My sister-in-law took our trip to Turkey. But she had no idea what awaited her.
“Give us your package, the family needs it more!” Marina’s mother-in-law screeched.
Marina was ironing a sundress; the iron hissed, spitting steam, but she didn’t even notice when she burned her finger.
Only one thought spun in her head: “In twelve hours I’ll be sipping something cold while looking at the Mediterranean Sea. No reports, no drivers with their logbooks, no balance sheets.”
She had been waiting for this vacation for a whole year, putting money aside from every paycheck, refusing herself a new coat, refusing her husband a new fishing rod. They bought a five-star package in Kemer, ultra all-inclusive. Paradise on earth for two hundred fifty thousand rubles.
Next to her, on the couch, lay an open suitcase: swimsuits, sunscreen, Igor’s fins — everything was ready.
The doorbell rang like a siren: insistent, long, unpleasant.
Marina flinched and looked at the clock — nine in the evening. Who could it be?
Igor went to open the door.
A minute later, a voice echoed in the hallway — the kind of voice that made Marina’s teeth clench.
“Igoryok! You didn’t lock it? Good, we’re here! We need to talk. Seriously.”
His mother, Galina Petrovna — a professional sufferer and a decorated manipulator of the Russian Federation.
Marina turned off the iron, took a deep breath, stretched a polite smile across her face, and stepped into the hallway.
Her mother-in-law was already taking off her shoes, groaning and leaning on her son’s shoulder.
“Oh, my back… oh, my legs… Marina, make me some tea with lemon, and find some Corvalol, my heart is acting up.”
Marina silently went to the kitchen.
Five minutes later, Galina Petrovna was sitting at the table, loudly slurping tea from a saucer (she always drank from a saucer, “merchant-style,” even though she was just a regular pensioner).
Igor sat across from her, head down. He already knew what was coming — he could feel it with his spinal cord, trained by his mother for forty years.
“So,” Galina Petrovna set the saucer aside. “Here’s the deal: Lenochka and Vika need to go to the sea.”
Marina froze with the dishcloth in her hand.
“Galina Petrovna, we’re happy for Lena, let them go — there are plenty of flights now.”
“You didn’t understand.” Her mother-in-law fixed a heavy gaze on her. “They have no money. Lena is a widow, a poor orphan, her benefits are pennies, and Vika has adenoids. The doctor said only sea air, otherwise surgery.”
“And?” Marina asked, feeling everything boil inside her.
“And you must help. You’re family. You have the tickets. The flight is tomorrow.”
“We do have the tickets,” Marina said slowly. “We bought them. We saved for them.”
“You’re healthy oxen!” Galina Petrovna slapped the table. “You don’t need that sea air, it’s nonsense! But for the child it’s a matter of life and death! You can survive at the dacha — there’s air, too. The river stinks, of course, but it’s good enough for you.”
“Mom…” Igor finally spoke. “How can we… We were so looking forward to this… We packed our suitcases…”
“Oh, they were looking forward to it!” his mother shrieked. “And did you think about your niece?! About your sister?!”
“Useless boy! I didn’t raise you to be like this! Selfish! Just like your wife! Both of you greedy, only thinking about stuffing your bellies!”
She clutched her heart; her face turned red.
“Oh… oh, my heart… It’s stabbing… Igor! Water! Call an ambulance! I’ll tell the doctors my son pushed his own mother to a heart attack!”
Igor turned pale, jumped up, and started running around the kitchen, looking for the drops.
“Mom, don’t! Mom, calm down!”
He looked at Marina with the eyes of a beaten dog—frightened and pitiful.
“Marina… You see she’s feeling bad… Come on, let’s give them the tickets? Really, Vika needs it more… And we… we’ll go later.”
Marina looked at the man she had lived with for fifteen years and understood: he had surrendered.
He had betrayed her, betrayed their dream, all for the sake of his mother’s performance.
“You’re giving away our tickets?” she asked.
“Oh come on, Marina! Don’t start! It’s my mom!”
Galina Petrovna cracked one eye open, made sure her son was “ripe,” and moaned again, dramatically rolling her eyes.
“All right,” Marina said, her voice icy. “Take them.”
“The child needs the sea, and you can survive at the dacha!” the mother-in-law declared, clutching her heart. I waited for my husband to defend me, but he only looked at me pleadingly, and I understood: our vacation was canceled.
