Sister-in-law Lena had always loved tossing snide little jabs at her brother’s wife. But today she outdid herself.
“ You know, Katya,” the relative drawled, elegantly slicing a piece of charlotte cake, “if you were to suddenly disappear, no one in the family would even notice. You’re a complete nonentity!”
The table fell silent for a second. Then loud laughter burst out. First an uncertain giggle from the mother-in-law, then a booming guffaw from her husband Andrey, quickly joined by the others. Even her father-in-law shook his head with a smirk.
Katya slowly set down her fork. Something snapped inside, but her face stayed calm. She put on the practiced artificial smile she’d perfected over years of family life.
“ All right then—challenge accepted,” she said quietly.
Of course, no one heard her. They’d already moved on to discussing Lena’s new car.
Katya finished her tea and started clearing the table. As usual.
Her mother-in-law was telling a joke about a neighbor, Andrey was scrolling his phone, Lena was touching up her lipstick in a little purse mirror. The happy family tableau carried on without her.
By half past nine she’d loaded the last plate into the dishwasher.
The relatives left, Andrey flopped onto the couch with a beer and put on a soccer match. Katya went to the bedroom, took an old notebook from the closet, and sat down at the desk.
“To-do list for tomorrow,” she wrote. Then she crossed it out and wrote again: “What happens if I’m gone.”
First up were the apartment and her husband. Andrey didn’t know how to turn on the dishwasher, constantly forgot to buy groceries, and believed socks magically found their way into the washing machine. He was also used to dinner at seven and clean shirts every morning.
Second—her mother-in-law, Valentina Ivanovna. Every Wednesday Katya went over to give her a back massage. Her mother-in-law had terrible pain from an old injury, and the doctors just shrugged. Thankfully Katya had once finished professional massage courses. She’d even thought she might find some side work.
Third—her father-in-law, Nikolai Petrovich. Every weekend she helped him with the computer, submitted various documents through the Gosuslugi state services portal, and for the past six months had also been making his doctors’ appointments. He flatly refused to learn new technologies.
Fourth on the list was Lena herself with her twins. Every two weeks the sister-in-law dropped the kids off “for a couple of hours” so she and her husband could go to a spa or to friends’ dacha. The couple of hours invariably turned into a day, sometimes two.
Fifth were the friends who called to unload their problems, the coworkers begging her to cover their shifts, and Aunt Galya from next door with her endless trips to the pharmacy.
Katya closed the notebook. The plan formed instantly, as if it had always lived somewhere deep inside her, waiting for the right moment.
In the morning, as usual, she got up at six. She made breakfast and woke her husband. Andrey grumbled something about early mornings and shuffled to the shower.
“I’ll be late today,” his wife said as she poured his coffee. “We have a teachers’ council meeting.”
“Mm-hmm,” he muttered, eyes glued to his phone.
At school she went to see the principal, Vera Nikolaevna.
“Vera Nikolaevna, I need to take some time off. Family circumstances. Please approve it.”
“For how many days?”
“I’m not sure yet. Maybe a week.”
The principal frowned but agreed. Katya never let anyone down, never took sick leave or vacations. One personal day could be forgiven.
By lunchtime Katya was already sitting on a commuter train. She had decided to go to her grandmother’s cottage in the village of Kraskovo. The house had passed to her three years ago. Since then their cousin Masha had been living there and looking after the place. They hadn’t seen each other in a long time, but Katya knew Masha wouldn’t bombard her with questions.
Katya switched off her phone and leaned back in her seat. For the first time in many years, she had nowhere to rush.
As soon as she stepped into the yard, she smelled the familiar scent of apricot pie and freshly cooked borscht. Masha peeked out the window, saw Katya with a small bag, and froze for a second. Then she ran out onto the porch and hugged her tight.
“Katya! What are you doing here?” No surprise in her voice—only joy.
“I came to visit. May I?”
“Of course, of course! Come in, I just pulled a pie from the oven.”
The house was exactly as Katya remembered it from childhood: low ceilings with beams, old rag rugs, carved furniture her grandfather had once made with his own hands.
