s laughter, Kirill’s booming comments, and the approving clink of her mother’s spoon against a plate.
“Len, I won’t be able to go,” Marina typed.
“WHAT? WHY???”
Marina sighed. How to explain? How to explain this never-ending pattern she kept falling into again and again?
“Family circumstances.”
“Your sister again, isn’t it? Marina, when are you going to stop supporting all of them?”
Marina didn’t answer. Suddenly the little room where she’d lived since her teens felt stifling. The same wallpaper, the same squeaky wardrobe, the same photos on the wall. Only the computer had changed—she used it for work when she lacked the strength to stay late at the office.
She left the room and slipped quietly to the front door. Threw on her coat.
“Where are you going?” her mother’s voice rang out from the kitchen.
“For a walk. I’ve got a headache.”
“Don’t be late. And don’t forget about the money for Anya tomorrow.”
Without waiting for a reply, her mother went back to dinner.
Marina walked through the neighborhood in the evening, not noticing the passersby. Her phone buzzed in her pocket—Lena wouldn’t give up. She opened the messages.
“Marina, I’m serious. I get that it’s complicated over there, but you can’t sacrifice yourself forever.” “You told me you wanted to rent your own place this year. What’s stopping you?” “Marina, answer me.”
Marina stopped at the parapet along the embankment. In the distance, the windows of the high-rises glowed—homes of strangers with their own troubles and joys. Since childhood she had watched those windows, imagining another life.
She typed to Lena: “I’m flying with you.”
“What??? Really??? What about the ‘family circumstances’?”
“Let them sort out their circumstances themselves.”
Marina drew a deep breath of the cold evening air. Inside, there was a strange emptiness, but also relief—as if a heavy backpack had been lifted from her shoulders.
“Are you sure? You won’t change your mind by tomorrow?” Lena couldn’t believe it.
“I’m sure. I’ll book the tickets tonight.”
And she did—right there on the embankment, with fingers trembling from the cold and from nerves, she paid for two tickets to Antalya.
Marina came home late. The apartment was quiet; only soft music drifted from Anya’s room. Her mother was apparently already asleep.
In the morning, getting ready for work, she ran into her mother in the kitchen.
“Transfer the money to your sister’s card,” her mother said without looking at her. “She’s going to review the contract today and make the down payment.”
“What money?” Marina asked, pouring herself coffee.
Her mother frowned.
“What do you mean, what money? Your bonus. I got a notification that funds were deposited into the account. Transfer them to Anya right away so you don’t forget.”
Marina froze with the cup in her hand.
“You… what?”
“Don’t look at me like that,” her mother waved her off. “We have a joint account. For family expenses.”
A joint account. Long ago, Marina had given her mother an additional card to her bank account so she could withdraw money or buy groceries when Marina worked late. She had never imagined her deposits would be monitored so closely.
“Mom, that money… I’ve already spent it,” Marina said slowly.
“What do you mean?” her mother finally looked at her.
“I bought tickets. To the sea. With Lena.”
A heavy silence fell over the kitchen.
“What have you done?” her mother asked quietly, in a frightening tone. “You knew your sister needed that money. I told you clearly yesterday.”
“And I clearly answered that I was planning a vacation,” Marina’s voice sounded unfamiliar to herself—firm, without the usual apologetic notes.
“Cancel your tickets,” her mother ordered. “Immediately. Anya already arranged things with the landlady; she’s signing the contract today.”
“I’m not canceling anything.”
Her mother stared at her as if seeing her for the first time.
“What’s happening to you? You’ve always been a good daughter, responsible. Now you’re acting like… like a selfish person.”
“No, Mom,” Marina set the cup on the table. “I’ve always been the convenient daughter. The one who works, pays, and doesn’t complain. And Anya… Anya gets to live as she pleases because there’s me and you to catch her when she falls.”
Sleepy-eyed Anya appeared in the kitchen doorway in unicorn pajamas.
“What’s going on? Why are you yelling so early?”
“Your sister decided her vacation is more important than your apartment,” their mother said. “She spent all her bonus on some trip with that Lena of hers.”
Anya stared at Marina in genuine surprise.
“Really? But… what about Kirill and me? We already started packing.”
