All Amazing Babies

I will go to the doctor with you!» Olga Konstantinovna declared decisively, «I think you are lying!

You’re probably infertile! You’ve been living with my son for 4 years, and I still have no grandchildren! You’re probably lying about getting treatment.

We’ll go to the clinic tomorrow, let the doctor examine you in front of me and comment on every step.

I will expose you! My son may trust you, but you won’t fool me!

Sveta and Makar were happy. She really married for love and was sure that the feelings were mutual. Makar had beautifully wooed her, winning over her parents right away, and they approved of their daughter’s choice. They lived separately at first, but then Matvey suggested to Sveta: «Let’s move in with my mom? She lives in the suburbs. There’s plenty of room for all of us in her eight-room house. My mom has a serious surgery coming up; she will need our help. I don’t know the details; mom hardly tells me anything. It’s awkward for me to ask. I only know it’s something to do with women’s issues.» Sveta, who had never had conflicts with her mother-in-law, Olga Konstantinovna, saw some advantages in her husband’s proposal: «If that’s the case, let’s move. We can rent out our apartment, the extra money won’t hurt.» Sveta immediately felt that Olga Konstantinovna was not thrilled about their moving in. No, she didn’t mistreat her daughter-in-law, nor did she engage in open conflicts; she just treated her son’s wife coolly and somewhat warily. At first, everything was relatively fine, but the situation changed after Olga Konstantinovna was discharged. Makar’s mother, returning from the hospital, suddenly became mean and irritable. Apparently, the surgical intervention had affected her behavior. After it, she no longer felt like a woman: «And who needs me like this? They removed everything, completely! I could still have had a child. Women become mothers at 50, and I’m only 46!» complained Olga Konstantinovna to her friends, «Who will now take an interest in me?» Sveta saw that her mother-in-law was struggling with acceptance, so she tried to avoid Olga Konstantinovna as much as possible. The daughter-in-law took on all the household chores – returning from work, Sveta first ran to water the garden and weed the beds, then she tidied up the house, cooked dinner, and loaded the washing machine, if necessary. Olga Konstantinovna recovered quickly and felt good. But her attitude towards her daughter-in-law changed—Sveta felt that her mother-in-law was now jealous of her relationship with Makar. «Where are you going?» Olga Konstantinovna would ask, seeing how Sveta dressed up in front of the mirror, «Going to the city again? You seem to visit the cinema and cafes often. Got money to waste? You should have built a greenhouse on the plot! How many times have I asked you, Matvey? You could plant the seedlings in the greenhouse in early March, but I have to wait until May, so the harvest ripens late. Stay at home, there’s no need to wander around entertainment venues! You’ll save more money!»

Olga Konstantinovna also picked on Sveta over household issues. After being discharged from the hospital, the woman suddenly disliked her daughter-in-law’s cooking: «Did you wash the vegetables poorly? I feel sand crunching on my teeth!» «Come on, Olga Konstantinovna? I washed everything well, thoroughly. I even sorted the rice. Makar, is there sand in the soup?» «Mom, you’re imagining it,» said Makar, «I don’t feel anything like that.» «Of course,» Olga Konstantinovna immediately got angry, «I must have made it up! Have dinner yourself, I’m not in the mood!» The mother-in-law aggressively reacted to any gifts Makar gave his wife. It didn’t matter whether it was a gold chain or a chocolate bar. It got to the point where the man secretly handed presents to his wife in the bedroom, behind closed doors, asking: «Sveta, just don’t show it to mom! She’ll start accusing me of being wasteful again. I don’t know what happened to her. She used to be normal!» Sveta understood the reason for the hatred but kept silent. She didn’t want to describe her mother-in-law’s psychological state to Makar in detail. Olga Konstantinovna suddenly craved grandchildren. Every morning now started the same in the house: «Sveta, I don’t understand, why aren’t you giving birth? Do you have some health problems? You and Makar have been living together for so many years, and I’m still not a grandmother! Why are you silent? I believe I asked a question!» «Olga Konstantinovna, we decided to live a little for ourselves,» Sveta explained for the hundredth time, not going into details, «I’m only 22 years old, I want to realize myself in life not only as a wife and mother, but also as a specialist. I have room to grow! My boss hints at a promotion, so I need to try hard. I think I still have a couple of years. We still have time to have a baby with Makar.» «Look at you, career woman,» Olga Konstantinovna sneered, «have the child and give him to me! I’ll raise him myself. You know very well that I can never get pregnant again, but I want a child. I’ve been dreaming of a baby for the last 10 years. I regret that I didn’t have anyone after Makar!» Sveta was tired of her mother-in-law; she asked her husband many times to move out, but as soon as Makar brought up the topic of moving, Olga Konstantinovna started sobbing: «Now even you are abandoning me! Nobody needs me now, not even my own son. Go ahead, Makar! God be your judge, son!» Makar felt ashamed in front of his mother and began pleading with his wife to stay a little longer. Sveta agreed to endure «a little more» for the sake of her beloved husband.

After a year, Sveta finally got a promotion and brought up the topic of children with Makar: «Maybe it’s time? Your mom and my parents keep talking about grandchildren. We’re earning well now, we have our own place. Maybe we should have a baby?» «Let’s do it,» agreed Makar, «I’m not opposed. Only Sveta, let’s, if all goes well, live here at least until the birth? Mom needs our support.» Sveta went to the doctor, discussed the situation with him, and stopped taking the medication, but somehow the pregnancy did not occur. Sveta decided to undergo a full examination: «There are some minor issues with your reproductive system, but they are solvable,» the specialist reassured the woman, «undergo treatment and you will conceive. The chances are high!» At dinner, Sveta relayed to her husband and mother-in-law the conversation with the doctor. Olga Konstantinovna smirked: «I’ve heard somewhere that problems with childbearing often occur in women who have had many partners in their lives. Tell me, please, Sveta, have you had any interruptions? Infertility often develops after abortions.» Makar choked, and Sveta was taken aback: was Olga Konstantinovna trying to tarnish her in front of her husband? Making an effort and composing herself, Sveta smiled: «No, Olga Konstantinovna, nothing like that happened to me. Of course, you wouldn’t know such details of our personal life with Makar… But he’s my first in every sense! Don’t worry, mom, the problem is easily solvable. I’ll take a course of medications and everything will be fine!»

Four months later, Sveta saw the coveted two lines. Contrary to her expectations, her mother-in-law’s attitude only worsened. Sveta often felt that Olga Konstantinovna was deliberately tormenting her. The pregnant daughter-in-law’s responsibilities increased—Sveta now did all the heavy work. Olga Konstantinovna made her carry soil in buckets, cover the beds with polyethylene, and spread fertilizer for the winter. Makar helped his wife only when he was home; Olga Konstantinovna didn’t bother Sveta much in Makar’s presence, behaving decently then.”

Sveta initially tried to appease her mother-in-law; she even showed Olga Konstantinovna the first ultrasound image. Makar’s mother grimaced: «And why do I need that? Put it away! Did I ask you to show it to me?» Every day, the mother-in-law repeated like a mantra: «Pregnancy is not a disease! Don’t pretend to be weak, get up. There’s so much work to do, and you’re lying in bed at noon. Get up, Sveta! I know you’re not sleeping!» Sveta’s desire to escape as far from her mother-in-law and the village where she lived grew stronger every day. When Sveta was five months pregnant, Olga Konstantinovna demanded that her daughter-in-law carry jars from the cellar to the veranda, receiving an unexpected refusal: «Olga Konstantinovna, I won’t go down to the cellar! It’s winter, it’s slippery! What if I fall down the stairs? Sorry, but the jars are not a necessity; Makar will bring everything you need when he comes home from work. Please wait a couple of hours.» «I need it now!» shouted Olga Konstantinovna, «right now, this minute! Get up and do as you’re told! I see, Sveta, you’ve become brazen lately! You live here with everything ready, you do nothing, always trying to lie down to sleep. Makar is the only one working, exhausting himself. And you can’t fulfill a simple request of mine? Have you forgotten who is the mistress in this house? I’ll kick you out to the devil’s mother and all! Roll back to your parents, let them indulge you!» Sveta did not argue with her mother-in-law; she simply packed her things and called a taxi. She left for her parents’ house with a firm intention to never return to her mother-in-law’s house again. Makar came to his in-laws that same evening. After hearing his wife’s story, he initially didn’t believe her: «It can’t be true! My mom couldn’t have exposed you and our child to such danger. She’s not crazy!» Sveta showed her husband the messages Olga Konstantinovna had written right after her departure. Makar went to see his mother, returned a few hours later. The couple moved back into their own apartment, and tenants had to be evicted. Sveta and Makar had a son, Olga Konstantinovna was not present at the discharge. She no longer communicates with her son—the traitor who left her for a skirt.

Anya sighed as she walked out of the office building. Today was just one hassle after another. Did he really need those reports right now? She could have managed everything tomorrow. Her workday had been stressful, so she decided to stop by her usual café. She could already imagine enjoying a Greek salad and a cup of coffee, and life would briefly sparkle with different colors.

When she entered, the café was nearly empty. Just as she wanted to sit at her usual table and finally order her salad, she suddenly saw a familiar face. Her husband, Sergey. And he was not alone, but sitting with some flashy woman.

Anya froze in place, as if doused with cold water. The stranger looked like she had stepped off the cover of a fashion magazine. A platinum blonde in a tight dress, almost glittering with expensive jewelry. Her makeup was flawless. She and Sergey were having an animated conversation. He was telling her something, and the woman laughed, flirtatiously touching his hand.

Everything inside Anya turned upside down. «So, that’s how it is, huh?» she nearly stormed over to their table. Her first reaction was to approach their table and sort things out on the spot. Loudly, with a flourish, like in the movies. But she held herself back. No, that would have been too simple.

She decisively stepped back, contemplating a plan. She would give him a real game.

Anya chose a table in another corner of the café, but positioned so that she could still see them both. She ordered a Greek salad and coffee but didn’t rush to eat. She pulled out her phone and dialed Sergey. His phone rang on the table. He glanced at the screen and then hurriedly silenced it. Anya smirked. So, he doesn’t want to answer? What’s this important conversation about?

She kept her eyes on them, noting every movement. Sergey leaned towards the blonde, whispering something in her ear. She burst into laughter, covering her mouth with her hand. A hefty diamond ring glinted on her finger.

Anya’s heart clenched. She looked away, trying to compose herself. «Okay, calm down, Anya, stay calm. No time for panic,» she reassured herself, nervously twisting a napkin.

Flashes of memories flickered through her mind. Their first meeting, awkward dates, confessions of love. Could all of that have been a lie? Was he now playing both sides? Anya clenched her teeth but decided to keep watching. She wished she could believe that this was just a colleague. Yes, overly groomed and sitting too close.

Anya, gripping her phone tightly, continued to watch the pair. But then her gaze fell on a man walking past her table. Tall, handsome, with a light stubble. He looked as if he had just stepped out of a commercial. And then it struck her. She waved her hand decisively.

«Excuse me,» she called to the man. He paused, turned his head, and approached.

«Yes?» he asked, surveying her.

«Listen, I have a kind of silly request…,» Anya paused, thinking about how best to explain the situation, «to stage a scene. Nothing complicated. You see, over there,» she nodded towards Sergey, «that’s my husband. And, apparently,» she bitterly smirked, «he’s cheating on me. Could you play along? I want him to feel the way I do.»

The man pondered for a moment, then broadly smiled.

«Alright, why not?» he stepped forward and sat opposite Anya.

«I’m Anya,» she smiled.

«My name is Igor,» the man smiled back.

Anya smiled, trying to keep her composure, but her heart was pounding. She glanced towards Sergey. Noticed. Confusion flashed in his eyes.

He clearly hadn’t expected to see his wife here. Especially not with a man. Sergey froze for a second, then turned back to his companion. He tried to act as if nothing was wrong. But Anya noticed his hand tense.

Anya sat up straight. She pretended to be fully engaged in conversation with Igor. Leaning closer, as if she was sharing something very intriguing. Igor caught her vibe. He played along. Nodding or laughing at the right moment.

Anya glanced towards her husband and his blonde companion. Now Sergey was clearly nervous. He started tapping his fingers on the table. He glanced sideways at Anya and Igor.

The blonde said something to him, but his reaction wasn’t as lively as before. Anya decided to take the next step. She boldly took Igor’s hand. The man, understanding her plan, gently squeezed her fingers and smiled. Sergey looked at them again, this time longer. He said something to his companion, and she stopped laughing. Anya was curious to see how far she could go in this «game.»