Only now everything sparkled with cleanliness, new calico curtains hung at the windows, and geraniums bloomed on the sills.
“You’ve really made yourself at home here,” Katya noted, sitting at the familiar oak table.
“It’s been three years since I moved. After the divorce I wanted quiet.” Masha set a steaming slice of pie and a mug of tea in front of her. “So why did you come alone? No Andrey?”
Katya took a slow sip. Fragrant, herbal. Just like Grandma used to brew.
“Mash, remember your ex-husband?”
“Valery? How could I forget. Why?”
“Did he value you?”
Masha smiled wryly.
“Oh, he valued me—as a housemaid. I washed, cooked, cleaned, drove his mother to the doctors, and made nice with his friends at company parties. And when I brought up having a child, you know what he said?”
Katya shook her head.
“That the last thing he needed was kids with me! That everything was fine as it was, why change anything. That’s when I realized I wasn’t a wife to him, just free help with conjugal duties.”
“And how did you find the courage to leave?”
“One day, in a fit of temper, he blurted out that I was ‘an empty shell with no ambition,’ that any other woman would do better. That’s when I decided. ” Masha studied her sister. “Katya, what happened? Why the odd questions?”
Katya honestly told her about the dinner the night before, about Lena’s words, about the relatives’ laughter. Masha listened in silence, only nodding now and then.
“So what now?” she asked when Katya finished.
“Now I’m running a test. If I’m a ‘nonentity,’ then my absence truly won’t be noticed.”
“Have they noticed yet?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t turned my phone on.”
Masha smiled.
“Good. Let’s check in the evening. For now make yourself at home. Your room’s upstairs—I’ve got it all ready. Just in case. I kept thinking, when will you finally come visit!”
That evening the sisters sat on the veranda, drinking tea with honey and watching the sun set behind the forest. Katya couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt such peace. No one to feed, no one to explain where she was and what she was doing. She could just sit and breathe.
“You know,” Masha said, “after the divorce I was scared. I thought I wouldn’t cope alone. I was used to being needed, even if I wasn’t valued. Then I realized that for the first time in ten years I could do what I wanted. Not what was expected of me.”
“And what do you want?”
“Quiet. My own rhythm. Work that brings pleasure. To wake up not to someone else’s alarm.”
Katya nodded. She understood every word.
That night she lay in her childhood bed under the patchwork quilt her grandmother had sewn and listened to the silence. No one snored beside her, no one fidgeted, no one lit up a phone at three a.m. Leaves rustled outside; an owl hooted somewhere far away.
For the first time in many years she didn’t have to think about tomorrow: what to make for breakfast, whom to call, where to run. Tomorrow she could simply live.
On the third day Katya finally decided to turn on her phone.
The numbers on the screen made her sit down on the steps: 52 missed calls, 73 messages. Masha looked out, saw her sister’s face, and silently sat beside her.
“Well?”
“Armageddon,” Katya exhaled, scrolling through the messages.
Andrey: “Where are you?! There’s nothing to eat, the washing machine won’t work, I was late to work in a dirty shirt. This is irresponsible!”
Mother-in-law: “Katenka, I beg you, come! My back hurts so much I can’t get up. I’ve been waiting for you for four days, the painkillers don’t help!”
Father-in-law: “My computer froze, no one can figure it out. Where have you disappeared to? I need to submit documents urgently!”
Sister-in-law: “Katya, I don’t understand this little stunt! I’m going to the spa with my husband tomorrow, and there’s no one to leave the kids with! Stop this nonsense and come back immediately!”
“Keep reading,” Masha said softly.
School principal: “Ekaterina Sergeevna, you’re putting the school in a difficult position. The review board is tomorrow and the documents aren’t ready.”
Friend Olya: “Katya, where are you?! I’m depressed, I urgently need support!”
Colleague Sveta: “Katya, I was urgently called to my sick child, please cover my classes, I’m begging you!”
Neighbor Aunt Galya: “Katenka, I’ve been without my meds for three days, my blood pressure’s up! What happened to you?”
“Curious,” Masha drawled. “How many of them are asking how you’re doing?”
Katya scrolled through all the messages again.
