Vera sat at a small table in the corner of the café, watching her “new family” like someone observing a scene that had nothing to do with her. Maksim’s parents were loudly trading the latest neighborhood gossip, his sister Alina was paging through the menu in search of the priciest items, and Maksim was animatedly describing some work situation to his father. No one looked in Vera’s direction.
“Vera, what are you getting?” her mother-in-law asked, not even lifting her eyes from the menu. “The steaks here are excellent.”
“I’ve already decided,” Vera replied quietly.
Her mother-in-law gave a distracted nod and sank back into a discussion with her husband about what kind of remodeling their acquaintances had started. Vera tightened her grip on the edge of her napkin. Five years of marriage. You’d think she would have learned to accept that on her own birthday she turned into set dressing. But the sting hit her with the same force every time.
“Maksim, remember the Petrovs?” Alina asked loudly. “They got divorced last week. Can you believe it?”
“No way!” Maksim turned to his sister, forgetting his wife entirely. “What happened?”
Vera took a sip of water. Her throat clenched with humiliation. Her birthday had become yet another family get-together where she was the extra chair. The waiter brought the food, and everyone attacked their plates with enthusiasm. Maksim’s parents ordered more expensive drinks. No one asked Vera what she wanted, or what she thought, or whether she was even enjoying herself.
“A toast to the birthday girl!” Maksim suddenly remembered, raising his glass.
Everyone lifted their glasses with minimal effort, clinked quickly, and immediately returned to their conversations. Vera smiled out of habit. Inside, something tightened—pain, disappointment, the familiar sense of being erased.
The evening was coming to an end. The waiter brought the bill and set it in front of Vera. She looked at the total: twenty-five thousand rubles. No one even pretended they were going to contribute.
“Thank you for such a lovely evening, Verочка,” her mother-in-law said as she stood up. “That was very sweet of you.”
Vera said nothing. She took out her card and paid. Maksim was already helping his mother into her coat, chatting brightly with his father. They stepped outside, where two taxis were waiting—one for Maksim’s parents and Alina, and another for Vera and Maksim.
In the car, Maksim was in an excellent mood. He leaned back and sighed with satisfaction.
“What a great celebration!” he said cheerfully. “Mom was so happy! And Dad really loosened up. I haven’t seen them this pleased in ages.”
Vera stayed silent, her fingers digging into the strap of her purse until her knuckles turned white. Hurt swelled in her chest, mixed with anger. Maksim kept describing how wonderful everything had been, oblivious to her expression.
“And Alinka cheered up too!” he added. “She’s been so down lately. It was good for everyone to be together.”
Vera stared out the window at the city lights blurring past. One thought kept circling: Why do I put up with this? Why do I let them treat me like this? The driver turned on the radio, and an upbeat song cut at her ears. Vera closed her eyes, trying to keep tears from rising.
“Why are you so quiet?” Maksim finally noticed. “Are you tired?”
Vera didn’t answer. What was she supposed to say—that her birthday had turned into yet another holiday for his family? That she’d spent a fortune just to sit in a corner all evening and be ignored?
The taxi stopped in front of their building. Vera got out first and headed toward the entrance at a brisk pace. Maksim paid the driver and hurried after her.
Inside the apartment, Vera kicked off her heels and went into the living room. The two-bedroom place—her premarital property—greeted her with its familiar silence. Maksim followed, still riding his good mood.
“Ver, what’s with the sulking?” he asked, taking off his jacket. “Everything went fine!”
Vera turned sharply. Her eyes flashed—no longer watery with sadness, but with fury.
“Fine? Fine for whom, Maksim?” Her voice trembled with emotions she could barely keep contained.
“Well… for whom…” he began, confused.
“I didn’t invite your family to my birthday!” Vera snapped. “I wanted to spend the evening with you—just the two of us! And they showed up without being invited!”
Maksim tried to object, but Vera didn’t let him.
“Twenty-five thousand, Maksim! They ate and drank twenty-five thousand rubles’ worth!” Her voice cracked. “And not one of them even thought to offer splitting the bill!”
“They just wanted to congratulate you…” Maksim said uncertainly.
“Congratulate me?” Vera gave a bitter laugh. “Your mother didn’t even look at me once! All night you talked to your parents and your sister! You didn’t pay attention to me—the birthday girl—for even a minute!”
“Vera, you’re exaggerating…”
“Am I?” Vera stepped closer. “Name one moment all evening when any of them actually spoke to me. Just one.”
Maksim fell silent, shifting awkwardly from foot to foot. Vera shook her head and walked past him into the bathroom. She needed to wash the day off—its sting, its humiliation. Hot water ran down her body, mixing with tears. She stood under the shower until her skin reddened and the hot water ran out.
When she came out, Maksim was already asleep. Typical. Avoid the conflict, hide behind sleep. Vera lay down on her side of the bed, but sleep wouldn’t come. In the dark, scenes from the past years replayed like a loop.
Last summer’s vacation at the sea. They’d saved for half a year, planned a romantic trip. A week before leaving, her mother-in-law called—she urgently “needed the sea for her health.” So instead of romance, Vera spent two weeks listening to health complaints, cooking diet meals, and sitting on the beach beside her mother-in-law while Maksim had fun on water rides.
