Lena and Maksim got married seven years ago, right after she found out she was pregnant. She was only twenty; he was twenty-five. They were both young and inexperienced, but full of hope for a bright future. The pregnancy shocked them, yet they chose to keep the baby and become a real family.
Not long after, they welcomed their daughter Anya—blue-eyed, with soft, pale fluffy hair, like a little angel straight out of a picture. Maksim was crazy about the baby. He could spend hours with her, changing diapers and singing lullabies. Lena would watch them and feel her heart melt. This was her small, fragile happiness.
But real life doesn’t stay gentle for long.
Money problems hit quickly. Maksim worked himself to the bone at a factory for wages that barely covered anything. Lena stayed home with Anya, and side jobs were impossible—there was no one to leave the baby with.
Still, they tried not to fall apart. Even with all the daily stress, their tiny apartment had warmth, love, and a sense that they were on the same team. In the evenings Maksim came home exhausted, but he still made time to play with his daughter and help his wife. Lena, in return, tried to keep him going with hot dinners and quiet hugs. They were young, in love, and convinced they could survive anything.
Then the crisis came.
The factory started “shaking,” layoffs began, and Lena was among the first to be cut—even though she was ready to return to work early. Maksim hung on by sheer will, working like three men at once, but he was eventually pushed out too. Overnight, they were left without a stable income.
They needed money fast. But while Maksim grabbed whatever odd jobs he could, he sank deeper and deeper into despair. He felt like a loser, a man who couldn’t provide for his own family. Helplessness turned into drinking. He began disappearing with friends in garages, coming home after midnight, furious and mean—either collapsing into bed without a word or starting fights over nothing.
Lena suffered the most.
During the day she ran from interview to interview, and at night she listened to her husband’s drunken accusations layered over a baby’s crying. Sleep deprivation, hunger, and stress drained her. She lost weight, her face became hollow, the spark in her eyes faded. Yet she kept pulling the cart with clenched teeth—for Anya, their little angel.
Her mother-in-law never missed a chance to twist the knife. Raisa Pavlovna had always disliked Lena and believed her son deserved “better.”
“She trapped the boy,” she would hiss into the phone, complaining to her friends. “And now she can’t cook, can’t do laundry—can’t do anything. Maksim needed a solid woman, someone respectable, not this backwoods idiot.”
Sometimes Maksim would half-heartedly snap back that his mother should stop insulting his wife, that he chose Lena himself. But it never went beyond words. And in his darker moments, he doubted his own choices too—wondering if he rushed into marriage, if he should’ve insisted on an abortion. But there was no way back.
Money ran out completely, and his mother added fuel to the fire. Every time she could, she begged her son for “help”—for medicine, for utility bills, for “just a little loan.” Maksim couldn’t say no to his mother, the only close family he had. He gave her his last coins, sometimes even borrowed from friends, just so she wouldn’t be upset.
Meanwhile Lena wanted to smash her head against the wall: where was she supposed to find money for diapers and formula? Maksim would scold her with cold contempt:
“You’re not the one feeding my mother, so keep quiet.”
Their family scraped by on almost nothing. And yet, somehow, they stayed afloat. Lena forced herself to smile at her daughter, to keep her warm with love. And sometimes Maksim would wake up sober and sit for a long time beside Anya’s crib, whispering:
“Forgive me, my little star. You got stuck with a pathetic father. Just don’t get sick. Grow up strong. I’ll do better—I’ll break myself in two for you.”
Each of them fought in their own way—for that tiny spark of life, the proof that their love had once been real.
Raisa Pavlovna only smirked at their struggle.
“Oh, son… you’ve really gotten yourself into it,” she said theatrically. “And now I have to suffer too—take out loans again. I could’ve been relaxing at resorts like my neighbors if I lived alone.”
And then another disaster piled on top of the first.
Alongside all their financial misery, the mother-in-law went wild with credit purchases—expensive cookware sets, fancy dishware, jewelry glittering with stones, even a fur coat. She dragged all of it home and showed it off proudly to anyone who would look:
“See how much my son loves me? He never tells me no. He’ll get anything for his mother.”
Maksim didn’t know where to put himself from shame. He understood perfectly that his mother was living beyond her means, drowning in debt. He should’ve stopped her, explained that now wasn’t the time for luxury. But he couldn’t bring himself to speak harshly to the woman who raised him. So he stayed silent—just sighed and frowned.
Raisa Pavlovna, of course, didn’t stop. Every meeting became the same performance:
“Maksimushka, my son, rescue your mother. I’m buried in loans, I can’t live like this. Bring me some money—collectors won’t leave me alone. They call at night, they threaten me…”
And he couldn’t refuse. He kept carrying his mother the last crumbs, tearing them away from his own family.
When Lena accidentally learned how huge those loans were, she felt the floor vanish under her.
Half a million.
Do you know how many diapers that could buy? How much baby food? But that old woman wanted more and more—feasting at their expense. And her “husband,” her “protector,” coddled his mother while his wife and child could starve for all he cared.
