Lena reread the familiar message from Galina Ivanovna for the umpteenth time. She was about to put the phone down when it beeped again — a new message.
“My kitchen faucet is dripping too. Maybe you and Lyosha could come take a look? And bring the money for the utilities while you’re at it.”
Lena sighed heavily, staring at the screen. The requests, as usual, were delivered with a tone of “you understand, right,” and, as usual, without the slightest hint of involvement from Galina Ivanovna herself. She glanced at the stack of unpaid bills lying at the edge of the table and opened her banking app. The account balance was worrying — there was still a week until payday.
In the kitchen doorway appeared Alexey — disheveled, wearing stretched-out sweatpants. He yawned widely, scratching his stubbled cheek.
“Breakfast?” he asked, peeking into the empty frying pan.
“Can’t make it,” Lena didn’t even look up. “I have a presentation today, I told you yesterday.”
Alexey shrugged like a hurt child.
“Well, okay, then I’ll just sleep,” he muttered, turning toward the bedroom.
His footsteps faded into the depths of the apartment. Lena took a sip of cold tea and grimaced — bitter, like her entire current existence.
Lost Dreams
The commute to work became the only time Lena could think. The crowded bus, the smell of other people’s perfume and wet raincoats — all strangely calming. Here, no one demanded anything from her.
Looking out the window at the rainy city, she remembered her first meeting with Alexey. A technology exhibition, his confident voice explaining the advantages of some new program. A young, promising IT specialist dreaming of his own startup. She was a budding marketer with bright eyes. How naïve they had been.
“Imagine, in five years we’ll save enough for a house outside the city,” Alexey said then, pouring wine in their first rented apartment.
“And then a child,” she added. “A boy. Or a girl. Maybe twins?”
They laughed, made plans, stuck magnets from different countries on the fridge — souvenirs from their short but happy travels.
Her phone vibrated in her bag. Galina Nikolaevna.
“Hello, Lenochka! You didn’t call me back yesterday. They prescribed me some medicine here, I’ll send you the list. And the bathroom faucet is dripping too, don’t forget to stop by with Lyosha.”
Lena put the phone away without answering. Their last big fight with her husband flashed before her eyes.
“You can’t keep just browsing job openings forever!” she yelled, waving printouts of bills. “Six months, Lyosha! Six!”
“I’m not going to work as a call center manager,” he cut her off. “I’m a programmer with ten years’ experience.”
“A former programmer with zero income,” she blurted out.
The business center where Lena worked appeared ahead — a glass tower reflecting gray clouds. Here she felt in her place. Confident steps on the marble floor, friendly nods from colleagues, the smell of expensive coffee. Only here did Lena feel like she controlled her life.
“Great presentation yesterday,” Marina from the neighboring department remarked. “They say Smirnov was impressed.”
Lena smiled. Her phone vibrated again in her pocket — probably her mother-in-law with a new list of requests — but it didn’t matter now. Here, in the office, she was valued. Here she was someone, not just an ATM for her husband and his mother.
Boiling Point
In the evening, Lena stopped by the store and pharmacy. Returning home, she put the grocery bags on the kitchen table, feeling her fingers go numb — not from cold, but from exhaustion. The dim light made the small kitchen even more lifeless.
Sounds of a shooting game came from the room — Alexey was spending another evening at the computer. Once, his passion for technology seemed so attractive to her. Now it was just a way to escape reality.
“I’m home,” she said into the emptiness.
No answer. Only muffled gunfire and an excited voice shouting commands to someone on headphones.
Unpacking the groceries, Lena noticed receipts: butter, bread, cheese, medicine for her mother-in-law. Half her salary went to things she barely used herself.
Her phone chimed with a message: “Lenochka, did you buy me Corvalol? And don’t forget, I have a doctor’s appointment tomorrow, taxi is expensive, maybe you’ll pick me up?”
Lena closed her eyes, counting to ten.
“Did you buy something to eat?” Alexey appeared in the kitchen, stretching. “I’m starving.”
“Yes,” she started unpacking the groceries. “But I still have to finish the presentation.”
“Work again,” he rolled his eyes. “When will you actually be home?”
Something inside Lena cracked. She froze holding a pack of pasta.
“When will you start working?” Her voice was quiet but unusually firm.
“You’ll start, you’ll start,” he mimicked. “You know it’s not the season now. After New Year, the market picks up.”
“Like after last New Year? And the one before?”
He turned away, throwing back a final jab:
“Sorry I don’t meet your expectations, Miss Careerist.”
The silence was deafening. Lena looked at her reflection in the window glass: tired eyes of a stranger woman stared back silently.
The Offer
The conference room slowly emptied. Lena gathered papers, feeling a pleasant emptiness after a successful presentation. The air conditioner hummed quietly, washing away the last echoes of applause.
“Elena Andreevna, stay a minute,” the voice of Smirnov, the development director, sounded unexpectedly close.
They were left alone among the empty chairs.
“Your work on the project is exactly what we need in the Kaliningrad branch,” he tapped a luxury pen on the table. “We’re opening a new division and need a marketing department head. You’re first on the candidate list.”
Lena’s heart fluttered.
“Kaliningrad?” she repeated. “That’s…”
“A move, yes,” Viktorov nodded. “But the position is higher, salary one and a half times more, and the company covers the apartment for the first six months. And the sea, by the way,” he smiled. “Think it over by Monday.”