Galina Petrovna left ten minutes later, miraculously cured of her heart attack.
“Lena will come for the documents in the morning,” she announced from the doorway. “Make sure everything’s reissued properly, and give them some money for excursions. A thousand dollars should be enough—don’t be stingy.”
The door slammed shut.
Marina stood in the middle of the hallway.
Igor tried to hug her.
“Marish, forgive me… I just can’t handle it when she gets like that…”
Marina pulled away.
“Don’t touch me.”
She went to the bathroom and turned the water on full blast.
She sat on the edge of the tub and cried.
Not because of the lost vacation—because of the humiliation.
She imagined Lena arriving tomorrow. That “poor widow” who was actually living with an Armenian guy who worked at the market, but hid it to keep her benefits.
She’d come with Vika—her thirteen-year-old giant of a daughter who already smoked and cursed out teachers.
They would take the tickets and laugh: “suckers, sponsoring us again.”
And Marina would go to the dacha to weed the garden beds.
“I hate them,” she thought. “I hate all of them. And Igor too, weakling, spineless rag.”
She wanted to pack her things and leave, but where would she go? The apartment was mortgaged for another five years. Leaving meant giving them everything.
No, she couldn’t leave.
Marina wiped her tears and looked in the mirror.
Her face was swollen and red. But her eyes… were angry.
“All right,” she told her reflection. “You want Turkey? I’ll give you an unforgettable Turkey.”
“Don’t cry, sweetheart, we’ll go next year,” her husband tried to console her. He didn’t know she wasn’t crying from sadness but from fury—and in her mind, she had already formed a plan for an “unforgettable” vacation for his family.
Marina didn’t sleep that night. She lay next to snoring Igor, thinking.
A plan formed in her head—sly, harsh, folk-style justice.
In the morning, as soon as Igor left for work (he hurried out early to avoid seeing her eyes), Marina called Lyusya.
Lyudmila worked at the travel agency where they bought the tour—a childhood friend, someone she could trust.
“Lyusya, hi, it’s Marina. Emergency.”
“What happened? Flight canceled?”
“Worse, my mother-in-law extorted our tickets.”
“No way?! You gave them up?”
“I had to: heart attack, ambulance threat, Igor panicking… Listen carefully, Lyusya. Lena will come to reissue the tour. Make her believe everything is ready, but give her… different documents.”
“What do you mean?”
“Cancel our tour, return the money to my card quietly, and book a new one for them. The cheapest last-minute thing you have. Something like a ‘Fortune 2-star.’”
“Marina, seriously? That place will be a dump.”
“I don’t care. The cheaper the better—far from the sea and without meals.”
“What should I put on the voucher?”
“Write that it’s a ‘5-star hotel,’ Photoshop it. Tell her the system glitched, so the name looks different—Lena will believe it. And tell her it’s all-inclusive. Let them fly.”
“Marina… That’s cruel.”
“Cruel is when they steal my vacation. This is justice. Do it—I’ll pay for their dump myself. Don’t worry.”
At ten in the morning, Lena arrived.
She was already wearing a sunhat and oversized sunglasses. Vika chewed gum, glued to her phone.
“So? Are the documents ready?” Lena asked without greeting. “We have a taxi waiting.”
Marina silently handed her the envelope.
Inside were the tickets and vouchers, printed in color by Lyusya.
The hotel name—“Sun Beach Garden Hotel”—sounded lovely. In reality, it was a flophouse fifty kilometers from Alanya, in the mountains, where only the most desperate bargain-hunters were sent.
“And the money?” Lena asked. “Mom said you’d give us a thousand dollars.”
Marina pulled five thousand rubles from her wallet.
“Here. Enough for fridge magnets.”
Lena twisted her mouth.
“Stingy. Whatever—come on, Vika, grab the suitcases.”
They left.
Marina closed the door and leaned against the frame.
Her heart was pounding.
“God, please let them fly. Let them not check anything.”
But she knew they wouldn’t—Lena never checked anything. She was used to people giving her the best for free.
“You witch! Where the hell did you send us?!” her sister-in-law screamed over the phone from Turkey, while my husband stared at me in horror. I calmly took the phone and answered with one phrase—after which he burst out laughing.
The evening passed quietly.