Lena tried to talk to Maksim. He brushed her off:
“Mind your own business. She’s my mother. I’ll do what I want.”
That was when Lena understood there was no point appealing to his conscience. He was a mama’s boy, and he would stay one forever.
So it continued. Maksim carried money to his mother and survived on bread and water himself. Lena tried to keep the household going, but with a hungry child in her arms it was nearly impossible. When the electricity and heat were cut off for nonpayment, she and Anya would stay with friends for days. Maksim acted as if it had nothing to do with him—he vanished either to his mother’s place or to his drinking buddies.
Lena was drowning in despair.
How was she supposed to live? What had her family become—her dream of a calm, loving home? Why did her little girl have to suffer because adults were shameless? And the hardest question: could she ever forgive her husband for turning their life into a nightmare?
There was no answer. Only the daily grind—teeth clenched, dragging the weight step by step, on her last strength. For Anya—the little angel who was guilty of nothing. And for herself—so she wouldn’t break.
The last straw was when Lena returned to work.
With enormous difficulty she managed to get Anya into daycare, and she took a job as a cashier at a 24-hour supermarket. The schedule was brutal—twelve-hour shifts—but at least there was money. Better to work nights than beg a traitor husband for scraps.
A month later she received her first paycheck. Small, but hers—earned honestly. She brought it home, counted it: enough for diapers, cereal, purees, the essentials. Maybe even a jacket for Anya—she’d nearly outgrown everything. Lena put the cash into her precious tin can on top of the wardrobe so it wouldn’t get mixed with the “common budget.”
And the next morning Maksim appeared—sober, and oddly businesslike.
Right from the doorway he said:
“Got your paycheck? Hand it over. I’m going to pay off my mom’s loan.”
Lena’s jaw practically dropped.
“Are you out of your mind? What loan? Our child is hungry, wearing rags!”
“None of your business!” Maksim’s face flushed dark red as he worked himself up. “No tricks. Bring the money—now. If I can’t support the family alone, you’ll help.”
Lena nearly choked on rage. The audacity. He did nothing—just drank, ran around, disappeared. And now she was supposed to “help,” give up her hard-earned money so his mother could keep living large.
“You’re not getting a cent from me,” she said sharply, eyes blazing. “I earned that money, and it will go to my daughter. Help your mother yourself if you’re such a devoted son.”
Maksim’s fists clenched. He was furious—how dare she talk back. In his mind, she needed to be “put in her place.”
He shoved her hard, slamming her into the wall. Lena gasped from pain and shock, but stayed on her feet. Maksim immediately started tearing through the shelves, dumping the contents of cabinets onto the floor. He was hunting for her stash. He knew exactly where she hid the money.
Lena lunged to stop him, trying to grab the tin from his hands. A vicious struggle erupted. Maksim cursed, spat, shoved her roughly. Lena scratched, bit, hit him with her fists wherever she could. It all turned into one ugly knot of fury, humiliation, and disgust.
In the end, Maksim overpowered her. He ripped the tin away, coins scattering across the floor. He scooped up the bills and shoved them into his pocket. Then he spat at her feet and hissed:
“That’s enough of your circus. Next time you’ll be smarter. And for now—get lost, you witch. I’ve got a mother to feed, her loan is burning.”
And he stormed out, slamming the door behind him.
Lena slid down onto the floor—bruised, shaking, exhausted, crying. She stared into nothing. She heard her own heart hammering. She heard little Anya whimpering in her crib, frightened by the shouting.
That was it. The bottom had been reached.
Her husband had finally shown his real face—coward, thief, betrayer. For him, his mother was sacred. His wife and child were dirt under his shoes. And Lena had lived with this man for years, shared a bed, raised a child. How had she not seen it sooner? Or had she seen it but refused to accept it, clinging to the naïve idea of “love forever”?
Either way, the truth was here—late, painful, but unavoidable.
Lena slowly got up, wiped her tears, gathered the scattered things, hugged Anya close. Quietly, firmly, she said:
“That’s it, my love. We’re not staying here anymore. We’ve had enough of this nightmare. We’re going to Grandma’s. She won’t abandon us.”
The decision came suddenly, but it was the only right one. To hell with this life, this farce called a family. She would never again allow a worthless man to torture her and her child. Better to be alone than to live in humiliation.
She packed what she could—documents, a few necessities. Wrapped Anya warmly, placed her in the stroller, and went to her mother with one clear intention: to start over. A life without lies, without betrayal, without constant fear of tomorrow. A life where she was the one in control.
As she left, she looked back one last time at their shabby one-room apartment. So many tears shed there. So many nerves burned to save a mirage—an illusion of a happy family. In reality, it had been emptiness. No love, no support. Only pain, filth, and humiliation.
Enough. A line had been drawn.
Maksim came back only at dawn—dead drunk, barely standing. He stumbled inside, giggling like an idiot, hiccuped, and mumbled:
“Lena… feed me. I’m hungry as a dog… hic!”