«Igor, you’re a great actor,» she said.

«See how tense he is?» Igor whispered. «Just look at his face. Do you think we’ve marinated him enough?»

«Let’s walk past them,» Anya suggested. «See what he does.»

Igor nodded, and they both stood up. Anya took his arm, and they slowly headed towards the exit, passing by Sergey and the blonde’s table. As they passed, Anya decided to throw her final ace. She turned to Sergey with the most innocent expression and said:

«Oh, hello, dear! What a pleasant surprise to see you here. And who is this friend of yours?»

Sergey was clearly flustered. The blonde looked at him, waiting for an explanation.

«This is…,» Sergey stuttered, trying to find the right words. His gaze darted between his wife and the blonde, «a work colleague.»

The blonde frowned, casting a suspicious glance at Sergey.

«Oh, a colleague?» Anya raised an eyebrow. «How interesting! And here I thought you had meetings with clients today.»

Sergey clenched his teeth.

«Anya, what is this circus?» He stepped towards her, clearly losing patience. «Who is this guy? What are you allowing yourself?»

«And you? What would your ‘colleague’ say? Maybe she’s not aware of your marital status?»

The blonde tensed up.

«You’re married?» she asked coldly, not taking her eyes off Sergey.

The blonde quickly turned around and left the café.

«Great,» he threw back at his wife. «Are you satisfied? Why did you set this up? She was an important client. The deal depended on her. She had her eye on me. This meeting was a business maneuver, not what you’ve cooked up in your mind!»

«Maybe you better explain who this guy is with you?» Sergey glanced at Igor.

«What about it?» Anya crossed her arms. «You can have fun on the side, and I can’t?»

«So you’ve been cheating on me?» Sergey clenched his teeth.

«Yes,» Anya lifted her chin, eager to hurt Sergey.

«Listen, I think you can sort this out without me,» Igor awkwardly smiled and tried to leave the café as quickly as possible.

«Well, you’re something else, Anyechka,» Sergey threw a few bills on the table and left the café.

Anya wanted to burst. She couldn’t believe all this had happened. She didn’t even know how she’d return to work now. She called a colleague, asking her to cover for her with the boss, and then she went home. When she opened the door, Sergey was sitting on the couch. He looked surprisingly calm.

«Anya,» he looked at his wife with pain in his eyes. «Did you really cheat on me?»

His look was so sincere that Anya decided to sit next to him and sighed:

«No. I met that man for the first time today. I saw you, and I immediately wanted to hurt you. I couldn’t believe you were cheating on me.»

Sergey ran his hand through his hair.

«Listen, this situation is absolutely ridiculous. I now understand that I acted like an idiot. Please forgive me. I should have told you everything. I know I’m at fault. I was a fool to even agree to that meeting. But you must believe me, there was nothing between us.»

Anya was silent, then leaned into his shoulder. She was still angry at him, but at the same time, she was glad to hear his words.

«Promise me you won’t deceive me again.»

«I promise,» Sergey gently kissed her on the top of her head. «Forgive me, my foolish one.»

He hugged her tighter, and Anya felt the tension of the past few hours slowly release. She was still upset remembering the blonde. But she saw that her husband was remorseful. What mattered was that, in the end, all was well.

Dim, can you believe what happened at the restaurant today?» Elena burst into the apartment, kicking off her shoes as she moved. «A French critic showed up unannounced. I thought my heart would stop when the manager ran into the kitchen with the news.»

«And how did it go?» Dmitry looked up from his tablet, setting aside his stylus. An unfinished sketch of a children’s illustration—a ginger kitten with an incomplete tail—remained on the screen.

«Wonderfully!» Lena flopped down next to her husband on the couch, tucking her legs under her. «He ordered our signature salmon with wild garlic and celeriac puree. You know, I made a point of coming out to the dining room when he was finishing. Dim, he asked for seconds! Can you believe it? A French critic asked for seconds!»

Dmitry laughed, looking at his wife’s flushed face. Her eyes sparkled, and her hands gestured so animatedly that she nearly knocked over a cup of unfinished coffee on the coffee table.

«Lena, I’m so proud of you,» he pulled her close, kissing her on the crown of her head. «You’re the best chef in the world.»

«That’s an exaggeration,» she playfully nudged him. «But today, I really outdid myself. The restaurant owner said that if the critic writes a good review, I might get a promotion. Can you imagine?»

«Of course, I can. My wife is a true talent,» Dmitry reached for his tablet again. «By the way, what do you think of the kitten for the new book? The publisher is rushing me for the illustrations.»

Elena peered at the screen.

«I think the tail should be a bit longer. And maybe add some stripes? Kids love striped kittens.»

«Exactly!» Dmitry picked up the stylus again. «I knew something was missing.»

They spent the evening that way—Lena talking about her restaurant days, Dmitry showing her new sketches. Outside, it slowly darkened; the tea brewed an hour ago in the kitchen cooled, and they kept talking, just like in the early days of their acquaintance.

A week later, Elena decided to surprise her husband. The day turned out to be unexpectedly calm—no sudden critics, no finicky customers, or burnt sauces. She finished her shift early and, leaving the restaurant, headed straight to Dmitry’s favorite sushi bar.

«Hello! I’d like the ‘Emperor’ set and a bottle of sake, please,» she smiled at the familiar seller.

«Oh, Elena Andreevna! We haven’t seen you for a while,» the elderly Japanese man bowed. «How is your husband? Still drawing?»

«Yes, Hiro-san, he doesn’t stop for a minute. I want to make him happy.»

«We’ll prepare it right away. Just a moment.»

As the order was being packed, Lena imagined how Dmitry would be delighted. He had been somewhat pensive lately, spending long periods at the computer, probably searching for a new order. When he was engrossed in work, he could forget to eat.

The sun warmed unusually for autumn. It was a rare October, as if summer had returned to say goodbye. Yellow maples danced along the way, and Lena involuntarily smiled, remembering that day at the gallery. Three years had passed, but she still remembered every detail of their first kiss in the old park after Dmitry’s exhibition. The weather had been just like today—nature itself seemed to bless their meeting.

Lena smiled at the memory. Then he had accidentally stained her white blouse with watercolor, so embarrassed and apologetic that she couldn’t resist and kissed him herself—just to make him stop worrying. And six months later, they were married.

Approaching the house, she heard her husband’s voice. He was talking on the phone, standing at the entrance:

«Yes, yes, at seven o’clock,» his voice carried barely contained excitement. «I just can’t wait for the meeting! You have no idea how long I’ve waited for this.»

Elena froze around the corner of the house. Her heart raced.

«No, no, the wife has no clue,» Dmitry continued.

Lena felt the sushi bag grow unbearably heavy. Who was he arranging to meet? Why keep it from her?

«Great. See you then!» Dmitry finished the call and disappeared into the entrance.

Elena stood around the corner for a few more minutes, trying to gather her thoughts. Fragments of the phone conversation swirled in her head. «Can’t wait for the meeting,» «wife has no clue»… What did all this mean?

Slowly ascending to her floor, Elena stopped in front of the apartment door. Her hand with the keys froze in mid-air. Maybe she misunderstood everything? Dmitry couldn’t… No, not him.

When she entered the apartment, her husband was at the computer, hastily closing some tabs.

«Lena! You’re early today,» he stood up to meet her. «What’s that?»

«Sushi. I wanted to surprise you,» her voice sounded hollow.

«What’s wrong? Did something happen at the restaurant?»

Elena placed the bags on the kitchen table. Dozens of questions swirled in her head, but she couldn’t bring herself to ask them. She looked at her husband—so familiar, so beloved—and couldn’t believe what was happening.

«Dim,» she finally managed. «I heard your conversation near the entrance.»

Dmitry froze halfway to the fridge.

«What conversation?»

«On the phone. About the meeting at seven o’clock.»

He slowly turned to her. Something akin to fear flickered across his face.

«Oh, that… Lena, you misunderstood.»

«How was I supposed to understand?» her voice trembled. «‘Can’t wait for the meeting,’ ‘wife has no clue’… Dim, what’s going on?»

He stepped toward her, but she stepped back.

«Lena, listen…»

«Who are you meeting with?» she interrupted. «Don’t tell me it’s a work meeting. I heard your voice. You were… happy.»

Dmitry ran his hand through his hair—a gesture that appeared in moments of anxiety. Elena remembered how he had ruffled his hair on the day they first met, trying to rub the paint off her blouse.

«Yes, I did arrange a meeting,» he began. «But it’s not what you think.»

«What am I supposed to think?» she sat down, feeling an odd emptiness inside. «Remember how we met? You said you stained my blouse because you were distracted and forgot you had a brush in your hand. And I believed you. I always believed you.»

«And you can believe now!» he knelt before her, trying to meet her eyes. «Lena, dear, I would never…»

A phone call interrupted him. Dmitry cursed, looking at the screen.

«I have to answer this.»

«Of course,» she bitterly smiled. «I won’t interfere.»

He stepped into another room, but his voice was still audible:

«Hello? Yes, I remember the meeting… No, not a good time right now… What? Only today? But…»

Elena sat, mechanically fiddling with the sushi sticks. Memories of their life together flashed through her mind—like someone flipping through a photo album. Here was Dmitry giving her a bouquet of sunflowers on her birthday. Here they were walking through the evening city, sharing one umbrella. Here he was bringing her coffee in bed after a night shift at the restaurant…

Could she have been wrong all these years? Maybe she was doing something wrong? She had indeed been working a lot lately, often coming home late, tired… But it was all for their future together! After the promotion, they could afford more—perhaps even their own pastry shop, which they had dreamed of so much.

Dmitry’s voice came from the room again:

«Okay, I’ll come. Yes, in half an hour. Thanks for waiting.»

Elena stood up. Her legs felt wobbly.

«Lena,» Dmitry returned to the kitchen. «I need to leave. It’s very important.»

«More important than our conversation?»

«You don’t understand…»

«Where are you going?» she looked him in the eyes. «Tell me the truth, I have the right to know.»

He hesitated, shifting from foot to foot.

«I… I can’t tell you. Not yet. But I swear, it’s not what you think.»

«You know what?» she began to pack her bag. «Go ahead. And I think I’ll go to my mother’s. I need to think.»

«Lena, wait!» he grabbed her hand. «Come with me.»

«What?»

«Come with us. You’ll see for yourself.»

They rode in silence. The taxi driver confidently navigated the city streets. The streets in the twilight seemed unfamiliar, blurred by raindrops. Lena leaned her forehead against the cold glass, peering at the passing signs, trying to understand the route. Dmitry fidgeted in the adjacent seat, clearly nervous—she felt his anxious glances but stubbornly remained silent. A thick silence hung in the cabin, broken only by the rustle of the wipers across the wet glass.

The taxi stopped near an old house in the city center. Here were small antique shops and second-hand bookstores—Lena often passed by but never entered.

«We’re here,» Dmitry paid the taxi driver. «Let’s go.»

He led her to an inconspicuous door with a faded sign reading «Mikhail Petrovich’s Bookshop.» Inside, it smelled of old books and wood. High shelves reached to the ceiling, and dim lamps burned between them, creating an atmosphere of mystery.

«Good evening!» A gray-haired man in glasses rose from behind the counter. «Ah, Dmitry! You’re on time. And your wife is with you?»

«Yes, Mikhail Petrovich. Meet Lena.»

«Very nice to meet you!» The old man beamed. «Dmitry has told me so much about you. Wait a moment.»

He disappeared into a back room, and Elena looked at her husband puzzled:

«Dim, what’s happening?»

«You’ll see.»

Mikhail Petrovich returned, carefully carrying something wrapped in velvet fabric.

«Here it is,» he placed the bundle on the counter and carefully unwrapped the fabric.

On the counter lay a book—large, in dark leather, worn by time. Lena froze, examining the antique letters on the cover. Each swirl, each bend of the font formed such familiar words: «The Cookbook of Countess M.A. Tolstoy, 1891.»

She wanted to say something, but her voice wouldn’t obey. Her fingers involuntarily reached for the binding.

«Recognize it?» Dim looked at her with shining eyes. «Remember your stories? About your great-grandmother who worked for the Tolstoys? How she remembered this book—the personal, cherished cookbook of the countess herself, where she collected recipes from all over Russia?»

«I remember,» Lena whispered. «Great-grandmother said it contained unique recipes. But during the revolution, the book disappeared.»

«Not quite,» the old man winked. «It was kept in a private collection. And a month ago, I saw an ad for its sale. Dmitry has been coming here for several weeks, negotiating…»

«I stumbled upon the ad by chance,» Dmitry interrupted. «I wanted to surprise you. I know how much family stories mean to you.»