Igor returned from work, looking guilty, holding a cake.
“Igor… So how are you? Feeling calmer now?”
“Calmer,” Marina said as she chopped salad. “Eat.”
“They flew out,” Igor reported, looking at his phone. “Mom called. Said they boarded the plane, all happy.”
“Good for them.”
“Marina, forgive me… Next year, I promise…”
“Eat, Igor.”
The phone rang five hours later.
The screen lit up: “Lena.”
Marina turned on speaker mode.
“HELLOOO!!!” Lena screamed so loudly that the cat sleeping on the windowsill fell to the floor. “MARINA!!! YOU WITCH!!! WHERE HAVE YOU SENT US?!”
Igor choked on his tea.
“Lena, what’s wrong?” he stammered. “What happened?”
“THIS IS A SHED!!!” Lena shrieked. “There are chickens walking around the grounds, there’s no pool! It’s dry and full of trash! The room… these beds are metal, like in a hospital! No air conditioner, no water!”
In the background, Vika sobbed:
“Mom! I wanna go home! It stinks here!”
“They aren’t feeding us!” Lena continued screaming. “I went to the reception and said, ‘Where’s dinner? We have ultra all-inclusive!’ And the guy says, ‘All-inclusive? You have room only! Just a room!’ I shoved the voucher in his face, and he laughed! Said it’s fake!”
“Igoryok! Do something! Your wife sent us to prison! Call the embassy!”
Igor sat with his mouth open, staring at Marina.
Marina calmly took the phone.
“No one lied to you.”
“What do you mean?!” Lena sputtered.
“You wanted tickets? For free? You got them. Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth.”
“You… you switched the hotel?!”
“I booked you a tour according to your status. You’re the poor relatives, the orphans, remember? For you, a two-star hotel is a blessing. Luxury is something you earn or pay for with your own money.”
“I’ll kill you!” she screamed. “We’ll come back and I’ll scratch your eyes out!”
“You won’t be coming back,” Marina smirked. “Your return tickets are in ten days. You can’t fly earlier. So enjoy your vacation. Sunbathe. They say mountain air is great for adenoids.”
She pressed end call and turned off the phone.
Silence settled over the kitchen.
Igor looked at his wife as if seeing her for the first time—horrified, and… impressed.
“You… you did this on purpose?”
“On purpose, Igor.”
“And the money? Our two hundred fifty thousand?”
“It came back to my card—minus the penalty and the cost of their ‘dump.’ Peanuts. About thirty thousand total; the rest is intact. Tomorrow we’ll either go fix your car or buy me a fur coat.”
Igor sat quietly for a minute, processing.
Then he snorted.
Then he giggled.
And finally burst out laughing—nervously, hysterically, but genuinely.
“You’re a witch, Marina… A real snake…”
“A snake,” Marina agreed, pouring herself a glass of wine. “But not a doormat. And not a pushover.”
The ten days were wonderful.
Marina and Igor didn’t go anywhere—they stayed home.
They slept until noon, strolled in the park, went to the movies.
They turned off their phones.
She knew a whole drama was unfolding in Turkey.
Lena and Vika, used to comfort, were eating instant noodles (the store was far away and they had little money), walking to the sea on foot (the bus came once a day), frying under the sun without air conditioning.
Lena returned dark from sunburn and fury.
Vika was bitten by mosquitoes so badly there wasn’t a clean spot left on her body.
Galina Petrovna met them at the airport (Marina and Igor didn’t go) and immediately threw a tantrum—but this time without Marina present.
Now the mother-in-law refuses to speak to Marina. Tells all relatives and acquaintances that her daughter-in-law is “the devil in a skirt.”
Marina couldn’t care less.
But Igor? Igor became silky-soft.
Before promising his mother anything, he now looks at Marina with caution, almost asking for approval.
He’s afraid.
And rightly so.
And now it’s your turn.
Girls, confess—who among you has ever wanted to send your beloved mother-in-law or brazen sister-in-law far, far away?
Not necessarily to Turkey—walking them off on an erotic hike works too.
Who here has tolerated having your last bit taken “for the sake of poor relatives”?
And who finally managed to show their teeth?
Write in the comments, let’s discuss!
And don’t forget to send this story to that one friend who’s always saving everyone else at her own expense.
Let her learn how to book the right kind of trips.
