Alina spread the family calendar out on the table, staring at two red marks. June—her 40th birthday. May—her mother-in-law’s 60th. There was only a month between the dates, and their family budget could only afford one big celebration.
“Sergey, we need to decide,” she told her husband as he got home from work and collapsed into the chair in front of the TV. “Two milestone birthdays in a row is just too expensive. The restaurant, guests, gifts… We just can’t manage it.”
Sergey kept his eyes glued to the TV, where the news was playing.
“So what do you suggest?”
“Let’s think about it together. Whose big celebration are we going with?”
Alina was already imagining her 40th birthday in her mind. Turning forty is special for a woman—a milestone when you just can’t pretend to be young anymore. She wanted to celebrate in style, in a nice restaurant, with friends. Her mother-in-law had celebrated her 50th and 55th in grand fashion—with a host and a three-tier cake. Now, it was supposed to be Alina’s turn.
“What’s there to think about?” Sergey finally turned to his wife. “Of course, my mother’s birthday is more important. Sixty is a big deal.”
Alina felt a tightness in her chest.
“More important than my turning forty?”
“Come on, Lina, you understand. Mom’s getting older, any birthday could be her last. You’re still young, you have forty-five, fifty, all ahead of you…”
“So I have to wait another ten years?”
Sergey sighed in irritation.
“Don’t be dramatic. We’ll do something for you too. Something simple, just family.”
“And your mom gets the restaurant party, with the host and half the town invited?”
“She’s earned it. She worked her whole life, raised kids.”
“And what about me? Do I just sit on the couch all day?”
Alina stood up and walked around the room. A March rain was drizzling outside, gray drops running down the window like her unfulfilled hopes.
“Fine,” she said, stopping at the window. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe it really is better to throw a party for your mom.”
Sergey’s face lit up.
“See? I knew you’d understand. You’re so reasonable. Mom will be over the moon! She’s always dreamed of a real birthday at the ‘Golden Era’ restaurant. Remember, we were there for New Year’s?”
“I remember,” Alina replied quietly.
“Just imagine how happy she’ll be! We’ll invite all her friends, former coworkers. We’ll get a host, music… And for you… well, we’ll think of something. Maybe we’ll go to the dacha for a barbecue.”
Alina nodded, still staring out the window. The rain picked up, now running in streams down the glass.
“Yeah, good idea,” she said. “A barbecue.”
The next few days were spent planning Sergey’s mom’s birthday. Sergey got so excited it was like he was planning his own party. He was calling restaurants, comparing prices, discussing menus. Alina just listened in silence to his enthusiastic monologues about the unforgettable night they would have.
“You know,” he said at dinner, “Mom has always wanted to dance tango in front of everyone. Remember how she told us about dancing in clubs when she was young? We’ll hire live music!”
“That’s expensive,” Alina pointed out.
“It’s fine; this only happens once in a lifetime. Mom deserves it.”
“And where is the money going to come from?”
“Well, we have our savings. The money in your account is just the right amount for this kind of party.”
Alina put down her fork.
“There’s money in my account that I’ve been saving for my own birthday.”
“Lin, don’t be selfish. That’s family money.”
“Family money?” Alina smirked. “I earned that money, translating technical texts at night. While you were sleeping, I was up till three in the morning, working on German schematics.”
“We’re a family. Everything should be shared.”
“Then why are you the only one making decisions about our spending?”
Sergey winced.
“Because I’m the head of the family. And because it’s my mother.”
“And what am I? A stranger?”
“You’re my wife. A wife should support her husband.”
“Support her husband or provide for his mother?”
“Alina!” Sergey slammed his fist on the table. “How can you talk about my mother like that?”
“And how can you talk about your wife like that?”
They stared at each other across the table, and suddenly Alina realized she was seeing her husband as if for the first time. When had it happened? When had he become someone for whom she was just an add-on to his life, a convenient household detail?
“Fine,” she said quietly. “Go ahead and throw your mother a party.”
“That’s great. I knew you’d come to your senses.”
But Alina was already thinking about something else. That night she lay awake for hours, listening to her husband’s steady breathing beside her. In the morning, after Sergey left for work, she took out her bank card.
The travel agency was in the same neighborhood where she worked. Alina had never been inside, but she often passed by and admired the bright posters of ocean landscapes.
“I want to leave tomorrow,” she told the female manager.
“Tomorrow?” the manager was surprised. “That’s very soon. We have last-minute deals, but the selection is limited.”
“Show me what you have.”
“Where would you like to go?”
“To the sea. Far away from here.”
The manager flipped through her catalogs.
“We have Turkey, one week, all inclusive. Four-star hotel, right on the beach. Or Greece, ten days…”
“Greece,” Alina interrupted. “I’ll take Greece.”
Back at home, she quickly packed her suitcase. Light dresses, swimsuits, books she’d been meaning to read. Her heart raced as if she was doing something forbidden.
From the airport, she sent Sergey a text: “I’m off to celebrate my birthday. I’ll be back in ten days. You can organize your mom’s party yourself.”
Her phone immediately started ringing nonstop, but Alina turned it off.
The Greek sun welcomed her with a warm embrace. Her hotel room had a sea view, and for the first time in months, Alina felt like she could truly breathe. She wandered the city, swam in the clear water, read on the restaurant terrace while sipping chilled wine.