Lena cautiously ran her fingers over the ancient binding. She opened the book—the yellowed pages were filled with elegant handwriting, with notes in the margins.

«I’ve been looking for a similar book for almost a year,» Dmitry continued. «And then suddenly, this very one… I couldn’t miss such a chance.»

«So you arranged the meeting for this?» she asked quietly. «That’s why you were so excited?»

«Of course! Mikhail Petrovich said if we didn’t pick it up today, another buyer would come tomorrow. And I wanted to give it to you for the anniversary of our first meeting. Remember, it’s in two weeks?»

Lena felt tears welling up.

«You fool, Dim,» she buried her face in his shoulder. «And I made up all these things…»

«What did you make up?» he hugged her. «Did you really think I…»

«Sorry. Just that phone conversation…»

«Ah, you silly,» he kissed her on the crown of her head. «How could you think? I can’t be without you.»

Mikhail Petrovich discreetly coughed:

«I’ll put on some tea. Let’s celebrate such an occasion?»

They stayed in the bookstore until closing. The old bookseller told amazing stories about rare books, Elena flipped through the cookbook, exclaiming, «Oh, I know this recipe! Great-grandma passed it to grandma, and she – to mom…»

They walked home despite the rain. Dmitry carried the book under his jacket to keep it from getting wet. Lena held his arm, pressing her cheek to his shoulder.

«You know,» she said as they climbed the stairs to their apartment, «the sushi probably got completely cold.»

«That’s alright,» he smiled. «Now we have vintage recipes. Will you cook from them?»

«Definitely!» she took out the keys. «Imagine, there’s even a recipe for a pie that was specially made for Leo Tolstoy. And also…»

Dmitry listened as his wife excitedly talked about the treasures found in the book, thinking he had never found a better use for his savings. For such joy in her eyes, he could sell even his beloved graphic tablet.

«How about we cook something right now?» Lena suddenly suggested, turning on the light in the apartment. «Right from this book?»

«Now?» he glanced at the clock. «It’s already ten o’clock!»

«So what? It’ll be our first recipe from it. Do you think we can replicate something that was cooked over a hundred years ago?»

«With you – anything is possible,» he pulled her close. «You’re my magician.»

And so they stood in the hallway—she with the recipe book, he, hugging her shoulders, and the cooled sushi in the kitchen. And outside, a warm autumn rain fell, just like that day three years ago when a clumsy artist accidentally stained the blouse of the future chef with watercolor.

The next morning, Elena woke up to the smell of coffee. In the kitchen, breakfast awaited her, and next to the cup lay a note written in a familiar hand: «I love you. And I will always love you. And tonight, I’m waiting for a special dinner according to an old recipe. Your clumsy artist

What is this garbage you’ve made?! No taste at all!» Viktor threw his fork on the table, demonstratively pushing his plate away. His wife Nina had a severe cold, and her sense of smell was temporarily dulled due to the illness. She couldn’t distinguish tastes and even failed to sense salt and pepper, so she was afraid of oversalting. Despite her sickness, Nina steadfastly prepared breakfast, lunch, and dinner for the family, and also worked from home so as not to let her colleagues down. Perhaps that was why she couldn’t recover and looked simply awful.

«Vitya, eat the sausages, at least for one day… Can I lie down? I probably have a fever over 40… I don’t have the strength to cook anything else,» Nina said quietly.

«You just want to lie down! You’ll become so lazy; soon you won’t fit through the door!»

«Vitya…»

«What, Vitya? Tired of telling acquaintances that you’re just fat, not pregnant!» he responded maliciously, glaring at his wife.

Nina was hurt to hear such words. However, she had grown accustomed to the fact that if her husband was in a bad mood, he wouldn’t choose his words carefully or care about her feelings.

«Mommy, go lie down. I’ll make something…» their daughter, Anya, appeared in the kitchen. She felt sorry for her mother, so as soon as she came home from art school, she rushed to the kitchen instead of doing her homework.

«Your place isn’t at the stove, it’s at your studies! Bring your report card!» Viktor banged his fist on the table.

«Dad, we have electronic report cards…» Anya reminded him.

«Bring the electronic one! I don’t care, don’t talk back!»

Anya meekly placed her phone in front of her father. He looked at the grades and, finding nothing to criticize, began commenting on her appearance.

«You look just like your mother! Like a peasant! Not hair, but fluff! You should look at other girls! Your peers are already dating rich suitors! And you? Who needs you in your tattered jeans and oversized sweater?! Always want to sit on my neck?!»

«Vitya, why are you like this? Anya is our beauty…» Nina interjected.

«Did anyone ask you? Go to your room and lie down! Sick!»

«Dad, why do you talk to us like this?» Anya looked at her father with tear-filled eyes. «What have we done to you?!»

«Shut your mouth before I slap you!» Viktor clenched his fists. His daughter irritated him more and more. It didn’t help that she increasingly resembled Nina. And Nina was like a thorn in his throat.

Anya silently wiped away her tears, took a chicken from the fridge, and began to prepare it.

There was no appetite, so Anya quickly fried the fillet and brought a piece to her mother, then sat down on her bed.

«Eat.»

«I don’t want to, sweetheart… I have no strength.»

«Should I go to the pharmacy?»

«Everything’s there. I went this morning.»

«Call a doctor?»

«No, I just need to rest a bit…»

«Who will wash the dishes?!» a roar from the kitchen made mother and daughter flinch.

«I’ll go…» Anya said quietly.

«Pay no mind. He loves us. Just… maybe problems at work or something hurts. That’s why he’s in a bad mood.»

Anya looked at her mother with sympathy. Sometimes it seemed to her that Nina lived in a parallel universe.

«He loves us. He doesn’t even love himself every day!» thought Anya, wiping the table.

The next day she came home late: there was a performance at dance school, and afterwards, the girls went to a cafe.

Anya came home happy, but her mood disappeared when she heard the screams.

«You’re good for nothing! Couldn’t even raise a daughter properly! What are these dances for?! And drawing? Nonsense! She should have gone to a technical school!»

«She’s a girl, Vitya…»

«So what?! I want her to study and work where I arrange her to!»

«Vitya… let her choose with her heart.»

«You never listen to what I say! You always argue!»

«Okay, Vitya. What’s wrong?»

«Everything is wrong! You’re not right! The daughter’s not right! Even that painting on the wall… I’ve been irritated by it for 16 years. I can’t stand to see it! And I can’t stand to see you! I want a divorce.»

«But Vitya, we have a daughter… What about us?» Anya heard sobs. «I love you… I try… And the painting… We can take it down,» Nina pleaded tearfully, swallowing her tears. Her father had hung that painting; he had painted it himself, and it was dear to her heart. But to save her family, Nina was ready to make such a desperate step.

«You try?! Look at yourself! No beauty, no figure. And these hair, peasant style! Who wears braids at your age?! I love blondes… And you?»

Anya couldn’t bear to listen to her parents’ quarrel. She quietly exited the door and went to her grandmother’s.

Tatiana Stepanovna knew her son-in-law’s character and was used to the fact that her granddaughter often stayed with her.

«They fought again?»

«Yes… Grandma, I don’t understand why mom puts up with him?»

«I don’t know, Anya. Perhaps it’s love.»

«If all men are like this, I’ll never get married.»

«Dear, people are different. Your grandfather was wonderful…» Tatiana Stepanovna loved to talk about her grandfather. He was a well-known artist; his paintings hung in the city art museum, and one, Anya’s favorite, adorned the main room of the apartment where they lived. «Your talent is from him. You’ll be just as famous, don’t give up drawing.»

«Grandma, dad wants us to take down Grandpa’s painting and remove it…»

«And do we need to hang his portrait instead?» the grandmother frowned.

«I don’t know, Grandma. But sometimes I wish I didn’t have a father at all. It seems like it would be easier for mom and me.»

Tatiana Stepanovna said nothing. She tried not to interfere in family matters, and recently she didn’t even go to the apartment left to Nina by her father. The atmosphere there was «tense.»

The next morning, Anya left for school, and in the evening, she went home, hoping that her parents had stopped fighting.

«Mom, what’s with your hair?» asked the daughter, seeing Nina. The woman had cut her braid and bleached her hair. She was unrecognizable. The braid, Nina’s pride, had been cut, and Anya felt sorry for her mother’s hair… But what’s done is done.

«Changed the image,» Nina said quietly. Anya was silent, and Viktor, returning from work, sneered contemptuously.

«Your hairdresser deserves a ‘prize’: he managed to mutilate what seemed already beyond ruin.»

Nina silently watched Viktor. She didn’t understand what she had done to deserve such treatment. From the morning, she had gathered all her strength to go to the hairdresser and please her husband. But he didn’t appreciate it.

Meanwhile, Anya went to the living room and found her favorite painting no longer in its place.

«Mom?! Where’s the landscape?»

«I took it down…»

«Why?! It’s a memory of Grandpa!»

«Grandpa can’t be brought back. Dad’s right, we need to add new colors…»

«You want to hang my painting in its place?» Anya arched an eyebrow.

«Your scribbling? No, we don’t need to embarrass ourselves. We’ll hang a clock there. I’ve wanted one with a cuckoo for a long time.» Viktor curled his lips into a smile, pulling cheap plastic clocks out of a bag. They were so ugly and poorly made that Anya couldn’t believe anyone would hang such a thing in the living room.

«I think it’s awful.»

«What would you know!» Viktor roared. «They’ll hang here. I’ve said all!»

He sat on the couch, awaiting dinner and enjoying the clocks, which not only looked terrible but also ticked loudly, counting down every tense nerve among the members of this «happy» family.

Nevertheless, noticing that his wife had given in, Viktor calmed down for a few days. He even smiled, looking at the clocks.

«If this thing makes my father and mother happy, I’ll endure this terrible ticking,» thought Anya.

But the calm only lasted a few days, and then everything went awry again.

«What are you standing there for?! Can’t you see I’m watching TV!» Viktor yelled at his wife when she tried to clean the floor during his show.

«I’m cleaning the apartment. It’s dusty… You forbade turning on the vacuum cleaner, so I have to do it by hand to not disturb you with loud noise,» Nina faltered.

«You disturb me by the mere fact of your existence! Get out of sight!»

«Vitya, really. You’d better help me.»

«Back off, Nina! Otherwise, you’ll be talking to the void! You won’t have a husband, just wait…» he threatened, turning up the volume.

Nina put down the rag and stood up, blocking the screen. Viktor even choked on the fizzy drink he was sipping while watching the show.

«Have you lost your fear, mother?!»

«What do you want, so we can live normally? I cut my hair, became a blonde, took down the painting. Our daughter now doesn’t go to the studio; she went to young engineers’ courses by your will. What’s wrong?!»

«I’m tired of you! Want to know what I need? Fine, I’ll tell.»

Viktor stood up from the couch to take up more space and appear more significant.

«So, I want my mother-in-law to transfer the apartment to me.»

«Which apartment?!»

«Her own. I’ll go there to rest from you. I can’t stand to look at you. I’ll live there for a week, rest, then a week here with you. The sheep are fed, and the wolves are safe,» he declared.

«And where will Mom go?!»

«Send the mother-in-law to the cottage. She loves to dig in the garden, and she doesn’t have long left, let her get used to the soil.»

Anya couldn’t listen to her father. She was dusting a vase and, unable to bear these words, dropped it, and it shattered.

«There you go, hands not from the right place! Just like your mother!» Viktor cursed, looking at his daughter with hatred.

«Maybe not like mother, but like father?! A tyrant!» Anya suppressed the urge to throw a piece of the vase at him and, dropping the shards, ran out of the room.

«You raised a rude girl, and you still expect something from me,» Viktor continued, but Anya no longer heard him. She quickly dressed and went to her grandmother’s. She couldn’t allow her father to do this to Tatiana Stepanovna.

The woman listened attentively to her granddaughter and pondered.

«I’m afraid Mom will go along with him again, convincing you to transfer the apartment! What if he then says he needs your cottage, and sends you to a nursing home?!» Anya cried. «And then he might decide I’m not his real daughter and send me somewhere to a boarding school…»

«Dear, don’t cry. As long as the apartment is in my name, nothing will happen. I won’t transfer it to him,» the grandmother reassured. At the same time, she understood that her granddaughter’s fears were not empty words. If Tatiana Stepanovna suddenly passed away, the apartment and the cottage would go to Nina, and Nina might do anything for her husband. Sometimes Tatiana Stepanovna thought that her daughter loved her husband too desperately, at the expense of herself and her daughter. But Tatiana Stepanovna kept her opinion to herself… Until she realized that the situation was out of control.

