“So on your mother’s birthday I’m supposed to cook for twenty people, and you just forgot about mine?!”
Lena first saw Maksim in a café on Tverskaya Street. He was sitting by the window with a laptop, occasionally glancing up and smiling at something. His smile was so open, so genuine, that Lena couldn’t help but admire him. And when he accidentally met her gaze, she felt her cheeks flush with heat.
“Excuse me, could you tell me where there’s a power outlet?” he asked, approaching her table. “I stayed too long, and my battery’s dead.”
That was how they met. Maksim turned out to be a programmer, working remotely, who adored old films and could talk about them for hours. He was charming, cheerful, easy to talk to. Next to him, Lena felt special, needed, loved.
She had come to Moscow only six months earlier after university. She rented a room in an apartment with two other girls and got a job as an assistant accountant in a small company. Life in the capital turned out to be nothing like what she imagined from movies and TV shows.
The city was huge, indifferent, cold. She had no friends, her colleagues kept to themselves, and her roommates lived their own lives.
And then — Maksim. With him, everything changed. He showed her Moscow, took her to little cafés only locals knew about, brought her flowers for no reason. After three months, he proposed to her right on Sparrow Hills at sunset. Lena cried with happiness.
“I love you so much,” Maksim whispered, kissing her tears. “You are the best thing that ever happened to me.”
The wedding was modest, with only the closest people. Lena’s parents came from her hometown, and her mother even cried as she walked her daughter down the aisle. Maksim introduced her to his mother — Valentina Sergeyevna — even before the wedding. She greeted Lena politely, but restrainedly, as if evaluating her.
“Maksimushka is my only son,” she said over tea. “I raised him alone, his father left early. I devoted my whole life to him.”
Lena only nodded and smiled then, trying to make a good impression.
After the wedding, the newlyweds moved in with Valentina Sergeyevna. The apartment was a three-room flat in a good neighborhood. Maksim explained that it was temporary — they would save up for a down payment on a mortgage and move out in a year or so.
“Mom doesn’t mind,” he reassured her. “She’ll even enjoy having us around.”
At first, it didn’t seem too hard. Valentina Sergeyevna worked as a deputy principal at a school; she left early in the morning and came home tired in the evening. Lena tried to help: she cooked dinner, cleaned the apartment, bought groceries.
Maksim worked from home, but hardly helped around the house — either he had deadlines, an important online meeting, or he simply forgot.
“Lenusya, could you…?” he would say with an apologetic smile. “I really have to finish this.”
And Lena would go wash the dishes, hang up the laundry, cook lunch. She didn’t get offended — Maksim worked so hard, and she wanted to be a good wife. In her family, her mother had always done everything herself, and her father never helped around the house. That was just the way it was.
But gradually Lena noticed that Maksim didn’t just help little — he didn’t see anything that needed doing at all. He could calmly walk past an overflowing laundry basket, step over a puddle of water on the kitchen floor, not notice that the fridge was empty. Valentina Sergeyevna would sigh and say:
“What do you expect, he’s a man. At least he’s kind, doesn’t drink, and works hard.”
Lena agreed. Maksim really was kind. He never yelled, never spoke harshly, always ready to hug and comfort her. He was just… irresponsible. Like a perpetual child who needed to be cleaned up after, fed, and cared for.
In mid-October, Maksim said:
“Len, in two weeks it’s Mom’s birthday. We need to organize a proper celebration. We’ll invite relatives, friends. About twenty people, I think.”
Lena nodded.
“Okay. What needs to be done?”
“Well, nothing special. Set the table, decorate the apartment. You’re my perfect homemaker.”
He smiled and kissed her cheek. Of course she would help. Valentina Sergeyevna did so much for them, gave them a roof over their heads, didn’t charge them utilities. It was the least Lena could do in return.
Two weeks flew by quickly. Lena made the menu, bought the groceries, planned the decorations. On the birthday, she took the day off work and started cooking early in the morning. Valentina Sergeyevna went to visit a friend so she wouldn’t get in the way, while Maksim sat in his room on an important call.
