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My Beauty baby, New York, NY (2025)

01/01/2025

My daughter told me I had to move out of my apartment by tomorrow.

The kettle quietly whistled on the stove as Elena sorted through tea bags. Chamomile, mint, black with bergamot... Vika had brought them from her last business trip to London. Elena smiled, remembering how her daughter had ceremoniously handed her this apartment five years ago.

Now, mom, you will have your own home, - Vika had said then, handing over the keys. - No more rented rooms.
The old kitchen had long become her favorite place. Everything here breathed coziness: the worn tablecloth on the table, pots with geraniums on the windowsill, even a crack in the tile by the stove felt like it belonged. Elena was just about to pour herself some tea when the doorbell rang.

Vika stood on the threshold - in a strict business suit, with a perfect hairstyle, and a completely icy expression on her face.

Mom, we need to talk.
Elena stepped aside, letting her daughter in. Something in her voice made her heart clench.

Come in, dear. I just made tea. Your favorite, the one you brought.

No, thanks, - Vika remained standing in the middle of the kitchen. - I won't stay long. Mom, you need to vacate the apartment. By tomorrow.

Elena froze with the kettle in her hand. It seemed she had misheard.

What, sorry?

The apartment needs to be vacated. Tomorrow. I can't drag this out any longer.

Hot tea spilled onto her hand, but Elena didn't even feel the pain.

Vika, I don't understand... This is my home. You yourself...

It's just an apartment, mom, - Vika pulled out her phone, quickly checked something on the screen. - You've lived here, but I can no longer keep you.

Keep me? - Elena nervously laughed. - Dear, I pay the utilities myself, I clean...

Mom, let's not do this, - Vika grimaced. - The decision is made. Leave the keys on the table.

She turned to leave, but Elena grabbed her arm:

Wait! At least explain - why? What happened?

Nothing happened. Just business, mom. The apartment can be rented out for more.

The door slammed, and Elena was left alone. A ringing filled her ears. She slowly sank onto a stool, looking at a puddle of spilled tea. In its reflection, the glimmers of the evening sun danced.

As if in a dream, she got up and went to the room. On the wall hung photographs: here was Vika at graduation, radiant in a white dress. And here they were together at the sea - the daughter building a sandcastle, and Elena laughing, trying to protect it from the incoming waves. She had just sold the summer house to pay for Vika's education. But was that a sacrifice? No, just... love.

My little girl, - Elena whispered, running her finger over the photograph. - How could this happen?
The evening slowly crept into night. Elena mechanically packed things into an old suitcase, stopping now and then to look at familiar details of the apartment: the peeling paint in the corner she always meant to touch up, the warm light of her favorite lamp, the shadow of the geranium on the wall... Suddenly, every little thing became unbearably dear.

Somewhere deep inside, hope warmed that in the morning the phone would ring, and Vika would say it was a mistake. A silly joke. Anything. But the phone remained silent, and the clock hands relentlessly counted down the last hours in the place she considered her home.

The first night was stuffy. Elena sat on a bench in the park, clutching her worn suitcase, and looked at the stars. Somewhere there, in warm apartments, people slept in their beds, and she... My God, how did it come to this?

She left the keys on the kitchen table, carefully wiping them with a napkin. It somehow seemed important that they shine. Maybe Vika would notice and remember how her mother always cared about the details.

Good evening, - a raspy voice said nearby. Elena flinched. Some bearded man in a tattered jacket sat down on the other end of the bench. - Don't be afraid, I'll just sit down. Staying the night too?...Continued in the comments...

12/31/2024

The son did not invite his mother, who had served time for him, to his wedding. She went on her own.

"Semionovna, are you not aware?" the neighbor asked in surprise.

Maria Semionovna lifted her bewildered eyes.

"It seems Vasya didn't manage to inform you. Or maybe the letter got lost."

"What letter, Semionovna? Everyone has phones these days. He should be kissing your feet for what you've done for him. And he's getting married!" The neighbor barely held back her anger, remembering what Maria's son had done. Seven years ago, her good-for-nothing Vasya, who had never distinguished himself with good deeds, broke into a city store, smashed a window, stole items, and fled. He returned to the village to his mother, where he was arrested by the police.