The woman didn’t sleep all night. And in the morning, she had a serious talk with her granddaughter. That day Anya stayed with her grandmother, and in the evening Nina joined them. She cried a lot and talked long, and Tatiana Stepanovna listened to her daughter. And Anya… also listened and didn’t understand what the point of such a family was if there was no respect among its members.

In the morning, Nina calmed down. She walked her daughter to school, then went home. It was hard for her, and she hoped until the last… But no miracle happened. Her husband came home even more irritated than he had left.

«Where’s that little pest been disappearing to for three days? You secretly taking her to drawing classes? A friend told me she quit the engineers’ courses! Why did I arrange for her to go there? To embarrass me?!» he yelled from the doorstep.

«Vitya, quieter, please. I have a headache.»

«Then you should mess around less! You’d better have cooked food! There’s been nothing to eat for two days!»

«I was at Mom’s. We discussed everything.»

«Yes?» Viktor slightly changed his tone. «And? Is she ready to transfer the apartment?»

«Mom already transferred the apartment, and she agreed to live in the village. She’s already packed. I’ll take her there tomorrow.»

«Why tomorrow? Order a taxi and let’s go right now! I’ll quickly get ready; I can’t stand to see you, I’ll rest in peace and quiet.» Viktor threw off his jacket and went to pack his things. He threw his clothes and personal items into a large bag. «This will do for now. Did you find a car?»

«Yes.»

«Great. Drive me to my mother-in-law’s, and the mother-in-law to the cottage. I’ll finally rest from you.»

Nina said nothing. She silently walked to the car, and they drove to the station.

«What does this mean?! Where have you brought me?!»

«Go back where you came from. Rest. I’ll file for divorce myself. You don’t need to worry,» Nina got out of the car and switched to another. A taxi «to a new life» was already waiting for her.

«And what about the division of property?! The apartment?!»

«Here,» she nodded at his bag and handed him a ticket to the village he had come from to marry and settle in the city. «This is all your property. That you’ve only earned a cuckoo clock in 16 years is your problem. The apartment has been transferred to Anya; you’ll get nothing. Goodbye, Vitya. Although no, not goodbye. We shouldn’t cut all ties too soon: you still have 3 years of alimony coming for Anya. And I’ll gladly spend it on our needs.»

Viktor said something to her as she left, but Nina left him at the station. She knew that Tatiana Stepanovna was changing the locks in her apartment at that moment. There was no way back home for Viktor. And although it was painful, she understood: it’s better to «cut off» once than to suffer flare-ups for the rest of your life.

Entering the apartment, Dasha froze in place. She had expected her husband to greet her after a long business trip, but there was no one in the hallway.

“Maxim? Are you home?” In the dark, Darya reached for the light switch, but suddenly someone touched her hands.

“Don’t, don’t turn on the light,” came her husband’s voice.

“Oh, you scared me!” Dasha jerked back. “Why not? It’s dark. I can’t see anything.”

“I’ll help you,” the man replied playfully and took the bags from his wife. “No need to ruin the romance.”

“Romance?” Dasha asked, intrigued. “Are you cooking a candlelight dinner?”

“And if I am, so what? Don’t I have the right to please my beloved wife?”

“You do, but I don’t smell any food from the kitchen,” Dasha answered, sniffing.

“That’s because the dish isn’t ready yet. You go to the bathroom for now, and I’ll finish dinner.”

“Okay,” the wife smiled. In the dim light, she went to wash her hands in the bathroom, but when she opened the door, she was even more surprised. On the sink and shelves stood lit candles, and on the washing machine lay Maxim’s phone, quietly playing jazz music.

“Wow, what’s this?”

“This is the start of a romantic evening so you can relax before dinner,” Maxim said, kissing his wife. “Enjoy for now, I’ll finish up in the kitchen.”

“All right,” Dasha agreed and winked at her husband. She happily sank into the hot water and thought that her husband had come up with a wonderful surprise.

Darya and Maxim had been married five years. Until that day, the man had never arranged romantic evenings for his wife. Usually, when she returned from a trip, she cooked dinner herself and then cleaned the house until late at night. But today was different.

Enjoying the relaxed atmosphere in the bathroom, Dasha closed her eyes and started wondering what made Maxim arrange such a surprise for her. Maybe he was preparing her for the arrival of his mother-in-law. That was the first thing that came to Darya’s mind. She hadn’t communicated with Tamara Vladimirovna for several years.

The husband’s mother lived in a village thirty kilometers from the city. She was a very rude and intrusive woman. In the past, the mother-in-law constantly interfered in her son’s family with her advice. At first, the daughter-in-law still tolerated her antics, but after one incident, she forbade her from visiting.

Once, Tamara Vladimirovna dropped by the newlyweds’ house without warning. Maxim and Darya were on vacation at the time. When they returned, they immediately noticed that someone had been busy in their apartment. It turned out the mother-in-law had made a duplicate key and gave it to her daughter, who was studying at university and living in a dormitory.

“What gave you the right to let Marina into my apartment?!” Dasha exclaimed loudly upon learning the truth.

“So what? You weren’t home anyway. She only lived there for a week. What’s the big deal?”

“What right did you have to make a duplicate key to someone else’s property?”

“Whose property? My son lives there, actually!”

“So what? This apartment is mine! My parents gave it to me. Only I have the right to decide who lives or visits here!”

The mother-in-law’s action greatly upset the daughter-in-law. That day, Maxim’s wife had a serious quarrel with his mother. Dasha also quarreled with her sister-in-law. They almost fought because of it. Darya demanded the return of the apartment key, but Marina refused. In the end, the owner had to change the lock.

Maxim was shocked by the situation too, but unlike his wife, he did not cut off contact with his mother and sister. On the contrary, he dreamed that Dasha would reconcile with his relatives. However, his wife refused to forgive the mother-in-law and sister-in-law. She believed that if she did, Tamara Vladimirovna and Marina would try to take advantage of her again.

Lying in the bath after the business trip, Darya somehow decided that Maxim arranged the surprise because he wanted to try again to reconcile his wife with the sister-in-law and mother-in-law. To find out, she asked her husband directly:

“I hope Tamara Vladimirovna and Marina aren’t planning to visit us?”

“Where did you get that idea?” the man was surprised, sitting on the edge of the tub. “I know how you feel about them. You can’t force affection. If you don’t want to communicate with them, then don’t. I’m not going to force you anymore.”

“That’s good!” Dasha replied, glancing sideways at Max.

“Rest for now,” the man nodded. “The fish will be baked soon, and we’ll have dinner.”

“Great! I wish you’d always greet me like this after trips,” Dasha said dreamily.

“Maybe I will,” her husband smiled and left the bathroom.

Dasha still did not understand what made Maxim so attentive and sensitive. Maybe the man had just changed and decided that his wife deserved more attention. But the next moment, those joyful thoughts vanished from her mind. When Darya raised her head, her gaze fell on the shelf with shampoos. At that moment her heart pounded heavily.

“What’s this?” she murmured, taking out a box of cosmetics. “How did it get here?”

Before leaving for business trips, Dasha always took some cosmetics with her and left some in her bedside table. This box contained only lipstick, eyeshadow, mascara, and foundation with powder. Maxim had no reason to take the makeup bag and leave it in the bathroom. That meant another woman had taken it out of the drawer…

“Max! Maxim!” Darya hurried out of the bath, put on her robe, and went to her husband. He was in the kitchen setting the table for dinner.

“Oh, you’re done already? The fish is almost ready,” her husband said happily.

“What’s this?! Why has my makeup bag moved from the drawer to the bathroom?”

“What?” the man didn’t understand. He looked at the box and shrugged. “I didn’t touch anything. Maybe you forgot it yourself.”

“I clearly remember leaving the box in the room! Don’t lie to me! Who was here while I was away?”

“Uh… honey…” the man began stammering. “A friend came over once with his girlfriend. Maybe she needed something from the makeup. That’s why she took the box.”

“From the bedside drawer?!” Dasha exclaimed, not believing a single word from Max. “And how long were they here?”

“Only one day. They came in the evening and left the next morning,” the man tried to explain.

“Do you really think I’ll believe that story?! Admit it, you brought some mistress home? Is that how you spend your time while I’m away on business?”

“What?! What nonsense!” Maxim was shocked. “I told you, a friend came with his girlfriend. Maybe she rummaged through the drawer while we were sitting in the kitchen.”

“And they left the next morning?” Dasha asked suspiciously.

“Yes,” Maxim nodded uncertainly. “They were going to their parents in another city and decided to stop by. Sasha and I studied together before…”

“You’re lying! You’re lying all the time!” Dasha shouted and began taking the makeup out of the box. “Just look at this! Do you want to say your friend’s girlfriend used up all my concealer in one night? There’s very little lip gloss left, and someone broke the eyeshadow compact! It doesn’t look like they were here only one day! It feels like they lived here for a whole week! And that girl actively used my makeup without asking!”

“Honey…” the man whimpered like a beaten puppy.

“What, honey?!” Dasha shouted again. “Better admit it nicely! You’re cheating on me! What’s her name? How long have you been together?!”

“I swear I never cheated on you!” the man kept defending himself.

This made Darya so angry that she turned around and decisively rushed to the bedroom. Shocked, Maxim ran after her.

“What are you planning?! What are you doing?!” he shouted desperately.

“I won’t tolerate betrayal! We’re getting a divorce!” Dasha replied. She took a bag out of the wardrobe and started packing her husband’s things.

“Stop, honey! I swear, there’s no one else! I swear on my mother!”

“Yeah, right, I believe you!” Dasha, turning away, continued packing. “How could you, Maxim? I always trusted you! I never thought you’d treat me so cruelly!”

“That’s enough!” seeing tears in his wife’s eyes, the man exclaimed. “Okay, I’ll tell the truth! Just stop packing. I don’t want a divorce! I love you, do you understand?”

Seeing her husband’s desperate eyes, Dasha calmed down a little. She sat on the bed and listened carefully.

“While you were away, it wasn’t a friend but Marina who came…” the man admitted, lowering his eyes. “I was afraid you’d get angry, so I didn’t say anything.”

“And what was she doing here?!” still angry, Dasha asked.

“She lived here. Almost a week. She has exams at university, so she decided to stay here instead of the dormitory. Mom literally begged me. If I had known that my sister would rummage through your things and use your cosmetics, I would never have let her in.”

“And how am I supposed to believe that? What if you’re lying to me again? Like with Sasha and his girlfriend?”

“I’m not lying. Want me to call Marina now and ask if she used your makeup?”

“I do! Call her!”

This call dispelled all of Dasha’s doubts. The sister immediately confessed to her brother that she took the concealer, lip gloss, and eyeshadows without permission and used the bride’s cosmetics all week. Dasha couldn’t stand it and yelled at her sister-in-law again. This time even Maxim got angry at his sister. He scolded her and said he would never do her favors again.

Dasha was upset with her husband for a long time but then they made up. She was hurt that Maxim let in a relative she couldn’t stand. But even more she was hurt that he lied to her. However, it was better than having a complete stranger in the apartment.

©Stella Kiarri

“I hope you won’t let strangers into the house while I’m on business trips and lie to me anymore?” Dasha asked before her next trip.

“Never! Now I’ll arrange romantic dinners just because I want to, not out of guilt,” the man answered repentantly.

After that incident, Maxim really started to surprise his wife more often. At some point, Dasha even caught herself thinking she was grateful to Marina. If it weren’t for the sister-in-law’s brazen behavior, their relationship would have remained the same. Now their feelings seemed renewed. They became closer and happier than before.

“Is he alive? Is he really alive?” Stephanie asked, trying to see the newborn behind the backs of the doctors.

“Yes,” replied Dr. Hilary Rumez. “He is alive. But he is… unusual.”

When Stephanie and her husband Duke Crudz were leaving the maternity ward with two girls in their arms, no one — neither the midwife, nor the doctors, nor the mother herself — could have imagined that the birth was not yet over. Ahead of them awaited more contractions… and another child.

Just 48 hours after discharge, the young mother was back in the hospital. The reason was a sudden onset of contractions accompanied by severe pain. Stephanie thought it was just a postpartum complication. But the pain grew stronger, and her body behaved as if new labor had begun.

Maplewood, New Hampshire, was never known for medical miracles. Everything here happened on schedule: from school bells to the first frosts. It was in this very ordinary place that one of the most astonishing stories in modern medicine took place.