Lena kneaded dough for pies, chopped vegetables for salads, roasted meat, whipped cream for the cake. Her legs ached, her back hurt, but she kept going. By three in the afternoon, the apartment was decorated with balloons and garlands, and the table was so full of dishes it was almost sagging.
“Wow, it looks amazing!” Maksim exclaimed, finally coming out of his room. “Lenusya, you’ve done great! Mom will be thrilled.”
And Valentina Sergeyevna really was delighted. The guests started arriving by six, and soon the apartment was filled with laughter, music, and voices. Lena rushed back and forth between the kitchen and the living room, serving food, refilling drinks, slicing the cake. Maksim sat with the guests, telling jokes, accepting toasts in honor of his mother.
“What a wonderful homemaker your wife is!” the aunts said. “You’re lucky, Maksim!”
“Yes, I’m very lucky,” he agreed, and as Lena passed by with a tray, she caught his satisfied smile.
She smiled back, though her legs were giving out and her hands were trembling with exhaustion. The guests didn’t leave until after midnight. Lena collapsed onto the sofa, still in her clothes, completely drained.
“Thank you so much, dear,” said Valentina Sergeyevna, sitting beside her. “Everything was wonderful. You’re a real homemaker.”
Lena nodded, too tired to speak. Maksim was already asleep, not even waiting for her.
The next day Lena struggled to get up. Her whole body ached, her head was pounding. But she had to go to work. She overslept and barely made it on time. The whole day passed in a haze. And her colleagues were already preparing for her birthday — it was in a week, on October twenty-eighth.
“Are you having a party?” asked Olga, the senior accountant.
“I don’t know, maybe we’ll do something at home,” Lena replied uncertainly.
Truth was, she really didn’t know. Maksim hadn’t said anything, but she hoped he was planning something. He remembered her birthday — of course he remembered. He must.
The week flew by quickly. Lena tried hinting to Maksim several times about the upcoming date, but he seemed not to hear. He talked about work, a new project, how he might get a raise and how they could save up for their own apartment faster.
On Friday, October twenty-eighth, Lena woke up with a flutter of excitement in her heart. Maksim was already sitting at his computer. She came up behind him and hugged him.
“Good morning,” she whispered.
“Morning,” he replied absently, eyes still on the screen.
Valentina Sergeyevna had already left for work. Lena had breakfast alone, got ready, and went to the office. All day she waited for a message from Maksim, but her phone stayed silent. Her colleagues congratulated her, gifted her a box of chocolates and a bouquet. Olga even brought a homemade pie.
“You should leave early today,” she said. “It’s your birthday, after all.”
Lena left an hour earlier than usual. On her way home, she stopped by a shop window, fixed her makeup, checked her hair. Her heart was beating fast. Maybe Maksim had prepared a surprise? Maybe he was only pretending he forgot, and at home a celebration was waiting for her?
She opened the door — and immediately knew there was no celebration. The apartment was quiet. Maksim was sitting in the kitchen on his phone, and Valentina Sergeyevna was making dinner.
“Oh, Lenochka, you’re home,” said her mother-in-law. “Will you have dinner? I made noodles with cutlets.”
Lena stood in the doorway, unable to speak. Maksim looked up.
“Hey. How was your day?”
“Fine,” she forced out.
A lump rose in her throat. Lena went to the bedroom, closed the door, and sat on the bed. So he’d forgotten. Simply forgotten. Her birthday meant nothing to him — just another workday.
She sat staring at the wall, fighting back tears. Maybe he’d remember later? Maybe he’d say something after all?
But he didn’t. Maksim never came to her. Eventually, Valentina Sergeyevna knocked on the door:
“Lenochka, come eat. Everything’s getting cold.”
Lena came out. She sat at the table. Ate noodles that wouldn’t go down. Maksim talked about some bug in his code, Valentina Sergeyevna half-listened while flipping through a magazine.
“Maksim,” Lena said quietly. “Do you remember what day it is today?”
He thought for a moment.
“The twenty-eighth. Why?”
“No reason,” she lowered her eyes.
He shrugged and kept eating. Lena stood up from the table, not even finishing her food. Her mother-in-law called after her:
“Why aren’t you eating? Don’t you like it?”
“It’s good. It’s just… I have a headache.”
