Elena raised her glass of champagne, smiling at her friend Olga. The birthday celebration was a success—about twenty people had gathered in the café, laughter never stopping, and for the first time in months, she felt like just a woman, not only the mother of one-year-old Yulia.
“To your happiness!” she said, when her phone suddenly rang.
“Elena, where are you?!” Mikhail’s voice was clearly irritated. “Our daughter has been screaming for an hour and a half!”
“Mikhail, I warned you I’d be late. Olga celebrates her birthday once a year. We agreed…”
“You promised to be back in two hours! It’s been three!”
Elena stepped away from the table so as not to disturb the others.
“Try giving her a bottle of water. Maybe she’s just hot.”
“I’ve tried everything! Yulka is sick; she needs her mother!”
“Misha, calm down. Check her diaper; maybe it’s rubbing. I’ll be there in an hour.”
“No! Come immediately!” Mikhail nearly shouted. “Or do you not care about your own daughter?”
“Alright, I’ll come ten minutes earlier.”
“Elena, you…” The line went dead. He had hung up.
Elena returned to the table, but her mood was ruined. Her friends surrounded her with concern.
“What happened?” Olga asked sympathetically.
“Yulia is crying, and Misha can’t calm her. He says she’s sick.”
“My God, he’s a man!” Tatiana interjected. “My Igor panicked the first few times too. He thought the child would break from any touch.”
“And my husband still doesn’t understand why our daughter cries,” Marina laughed. “He calls me for every little thing.”
“Girls, maybe I should go after all?” Elena hesitated.
“You’ve left the house for the first time in three months!” Olga said firmly. “An hour can wait. Let him learn to be a father.”
Elena tried to join the conversation when Mikhail burst into the café, Yulia whining in his arms.
“There she is!” he bellowed across the room. “Mother of the year! While her daughter is dying, she’s here having fun!”
All conversation stopped. Customers turned to look, and Elena blushed.
“Misha, what are you doing?” she said quietly.
“I’m doing what I should have done an hour ago!” Mikhail theatrically shook the crying child. “I’ve brought the dying daughter to her irresponsible mother!”
“Stop making a scene,” Olga stood up. “This is inappropriate, and I remind you, the daughter is yours too.”
“And you stay out of it!” he snapped. “You’re the one who took her from Yulka. Look,” he said, pointing to the girl’s wet eyes.
“Sir, keep your voice down,” a gray-haired man at a neighboring table addressed him. “People are dining here.”
“None of your business!” Mikhail shouted. “It’s my wife who abandoned a sick child!”
“Misha, please,” Elena stood up and took her daughter. Yulia calmed almost immediately in her arms.
“Olga, sorry,” she said to her friend. “I need to leave.”
“Of course you do!” Mikhail sneered. “Finally remembered your motherly duties!”
“Don’t apologize,” Olga hugged her. “It’s not your fault.”
“Go to hell!” Tatiana couldn’t take it. “Normal men don’t behave like this!”
Mikhail wanted to reply, but the café manager decisively approached their table.
“Excuse me, but I must ask you to leave. You are disturbing other guests.”
At home, Elena took off her daughter’s sweater and found a tag sticking out on the inside of the collar, leaving a red mark on her delicate skin.
“So that’s the whole illness,” she showed her husband. “The tag was rubbing her.”
“How was I supposed to know?” her husband shrugged, settling on the couch.
“How do you not know? Take it off and look!”
“Listen, I didn’t sign up to be a nanny. That’s women’s work.”
Elena turned to him.
“What did you just say?”
“What I said. I work, I provide for the family. The kids are your responsibility.”
“Misha, you humiliated me in front of everyone over a tag!”
“Now you know a mother’s place is at home, not in a café with friends.”
“Are you serious?” Elena couldn’t believe it. “Misha, I work remotely, manage three projects at once, take care of the child, cook, clean… When am I supposed to rest?”
“Rest?” Mikhail snorted. “Sitting at home with a child is rest. Try working ten-hour days in an office!”
“Try staying up all night with a crying child!” Elena flared up.
“Oh, come on, what’s so hard? Feed her, change the diaper…”
“Exactly! What’s so hard? But for some reason, you couldn’t even find the tag!”
Mikhail grabbed his car keys.
“That’s it, I’m done. I’m going to Sergey’s, need a break from family happiness.”
“Go ahead,” his wife said quietly. “As always.”
Elena watched the door close behind him, holding her calm daughter. She quickly packed Yulia’s things into a bag, dressed her, and left the apartment.
Half an hour later, she stood at her mother-in-law’s door with a suitcase and stroller.
“Elena?” Anna Petrovna was surprised. “What happened?”
“I’m leaving Mikhail. Can I stay with you for a few days?”
“Of course, come in. Tell me what that fool did.”