Stephanie Crudz was expecting twins. All ultrasounds during the pregnancy confirmed: there were two girls inside. They were already named — Trisha and Sophie. Both were born safely in a private clinic under the supervision of Dr. Hilary Rumez — an experienced obstetrician with twenty years of practice. The birth went without complications: six hours of pain, screams, tears — and two healthy girls weighing 2.3 kg each.

The family returned home — to a modest one-bedroom apartment where two cradles stood beside the parents’ bed. They were tired but happy. The babies woke up alternately, and the mother barely slept for weeks. Duke, having lost his job a month before the birth, tried to help as much as he could.

But on the morning of the third day, Stephanie felt familiar contractions again.

When they arrived at the hospital, Dr. Rumez was surprised. Stephanie’s belly was still rounded — not uncommon after childbirth — but during the ultrasound examination, the machine showed something incredible: there was still a baby inside the uterus.

“That can’t be… we already gave birth,” whispered a stunned Stephanie.

But all readings confirmed it: there was a third child inside the woman’s body. How? Why had no one noticed it on any ultrasound or during the birth? No one had an explanation.

After three hours of painful contractions, Stephanie gave birth for the third time. A boy was born. This was not just the third child in the family. It was a real miracle.

The medical staff froze. Silence hung in the room, broken only by the loud, confident cry of the newborn. Then movement began — excitement, rushing around, hurried calls, the father’s tears, and Stephanie’s look, hard to believe: she could not comprehend what was happening.

The boy was named Nicholas. He weighed 6.4 kg — almost three times more than his sisters. For comparison: the average weight of babies in a triplet birth ranges from 1.3 to 2.3 kg. A child of that weight among three newborns is a genuine medical phenomenon.

A photograph taken by the night nurse shocked everyone with its scale of surprise: Nicholas looked like a three-month-old baby compared to his very small sisters. This very photo sparked a wide public reaction around the Crudz family’s story.

By the next morning, journalists had gathered at the hospital. Reporters from local and national media rushed to learn details about the “giant baby.” Some called it a miracle, others a sign from above. There were even those who were frightened: some religious groups dubbed the baby “a harbinger of something ominous” and urged people to stay away from him.

The family found themselves at the center of attention.

By that time, it became known that Duke was unemployed, and their living conditions were clearly not suited for raising three children, especially if one of them greatly exceeded normal size. Then an activist started a fundraising campaign. More than $50,000 was raised in three days.

The authorities included the family in a housing assistance program. Construction of a new house began: reinforced floors, wide doorways, custom-sized furniture — everything designed taking into account Nicholas’s possible growth and build.

In one interview, Dr. Rumez admitted: “This is one of those cases where you realize we still don’t know very much. Ultrasounds showed two children, two heartbeats. Possibly, Nicholas was positioned in such a way that he simply wasn’t visible at any stage of the pregnancy and from any angle.”

Some experts suggest that the boy’s development was delayed, and he was kind of “hiding” behind his sisters during the first and second trimesters. There are also theories about technical errors in the equipment. But everyone agrees: this is a unique case. It is being studied by endocrinologists, obstetricians, specialists in prenatal development, and even geneticists.

Six months after birth, Nicholas continued to grow rapidly. Preliminary data showed that by six months, his weight exceeded 12 kg. The medical team regularly conducts examinations, and the family receives financial support for participating in scientific studies.

A documentary group from Los Angeles signed a contract with the Crudz family to make a film about their story. This gave the family additional income and allowed Duke to temporarily stay with them.

However, public attention is not always a blessing.

Some neighbors still try to keep their distance. They whisper: “It can’t be real.” But most people support the family: they bring food, toys, diapers. And most importantly — warmth and sympathy.

“We were expecting two, but got three. And one of them — the one who turned our life upside down,” says Stephanie.

The Crudz family lives in their new home, gradually getting used to a reality they never could have dreamed of.

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Mashenka, be a dear and pour us some tea,” asked my mother-in-law, not even looking up from the phone screen when I entered the living room after a long day at work.

Her friends had already settled on the couch, like three crows on a wire. Something was gleaming on the coffee table. I froze—it was my jewelry box!

“Yelena Pavlovna, why is my box here?” I tried to speak calmly, though my insides were in turmoil.

“What’s wrong with that?” She finally looked at me. “I’m just showing the girls how much Alexey has spent… I don’t understand, why do you care?”

Valentina, one of her friends, was already trying on my emerald earrings—gifts from Lesha on our anniversary.

“These are my things,” I said, walking toward the table, but my mother-in-law quickly stood up, blocking the way.

“Yours?” she smirked. “My dear, everything in this house belongs to my son. Which means it belongs to me. You’re just here temporarily until Alyosha figures out what a mistake he made.”

I clenched my fists. Three years of marriage, and every day was a test. Lesha was away on another business trip, leaving me defenseless.

“Please, return the jewelry,” I addressed the women directly.

“Oh, how strict!” Valentina giggled. “Len, she’s got a character!”

“Character has nothing to do with it,” my mother-in-law interrupted. “Go to the kitchen, there’s dirty dishware. And make dinner—we decided to stay.”

The women exchanged knowing glances. One of them had already put on my bracelet—a gift from my mother.

“Please take it off,” my voice betrayed me with a quiver.

“What’s going to happen if we don’t?” Yelena Pavlovna laughed. “Are you going to run and complain to your husband? He’s always on my side. Remember, he said before he left, ‘Mom, keep an eye on her, she’s so helpless.’”

It was a blatant lie. But arguing was pointless.

“I’ll take my things,” I tried to walk past.

“You’ll take only what I allow you. Now, march to the kitchen. Valya wanted your famous salad. The one you make with my recipe.”

The women burst into laughter. I yanked my hand free and headed for the door. I turned on the threshold: “You’re mistaken if you think I’ll put up with this any longer.”

“Where are you going to go?” my mother-in-law smiled coldly. “Without my son, you’re nothing. Just a regular provincial girl who got lucky. So, behave accordingly.”

I left them to divide my valuables, like precious treasure. In the kitchen, I took out my phone.

Lesha wasn’t answering—the connection was poor in his region. But I knew what to do. Yelena Pavlovna had made a mistake, thinking I was weak.

The next morning I woke up with a clear plan. My mother-in-law was still asleep—they had stayed up late with her friends, drinking wine from our cellar.

By the way, our wine was a collection that Lesha and I had put together during our travels.

I quietly entered my husband’s office. The safe contained documents that my mother-in-law may have forgotten about… or thought I didn’t know the code. But Lesha trusted me with everything.

“What are you doing here?” came an irritated voice.

My mother-in-law stood in the doorway, disheveled and angry.

“I’m working with some papers,” I calmly replied, pulling out the necessary folder.

“In my son’s office? Without permission?” She moved toward me. “Put everything back right now!”

“This is the power of attorney for the company’s financial transactions,” I showed her the document. “Lesha signed it for me before leaving. In case of emergencies.”

Her face turned pale.

“It can’t be…”

“It can. And here are the receipts for all the jewelry. Most of it I bought myself, with my own money. I worked in a design studio, remember how you mocked me for that?”

“You did it on purpose!” She clutched the doorframe. “You charmed my son!”

“I love your son. And he loves me. And you just can’t accept that.”

My mother-in-law turned red.

“Who are you, really? You came from nowhere, trying to act like the lady of the house! You’re just a servant to my son, don’t you dare complain! I’m his mother, I know better what he needs!”

“A servant?” I sneered. “Interesting remark. Want to know why Lesha gave me the power of attorney?”

She was silent, staring intently at me.

“Because three months ago, there were suspicious withdrawals from the corporate card. Boutiques, restaurants, spa treatments—all charged to you, Yelena Pavlovna. Lesha knew you wanted a share of the business.”

“That… he allowed it!”

“Allowed spending two hundred thousand a month?” I shook my head. “I have the receipts and the correspondence from your friends, where you boast about how ‘cleverly’ you’re manipulating your son.”

My mother-in-law stepped back.

“Where did you…”

“Valentina left her phone on the table—unlocked. Do you know what she told me when I showed her the correspondence with the fitness trainer?”

A heavy silence hung between us. Yelena Pavlovna opened her mouth, but no words came out. “The jewelry needs to be here by evening,” I continued. “And no more unscheduled visits. Leave the keys on the table.”

“You have no right! This is my son’s house!”

“Our house. We bought it together. I contributed half of the cost—I sold the apartment I inherited from my grandmother. The one you called ‘a hut in the village.’”

I handed her another document:

“This is a police report. It hasn’t been filed yet. But if the jewelry isn’t returned…”

“You’re resorting to blackmail!” she hissed.

“No. Just a woman who knows how to defend what’s hers. Unlike that ‘quiet one’ you thought was weak.”

That evening, the courier delivered a neatly packed box. All the jewelry was there. Inside was a note from Valentina: “Sorry, we didn’t know Lena would go this far.”

I carefully put the box in the safe and called Lesha. This time, he answered immediately:

“Hey, darling! How’s home? Is mom bothering you too much?”

“Everything’s great,” I smiled. “Your mom and I finally came to an agreement.”

“Seriously? How did you manage that?”

“Productively. I think now she’ll call before visiting.”

“Masha, you’re a magician! I’ve been trying to talk to her for years!”

“I just found the right arguments,” I laughed. “Thanks for the power of attorney. It really helped.”

“I told you, just in case,” his voice was filled with joy. “I love you.”

“And I love you. Another week, and you’ll be home. Want me to make that salad?”

“Of course. But let’s be honest—it’s not mom’s recipe, right?”

“Right. It’s my grandmother’s recipe from that same ‘province.’”

Lesha laughed:

“I knew it! Mom never knew how to cook well!”

After the call, I went to the kitchen. On the table were the keys and a note. The handwriting was familiar, but the hand trembled: “I hope you’re satisfied. Though I think your son could have found a better partner.”

I crumpled the paper and threw it away. Yelena Pavlovna never understood the most important thing—it doesn’t matter who’s “better” or “worse.”

What matters is love, respect, and the ability to stand up for yourself when necessary.

The sun was setting outside. I poured a glass of wine from the cellar and raised it to small victories. Sometimes, to become the mistress of your life, all you need to do is stop playing the role of a servant. Especially when someone expects you to.

Three days after our confrontation, the doorbell rang. When I opened it, I saw a stranger, around thirty-five years old—stylishly dressed, with a weary look in her eyes.

“Are you Maria? Alexey Petrovich’s wife?”

“Yes. And you?”

“Inna. We need to talk. It’s about your mother-in-law.”

Something in her tone made me invite her in. We walked to the living room. She scanned the room with a keen eye, as if looking for something familiar.

“You have a very cozy place. Yelena Pavlovna says you’ve decorated the house poorly, but that’s not true.”

“How do you know my mother-in-law?”

Inna gave a bitter smile:

“I was married to her eldest son—Igor.”

I gasped. Lesha had told me that his brother died in a car crash ten years ago, but he had never mentioned his wife.

“But… Yelena Pavlovna said Igor had no family.”

“Of course, she did,” Inna took out a folder from her bag. “Because I didn’t fit her idea of a daughter-in-law. Just like you now.”

She handed me photographs: young Inna, with Igor—who looked exactly like Lesha, only a little older, and in the background, Yelena Pavlovna with the same dismissive expression on her face.

“She’s the one who drove Igor to the point where he got behind the wheel drunk,” Inna’s voice trembled. “Endless arguments, demands to divorce me, threats to disinherit me… That night she said she would stop funding ‘this useless person.’”

“My God…”

“I tried to talk to Alexey, but Yelena Pavlovna painted me as a hysterical woman who ruined her son’s life. He was studying abroad at the time, only returned for the funeral. We never met.”

Inna handed me another document:

“This is Igor’s real will. He left me half of the father’s business. The same one that Alexey is managing now.”

I flipped through the papers. Everything seemed official and authentic.

“Why did you come now?”

“Valentina called me—your mother-in-law’s friend. She told me about your conflict and said that you were the first not to be afraid and stood up to her. And I decided—it’s time to set things straight.”

“Do you want to claim a share of the business?”

“No,” Inna shook her head. “I want Alexey to know the truth about his brother. And about how their grandmother really died.”

“What do you mean?” I felt a chill run down my spine.

“Yelena Pavlovna gave the grandmother medications that were contraindicated for her. I accidentally found the prescriptions. When I tried to tell Igor, she accused me of wanting to break up the family.”

My phone rang. It was Lesha.

“Hey, darling! I’m flying out earlier! I’ll be there tomorrow morning! I miss you so much!”

