Ilyja walked into the kitchen as if it were the most natural thing in the world for everything to happen according to his rhythm. On the way, he ran a towel over his neck and, without thinking, tossed it onto the back of a chair.
Vera was standing by the table covered with an old oilcloth, repotting a ficus. Her hands were covered in soil, and the air smelled of fresh earth.She was just about to ask her husband to open a window when Ilyja spoke.
— Listen, there’s something — he said while pouring himself water straight from the jug. — Rita is lucky. Kostya’s workplace suddenly arranged a Mediterranean cruise. They’re leaving tomorrow night, everything paid for.
— I’m happy for them — Vera replied calmly. — They deserve it.Ilyja sat down and began rolling the salt shaker between his fingers.— It’s just… the kids. There’s nowhere to leave them.
My mother isn’t well, the other grandmother is busy. So… I took care of it.Vera’s hands froze for a moment in the air.— You took care of what?— Well… Roma, Vadik, and Styas. Rita said you would look after them.
The ficus soil landed with a dull thud on the oilcloth.— What? — Vera’s voice was quiet, but tense.Ilyja didn’t seem to notice the change.— You’ll be on vacation anyway. The house in Zarichnoye is empty.
Fresh air, forest, peace. They’ll bring their things tomorrow, and we’ll take them there on Sunday.Vera slowly wiped her hands.— You’re talking about three children… and I’m hearing about this for the first time?
— Why are you complicating things? We’re family.The sentence sounded so light, as if it weren’t a decision, just a small detail.But Vera felt something tighten inside her.
The three boys… Roma, Vadik, Styas. Three little tornados. The last time they were here for just a few hours, they tore apart the hallway, scribbled on the washing machine, and broke a lamp. Rita had just waved it off: “kids, that’s free upbringing.”
— And you think this is normal? — Vera asked quietly.— Don’t dramatize. You’ll be at home anyway, you have time. At least you won’t be bored.That hit a nerve.Vera had spent the whole year managing a major architectural project,
overtime, deadlines, stress. She had been waiting for this vacation in her grandmother’s old house as if it were her only breath of the year. She wanted silence. Emptiness. Nothing.But Ilyja continued:
— Rita sent instructions too. Styas needs plant milk, Vadik doesn’t eat food with chunks, Roma has to do math every morning. You have a degree, you’ll manage.Vera gave a slow laugh — more disbelief than amusement.
— So not only is my house turning into a daycare, but I’m also supposed to be cook, nanny, and teacher?— Don’t make a big deal out of everything — Ilyja waved it off. — You’re a woman, this should fit you.
The air froze.Vera closed her eyes for a moment. Suddenly everything became clear: this wasn’t a misunderstanding. It was that she simply hadn’t been asked.— And does Rita give money for food, for expenses?
— Oh come on… they’re kids. You have a garden, you have food.— At the cost of my vacation.Ilyja’s face hardened.— Vera, don’t be petty.The argument deepened. With every word it became clearer:
this wasn’t about the children. It was about the fact that Ilyja considered it natural that everything should be Vera’s responsibility.Vera finally said nothing more. She went into the bathroom, washed her hands, then went upstairs to the bedroom.
Ilyja leaned back, satisfied. He thought the matter was settled.But ten minutes later, the sound of a rolling suitcase echoed through the hallway.Vera stood at the door, fully dressed.
— Where are you going? — Ilyja asked in shock.— To Zarichnoye. On vacation.— And the children?!Vera slowly took the key from her keyring and placed it on the table.— That was your promise. Not mine.
— You can’t do that!— I can.Her voice was calm. Too calm.— If you follow me, I’ll call the police.Ilyja first just stood there. Then he shouted. Then he threatened. But Vera was already out the door.
Three days of silence.In Zarichnoye, Vera sat on the veranda. The trees stood still, the air was clean, the coffee hot.Her phone kept vibrating.Finally, she answered.
— Vera… please… — Ilyja’s voice was hoarse. — I can’t handle them. I locked myself in the garage…— And the children?— They’re home… alone…Chaos sounded faintly in the background of the call.
Vera looked out toward the forest.— This is what you wanted, Ilyja.Silence.— Now learn to live with it.She hung up.The house fell quiet again.Vera sat back down, opened her book, and for the first time in a long while, actually began to read.
The vacation didn’t begin.It finally returned.