But instead of his wife, he was met by echoing emptiness. No clothes. No daughter’s toys. Just wreckage everywhere and scraps of paper on the floor. Maksim rubbed his eyes, trying to understand through the fog—what happened? Where had they gone?
He shuffled to the kitchen and turned on the light. On the table lay a note, scribbled in Lena’s familiar handwriting:
“Don’t look for us. We’re gone. For good. Live however you want—just forget about us.”
Nothing else.
Maksim stared at the paper, trying to make the words mean something. It didn’t fit in his head. Why? What had he done? He “only” took money to pay his mother’s debt. In his twisted logic, he was doing it “for the family,” for their “common good.” Why was she so furious?
Anger rose like a choking wave. To hell with her—hysterical idiot! Leaving her husband, like that. Without her he’d live a hundred times better. He’d take care of his mother, find money for a bottle, and finally have peace. He didn’t need Lena—she only nagged and ruined his life.
He spat, crumpled the note, threw it into the trash, and fell asleep without even brushing his teeth.
That night he dreamed of Lena—young, beautiful, smiling. She stroked his head, kissed the top of his hair… and then suddenly pushed him away and walked into fog, disappearing. Leaving him alone in an empty, cold bed.
By morning it was clear: there was no going back.
Lena had taken their daughter and gone to her mother’s village, far from the betrayer husband, far from that nest of poison and cruelty. She was starting from scratch—for herself and for Anya.
At first Maksim wanted to go after them, drag them back, “knock sense” into his wife. But his mother quickly cooled his ambition:
“Forget her, son. We’ll do fine without that rag. Do you really need her? With me you’ll be a hundred times better. I’ll take care of you—my only son.”
And Maksim gave up. He abandoned his family and his duty as a father. He threw himself into drinking, only occasionally remembering that somewhere he had a child—usually when he was drunk and suddenly sentimental. Sober, he was “too busy.” He had to watch his mother, go to the store, buy alcohol. That was his whole life.
Lena, once she escaped that suffocating trap, seemed to bloom. It was as if she had dropped an impossible burden and finally breathed freely again. Things improved with her mother. Anya was cared for. Lena took hairdressing courses and eventually opened a small salon. Business grew, and stable income followed.
She tried not to think about her former relatives. There was no time for them anyway—life moved on, new responsibilities filled her days. The main thing was that Anya grew up healthy and happy. Smart, just like her mother. Nothing of her father in her—thank God.
Ten years passed.
Anya became a bright, beautiful, hardworking young woman. She finished school with top honors and got into medical school on a state-funded place. Lena’s pride was endless. Neighbors marveled: “Not everyone could raise a daughter like that.” Lena only smiled. Her girl deserved the best. Against all odds, she had made it through.
Life settled into a calm routine. The past stayed silent—until one day he appeared on her doorstep.
Older. Worn down. Hollow-eyed. Hands trembling.
Maksim.
Lena froze as she recognized him. Maksim kept his eyes down and muttered:
“Len… uh… Mom died. I’m all alone now. I’m drowning in debts, creditors are everywhere. Maybe… you’ll take me back? We were together so many years… I gave you a son… it’s not right to leave me like this.”
“A son?” Lena thought, stunned. Was he talking about Anya? They never had a son—only a daughter. The daughter he abandoned and forgot the moment she walked out the door. And now, suddenly, he remembered “the kids”? Trying to squeeze pity from her?
Something snapped inside her. Ten years had passed, but the disgust was still sharp. It was unbearable to look at this broken ruin. Not a man—just a piece of trash blown in from the street.
Lena took a deep breath and answered slowly, clearly:
“You know, Maksim… there was no son. There was a daughter you threw away for your mother. And now that she’s gone, you remember children? No. Go to hell. Don’t try to talk your way into my life. Live however you want—just don’t touch us. Goodbye.”
And she slammed the door, nearly catching his nose.
That was the end. Enough conversation for ten lifetimes. Let him deal with what he created. Lena and Anya had their own road now—clean and bright, without the poison of the past.
Five more years went by.
Lena never remarried. She was afraid of running into another parasite. And besides—why? Her home was full, her daughter had her own path. Anya dreamed of moving abroad after graduation to work. She only needed wings, and then—watch out world.
Lena never heard about Maksim again. Maybe he vanished completely—drank himself to death or worse. Maybe he ended up in trouble because of his mother’s schemes. It didn’t matter. Let them both go where they belonged.
Lena finally found what she had fought for so long and so painfully: peace, stability, confidence in tomorrow. And most important of all—self-respect. Respect for her own life, her own dreams. No one would ever grind her into the dirt again.
She looks at herself in the mirror and smiles. Yes, she’s over forty. Yes, she’s not perfect. But she is happy—truly happy. She does what she loves. She raised a wonderful person. Her family is her and her daughter, and she needs nothing more.
And the lesson is simple.
Don’t be afraid to stand up for yourself and your interests. Don’t let anyone climb on your back and control your life—even if it’s “family,” even if it’s someone you love. Because real love isn’t one-sided. Real love means mutual respect, honesty, and trust. Everything else is a lie.