— Of course! That’s how we decided. You said you wanted warmth, the sea, peace… Well, you have it. A sanatorium, just a few steps to the beach. Mom is coming with us; she needs a change of scenery.
— Aha, and I need a psychologist, — Katia mumbled.
— What?
— Nothing. Just… nice of you to decide everything. As usual. Without me.
She approached and hugged him by the shoulders. He shrugged slightly.
— Katia, don’t be upset. We discussed everything. Mom is paying for herself, we have a three-room apartment, we will all be fine. You understand. She’s older, she needs help. And you get along so well with her…
— Is that so? — Katia interrupted, stepping aside. — This is exactly how we live. Like in a household: you, me, and your mom. Only your mom has the right to rummage through my cupboards, criticize the food, and comment on the color of the linens.
— Here you go again… — Dmitri mumbled, rolling his eyes. — Katia, don’t ruin the atmosphere.
— What atmosphere? Did you see that last week I went to a psychologist?
— Why? — he wondered. — You’re fine.
— Of course. Impeccable appearance: dark circles, tense nerves, an infantile husband who can’t sew on a button without his mom. Everything’s perfect.
Natalia Petrovna entered the kitchen:
— Another scandal? Katia, either accept our family, or go to your mother. Stay with her.
— Excellent advice, — Katia smiled coldly. — Just so you know… I think I’ve already made my decision.
— What have you decided? — her mother-in-law frowned.
Katia pulled an envelope from the drawer and placed it on the table.
— For you, Dima. Read it when you have time. But not on the plane, better before.
He opened it, froze. A few seconds — and his voice broke:
— This is… a divorce petition?
— Correct, — Katia confirmed. — Even without your mother.
— Wait! Is this a joke? Katia, have you lost your mind?
— I haven’t. But you, my dear, have for a long time.
He looked at her as if she were a stranger.
Natalia Petrovna sighed:
— Enough. I told you from the beginning: she’s not trustworthy. She’s not a match for you, Dimo.
Katia took her jacket from the coat rack, put on her sneakers, and picked up the small suitcase she had packed since yesterday.
— I’m going to stay with a friend. For now. And you… fly away. Have a nice vacation. Sea, sand, pajamas with buttons.
She left, leaving behind silence and the scent of mint. The light turned on in the hallway, and Katia suddenly felt a sense of relief inside. There was fear, but there was also freedom.
Now I have my own vacation. Only from you.
Katia was staying with Ania — her friend from her third year of college, who, unlike her, had understood in time that marriage is neither a carousel nor a rehabilitation center for mature men.
Ania’s apartment was two rooms, cozy and strangely free. It seemed the air knew: here no one would rummage through your cupboards or scold you for coffee without sugar.
— You’re a fool, of course, — Ania had told her on the first evening, pouring wine into glasses. — But at least now you’re doing something with your head.
— I’m not a fool, — Katia sipped. — I’ve… endured too much.
— And that’s one option, — her friend shrugged. — Tell me, did he at least try to stop you?
— Not immediately, — Katia showed her the phone screen. — Look.
There were ten unread messages from Dmitri. The last one — a voice message:
— Katia, I don’t understand what’s happening. Mom and I arrived, we checked in, it’s nice and warm here. You ruined everything. I don’t recognize you anymore. What happened to you? You knew mom was coming with us, why are you doing this? Why this theater? Give me a chance to explain, please…
— Is he really relaxing there? — Ania raised an eyebrow. — After you left? That guy isn’t a man, he’s a fish.
— He has his mom with him. And a jar of compote, — Katia smiled wryly. — Everything he likes.
— God, you’re lucky to have escaped. I thought you’d endure until retirement.
Katia was silent. In her chest — emptiness. Neither pain nor joy. As if it had happened to someone else. Only memories flooded her mind like cockroaches. How she cooked dinner, and Natalia Petrovna lifted the lid of the pan: “Again dry meat, Dima doesn’t eat this.”
How Dmitri told her: “You woke up late, mom already washed the dishes while you were drinking your coffee.”
And then — the vacation. Her idea, her plans, the hotel she chose. And in an instant — “we decided.” Without her.
— Did he call you? — Ania asked.
— Three times. I didn’t answer.
Ania lit a cigarette by the window and said through the smoke:
— He will come. He will crawl. With puppy eyes. He will say: “You misunderstood, mom didn’t mean to offend you.” And what will you do?