“Anya,” Marina looked at her sister. “You’re twenty-three. You have hands and a head. Get a job. Earn money for your own apartment.”
“Easy for you to say!” Anya cried. “You’ve always been so… proper. And I can’t sit in an office from nine to six, okay? I’m different!”
“But you can sit on my neck, right?” Marina felt a wave rising inside her that she had held back for years. “You’re different, you’re special, everyone owes you—me, Mom, and Kirill with his parents. When are you going to start giving something to the world instead of only taking?”
“Enough!” her mother shouted. “How dare you talk to your sister like that?”
“How do you dare,” Marina turned to her, “to manage my money without asking? My life? My time?”
Her mother paled.
“I raised you both alone. I did everything for you. And now…”
“Now you do everything for Anya,” Marina finished. “And me? I’m just the ATM on standby.”
“Get out,” her mother suddenly said. “If that’s what you think of your family, get out of this house.”
Marina looked at the two women before her—so alike in appearance, with the same expression of wounded dignity on their faces. They truly didn’t understand.
“Fine,” she said. “I’ll go. Right after my vacation.”
Two weeks in Turkey flew by in a flash. Sun, sea, excursions, evening walks along the promenade. She and Lena took photos against the backdrop of sailboats, tried local cuisine, danced at beach parties. For the first time in many years, Marina felt alive, real.
She turned on her phone only in the evenings. Dozens of missed calls from Anya, several messages from her mother—ranging from threats to attempts at shaming. Marina didn’t respond.
On the last evening before the flight home, she sat on the balcony with a glass of wine, watching the sun sink into the sea.
“What are you thinking about?” Lena asked, settling in beside her.
“About how I’ve got nowhere to return to.”
“What do you mean, nowhere? The apartment? Your job?”
“The job, yes. But the apartment… Mom told me to leave. And you know, I’m glad. It’s about time.”
Lena put a hand on her shoulder.
“You can stay with me until you find a place. I’ve got a pull-out couch.”
Marina smiled.
“Thanks. But I think I’ve already found one.”
She pulled out her phone and showed Lena a photo of a small studio with floor-to-ceiling windows.
“I saw the listing before we left. Messaged the landlady. I can move in when we get back.”
“Wow!” Lena examined the photos. “Cute little place. And on your own! Finally!”
“Yeah,” Marina nodded. “On my own. Without Mom’s reproaches and Anya’s constant requests.”
“And what about them? Your family?”
Marina shrugged.
“I don’t know. Let them learn to live within their means. Let Anya finally grow up. As for me… I’m going to have my own life now.”
She took a sip of wine, looking at the darkening horizon. The future was unknown, but for the first time in a long while, it didn’t scare her—it inspired her.
A month later, Marina sat in her new apartment, unpacking the last boxes. The laptop screen glowed on the table—she was finishing a presentation for a new project at work.
Her phone buzzed. “Mom” lit up on the screen.
She looked at the word for a few seconds and then, with a sigh, answered.
“Yes?”
“Marina,” her mother’s voice sounded unusually quiet. “How are you?”
“Fine. Getting settled little by little.”
A pause. Marina could hear her mother breathing on the other end.
“Anya moved out of the landlady’s,” her mother finally said. “She and Kirill had a fight. She came back home.”
Marina stayed silent. She waited for the follow-up she already knew by heart.
“She needs money,” her mother said. “The landlady didn’t return the down payment.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Marina replied calmly.
Silence again.
“Could you… could you help? Just a little. She needs to pay for courses. She found a job, but there’s training to complete.”
“No, Mom,” Marina looked out the window at the evening city. “I’m not going to help anymore. Not you, not Anya. Not because I don’t love you. But because by helping the way I used to, I only make things worse for you.”
“But we’re family,” there was genuine confusion in her mother’s voice.
“Yes, family. And in a healthy family, everyone is responsible for themselves. I learned that far too late, but I learned it.”
Her mother sniffled on the other end of the line.
“You’ve changed, Marina. You’ve become hard.”
“No, Mom. I’ve finally become myself.”
After the call, Marina stood by the window for a long time, gazing at the city lights. Her phone buzzed again. This time it was Anya.
Marina turned off the phone and went back to her presentation. Rumor at the office had it a promotion was coming. And she’d already picked out a lovely spring tour of the south.