“Not one. They demand, complain, accuse. But no one asked whether I’m even alive.”
“Now imagine what’ll happen if you go back right now.”
“They’ll pounce from all sides. Everyone will consider their issue the most important.”
“And you’ll save them all?”
“As always!” Katya sighed. “You know what’s strangest? I thought they couldn’t manage without me. Turns out they just don’t want to. It’s easier to dump everything on my shoulders.”
Masha nodded.
“My therapist said that if you keep solving other people’s problems, they unlearn how to solve them themselves. You’re not helping. You’re making them helpless.”
That evening Katya typed one short message:
“I’m alive and well. I’ll be back in a few days.”
She sent it to everyone at once and switched off her phone again.
“Think that will calm them?” Masha asked.
“On the contrary. Now they’ll know I’m fine, but not rushing to save everyone. It’ll make them angry.”
“And then?”
“Then we’ll see what they can do without me.”
On the fourth day the women drove to the district center for groceries. In the store Katya ran into her principal, Vera Nikolaevna. At first she was pleased, then her face darkened.
“Ekaterina Sergeevna! At last! We’re in crisis, the documents for the board aren’t ready, and you—”
“I’m on unpaid leave, Vera Nikolaevna.”
“What leave? You didn’t warn us!”
“I did. You have my request on file.”
“But we can’t manage without you! Who will prepare the documents?”
Katya looked closely at her boss. Vera Nikolaevna had been principal for twelve years and still didn’t understand the paperwork, shifting it all onto her deputies.
“And how do other schools manage?”
“What do other schools have to do with it? We have you!”
“I won’t be back until the end of the week. Find a way to manage.”
“Then don’t bother coming back at all!” she snapped. “Consider yourself fired!”
Katya froze. Then she slowly straightened.
“Fine. You’ll have my resignation tomorrow.”
She turned and headed for the exit. Her heart was pounding like mad. Masha caught up to her by the car.
“How do you feel? Are you okay?”
“Strange. I suppose I should be scared. I’ve just lost my job. But I… feel light. Like a chain has been taken off my neck.”
“That’s normal. The first time’s always like that. Let’s go.”
At home Masha put the kettle on while Katya studied the photos on the wall. There were Grandma, Grandpa, their parents as young adults. Everyone smiling.
When was the last time she’d smiled so sincerely?
On the seventh day Masha found Katya in their grandmother’s study, sorting through old math and physics books.
“Nostalgic?”
“More like planning.” Katya held up a thick textbook on higher mathematics. “Remember how Grandma prepped kids for tech-university entrance exams until she was seventy?”
“How could I forget? Half the village became engineers thanks to her.”
“What if we continued her work—but in a modern format?”
Masha sat down beside her, intrigued.
“Meaning?”
“You’re a programmer, I’m a mathematician with teaching experience. We can prep schoolkids for admission to tech universities. Both in person and online.”
“You seriously thinking of staying here?”
Katya nodded.
“What do I have to lose? I don’t have a job anymore, and my family showed me where I stand with them. But we have a house, we have an idea, and I have you.”
The sisters talked until morning, sketching plans.
Masha knew programming and could teach IT courses; Katya—math and physics. Demand was huge, especially in district towns where good tutors were hard to find.
By the end of the week they’d created a group on social media and posted the first ads. Turned out there were many families in the area willing to pay for solid prep for tech-university entrance.
The phone started ringing the next day. Parents asked about the program, prices, and schedule.
“Do you have a license?” some asked.
“We’re operating as a center for supplementary education,” Katya replied. “We’ll handle the paperwork.”
They set the first class for Saturday. Twelve kids came from four different towns. Katya was more nervous than before her very first lesson at school.
“What if it doesn’t work?”
“It will,” Masha reassured her. “You’re a born teacher.”
And it did.
Two hours later the teens were eagerly solving problems, asking questions, debating approaches. It was nothing like school lessons under the pressure of curricula and reports.
“When’s the next class?” asked one mother.
“Online consultation on Wednesday, in-person again on Saturday.”
“Can I sign up another child?”