“Are you here alone?” a waiter in a taverna asked her.
“Yes,” Alina replied, surprised at how easy that word sounded. “Alone.”
She made friends with a retired couple from Germany who had been traveling for thirty years. The woman talked about how important it is to have your own money and your own dreams.
“In marriage, you have to remember yourself,” she said, taking another sip of ouzo without flinching. “Otherwise, one day you’ll wake up and not recognize yourself in the mirror.”
Alina nodded, feeling something inside her slowly thawing under the Greek sun.
On the fifth day, she turned her phone back on. There were fifty-seven missed calls from Sergey and twenty messages. The first ones were angry: “How could you?”, “Come back right now!”, “You’ve lost your mind!” Then the tone started to soften: “Lin, are you being childish?”, “Mom is upset, the party is at risk”, “Where can we find the money?” And finally, the latest: “We talked to Mom. The anniversary will be more modest. In a café. Happy now?”
Alina smirked and switched her phone off again.
Returning to Moscow felt like diving back into a gray reality. The rainy city, the dull faces on the metro, the familiar heaviness. Yet something had changed—Alina could feel it in every cell of her sun-kissed body.
At home, she was greeted by a sullen Sergey.
“So, did you have your fun?” he said instead of hello.
“Yes,” Alina replied, placing her suitcase in the hallway. “Very much so.”
“Do you know how many nerves this cost me? Mom almost ended up in the hospital from being so upset. She thought you’d lost your mind completely.”
“I’ve lost my mind?” Alina took off her jacket and walked into the living room. “That’s interesting.”
“How could you spend our money on your selfish vacation?”
“My money,” Alina corrected him. “And that was my gift to myself for my birthday.”
“What birthday? You agreed to celebrate Mom’s!”
“I agreed that you’d celebrate your mom’s. I never agreed not to celebrate mine.”
Sergey stared at her in confusion.
“You’ve… changed,” he finally said.
“Yes,” Alina sat down in an armchair and suddenly realized she was no longer afraid of this conversation. “I have changed.”
“Your little escape cost us a lot. Mom’s anniversary had to be scaled down. Instead of a restaurant—a café. Instead of a host—we entertained ourselves.”
“And? Was it fun?”
“Lina, are you mocking me?”
“No, I’m genuinely curious. You wanted a celebration, and you got one.”
“At our expense! Mom had to borrow money from her sister.”
“Just imagine,” Alina stood up and walked to the window. It was still raining outside, with dirty streams running down the asphalt. “Now imagine I waited thirty-nine years for my fortieth birthday, and you offered me barbecue at the dacha.”
“That’s different.”
“Why?”
“Because…” Sergey stumbled over his words. “Because Mom is older. It’s harder for her. She has less time.”
“She has less time for what? For happiness? And I have more, is that it? My time doesn’t matter?”
“Lin, don’t twist my words.”
“I’m not twisting anything. I just realized something simple: if I don’t take care of myself, no one will. Not you, not your mom. To you, I’m just a convenient lady who works, earns money, and quietly goes along with your decisions.”
“You’re my wife!”
“Yes. And that’s exactly why you should have chosen my birthday instead of your mom’s.”
Sergey was silent. Alina watched as he tried to come up with an argument, but no words would come.
“You know what,” she finally said. “I think you should stay at your mom’s place for a while. Think about our relationship. About what really matters to you.”
“Are you kicking me out?”
“I’m suggesting you take some time to think things over. This apartment is mine, I bought it before we got married. Maybe live with your mom for a month or two and figure out what you really want.”
“Lina…”
“And one more thing,” Alina interrupted him. “If you decide to come back, there’s only one condition: my money—my decisions. Your money—your decisions. Shared money—shared decisions. No more ‘I’m the head of the family’ or ‘the wife must.'”
Sergey looked at her as if she were a stranger.
“What happened to you?”
Alina smiled—for the first time in many months.
“I feel good,” she said. “I remembered what it’s like to feel alive.”
That very evening, Sergey packed his things and left. Alina walked him to the door and, after locking it behind him, poured herself a glass of water and glanced around the room. The apartment suddenly felt huge and quiet.
She walked into the living room, sat in an armchair, and took out the Greek seashells she’d collected on the beach. One by one, she laid them on the coffee table—a reminder of those ten days when she belonged only to herself.
Outside, May was giving way to June, but Alina no longer checked the calendar. She had new plans—plans for summer, autumn, and the next year. Plans in which she was the main character.
Her phone had been silent for three days. Maybe Sergey was really thinking things over. Or maybe he was just enjoying his mother’s care: breakfasts cooked for him, shirts ironed and ready.
Alina opened her laptop and started exploring Greek language courses. Next year, she wanted to return to Greece—not as someone running away from her family, but as a tourist who could talk to the locals.
She realized that forty isn’t the end. It’s the beginning of the life where she finally learned to say ‘no’ to others and ‘yes’ to herself. And that lesson was worth every penny she spent on her escape.
The shells rustled softly on the table, reminding her of the sound of waves and the taste of freedom. And outside, the gentle but still-shy summer sun peeked through the clouds, promising warmth and change.