“Valera,” she said, placing the salad on the table and sitting down opposite him. “I got a bonus at work. And I was thinking… maybe we could set this money aside for the summer? There will still be time to save a little more. And in July, we could go to the sea. The kids haven’t seen it even once yet. They need their childhood too.”
“You should have told me earlier. I’ve been meaning to say that Mom needs a new refrigerator. She wants a double-door one.”
Masha had been on maternity leave for almost six years. And now, with both of her sons in kindergarten, she was finally able to return to work. She had long wanted to work.
She had tried working remotely from home, but it had been sheer hell: if one child got sick, her whole work routine fell apart. You sit with a laptop while there’s coughing, tantrums, screaming, constant requests in the room—“Mom, play with me!” “Mom, give me a drink!” “Mom, he pushed me!” And in the end, the workday turned into chaos, and by evening, her head ached terribly.
Now everything was different. In the morning, she would take the boys to kindergarten, go to the office, and there calmly start her work. At first, Maria felt awkward: much had changed over the years—programs, new rules, new colleagues. But gradually she got into the rhythm, and even began to enjoy life again—the confidence that work gave her and, most importantly, the salary.
It had been hard while Valera had been paying the mortgage alone all those years. Sometimes she felt guilty for staying at home, although she understood that someone had to be with the children. But now everything was different. There was very little left to pay off. Masha and Valera hoped that with two salaries, they could clear the remainder quickly.
And then—luck. Right before New Year, Maria received a substantial bonus. The money was unexpected, and the immediate question arose: what to do with it? She dreamed of saving it for the summer, for a vacation she and Valera had planned for years but had always postponed due to financial difficulties.
Masha told her husband very carefully during dinner. She had spent a week thinking it over, choosing her words, rehearsing in her head—how to convince Valera that this money should be spent not on the mortgage, not on household needs, but on something they had both long awaited and deserved.
“Valera,” she said, placing the salad on the table and sitting down opposite him. “I got a bonus at work. And I was thinking… maybe we could set this money aside for the summer? There will still be time to save a little more. And in July, we could go to the sea. The kids haven’t seen it even once yet. They need their childhood too.”
Her husband was silent, concentrating on spearing a cutlet with his fork. Masha clenched her fingers under the table, preparing for objections. And suddenly Valera lifted his head and said calmly:
“Mash, you should have told me earlier. I’ve been meaning to say that Mom needs a new refrigerator. She wants a double-door one.”
“A refrigerator?” she asked, confused. “What happened to the old one? It works perfectly.”
“It works, but it’s old and small. It’s inconvenient for her. She complains all the time. I want to do something nice. After all, she lives alone.”
“Exactly. Why does she need a big refrigerator?”
“Don’t ask. She just wants it. I’ve already saved a little, but your bonus couldn’t have come at a better time.”
“Saved? So you complained about a lack of money, but meanwhile were saving for your mom? Behind my back and our sons’? I’m in shock…,” Maria said, losing her appetite entirely.
“So what? She’s my mom. I have to.”
“And what about your own children? What do you owe them?”
“They owe me. They study well at school.”
“The boys are still in kindergarten,” his wife shook her head.
“So what?”
Masha ran out of arguments. She had expected a dispute about the mortgage, but not this. Maria had spent so much time thinking about how to persuade her husband to give their family a piece of happiness, and suddenly he started talking about a gift for his mother.
“So…,” she said slowly, “you’re suggesting that instead of a sea vacation for us and the kids, we buy a refrigerator for your mother?”
Valera shrugged, as if it were the most obvious option. Masha covered her face with her hands, still unable to believe what her husband was saying.
Over the next two weeks, Valera didn’t even attempt to revisit the conversation about the vacation. He acted as if the decision had long been made and there was nothing left to discuss.
“Mash, look,” one evening he approached her with his phone and turned the screen toward her. “This option isn’t bad. Two compartments, freezer at the bottom, it will be convenient for Mom. And this one has a nice color, it’ll match the interior.”
Masha looked and turned away silently.
“I’m not giving you my bonus for a refrigerator for Anna Ivanovna,” she said firmly. “I set this money aside for the summer. We’re going to the sea with the children.”
Valera seemed deaf. His face went stone cold.
“Are you serious?” he snorted. “So your mom means nothing to you?”
“And I mean nothing to you? The children mean nothing to you? I’m tired of always being second after your mother.”
From that evening, real hell began in their family. Valera started to take revenge: for any of Masha’s requests, he responded with the same answer:
“Money’s gone. It’s all your fault. Had to take a loan for the refrigerator.”
“Valera, Nikita needs shoes—his feet have outgrown the old ones.”
“No money.”
“The kindergarten fees need to be paid.”
“No money.”
“Sasha’s jacket is torn; it needs to go to the tailor.”
“Not my problem.”
Masha bit her lips until they bled, but her pride wouldn’t allow her to ask again. She stopped visiting her mother-in-law and stopped answering her calls. She hadn’t expected such meanness from either her husband or Anna Ivanovna.
Luckily, Masha had her own small room in the dormitory. She had been renting it out for a long time, and the money went toward paying off the mortgage. Without that, Valera would almost certainly have stopped paying the mortgage during her maternity leave.
Several times he had suggested selling that room:
“Why do you need that room? It barely brings in any money. Sell it, and life will be easier for us.”
But Masha refused every time. She understood that this tiny room was her only backup, her little fortress that no one could take away from her. Now she clung to it like a lifeline. Masha increasingly realized that if it weren’t for that small dorm room, she would have gone insane long ago.