“Lesha…” I looked at Inna. “Okay. We’ll be waiting for you.”

“We?”

“I’ll explain when we meet.”

After hanging up, I addressed my guest:

“Stay until tomorrow. Lesha needs to hear this from you.”

“What if he doesn’t believe me?”

“He will. I’ll make sure of it.”

The next morning there was tension in the air. Lesha arrived happy, with gifts, but when he saw Inna, he froze: “Hello, Alyosha,” she said, standing up. “We need to talk.”

Their conversation lasted two hours. I sat next to them, holding my husband’s hand while he learned the truth about his brother, about his grandmother, about the long years of deception.

“It can’t be…” he shook his head, but his eyes already showed realization.

“It can,” Inna answered softly. “How could she give your wife’s jewelry to her friends? How could she control the company’s money? Yelena Pavlovna thinks the world belongs to her by right.”

Lesha stood up and started pacing the room:

“Documents about grandmother… where’s the proof?”

“In her personal safe,” Inna gave the code. “Igor showed me before he died. She kept all the prescriptions and notes there. Just in case.”

“Are you sure she hasn’t destroyed them?”

“Six months ago, she even tried to scare me with copies. After I tried to contact you through the office.”

“What?!” Lesha turned sharply. “Your message was received by the secretary. She said you were a fraud and that I didn’t want to see you.”

“Then Yelena Pavlovna called me,” Inna continued. “She warned me she would file a police report if I tried to reach you again. And she showed copies of the documents—saying she’d prove I ruined Igor and caused grandmother’s death.”

Lesha clenched his fists, then dialed the number:

“Mom? Come right now. This isn’t up for discussion.”

Yelena Pavlovna arrived an hour later, as dignified as ever:

“Alexey, why did you call me so early? And why is this woman here?”

She noticed Inna, and her face went pale.

“Mom,” Lesha’s voice was icy. “Where are the keys to your safe?”

“What safe? I don’t understand…”

“The one where you keep the documents about grandmother. And the original will of Igor.”

A pause followed. Then my mother-in-law straightened up:

“I don’t know what this fraud has told you, but…”

“The code is 1703,” Lesha interrupted. “Igor’s birthday. Either you open the safe yourself, or I’ll call a specialist.”

“You wouldn’t dare!”

“I would dare. Just like you dared to deceive me all these years.”

My mother-in-law shot me a hateful look:

“This is all your fault! You turned my son against his mother!”

“No, Yelena Pavlovna,” I shook my head. “You boxed yourself in with lies, pressure, and greed.”

“I did everything for my children!” she screamed.

“You did everything for yourself,” Inna said quietly. “And you lost one of them.”

Yelena Pavlovna staggered. Lesha helped her sit down:

“Mom, just tell the truth. For once.”

And she broke down. Crying, she confessed that she had forged the will, that she had given grandmother dangerous medications to “speed things up,” and that she had driven Igor to ruin because he was planning to figure everything out.

“I wanted my children to have everything! To not be involved with those who weren’t suitable for them!”

“Igor and I loved our women,” Lesha said, hugging me.

Next came lawyers, courts, and the division of assets. Inna refused her share and passed it on to the Igor charity fund.

Yelena Pavlovna moved to the country house her husband had once given her.

“You know what’s the scariest thing?” Lesha said a month later. “I always felt something was off. But I didn’t want to believe it.”

“Now it’s all behind us.”

“Thanks to you. If you hadn’t stopped mom back then with the jewelry… Inna wouldn’t have dared to come.”

I leaned against him. On the mantle stood a new photograph—we four: me, Lesha, Inna, and her new husband. The family we chose for ourselves.

And the jewelry box now sat in the most prominent spot. A reminder: never let anyone call you a servant. Especially when it’s your mother-in-law.

The evening light reluctantly filtered through the tulle on the windows when Mikhail threw open the apartment door with such force that it slammed against the wall. Anna flinched, not tearing her eyes away from the laptop screen where she was once again rereading the technical assignment from a client in Moscow. The woman had ordered a set of jewelry for her daughter’s wedding and was incredibly picky—she had already asked for revisions to the sketch three times.

“Still on the computer,” Mikhail remarked, throwing his briefcase onto the couch. “Great. I thought, maybe today my wife will greet me like a human.”

“Hello, darling,” Anna turned toward him, quickly saving the file. “How was work?”

“Wonderful,” Mikhail mumbled, pulling off his tie. “The boss yelled even more passionately than usual in the meeting. The clients are demanding the impossible, the accounting department is dragging their feet on paperwork, and of course, I’m responsible for everything. The usual story.”

Anna looked at her husband—tired, irritated, with deep wrinkles around his eyes that seemed to have appeared only recently. She wanted to get up and hug him, but there were unfinished brooches on the table, and her phone was buzzing with notifications from customers.

“Maybe I’ll make some tea?” she suggested. “We can talk?”

“Talk?” Mikhail surveyed the room with the eye of an inspector. “What are we going to talk about? How you spent the whole day playing with your little crafts while I was slaving away for our well-being?”

On Anna’s table, there really was a creative mess—pieces of fabric, spools of silk thread, boxes of pearls and vintage buttons, and three unfinished brooches that people were already asking to buy. But how could she explain that to her husband, who only saw it as “child’s play”?

“I was working, Misha.”

“Working?” Mikhail sat on the edge of the couch without taking off his shoes. “Anna, listen carefully. Work is when you wake up at seven in the morning, fight traffic to get to the office at rush hour, spend eight hours solving other people’s problems, and take responsibility for everything. Not sitting at home in slippers playing artist.”

“I’m not playing…”

“Not playing?” Mikhail got up and walked over to the table. “What is this then?” He poked his finger at the materials scattered across the table. “Children’s art for adults? Housewife therapy?”

Anna felt a surge of resentment inside. If only he knew how many hours she had spent picking out exactly these materials. How long she had searched for vintage pearl buttons, how carefully she selected each pearl. How many sketches she redrew before finding the perfect composition.

“This is serious work that requires skill and time…”

“Serious work!” Mikhail laughed, but his laugh was bitter. “When are you going to find a real job, dependent? Anna, I need a woman, not a housewife! Do you understand the difference? I need a life partner, a companion, not… not a retired mom who spends the whole day on trinkets.”

“What’s wrong with being at home?”

“What’s wrong?” Mikhail started pacing nervously between the kitchen and the living room. “What’s wrong is that I feel like the only adult in this family! The only one thinking about money, about the future, about how we’re going to live!”

Anna silently put the pearls into a box. She thought about money much more often than Mikhail suspected. She thought about the thirty-two thousand rubles she had to pay for the mortgage tomorrow. That the car loan payment would come the day after—another eighteen thousand. That the expensive salmon Mikhail loved was running out in the fridge.

“Do you know what I thought about on my way home today?” Mikhail continued. “I thought: I’ll come home, and my wife will ask how my day went, maybe support me. Ask me how my day went. And what do I find? You’re sitting there, glued to the screen, not even properly saying hello.”

“Sorry, I was busy with an important order…”

“Important order!” Mikhail stopped in front of her. “Anna, wake up! What orders? Who’s going to order these…” he waved disdainfully at the table, “things?”

“People order them,” Anna said quietly. “More than you think.”

“Really? And how much do you make from this?” Mikhail sat down across from her, crossing his arms. “Come on, brag about your earnings. A thousand rubles a month? Two? Enough for thread?”

Anna lowered her eyes. Last month, she made 114,000 rubles. Almost two and a half times more than Mikhail. But how could she say that? How could she explain that her “things” were being bought in Moscow, St. Petersburg, Yekaterinburg? That she had regular clients who were willing to wait months for their orders?

“More than you think,” she repeated.

“More than I think?” Mikhail nervously laughed. “Anna, I think you make zero rubles, zero kopecks. Because your hobbies are as useful as milk from a goat.”

“Misha, you don’t understand…”

“I don’t understand? What’s there to understand?” Mikhail stood up and began walking around the room again. “You know what I heard at work today? Sergey says his wife went to courses, got a degree, and became a designer. Now they both earn, they plan to buy a bigger apartment, have kids.”

“And can’t we have kids?” Anna asked cautiously.

“On what?!” Mikhail exploded. “On my salary? Anna, do you have any idea how much it costs to maintain our lifestyle? The mortgage is thirty thousand. The car loan is eighteen. Utilities are seven. Food, gas, clothes, your creams and shampoos…”

Anna listened, thinking about how Mikhail had no idea who was actually paying most of those bills. That his salary would only be enough for utilities and the simplest food.

“…and all of that on one salary!” Mikhail concluded. “You think it’s easy? You think I’m not tired of this burden of responsibility?”

“Of course, you’re tired,” Anna agreed.

“Exactly! And you’re sitting here with your…,” he jabbed at the desk again, “toys, thinking life’s a bed of roses.”

“I don’t think life’s a bed of roses.”

“Yeah? Then what do you think?” Mikhail came closer. “You think we live in plenty just by magic? Where do we get this furniture?” He gestured around the room. “This tech? This food in the fridge?”

Anna kept silent. The furniture had mostly been bought with her money. The tech, too. And the food in the fridge—expensive cheeses that Mikhail ate without a second thought, red fish, premium meats—all of this was far from cheap, as he thought.

“Silent?” Mikhail nodded, satisfied. “Because you have nothing to say. At least you’re frugal. So, we get by somehow, thanks to your thrift.”

Anna almost laughed. Thrift! If only he knew how much she had spent just on materials for the current orders. Fine Chinese pearls, silk from Italy, vintage hardware from France. But every purchase paid off many times over.

“You know what, Anna?” Mikhail sat in the armchair and looked at his wife seriously. “I’m tired of being the only breadwinner in this family. Tired of feeling like I’m carrying everything on my shoulders.”

“And what do you suggest?”

“I suggest you grow up and get a real job. In an office, with colleagues, with a salary. So we can be equal partners, not like now—one works, the other plays.”

“And what if I don’t want to work in an office?”

“You don’t want to?” Mikhail raised an eyebrow in surprise. “Then what do you want? To sit at home for the rest of your life making crafts?”

“I want to do what I’m good at.”

“You’re good at it?” Mikhail skeptically looked over her workspace. “Anna, listen to yourself. You’re thirty-four years old. You’re an adult woman. And you sound like a teenager who doesn’t want to go to college because she likes drawing in a sketchbook.”

Anna felt her cheeks burn with resentment. A teenager! If only he knew the responsibility she felt for each client. How she worried about every order, how she worked late into the night to get everything just right.

“Misha, you have no idea how serious this is…”

“Serious?” Mikhail stood up. “Fine, let’s get serious. Show me the documents. Your work record, income statement, tax returns.”

“I’m self-employed,” Anna said quietly.

“Self-employed!” Mikhail laughed. “Oh my God, Anna, this is a comedy! You registered as self-employed for your crafts? Seriously?”

“For a real business.”

“What business?” Mikhail walked over to the table and picked up one of the unfinished brooches. “This? Anna, look at this—who’s going to buy this thing? And for how much? Five hundred rubles? A thousand?”

Anna watched as her husband turned the brooch in his hands, which would go to Moscow tomorrow for fourteen thousand rubles. The piece she had worked on for three days, carefully choosing every detail, every shade.

“More than you think,” she said.

“More than I think?” Mikhail placed the brooch back. “Okay, then, name the price. How much is this beauty?”

Anna hesitated. Should she tell the truth? But Mikhail wouldn’t believe it anyway.

“Let’s say a few thousand,” she said evasively.

“A few thousand!” Mikhail threw up his hands. “For one brooch? Anna, are you out of your mind? Who’s going to pay a few thousand for a piece of fabric with buttons?”

“People pay for exclusivity.”

“Exclusivity,” Mikhail mimicked. “You know what? Stop fantasizing. Tomorrow you’re going to look for a job. A real job.”

“And if I don’t?”

Mikhail stopped and looked at his wife for a long time.

“Then I’ll have to reconsider our relationship,” he finally said. “Because I don’t want to carry this family on my shoulders for the rest of my life. I need a partner, not a dependent.”

“I’m not a dependent,” Anna quietly protested.

“Yeah? Then who are you?” Mikhail sat back in the chair. “Who’s paying for this apartment? For the car? For food? For everything else?”

“You are,” Anna said, and it was almost true. Formally, the documents were in her husband’s name. He didn’t know that the money came mostly from her account.

“Exactly. I am.” Mikhail nodded. “And I’m tired of it. Do you understand? I’m tired of being the only adult in this family.”

The next morning, everything changed.

