Marina walked into the house, dropped the heavy bags of groceries in the kitchen, and heard sounds coming from the other room.
You didn’t need to be a psychic to guess that Vitaly was once again absorbed in his computer.
“Is it that tank game again?” she asked sharply, spotting the familiar image on his laptop screen.
“Yeah, don’t bother me,” he muttered without taking his eyes off the monitor.
Marina, exhausted after a long day at work, began unpacking the groceries.
Her head was pounding. All she wanted was to lie down and forget everything.
Meanwhile, Vitaly peeked into the kitchen, rubbed his stomach, and asked:
“You gonna feed me or what?”
“Of course, but it’ll take a while—I have to cook first,” she replied, trying to hide her fatigue.
“By the way, Mom called. She’s expecting us Saturday for her birthday. Don’t forget to buy a gift,” he said, biting off a piece of sausage and heading back to his laptop.
Marina sighed deeply. The thought of seeing her mother-in-law filled her with dread.
From the start, the woman had treated her poorly.
She constantly found reasons to criticize, believing Marina wasn’t good enough for her son.
Marina had once tried to win her over, but eventually realized it was pointless.
Now, they only saw each other on special occasions.
While dinner simmered and sizzled on the stove, Marina stepped outside to check on her small farm.
She kept chickens, geese, and rabbits—all cared for by her alone.
Vitaly never helped, yet happily devoured everything she produced. She did it all for him.
When she returned, Vitaly was blissfully chewing the last meatball.
“This is why I love you, Marisha! You’re an amazing cook!” he declared with a full mouth.
She smiled, made herself a sandwich, brewed some tea, and sat across from him.
“Vitaly, I seriously want a child. We’ve been together five years, and you’re still not ready. Why?” she asked.
“A child? Marina, we’re barely scraping by.
I’ve got no job, and you’re carrying everything yourself. A kid now? Seriously?” he snapped.
Talks about children had become more frequent. Marina had long dreamed of becoming a mother, but Vitaly always dodged the subject.
“You’re looking for work, right? Once you find it, things will improve. We just need to start,” she said, hopeful.
“I want to live, not survive!” he barked and stormed out.
Marina held it together—until she got to the bedroom, where she let the tears flow.
She had to get up early—her job at the warehouse started at dawn.
Vitaly, meanwhile, stayed up all night gaming.
She barely slept, her mind racing about the state of their marriage.
Did she love Vitaly? Yes.
But lately, she felt more and more that he was taking advantage of her love, shifting all responsibility onto her.
He had become lazy, but she still believed that once he found work and they had a child, everything would change.
Though dreams and reality were growing further apart.
When her alarm rang, she saw Vitaly asleep in the chair. She gently covered him with a blanket and got ready for work.
Friday evening, she spent hours picking a gift for her mother-in-law.
She knew it wouldn’t please her, but showing up empty-handed wasn’t an option.
On Saturday, they headed to the party.
The moment they stepped in, Marina felt the icy stare of her mother-in-law.
Clearly, she wasn’t welcome, and frankly, Marina would’ve preferred to stay home. But Vitaly insisted.
Vitaly’s sister, her husband, and their daughter were there. Marina spent the evening with the child.
No one invited her to the table. No one spoke to her.
Wanting water, she went to the kitchen—and overheard a conversation.
“Son, why did you pick her? I told you from the start—she’s not right for you. A village girl!”
“And don’t even think about having kids with her!”
“Come on, Mom. She keeps asking. I’m sick of it. There are so many beautiful women out there…”
“Yeah, like you’re such a catch without money or a job. She’s just desperate.
Once I get a decent job, I’m finding someone new,” Vitaly said.
Marina froze. Her mother-in-law’s words didn’t shock her—but her husband’s betrayal shattered her.
Without a word, she put on her coat and left. Tears stung her eyes.
She walked aimlessly until she bumped into a man.
“Are you okay?” a familiar voice asked.
She looked up—it was Igor, Vitaly’s old friend.
They talked, and he invited her for tea. She agreed.
Over coffee in a cozy café, they shared their stories. He admitted he never stopped thinking about her.
She remembered choosing between him and Vitaly.
She had chosen wrong.
Igor told her he had moved to St. Petersburg, started a business, and had recently returned because his mother was sick.
When he saw Marina again, he couldn’t believe fate had brought them back together.
When he dropped her off at home, the lights were on.
As she entered, Vitaly shouted:
“Where were you? Why did you leave without saying goodbye?”
“Goodbye to whom? To people who despise me? To you, who talks about me behind my back?
You’re right, Vitaly—I don’t want a child with someone who sees me as a backwards hick.
And yet I tried so hard—for you!” she said through tears and went to sleep in another room.
The next evening, during her night shift, a coworker ran to her—her house was on fire.
Panicked, she rushed over. Flames were visible from afar.
People were gathered, waiting for firefighters.
Not seeing Vitaly, she ran inside.
The last thing she remembered was a burning beam falling on her.
She woke up in the hospital. Her whole body ached. Her face was bandaged.
She was terrified of bad news. Then she felt a touch—it was Vitaly.
“You’re alive…” she whispered.
“Why wouldn’t I be? I’m still young. But you…
A scar on your face? How am I supposed to kiss that? Gross. Anyway, get well,” he said and left.
Tears streamed down her cheeks, soaking her bandages.
He came back once more, said a few words, and disappeared.
From the window, she saw him meet another woman—he hugged her and left with her.
It hurt, but she wasn’t surprised anymore.
Later, a doctor told her the scar could be removed. Modern plastic surgery could work wonders.
He also said someone had saved her life. She followed him to the ICU—and saw Igor.
He had pulled her from the fire, but suffered severe injuries himself.
From that moment, Marina visited him every day.
When he regained consciousness, he confessed he had long wanted to see her—but never had the courage. Then he risked his life for her.
Some time later, in the park, as she rocked her baby girl in a stroller, Marina heard a familiar voice.
It was Vitaly—looking worn and confused.
“How are you?”
“Great. Out for a walk with my daughter,” she replied, noticing Igor approaching with ice cream.
“Where’s the scar?” Vitaly asked, surprised.
“Love works miracles,” Marina smiled, embracing Igor.
They walked away, leaving Vitaly alone, watching them disappear.