“Anna Petrovna, he made a scene in a café in front of everyone,” Elena sat on the couch, rocking Yulia. “He yelled that I’m a terrible mother, that our daughter is dying… And it turned out the tag on her clothes was rubbing. He didn’t even try to understand.”
“My God, what a disgrace,” her mother-in-law shook her head. “And then?”
“Then he said that children are exclusively a woman’s responsibility. That he’s not a nanny.”
“I see,” Anna Petrovna said dryly. “So Yulia isn’t really his daughter, then?”
“Exactly. And you know what annoys me the most? He thinks staying at home with a child is rest!”
“I was foolish,” her mother-in-law sighed. “I spoiled the boy. Thought he’d grow up once he got married. But he’s even worse now.”
The next day, Mikhail arrived at his mother’s, angry.
“Mom, where’s my wife? She should be back home!”
“She’s not going anywhere,” Anna Petrovna answered calmly. “But you, explain why you made a scene in the café.”
“What scene? I was protecting my daughter’s interests!”
“Over a tag on her clothes?” her mother asked coldly. “Elena told me everything.”
“Mom, don’t listen to her! She’s exaggerating!” Mikhail paced nervously. “Kick her out, make her come home!”
“Mikhail, sit down,” Anna Petrovna said sternly. “We need to talk properly.”
“What’s there to talk about? My wife should be home!”
“Elena has more right to live in that apartment as the mother of my granddaughter. And you… you’ve disappointed me.”
“Mom, I earn money!”
“And Elena works. From home, online, but she works. Plus she raises the child, plus all the household chores. And what do you do?”
“I provide for the family!”
“Then do it quietly. Do you remember how hard it was for me to raise you alone after your father died? Did you think you’d understand responsibility?”
“Why compare? My job is hard, stressful…”
“And hers is easy, right?” her mother asked sarcastically. “Mikhail, when was the last time you got up with the child at night?”
“Why should I get up? She has milk!”
“When was the last time you played with your daughter? Walked her? Bathed her?”
Mikhail was silent, realizing he had no answer.
“Mom, I’m tired at work…”
“And she’s tired too! But she doesn’t throw tantrums in public!”
Mikhail glared angrily.
“Fine! I’ll find another woman, marry her! And let this one stay home with the child alone!”
“Try it,” her mother said calmly. “But first, pay child support properly. I’ll be watching.”
“Mom, whose mother are you? Mine or hers?”
“I’m the mother of an adult man who should be responsible for his actions. And so far, I see only an infantile egoist.”
A month later, the divorce was finalized. Mikhail celebrated—finally, freedom! He even brought home a new acquaintance, Svetlana, a blonde from the neighboring department.
“Misha, your apartment is so beautiful!” she admired, looking around.
“That’s nothing,” Mikhail smirked. “Soon I’ll renovate, buy new furniture. Now that I’m free of family baggage, I can live for myself.”
“And what about your ex-wife?” Svetlana asked.
“What about her? She’s living with my mother with the child. Let her sit, raise the kid.”
“And child support?”
“What child support?” Mikhail waved his hand. “My mother is well-off; she won’t starve.”
They were sitting in the kitchen when the door opened with a key. Anna Petrovna entered, and behind her—Elena with Yulia.
“Why did you bring her here?” Mikhail asked his mother, frightened, seeing his ex-wife holding their daughter.
“I’m returning the rightful owners,” Anna Petrovna announced. “The apartment now belongs to my granddaughter, Yulia. And you, dear, are free.”
“Mom, what are you doing?” Mikhail shouted.
“Doing what you should have done long ago. Pack your things; you’ll come to me.”
“Misha, what’s happening?” Svetlana asked, confused.
“Nothing special,” Anna Petrovna replied coldly. “My son forgot to mention that the apartment had been officially transferred to my granddaughter six months ago. I foresaw this outcome.”
“Mom, you can’t do this!” Mikhail pleaded.
“I can. And I will. Elena, make yourself comfortable.”
Svetlana grabbed her bag and ran out without saying goodbye.
“Svetka, wait!” Mikhail shouted after her, but the door had already closed.
Two years later, Mikhail realized that friends were avoiding him—tired of hearing his constant complaints. His mother spoke to him coldly, and living in her apartment with a new woman was strictly forbidden.
He dialed Elena’s number.
“Lenochka, let’s talk. Maybe we can get back together?”
“There’s nowhere to go back to, Misha. I’m already home.”
“But we’re a family! Yulia needs a father!”
“You can be a father even after a divorce. No one is stopping you from seeing her.”
“Listen, maybe I could help with decorating the nursery?”
“Thanks, it’s already done. Viktor helped.”
“What? Who’s Viktor?” Mikhail tensed.
“A colleague from work. A very good person. By the way, he invited me to a café tomorrow.”