She returned to the bedroom, lay down, and buried her face in the pillow. Tears flowed on their own. How could he forget? How could he?
She remembered how, two weeks earlier, she’d prepared for his mother’s birthday — how hard she worked, how exhausted she was. She remembered how Maksim accepted all the praise, how the guests praised his wonderful wife. And now her birthday — he just forgot.
Thoughts swirled in her head. Maybe he didn’t love her? Maybe she was just a convenient maid to him? Maybe he didn’t care at all?
Lena stood up, grabbed her jacket, and left the room. Maksim was sitting in front of the TV.
“I’m going out for a walk,” she said, trying to keep her voice steady.
“Mhm,” he replied without taking his eyes off the screen.
She walked outside. It was already dark and cold, and a light rain was falling. Lena walked aimlessly, not watching where she was going. Tears mixed with the raindrops on her face. She walked and walked until she reached a small park not far from home.
She sat on a bench under a streetlamp. Took out her phone — three missed calls from Maksim. She didn’t call back. Let him worry. Let him understand she wasn’t a toy he could forget in a corner.
Her thoughts tangled. Maybe she should divorce him? Go back to her parents? But they didn’t need her now — they had their own lives, her younger brother was studying in another city. And here… here she also felt like no one needed her.
The phone rang again. Maksim. Lena declined the call. Then another. And another. She muted the phone and just sat there, staring into the darkness…
She didn’t know how much time had passed. Suddenly, someone sat down on the bench beside her. She flinched and turned.
Maksim. He was sitting next to her—disheveled, soaked from the rain. In his hands he held a bouquet—pathetic, hastily bought from a 24-hour kiosk, but still a bouquet.
“Lena,” he said quietly. “I’m sorry.”
She remained silent. He held out the flowers to her.
“I’m a complete idiot. I forgot your birthday. Mom told me after you left. I didn’t even think that it was today.”
“So, on your mother’s birthday I have to cook for twenty people, and you just forgot about mine?!” Lena’s voice broke into a scream. “It’s my only—do you understand?—my only special day in the whole year! And you didn’t even remember!”
Maksim squeezed her hand.
“I know. I understand how much it hurts you. I’m worthless. But Lena, I love you. I really do. I’m just… I’m so forgetful, irresponsible. Mom always did everything for me, I got used to others remembering everything. But that’s no excuse, I know.”
Lena said nothing, tears streaming down her cheeks.
“I don’t know if you love me,” she said quietly. “If you do, then how could you forget something like this?”
“You’re right about everything,” he pulled her closer. “I’m selfish. I’m used to thinking only about myself. But I want to change. I swear I will remember every important date. I’ll set reminders, I’ve written your birthday everywhere I could. I’ll be better. Just give me a chance.”
Lena leaned against his shoulder and sobbed—truly sobbed, like a little child. All the pain, all the resentment, all the exhaustion burst out. Maksim stroked her head gently and stayed silent.
“I feel so lonely here,” she whimpered. “I have no friends, no one. Only you. And you…”
“I’m here,” he interrupted. “I’m right here. And I won’t let you down again. I promise.”
They sat on the bench in the rain, clinging to each other. Then Maksim stood up.
“Let’s go home. Mom set the table. She said it’s terrible not to celebrate her daughter-in-law’s birthday. We’re waiting for you.”
Lena took his hand. They walked home slowly, silently. The bouquet in her hands was soaked through, but she held it tightly.
At home, a cake really was waiting—store-bought, but with beautiful candles. Valentina Sergeyevna lit them and said:
“Make a wish, Lenochka.”
Lena looked at Maksim. He stood beside her, guilty and helpless, like a child. And she suddenly understood that this was exactly what he would always be—kind and loving, but forever forgetting the important things. And she would either have to accept him as he was, or leave.
She closed her eyes and blew out the candles. She wished for strength. Strength to love, strength to endure, strength to believe that everything would be okay.
“Happy birthday,” Maksim whispered, hugging her.
“Happy birthday,” Valentina Sergeyevna echoed.
Lena smiled through her tears. Maybe this wasn’t the celebration she dreamed of. But it was her life, her family, her choice. And maybe, despite everything, she would find the strength to make that life a happy one.
Or at least try.