And soon, an idea about the vacation formed in Maria’s mind.
“Lenka,” she called her cousin, “listen, were you planning to go anywhere this summer with Seryoga and Alisa?”
“Well, we were thinking maybe to the sea, if we could save enough money. Why?”
“What if we went together? We could book adjacent rooms in the hotel. The kids would have more fun, and it would be easier for us. I can’t manage the boys alone.”
“Alone? What about Valera?”
“He’s not going. He bought a refrigerator for his mom and is now in debt up to his ears.”
“Really? Wow!” her cousin was surprised. “Well… okay, let’s go together then. And Valera won’t mind that you’re going without him?”
“Let him say what he wants. I’m the one handling the kids alone anyway, and he just lives next door like a neighbor. Only counting his money as if someone’s stealing it…”
And that’s how they decided. She bought train tickets—round-trip—for herself and the two boys. Masha deserved at least a small break from the endless stream of household tasks.
Meanwhile, Valera continued to believe he was doing everything right. He was paying the loan for the refrigerator and half the mortgage. He willingly split financial difficulties with Masha, but household matters—no. He didn’t care where his wife would find the money for her half of the monthly payment. He paid his own half dutifully.
After work, Masha would rush to the kindergarten to pick up the boys, then to the store, then home to cook, wash, and clean. Valera, in the meantime, lounged on the sofa, resting after work.
“You’re the mother,” he liked to repeat. “So take care of the kids. That’s your responsibility.”
One day, returning from work, Masha sensed that something was wrong. The apartment was unusually quiet. She was carrying two grocery bags, followed by her sons.
When Maria entered the room, she saw Valera sitting at the table with her laptop. His face was angry, his eyes bloodshot.
“Well, traveler?” he hissed through gritted teeth. “Bought tickets? Going to the sea? Three tickets, right?” He slammed the laptop shut. “And here I am, paying loans, carrying everything myself, and you spend your money only on fun?!”
Masha set the bags down and said quietly:
“This isn’t fun. It’s a vacation—for the kids… and for me. I want them to see the sea.”
“Without me?!” Valera snapped. “What about the father? You forgot about me!”
In the hallway, the boys exchanged worried glances and pressed close to each other. Masha looked at her husband with a steady gaze and realized that her decision was absolutely right. Valera jumped up, almost overturning a chair. His face twisted with rage.
“Pack your things and get out of here—NOW!” he shouted, making the boys cover their ears.
Masha didn’t flinch. She picked up the grocery bags and calmly carried them to the kitchen. Then she turned and said coldly:
“This is my apartment too. I’m not going anywhere.”
Valera paced the room like a cornered animal, clutching his head one moment and punching the wall the next. But Masha felt strong. She pulled out her phone, tapped a few times, and said calmly:
“That’s it. Divorce papers have been filed.”
Valera froze.
“Are you completely insane?!” he yelled. “Destroy the family over a refrigerator?!”
Masha looked him straight in the eyes:
“It’s not about the refrigerator, Valera. It’s about your attitude toward the family. You live alone. And we—the kids and I—live separately. Do you even know what your sons are interested in? Do you know the names of their teachers at kindergarten? Although… why am I even asking? Do you even know the number of their kindergarten?”
It was as if a thunderstorm had passed over their home. That year, the sea trip had to be canceled—it wasn’t a time for vacation. Three months later, they were officially divorced. The apartment was sold, the money split in half—Valera counted every penny and didn’t budge.
Maria sold everything she could, added her savings, and bought a two-room apartment on the outskirts. She still had a little left to pay on the loan, but it was nothing compared to the mortgage she had shared with her husband.
Valera returned to his mother. And there, the brand-new refrigerator came in handy. Anna Ivanovna greeted her son with open arms: he was with her again. She fed him borscht, stuffed cabbage, and cutlets with mashed potatoes. Valera lived his best life. Work—home, home—work. No family, no children around, and certainly no problems.
And Maria… Maria had grown used to hardships. She did everything she had done before: work, kindergarten, cooking, cleaning. Only now she cooked for three. And most importantly—no more reproaches or hurtful words filled her home.
In the evenings, when the boys fell asleep, she would sit by the window with a book and enjoy the moment. Her life belonged to her again.
A full year passed. Summer came again to the city—hot, noisy, dusty. But this time, it was different for Masha and her sons.
When the traditional vacation season began, Maria packed the suitcases, took the children by the hand, and for the first time in her life went to the sea with them. This time, without negotiations, without quarrels or scandals, without having to explain why it was so important for everyone.
The trip was simple: the train, carriages smelling of metal and tea in glasses, the boys too excited to sleep, asking every five minutes:
“Mom, is the sea close?”
And then it was there—the morning, the sun, the salty air, and the endless blue expanse. The boys were thrilled to kick off their sandals and ran squealing into the water.
Masha stood on the shore, breathing in the sea breeze. She closed her eyes, and her heart swelled with happiness. Yes, the road had been difficult. Yes, more challenges lay ahead. But now… now she had what made it all worthwhile: freedom and two happy sons, squealing with delight in the waves.
In the evenings, they sat on the balcony of the rented room, eating watermelon and laughing. The boys argued over who would learn to swim first, and Masha listened, thinking: “I did it. I managed.”
The sea she had dreamed of for so many years became the beginning of a new life—a life where she decided where to go, and knew that no one could ever take that right away from her.