“You’re going?”
“I think so. It’s time to start living without you.”
“And who is he anyway? Just some random guy!”
“Not random. He’s been helping me for three months. Plays with Yulia, goes shopping when I’m sick.”
“And does he give you money too?” Mikhail asked venomously.
“No, Misha. He just helps because he wants to. No tantrums, no reproaches.”
Mikhail sat in his mother’s room, staring at the ceiling. Everything had collapsed over a stupid tag on the child’s clothing. No, not the tag—it was his inability to simply undress the child and see what was bothering her.
The phone rang. Elena.
“Misha, I wasn’t sure whether to tell you, but you probably should know. Viktor proposed to me.”
“How?!” Mikhail shouted. “And what did you say?”
“I’ll think about it. But, you know… he doesn’t make scenes in public. And he plays with Yulia with joy. I haven’t decided yet, but…”
“Lenochka, wait… You can’t be serious! We lived together for five years!”
“So what? Those five years give you the right to yell at me in front of people?”
“I didn’t mean to! You just annoy me sometimes with your righteousness!”
“See? Even now you can’t talk properly.”
“Lena, let’s try again!”
“No, Misha. Viktor has shown me how a man can treat a woman. He reads Yulia bedtime stories, doesn’t see it as humiliating.”
“I can read those stupid stories too!”
“Not stupid—important for our daughter. But you don’t understand that.”
“I do! I’m just tired of working for you both!”
“Exactly. ‘For us.’ And Viktor says ‘for us.’ See the difference?”
“Lenochka, wait…”
“It’s decided. I’m sorry, but the family we tried to build ended that day in the café. Forever.”
The line went dead. Mikhail slowly hung up and realized: he had gotten exactly what he wanted—complete freedom from family responsibilities. Yet somehow, it didn’t feel good at all.
From the next room, his mother’s voice spoke on the phone:
“Of course, Lenochka, I’ll be at your wedding. It’s your choice, and as for my granddaughter…”
Mikhail jumped out of the room.
“Mom! What are you doing?”
“Talking to Elena. She invited me to the wedding.”
“You can’t go! I’m your son!”
“So what? Does that give you the right to ruin a good girl’s life?”
“Good? She left me!”
“She did the right thing. I would have left much sooner in her place.”
“Thanks for the support, Mother!”
“Support is for when you deserve it. You deserve only the truth.”
“What truth?”
“That you’re selfish, Misha. You only think about yourself.”
“I worked! Brought money home!”
“And thought that was enough. Your wife was supposed to stay silent and endure your outbursts.”
“What outbursts? I didn’t drink, didn’t go out!”
“But you constantly yelled. Humiliated. Were ashamed of your own daughter.”
“I wasn’t ashamed! I just didn’t know what to do with her!”
“You should have loved her, Misha. Simply loved her.”
A week later, Mikhail met Elena near the kindergarten. She was picking up Yulia, and a tall man with glasses stood nearby.
“Lena!”
She turned, her face wary.
“Hi, Mish.”
“Is this him?” Mikhail nodded toward the man.
“Viktor, meet Mikhail, Yulia’s father.”
Viktor extended his hand.
“Nice to meet you.”
“Yeah, not so much for me,” Mikhail muttered, refusing the handshake.
“Misha, don’t start,” Elena warned.
“Don’t start what? She’s my daughter!”
“No one’s disputing that. You can see her, but only on weekends.”
“Under his supervision, right?”
“No, of course not. But if you want to take her on weekends, give notice in advance.”
“Oh, I see! Now I have to ask permission?”
“Not just ask, but it’s your duty. I’m her guardian; you’re just… the biological father.”
“Dad!” Yulia shouted, running out of the kindergarten.
The little girl ran to her father. Mikhail picked her up.
“Hi, sweetie. I missed you.”
“I missed you too! And Uncle Vitya said we’re going to the zoo!”
“Uncle Vitya?” Mikhail grimaced at the words.
“Yep! He’s very kind. Buys ice cream, reads books!”
“I see. Bought my daughter ice cream. How dare you! Intruding in my life!”
“Not your life, theirs. You left their life yourself,” Viktor explained.
“Yulia, let’s go,” Elena intervened. “It’s time to go home.”
“Lena, wait!” Mikhail shouted. “Don’t leave!”
“Why should I stay? For you to make another scene?”
“I’m not making a scene!”
“You are, Dad,” Yulia said softly. “You always yell at Mom.”
Mikhail froze. The words of his three-year-old daughter were harsher than any reproach.
“Yulyechka, I…”
“I’m scared when you yell.”
“That’s enough,” Elena said. “Yulia, let’s go.”
They left. Mikhail remained standing by the kindergarten alone, realizing that he had lost not only his wife but possibly even his daughter. And the only person to blame for it was himself.