Mikhail was getting ready for work and accidentally knocked Anna’s tablet off the dresser. The screen lit up, showing a notification from the bank: “Funds received: 22,000 rubles.”

Mikhail froze. Twenty-two thousand? Where did this come from?

He grabbed the tablet. The password? Anna had always been careless about security, so the combination “1234” worked. The screen showed the banking app with a balance of 184,000 rubles.

“What the…?” Mikhail whispered.

His heart started pounding. He opened the transaction history and couldn’t believe his eyes.

“Deposit. Wildberries. 8,500 rubles.” “Deposit. Private individual. 15,000 rubles.” “Deposit. Ozon. 6,300 rubles.” “Deposit. Etsy. 8,900 dollars.”

Eight thousand nine hundred dollars! For what?!

“Anna!” he called with a trembling voice. “Anna, get in here, now!”

She appeared in the doorway with a cup of coffee, wearing a bathrobe.

“What’s going on? You’re shouting across the apartment…”

“Anna,” Mikhail pointed at the tablet, “what is this?”

She glanced at the screen and blushed slightly.

“This… my banking business. You weren’t supposed to look.”

“You weren’t supposed to look?!” Mikhail jumped up. “We’re husband and wife! Anna, where did you get all this money?”

“I told you—it’s from orders.”

“From what orders?!” Mikhail shook the tablet. “Anna, this is almost two hundred thousand rubles! On your card! Where did it come from?!”

“From crafts,” she replied quietly.

“Crafts?! Are you kidding me?” Mikhail flipped through the transaction history. “There are deposits every day! Thousands, tens of thousands! For what? For these brooches of yours?”

“Not just for brooches,” Anna sat on the edge of the bed. “Sit down, I’ll explain.”

“I’m not sitting down! Explain while standing!”

“Okay,” Anna sighed. “Misha, I work. I really work. I have a big client base, regular orders, international sales.”

“International sales?” Mikhail asked again. “What international sales?”

“Through online platforms. Etsy, for example.” Anna took the tablet and showed him her profile. “Look.”

Mikhail stared at the screen. Professional photos, thousands of reviews, a five-star rating.

“But this… this is a real store,” he whispered.

“Yes,” Anna nodded. “And not just on Etsy. I have accounts everywhere, practically everywhere.”

“And how much…” Mikhail swallowed. “How much do you make?”

“Depends. On average, seventy to eighty thousand a month.”

Seventy thousand a month. That was his salary!

“And in good months?” Mikhail asked hoarsely.

“Sometimes more than a hundred. In December, for example, I made one hundred and twenty.”

Mikhail collapsed onto the bed, unable to believe what he was hearing.

“So… so you make more than me?”

“Looks like it.”

“And these eight thousand dollars?”

“An order for the USA. A wedding jewelry collection. I spent a month on it.”

“A month…” Mikhail was silent, processing what he had just heard. “Anna, and our expenses… the mortgage, loans…”

“I pay most of them,” she admitted quietly. “Your salary would only cover utilities and food.”

“Only utilities…” Mikhail repeated. “So I’ve been living off you?”

“It looks like we’re living together,” Anna said softly. “As a family.”

“But why… why didn’t you ever tell me?”

Anna shrugged.

“Why would I? You were so proud of supporting the family. I didn’t want to destroy your confidence.”

Mikhail covered his face with his hands. All the words he had said yesterday now felt like mockery. His accusations toward his wife, who had been earning more than him. His demands for her to find a “real job.” His disregard for her “crafts.”

“My God, what an idiot I am,” he whispered. “What an idiot…”

“You’re not an idiot,” Anna sat next to him and hugged her husband. “You just didn’t know.”

“I should have known! I’m your husband! How could I not care about what you’re actually doing?”

“You cared. You just saw it as a hobby.”

“A hobby…” Mikhail laughed bitterly. “A hobby that brings in one hundred thousand a month. And my serious job—less.”

“Misha, it’s not about who earns more.”

“Then what is it about?” Mikhail raised his head. “Anna, I said some horrible things to you yesterday… I called you a dependent, I accused you of sitting on my neck…”

“You didn’t know the truth.”

“And now I know. So what now?” Mikhail stood and walked to the window. “How do I live with this? How do I look you in the eyes?”

“As usual,” Anna replied simply. “We’re family. Did anything change just because you found out the truth?”

“Everything changed,” Mikhail said softly. “Absolutely everything.”

Anna stood up and walked over to him.

“Do you want me to show you how it all works? Show you the workshop, tell you about the orders?”

Mikhail turned to his wife. There was no triumph or reproach in her eyes. Only softness and understanding.

“I want to,” he nodded. “I want to know who you really are. And what I’ve been living all these years.”

They walked over to the desk, and for the first time, Mikhail truly looked at his wife’s world—the world he had always thought of as a child’s hobby.

You want to ruin my meeting and sabotage the contract?! You… You’ve just been tormenting me lately! You do everything against me, just to spite me!” Pavel yelled at his wife, who could barely stand on her feet.

Lately, Pavel couldn’t be around his wife. He didn’t recognize her. Instead of the bright, cheerful Polina he had lived with for almost ten years, there was some other woman — pale, quiet, tired. She was crying more and more often without any reason. She would lose control more frequently when calming the children, yelling at them, and then apologizing, justifying herself: “I’m just tired, I’m sorry.”

At first, Pavel endured it. After all, who knows what was happening? But then he started distancing himself.

Tonight was very important to him. Dinner with potential partners — people he had been trying to arrange a meeting with for over a month. Polina knew how important this was to him. He even chose the dress for her — one she hadn’t worn in a long time. Dark blue, form-fitting. She had once looked stunning in it. But now, even in that dress, she looked lost.

They calmly drove to the restaurant. Pavel got out first, adjusted the collar of his shirt, and glanced back at his wife. But she was staring off into the distance.

“Polina, are you coming?!”, he said over his shoulder. “We’re already late.”

“Wait…” She stopped at the stairs, swayed, and grabbed the railing. “Sorry, I feel dizzy…”

He turned around. Her face had become even paler. She squinted as if in sharp pain. And then, he snapped.

“What is this?!”, Pavel barked. “Are you serious?! Now?! You decided to ruin everything?!”

“I didn’t do it on purpose…” she whispered, not looking up at her husband.

“Not on purpose?! This has been happening over and over! You’re always tired, not yourself, can’t, won’t… How much longer, Polina?! You’re sabotaging my life! And today — you’re even sabotaging my work! Do you understand how this looks?”

Polina looked at her husband, confused. He was furious. And she couldn’t say anything:

“I just don’t feel well…”

“Then go home. Just get out of my sight! I don’t need a circus during this meeting. Thanks for at least trying!”

He turned away and walked inside. He didn’t look back. And Polina remained standing at the bottom of the stairs.

The dinner went as planned. Pavel was polite with the future partners, joked moderately, set traps, and lured them with promises. The deal was in his hands.

Now, he stood before the door of his apartment, unable to press the doorbell. His phone was in his pocket, but he didn’t take it out. He just stood there, staring at the door.

He remembered that Polina had once been different… She had been the perfect wife, a wonderful mother. Now, Pavel couldn’t explain her transformations.

“What do I do now?” he whispered to himself.

His chest tightened. He wasn’t afraid to go in because he feared a scandal. Pavel knew that Polina would stay silent. He was afraid that she was truly unwell. That it was more serious than he was willing to admit.

Pavel was getting more and more confused in his feelings.

He tried not to be angry with Polina, to keep himself in check. But it was becoming harder. She had changed — and he saw it every day. Weak, tired, irritated. She was constantly apologizing, but he thought it would be easier if she didn’t act that way. And worst of all — he started to feel hatred toward his wife. Sometimes, he just wanted to leave, slam the door, and never come back.

He knew it wasn’t right. It shouldn’t be like this. Yet he couldn’t cope with it.

He decided to talk to his brother. His brother was always calmer, wiser. He could give advice. They met in the evening. Pavel was silent for a long time, then exhaled:

“I don’t know what’s happening with me. I can’t be around her anymore. Everything irritates me. Her voice, her appearance, the way she walks around the house, how she talks to the kids… It’s like I’m burning inside. Is this normal?”

His brother said nothing for a long time, just stared at him. And in that look, Pavel suddenly saw something strange. As if his brother knew something else.

“You’re judging me now, right?” Pavel asked sharply. “I can see it in your eyes.”

“No, no,” his brother shook his head. “It’s not about that.”

“Then what is it about?”

He was silent for a moment, then quietly said:

“Talk to Polina. Seriously. This isn’t my secret. I didn’t want to know this at all, it just happened.”

“What secret? Did she tell you something? And not me?”

“She didn’t tell me anything, Pasha. It just happened that I was a random witness, and I shouldn’t get involved. Sorry. Talk to her yourself. Just calmly. No accusations. Just talk.”

“At least give me a hint. Is it an illness?”

His brother stood up from the table, paused, then added:

“Just talk to your wife. And you’ll understand everything.”

For the first time in a long while, Pavel felt something else — not anger or exhaustion. Most likely, it was fear.

That evening, Pavel finally decided to talk to Polina.

They sat in the kitchen. The kids were asleep. The house was quiet. He nervously twirled his mug in his hands, then looked at her and spoke, trying to stay calm:

“I wanted to apologize. For that evening when we went to the restaurant. I was unfair. And rude. I’m ashamed.”

Polina nodded without lifting her eyes. She looked incredibly tired. There were dark circles under her eyes, her lips were dry, and her shoulders were slumped.

“I noticed something was wrong with you,” he continued. “You’ve become different. I didn’t understand. I got angry. I’m sorry. But now I want to understand what’s happening to you. Really. You can trust me.”

Polina slowly breathed in. She was silent. As if gathering her strength.

“I’ve felt bad for a long time,” she whispered. “At first, I just thought: I’m tired. It happens. Overworked, didn’t sleep well… But it got worse. Every action required incredible effort — getting up, going to work, making breakfast for the kids. Even just getting dressed felt like an achievement.”

She raised her eyes to him — there was incredible sorrow in them.

“I tried to ignore it. Convince myself that it would pass. Then I went to a psychologist. He tried to help me. But I think he didn’t understand what was happening with me either. He said it might be depression. I tried to change something. But nothing worked.”

Pavel listened, holding his breath. He didn’t interrupt. For the first time in a long while, he just listened.

“After the restaurant,” Polina continued, “I went to a therapist. This isn’t the first time I’ve felt this way. Dizziness, weakness, sometimes I almost lose consciousness. I had tests done. And they told me that there’s suspicion of leukemia.”

An awful silence hung in the room. Pavel felt the blood drain from his face. Everything that had come before — irritation, resentment, exhaustion — disappeared in an instant. Only she remained. Her voice. Her eyes.

He sat closer. Reached out his hand. Touched her fingers. His wife’s hands were cold.

“Polya…” he whispered. “Why didn’t you say anything earlier?”

“I didn’t want to believe it,” she replied. “I needed time… I was scared. I’m still scared. I was afraid it would make you angry. Or that you would disregard me… I don’t even know…”

“And how did my brother find out?”

“His new girlfriend works at that clinic… We ran into each other by accident…”

His breath caught. Suddenly, he understood clearly: everything he had feared — the everyday routine, the boredom, the “not the same” wife — was nothing compared to the real fear. The fear of losing her.

Everything inside him clenched. For the first time in a long while, he felt not anger, but real pain.

“I’m with you,” he said. “Until the end. Whatever this is. Just tell me what you need. And I’ll do it. I’m ready for anything.”

Polina looked at him. And for the first time in a long while, something alive flickered in her eyes.

From that day, everything changed.

Pavel felt as though he had awakened from a strange dream. He used to think that being together just meant living under one roof, sharing the household, bringing home a paycheck. But now he knew: being together meant holding her hand when it’s scary, when it’s hard, when there’s no strength left. And he began to fight for Polina.

“Tomorrow we’ll go to a good doctor, I’ve made an appointment for us at ten,” he said one morning, handing her breakfast. “He’s the one my friends recommended. He’s good.”

“Did you do everything yourself?” Polina looked at him with surprise.

“Of course. Don’t worry. We’ll get through this. Everything will be fine! I’m here!”

He took her to appointments, to tests, to chemotherapy. He sat in the hallways, making her laugh while she lay under the IV. Sometimes, he just held her hand. Other times, he chatted about everything. He took care of the kids and asked his mother to help with the grandkids.

“Remember how we missed the train on our third day after the wedding?” he joked, adjusting the blanket on her shoulders.

“Yeah, and then you carried the suitcase for three kilometers.”