— I will tell him: you know, Dima, I just started to care.
— Nice. Just don’t forget to throw a slipper at him for effect.
On the fourth day, Katia went out to the store, and Dmitri was already waiting for her in front of the building. Wearing a jacket, rumpled, tired, but the same… painfully familiar.
— Can we talk? — he asked quietly.
— Just don’t start with “mom is worried,” — Katia said, walking past him. He followed her.
— Katia, listen… I didn’t want it to be like this. We just thought it would be a family vacation.
— And I thought I had a family, not a siege with mom as the commander.
— Don’t exaggerate! She was just taking care of us…
Katia stopped, turned around:
— Dmitri. When someone checks your fridge once a week, moves your pots, tells you what time to wake up, and constantly repeats that you’re not good enough — that’s not care. That’s control.
— But you could have said!
— But you could have seen. I am not an object. I am a wife. I was. Until I realized that “we” for you means you and your mom. And I’m just a servant.
He fell silent. For a long time. Then he said slowly:
— She just wanted us to have a strong family.
— Us? Or you two? — Katia looked him in the eye. — Have you ever asked yourself what I need? How do I feel when you two make plans without me?…
Katia didn’t wait for an answer. She raised her gaze to the cloudy autumn sky and remembered her childhood, the yard where her grandmother brought out the apples to the sun to catch sweetness. There, in that old house, no one told her she didn’t know how to live. Her grandmother always told her: “My girl, a person must know their place and not let their soul be crushed.”
Now she understood those words better than ever.
Dmitri walked beside her, trying to find phrases to repair the cracks, but they had become chasms.
— Katia, I… didn’t want to hurt you, he said, almost whispering.
She stopped by an empty bench and sat down. The leaves fell, rustling like confessions. She looked him straight in the eye.
— You know what? It doesn’t matter what you wanted. What matters is what you did. You chose to be the obedient son, not the husband. You chose to be your mother’s child, not my man.
Dmitri ran his hand through his hair, trying to appear strong. But his eyes betrayed him. He was scared.
— I… thought it was better for everyone.
— For you two, correct, Katia replied. For me, it was nothing but torment.
She stood up, with determined steps. He tried to grab her hand, but she pulled away.
— Katia, please! Don’t throw everything away like this! We had good moments too…
She smiled bitterly.
— And I had a beautiful childhood, Dmitri. But that doesn’t mean I have to go back there and live on memories.
He fell silent.
Katia realized that everything she felt was a heavy but true liberation. She remembered the evenings when she made sarmale with her mother, and the smell filled the house. No one criticized then if the leaf was thicker or if the sauce was too sour. Everyone ate, laughed, and told stories. That was family. Not the absurd theater between her, a man too attached to his mother, and a woman who lived for control.
She took a deep breath, with a kind of bitter gratitude: finally learning what it means to choose yourself.
— Katia… I can change things, he tried again.
She looked at him gently. There was no more anger. Just a cold understanding.
— No, Dima. Maybe you can change something for yourself. I have already changed for myself. And that’s enough.
She turned and left, her firm steps echoing on the asphalt. She was no longer that woman who stayed silent at every criticism. She was no longer the one who accepted others’ decisions as sentences.
On the way, she felt the autumn air fill her lungs. She imagined again her grandmother’s yard, the red apples on the table, and the laughter of her childhood. She told herself: “There I felt loved. That’s how I want my life to be from now on.”
She arrived at Ania’s apartment. Her friend was waiting for her with two cups of tea and a warm look.
— So? Did you talk to him?
Katia nodded.
— Yes. And I think I’ve put the final point.
She sat on the couch, pulled her knees to her chest, and sighed.
— You know what’s strange, Ania? I no longer feel fear. I no longer feel emptiness. I feel like I can breathe.
Ania placed her hand on her shoulder.
— That’s what freedom means, my dear. Hard to earn, but priceless.
Katia smiled for the first time truly in a long time. She felt as if she had stepped out of a dark house and walked into a field under the wide sky.
And then, with that simple peace, she made a promise: not to let anyone steal her place in her own life.
For the first time, her vacation was not just an escape. It was a new beginning.
A beginning where mint did not smell of compromise, but of freedom.
A beginning where Katia, finally, lived for herself.