On the subway, Lena didn’t notice the crowd or the stifling air. In her mind’s eye was a map with a blinking dot in the west of the country. Kaliningrad. A new city. A new life. Without…
Her phone buzzed angrily in her bag. A message from her mother-in-law: “You forgot about the utilities again. No respect for elders. What are you thinking?!”
Lena got off at her station. A gray yard. A peeling entrance. The apartment probably had dirty dishes and Alexey with his usual complaints.
A sudden thought burned in her mind. What if she said she was fired? Downsized. Company crisis. Staff reduction. Common things.
They’d panic. Start looking for a solution. And she’d get a break. Time to think. Maybe disappear.
Riding the elevator, Lena felt a strange calm. For the first time in many months, she felt not cornered, but standing before an open door.
The keys turned in the lock with a quiet click. As if something inside her also clicked into place.
The Last Cup of Tea
The storm that hit the city after lunch seemed symbolic to Lena. Thunder and lightning outside, as if nature was playing along with the drama unfolding in the cramped two-room apartment.
“They laid you off?” Alexey paced the room, disheveled and confused. “They praised you! You had that project… what was it… the presentation!”
Lena stirred her tea, watching the dance of tea leaves in the cup. The water swirled, forming a little whirlpool — exactly like her life these last years.
“Budget cuts,” she shrugged. “Nothing personal. Just business.”
The doorbell broke the tense silence. Galina Nikolaevna stormed into the apartment with the smell of rain and old perfume, throwing her wet coat on the hallway floor.
“Lenka!” her voice filled the space to the very corners. “What have you done? How can you be so irresponsible?”
Rain dripped down her graying hair, but she didn’t notice, stepping on Lena like a general on a negligent recruit.
“You and Lyosha didn’t pay the loan, didn’t buy my medicine, and now you’ve lost your job? Where was your head?”
Lena sipped her tea. A strange calm spread inside — warm, like the drink in the cup.
“Maybe say something?” Alexey flopped onto the couch. “Or are you just going to sit there?”
Galina Nikolaevna opened the fridge, as if checking how bad things were.
“So what now? Live on my pension?” she slammed the door so hard the jars of pickles rattled plaintively. “And that one,” — nodding toward her son — “God knows when he’ll find a job!”
The evening dissolved into endless reproaches and planning the future without her participation. Lena heard them discuss options: sell the car (her car), borrow from neighbors, postpone payments.
No one noticed Lena quietly get up and go to the bedroom. The suitcase gathered dust on the top shelf — old, from their wedding trip. She carefully folded her things as if performing a ritual.
The laptop glowed softly in the dark. The letter was short: “Good evening. Regarding the job offer in Kaliningrad — I accept. When do I start?”
Clicking “send,” Lena felt an invisible chain slip off her shoulders. Behind the wall, Galina Nikolaevna scolded her son for something, but for the first time in a long while, those voices sounded far away, like from another life.
Lena bought a ticket for the morning flight and went to bed without waiting for her husband and mother to finish planning her future without her.
Disappearance
The pre-dawn hours dyed the apartment in blue tones. Lena moved silently like a shadow. Alexey slept on the couch, having dropped the TV remote on the floor. Empty beer cans littered the floor.
She left a note on the kitchen table. Just a few words: “I’m leaving. I wish you luck.” Strangely, she felt no regret or guilt — only lightness, as if she had dropped a heavy backpack after a long climb.
The taxi arrived right on time. The driver loaded her suitcase silently, asking no questions — something Lena was particularly grateful for.
By noon, her phone began ringing off the hook. Alexey, mother-in-law, even a couple of colleagues whom her husband and mother-in-law had probably called looking for information. She browsed the messages with cold curiosity: from panic to threats, from pleas to accusations.
“How could you do this?”
“We are family!”
“Pick up the phone immediately!”
“I called your company. They said there was no layoff!”
The plane climbed, leaving behind the gray city with its rain and broken dreams. Lena turned off her phone and put it in her bag. Maybe someday she would turn it on again. But not today.
Kaliningrad met her with clear skies and fresh sea breeze.
Breathing for Real
The Baltic coast at the end of September breathed a special freshness. Lena walked along the water’s edge, letting the cool waves wash over her bare feet. The wind tousled her hair, carrying away thoughts of the past.
A month in Kaliningrad transformed her. One day Marina, head of the neighboring department, even asked:
“Do you always smile like that?”
“Only the last thirty days,” Lena replied, amazed at her own lightness.
The apartment she rented near work gradually became home. Small but cozy, with windows overlooking a quiet courtyard where birds sang in the morning instead of garbage trucks rumbling.
“I baked a cranberry pie,” a neighbor once knocked — a woman about sixty with kind eyes. “You work so much, I wanted to cheer you up.”
Such moments strangely reminded Lena of childhood — when the world seemed simple and kind.
Her phone rang with an incoming call. Mom.
“How are you, sunshine?” the familiar voice was hoarse.
“Good, Mom. Really good.”
“I’m proud of you,” simple words that caught in her throat. “You were always braver than me.”
After the call, Lena opened the photo gallery on her phone. She stared for a few seconds at pictures with Alexey, then hit “delete all.” A new notification — a message from an unknown number: “Lena, this is Galina Nikolaevna. You have no right to do this. We are family!”
Her finger hovered over the screen, then decisively pressed “block.”