“Well, at least not you. Though you’re lighter than that suitcase.”

“Back then, yes,” she smiled faintly. “But now, I think I’ve put on a little weight.”

He frowned immediately and pressed her fingers to his lips.

“You’ve always had the perfect weight! And I love you, Polya. Very much.”

Every morning, he woke up a little earlier just to watch her. To watch how she slept. Her face, tired but painfully familiar. Only after this small ritual did he begin his day.

He gave her little surprises. Flowers for no reason, or a note under her pillow. Sometimes, he brought her a beautiful breakfast on a tray, as if they were in the most expensive hotel in the world! She barely ate anything, but always thanked him. Sincerely and with great love.

“You’re crazy, Pasha! We’re saving money!” she said when she saw the huge bouquet in the room.

“On anything, but not on you,” he joked.

They went through everything. Weakness, sleepless nights, tears. Breakdowns. Silence. The endless rejection of food and medicine. Sometimes, it seemed there was no hope left.

And now, they were sitting in the doctor’s office. The doctor said calmly:

“You’re in remission. These are good news.”

Pavel heard the words, but they seemed to pass through him. Because he was looking at Polina. And she — at him.

“Did you hear?” she whispered. “That means I’ll live!”

He nodded. He didn’t know what else to do. He just started kissing her hands.

“Yes, Polya. This is just the beginning for us! We made it.”

Pavel and Polina lived a happy life.

Many years later, in a very similar office, Polina tightly held Pavel’s hand.

He sat in a chair, leaning on the backrest, slightly hunched. The disease was slowly erasing faces, events, names from his memory. The world was becoming blurry. But he still recognized her face.

Polina sat next to him. She held his hand tightly. They had truly lived a long life together. With all its difficulties, joys, and turning points. Everything that once seemed like the end was only the beginning.

Now, the disease was taking away Pavel’s most precious gift — his memory. But even in this fragile state, he looked for Polina with his eyes, and when he found her, he was calm. He held on to her, to her voice, to her touch, to the last pieces of their shared memory.

He didn’t always know what day it was. Sometimes, he couldn’t immediately remember where he was. But when he looked at her — he recognized her.

“You’re here…” he whispered.

“I’m with you,” she replied. “Always.”

– Mom, Oksana and I decided to rent an apartment, – Igor said, looking at his mother with restrained eyes, – a small room, something modest. We don’t need much.

Raissa Grigoryevna, who was putting laundry in the wardrobe, turned sharply, pressing a towel to her chest.

– What’s with these expenses?! – she exclaimed. – Throwing money away? Are you crazy? Igor, use your head! We have a free room!

Igor sighed heavily. He had expected something like this, but still hoped his mother would understand. After all, he was already an adult, about to get married… A family of his own – his own home. Even if it was just a rented apartment for now, it was still his own space.

– Mom, – he began patiently, – Oksana and I need a separate place. We’re young, we need to learn how to live together. But here, you’re the boss… with your own rules…

– And what? – Raissa Grigoryevna retorted, offended. – Am I going to interfere with you? I won’t get involved in anything! You’ll have your room, and I’ll have mine! It’s all convenient.

Igor scratched his head, searching for the right words. Explaining things to his mother was a thankless task. She firmly believed she was always right, and arguing with her was asking for trouble.

– Mom, I work shifts, you know that. I come home for a couple of weeks, then leave again. And Oksana will be here alone…

– Even better! – Raissa Grigoryevna interrupted, her eyes sparkling with triumph. – She’ll be lonely on her own. But I’ll be here. I’ll support her, help her, give advice. Aren’t you happy that I’ll take care of your wife?

Igor realized that arguing was pointless. Everything had already been decided for him. And just to confirm his thoughts, he heard:

– That’s it! It’s decided. After the wedding, you’ll move in with me. And when you save up some money, then you can think about your own place.

Oksana treated everything that was happening with a strange kind of wisdom, unusual for someone of her twenty-two years. She didn’t argue, didn’t get upset. She just nodded, smiled, and tried to stay neutral. At first, Raissa Grigoryevna was even pleased: “See, the girl’s well-behaved, she’s a good match for my son.” But it soon became clear: her silence wasn’t agreement, it was just a way not to cause any problems.

After the wedding, the newlyweds settled into that very room. It was bright, small, with a balcony – it even had some coziness, if you didn’t count the fact that every attempt to live “on their own” was overshadowed by Raissa Grigoryevna’s presence.

Sometimes Oksana felt like a tenant in this house. Every action she took stirred up a storm of reactions, and every silence was met with suspicion. And all of this under a polite, forced mask of friendliness. Raissa Grigoryevna rarely argued openly. She preferred sharp remarks “by the way,” long, heavy sighs, and slyly thrown-out phrases.

As soon as Oksana hung up some softer curtains, replacing the old heavy ones, Raissa immediately noticed:

– White ones? You’ll see the dust on them! Then you’ll have to wash them every week if you want to be fashionable!

Oksana smiled:

– I’ll wash them, no problem.

The one rule in their life was clear: endure, while Igor worked shifts and money was saved. All for their own corner.

But with each passing day, an invisible, almost inaudible, but very tangible tension grew between the women. And one day, it was bound to snap…

When Oksana found out she was pregnant, spring blossomed in her heart. She found herself smiling randomly while walking down the street – at strangers, at trees, at the world. She and Igor had long dreamed of a child, and now, it seemed everything was falling into place: not in their own home, not without difficulties, but at least together, as a family.

Igor was on shift at the time – it was a long one, two months, so she shared the news with him over the phone.

– Hang in there, – his voice trembled with joy. – I’ll try to get back early, and we’ll figure out what to do next.

Raissa Grigoryevna, upon learning of Oksana’s pregnancy, became even more critical than before. She made sour remarks about how Oksana “wasn’t ready for motherhood yet,” and complained that she “lay on the couch all day,” though she herself had once spoken about how hard her pregnancy had been.

But the real blow came unexpectedly.

One warm May evening, after returning from her prenatal appointment, where everything was confirmed to be going well, Oksana found an unfamiliar man in the apartment, a man around sixty. He was sitting at the kitchen table, lounging in the chair, drinking tea from their mug and smiling as if he belonged there. Raissa Grigoryevna introduced him as “a dear friend.”

– I’m a woman too, you know! – she declared proudly. – I have the right to a personal life.

Oksana didn’t say anything in response. She only thought about how hard it would be to live in a tiny apartment with four people, where space was already tight for just three of them. And the next day, Raissa Grigoryevna moved from words to action.

– Oksana, you need to vacate the room, – she said calmly but firmly, placing a cup of tea on the table with a loud clink. – Valentin Pavlovich is moving in with me. We are grown-ups, we want to build our own happiness.

Oksana sat with slumped shoulders, barely breathing.

– Where should I go? – she asked quietly, afraid she might start crying in front of her mother-in-law.

– What’s there to think about! – Raissa Grigoryevna threw up her hands. – You’re young and healthy. You’ll rent yourself a place, you’re not a princess! Igor works shifts, he earns money, you’ll manage.

Oksana opened her mouth to say something, but her mother-in-law was already pulling out her phone.

– I’ll call Igor, he’ll explain everything to you. Looks like you don’t understand what’s going on.

Igor picked up the phone immediately. His voice was tense, tired. Apparently, he had just returned from work.

– Mom, what’s going on? Is everything okay?

Raissa Grigoryevna, using the sweet tone she usually reserved for her son, began to lay out her version of events.

– Igor, tell your wife to vacate the room! I’m not alone anymore, Valentin Pavlovich is moving in, and Oksana is resisting, she doesn’t want to leave.

Igor was silent for a long time on the other end of the line. Then he spoke quietly:

– Mom, wait. I’ll be home soon, and Oksana and I will move out. Just be patient a little longer.

– I’m not going to wait! – Raissa Grigoryevna snapped. – I only have one life, and my years aren’t endless! I want to live like a normal person, not walk on eggshells. She has to leave the room tomorrow.

Igor exhaled heavily.

– Mom, she’s pregnant. Think about how hard it is for her right now…

– Found an excuse! – his mother retorted. – Pregnant – not sick, she’ll manage.

Igor closed his eyes, feeling despair overwhelm him. He couldn’t argue with his mother – he respected her, no matter how much resentment had built up over time.

– Fine, – he said hoarsely. – I’ll take care of it.

That evening, Igor contacted his friend Pasha and asked for help. Pasha agreed without hesitation.

– Don’t worry, Igor, – Pasha said. – We’ll help Oksana. We’ll organize everything in the morning.

They found a small apartment – a one-room place, worn out by time, but with a kind landlord who was willing to rent it cheaply. Pasha brought Oksana, helped her unpack the boxes, and arrange the furniture. Then he sat with her in the kitchen, trying to comfort her as she fought tears.

When Igor returned home a month later and saw how much Oksana’s belly had grown, he knew: they couldn’t wait any longer.

The next day, they went to the bank, took out a mortgage – for a tiny, old two-room apartment on the outskirts of town.

Oksana wanted to cry with happiness. It wasn’t a palace, but it was their home, their little fortress.

Ahead of them lay the hardships of renovation, loan payments. But the most important thing was – no one could kick them out anymore, no one could boss them around. They would live their own life.

Two years passed.

It was an ordinary day. Oksana was collecting toys all over the apartment – little Sasha was scattering everything around with the determination of an experienced explorer. Then they went to the store for bread and milk, then to the playground. In the evening, after finally getting the tired little boy to sleep, Oksana sat down at the kitchen table with a cup of tea when the doorbell rang.

She jumped. It was late for visitors, and they weren’t expecting anyone.

Opening the door, Oksana didn’t immediately understand who was standing on the threshold. Raissa Grigoryevna, with suitcases.

– Hello, – Oksana managed to say, feeling her heart drop to her feet.

– Not hello, but welcome me in! – her mother-in-law declared cheerfully, rubbing her hands together. – I’m moving in with you.

Oksana stood frozen, unable to tell whether her mother-in-law was joking or not.

– What happened? – she asked, trying to sound calm.

– I lost my apartment, – Raissa Grigoryevna announced as if talking about a lost glove. – Valentin Pavlovich turned out to be a swindler. He convinced me to sell my place and move south, and then disappeared with my money.

Listening to this, Oksana felt a pang of frustration. Yes, her mother-in-law had treated her cruelly back then. She hadn’t even visited her grandson in two years – no birthday wishes, no phone calls. But now, standing on the threshold, she looked helpless, confused, and still the same mother of Igor’s, and Oksana couldn’t bring herself to throw her out. She wasn’t capable of that.

– Come in, – she said quietly, stepping aside.

Life immediately took a wrong turn. Raissa Grigoryevna took over their house as if it were her own. She rearranged the kitchen – “it’s more convenient this way.” She placed her creams and shampoos in the bathroom. And grumbled:

– It’s so cramped here!

Oksana endured.

Igor came home late in the evening. Forty days of work without weekends behind him, exhaustion on his face, an eager desire to see his family in his eyes.

Oksana ran to meet him, threw herself into his arms, Sasha clapped his hands joyfully, then snuggled up to his father.

Igor laughed, tossing Sasha in the air, holding Oksana close. The house was filled with happiness.

Until Raissa Grigoryevna came out of the room.

– Oh, son, you’re back! – she said, forcing a smile. – I’ve settled in here. It’s a necessary measure, as they say.

Raissa then told her entire story about betrayal and deception. Igor listened in silence, his lips pressed tightly together.

When the story was finished, he asked his mother to go to the kitchen – to talk.

Oksana, standing in the doorway, heard snippets of their conversation.

– We’d like to help you, – Igor started, trying to stay calm. – But the apartment is small, as you can see, there’s barely enough room for us. Sasha needs space to play, he’ll be going to kindergarten soon, we’re accumulating stuff…

– And what, should I live under a bridge now?! – Raissa Grigoryevna immediately raised her voice.

– You still have the dacha. It’s a good house, sturdy, even if it’s small. In the summer, it’s like paradise.

Raissa scoffed:

– And sit there in that cold little cabin in the winter?

– We’ll help with the stove, we’ll insulate it. But, mom, understand this: if you hadn’t kicked Oksana out back then, we would have saved up by now and bought a bigger apartment. But now I’m asking you: let’s figure something else out.

Raissa Grigoryevna fell silent. It seemed she was finally starting to understand that her previous decisions had come back to haunt her.

When her mother-in-law left, and the silence returned to the apartment, Oksana went to Igor and simply buried her face in his shoulder. He held her tightly. Now they had everything: their home, their family, their quiet happiness. And no one could take it away from them.