Her mother’s birthday. Vera had booked a restaurant table and made a guest list. On the day of the celebration, Maksim’s relatives arrived—every single one of them. Her mother smiled, flustered, trying to be welcoming even though there weren’t enough seats and there wasn’t enough food. The celebration was ruined.
Every weekend. Saturday—her mother-in-law arrived with cake and gossip. Sunday—they went to Maksim’s parents for lunch. Vera and Maksim simply had no time left to be alone together. When Vera tried to object, Maksim would get offended—how could she not want to see “family”?
Two weeks passed after that awful birthday. Vera and Maksim barely spoke. When, on Saturday, her mother-in-law called to announce she was coming over, Vera silently got dressed and left the apartment. She wandered through the park for three hours until she received a message from her husband that she could come back.
“Mom is upset,” Maksim said when she returned. “She baked a pie специально.”
Vera shrugged and went to the bedroom. She didn’t care. The exhaustion in this marriage had piled up to the breaking point. She no longer wanted to compete with his family for her own husband’s attention.
Their sixth wedding anniversary was approaching. Vera wasn’t even thinking about celebrating, but suddenly Maksim took initiative. He came up behind her in the kitchen and hugged her.
“Ver, I booked a table at a restaurant for our anniversary,” he murmured into her ear. “That Italian place you like.”
Vera tensed in his arms.
“Just the two of us?” she asked, not turning around.
Maksim hesitated for a second, then nodded quickly.
“Of course, just us,” he assured her. “I promise. Everything will be good. Like it used to be.”
Vera turned and looked into his eyes. He looked sincere. Maybe he really understood. Maybe something would finally change. She let herself believe it.
The next ten days were relatively calm. Maksim was more attentive, stayed home more in the evenings. He even skipped the usual Sunday lunch with his parents, blaming work. Vera began to soften.
On their anniversary, she wore her favorite blue dress—the one she’d worn on their first date. Maksim was oddly quiet while they got ready. Vera told herself it was nerves.
They got out of the taxi at the restaurant. Maksim held the door and let her go in first. Vera walked into the dining room—and stopped cold. By the window, at a large table, sat Maksim’s entire family. His mother waved them over. His father raised a glass in greeting. Alina was tapping rapidly on her phone.
Vera turned slowly toward her husband. Tears were already running down her cheeks, smearing her mascara.
“Maksim…” Her voice shook.
“Ver, listen,” he rushed. “It’s an important occasion for the whole family! Six years is a serious milestone! Mom said it would be wrong to celebrate without them. They were at our wedding, they helped us…”
“You promised,” Vera whispered. “You promised dinner just for the two of us. And now there’s a whole table of strangers.”
“Strangers?” her mother-in-law interrupted, coming up to them. “What strangers? We’re family! And you’re behaving selfishly, Vera. You can’t shut yourself off from your relatives!”
Maksim stood there, staring at the floor. His mother kept lecturing Vera about “family values,” about how she should be grateful for the attention. And inside Vera, something snapped. The patience she’d stored up for years simply ran out.
She looked at Maksim. Her eyes were dry now—only exhaustion and resolve remained.
“Is it always going to be like this?” she asked quietly. “Will your family always matter more than I do?”
Maksim lifted his eyes toward his mother, as if waiting for her to answer. That glance said everything. Yes—this was how it would always be. He would never choose Vera.
Vera slowly slipped her wedding ring off. The metal was warm from her hand. She took Maksim’s palm and placed the ring into it.
“Your family is right here,” she said evenly. “Celebrate with them. I’m going home.”
“Vera, wait!” Maksim shouted.
“Let her go!” his mother snapped. “Always making scenes!”
Vera turned and walked out of the restaurant. Voices followed her, but she didn’t look back. Outside, she flagged a taxi and gave her address. The driver tried to make small talk about the weather, but Vera didn’t hear him. In her mind was Maksim’s face—confused, but not brave enough to defend her.
At home, she didn’t even change. Still in her dress, she started packing Maksim’s things. Shirts, trousers, ties—everything went into suitcases. She left the wedding photos where they were. Let him take them if he wanted. By the time he came back, three suitcases and two bags stood in the hallway.
“Vera, let’s talk,” Maksim began from the doorway. “You misunderstood. Family is important. Mom is right…”
“Maksim,” Vera cut him off, “I don’t want to share every happy moment with your family. Every holiday, every weekend, every vacation. I married you—not your entire clan.”
“But it’s normal to spend time with your parents!” Maksim protested.
“To spend time—yes. To live their life—no.” Vera pointed at the suitcases. “If you can’t separate yourself from your mother, you don’t need a wife. Go back under her wing.”
“But this is our apartment…”
“My apartment,” Vera corrected calmly. “Premarital property—remember? Take your things and go.”
Maksim tried to say something else, but Vera guided him toward the door along with the luggage. The door slammed shut. Vera leaned her back against it and slowly slid down to the floor.
Their anniversary became the day they separated. Funny, in a symbolic sort of way. Vera sat on the hallway floor and thought about the divorce ahead. About how she hadn’t noticed sooner that Maksim simply wasn’t capable of being an independent man. Always glancing at his mother, always seeking her approval. And Vera had spent years hoping it would pass—that he would grow up.
But some people never do. They remain children forever. That’s their choice. Vera just wasn’t going to live with someone like that anymore.
Yes, it hurt. Yes, it was unfair. But the pain would fade. And the freedom—from the constant presence of other people in her life—would stay.
All of it was behind her now.