By the end of the month they had twenty-five students. On weekends the house filled with children’s voices, and on weekdays the sound of video calls. For the first time in many years Katya felt truly needed—not as free labor, but as a professional.
The money was good, too. In a month the sisters earned as much as Katya used to make at school in half a year.
“You know,” Masha said one evening, “I like it here more than in Moscow. There I was just a cog in a big machine. Here I see the results of my work.”
“I like it too. For the first time I’m doing what I want, not what’s demanded of me.”
They started planning to expand: add English and chemistry courses, find more teachers.
Then one day a familiar car screeched into the yard.
A door slammed, heavy footsteps pounded. Andrey burst into the house without knocking.
“Katya! Enough of this nonsense!” he shouted from the entryway. “You dropped everything to play village schoolmarm! Are you out of your mind? Who are you trying to prove anything to?”
Katya slowly set aside the notebook of graded work. Odd. He seemed shorter and smaller than she remembered.
“Hello, Andrey.”
“Don’t ‘hello’ me! You must come back! The house is a mess, my mother can’t cope with her back pain, and Lena has had no one to leave the kids with for the third time! Am I supposed to watch them?”
“Must?”
“Of course you must! You’re a wife—you have obligations to the family!”
Masha appeared in the doorway, but Katya signaled that she’d handle it.
“And what obligations do you have as a husband?”
“What do I have to do with it? I earn the money! And you’re here wasting time!”
“I earn money too. And quite well.”
Andrey snorted.
“What money? From those courses you’re flaunting on social media? That’s not serious! A real job is in the city, at the school. Pack up—we’re going home!”
“No.”
“What do you mean, no?!”
“I mean no. I’m not going. And I’m filing for divorce.”
His face twisted.
“Have you lost your mind? Over some stupid comment of Lena’s? We were joking!”
“Not because of Lena’s words. Because you laughed. Because none of you stood up for me. Because to all of you I was just free help.”
“Oh, come on! We didn’t mean anything by it!”
“I know. You just didn’t care. That’s worse than malice.”
For half an hour Andrey tried pressure tactics: he threatened, then switched to pleading, told her how everyone was suffering without her. Katya listened calmly and with every minute understood more clearly that there was no way back.
“You’ll regret this!” he barked at last. “You’ll end up alone, unwanted by anyone!”
“Maybe. But it will be my life.”
When the sound of the car faded, Masha hugged her sister.
“How do you feel?”
“Like I took off a heavy backpack. I finally told the truth. To him and to myself.”
A year passed.
The “Exact Sciences” education center was known throughout the region. Eight graduates were admitted to MGI, fifteen to other technical universities. The waiting list kept growing.
The sisters converted a large room into a classroom, bought modern equipment, and hired a chemistry teacher. They ran online courses for students from other regions.
“We’ve got an inquiry from parents in Yekaterinburg,” Masha said, checking email. “They want their son to prep for a programming olympiad.”
“Take him. And remember how Andrey said this wasn’t serious?”
“I do. And how much did we make last month?”
Katya smiled.
In a month they were earning more than she used to make in a year at school. More importantly, they worked with joy and saw results. They were appreciated.
In summer the women vacationed in Sochi, stayed at a nice hotel, and didn’t pinch pennies. In the fall they planned a trip to Europe.
“Katya, don’t you ever want to marry again?” Masha asked one evening over tea on the veranda.
Katya thought for a moment.
“You know… after everything, I’m in no rush. Too much pain and lies to get over. Maybe someday I’ll meet someone who values me for myself, not for what I do. But not now.”
“Agreed. We’ve grown fond of our freedom!”
“And of not being called a ‘nonentity.’”
The sisters laughed.
Leaves rustled outside; late asters bloomed in the garden. In half an hour the kids would arrive for evening classes, and later there’d be an online session with students from Novosibirsk.
Katya glanced at her phone. Seven missed calls from her ex and her mother-in-law. She didn’t call back. She had her own life now. A life where she was valued.
A minibus braked in the yard. The kids from the district center had arrived.
Katya stood, straightened her blouse, and went to greet her students. She had work to do. Real, beloved work.
And it was the fairest thing that had happened to her in years.