Maria Semionovna quickly understood the situation and took all the blame upon herself. She was given four years, and those years became a separate life for her.

Initially, Vasya visited her, assuring her that she was the most important person to him and that he would always be by her side. However, during his last visit, avoiding eye contact, he asked if she could find some money.

"What have you gotten yourself into again, son?" she asked, crying.

"It's nothing. Just living is expensive, things are expensive."

"You could find a job, and that would be enough to live on."

"Work every day from morning to night? No, thank you. Let others live like that."

"And how will you live without money?"

"I'll sell the house. You sign the papers, and when I return, I'll live in my grandfather’s old shack. After prison, a shack will seem like paradise to you."

Maria did not sign the papers. How loudly Vasya yelled at her then! Luckily, no one heard. After he left, she fell ill and ended up in the prison hospital with a heart attack. The doctor there was wonderful; they even became friends. He was a bit older than Maria, and very attentive.

One evening, just before her discharge, they talked. The doctor shared his life story: a widower raising a daughter with the help of his mother, dreaming of leaving his job at the prison hospital because his daughter was ashamed of his workplace.

Maria smiled sadly, understanding the sacrifices made for their children, and shared her own story. The doctor was shocked:

"How could he? He should have broken his own life over this, not yours."

"It's okay, I'll find work on a farm. And he's just starting to live. God willing, he'll come to his senses."

Vasya never visited her again. When she was released, she learned that he had found a job. She didn't know the details, but he regularly sent products to his mother.

"Why do you indulge him so much, Semionovna?" Nikolayevna exclaimed. "He's a healthy man, nearly thirty, and you still do everything for him."

"Nikolayevna, don't talk nonsense. While I have strength, I'll help. And when I can't anymore, he will help me."

"You'll be waiting a long time for help from your Vasya... He only causes trouble."

Maria sat, wondering how her son could have said nothing about the wedding. "Well, he could have just registered the marriage, but now a wedding at a restaurant. Maybe he asked someone to pass the message, and they forgot, and it's not his fault at all."

She hurriedly began to prepare, trying to withdraw all her money to gift the young couple... The story continues in the comments.

12/31/2024

A homeless man with a baby carriage stopped the wedding limousine, and nobody could have guessed how he addressed the bride.

"Well, Valyusha, are you going to pick a dress with your girlfriends today?" Lev Zakharovich asked his daughter. "If anything, just text me, and I'll transfer some more money to your card, just in case it's not enough…"

"Oh, come on, Dad," Valentina laughed in response, "I'm not planning to order a dress from Dior. But yes, we'll look for something interesting, designer-made—but don't worry, I'm not planning to spend astronomical sums on this."

Lev Zakharovich looked at his only daughter with love: the businessman was proud that he had instilled modesty and the ability to manage money properly in her, although sometimes Valya took the meaning of the word "economy" too literally.

"Dear, you know I'm ready to do everything for your happiness?" her father asked, smiling slightly, "I even accepted your Igor, though I still think you rushed into the wedding…"

"Dad, please don't start," the girl pleaded, looking at him, "I've told you a thousand times, Igor is my only one, my other half. Meeting him was one in a million!"

"I remember, I remember," Lev Zakharovich raised his hands in a conciliatory gesture, "That's not even what I'm talking about now. It's about you not being shy to ask me for anything you think you need to see at your wedding. After all, what did I earn all these millions for?"

Tenderness and warmth shone in the eyes of the girl sitting across from him at the dining table, unintentionally squeezing the rich man’s heart. In these moments, Valentina incredibly resembled her mother.

"Thank you, Daddy, you are the best!" she said, and, standing up, she leaned over the entire table to hug Lev Zakharovich.

Valentina kissed her father on the cheek and rushed to her room to prepare for pre-wedding shopping. "Oh, my dear, if only you knew how I regret that our mother won't be by your side. I'm sure she would be happy to see what a smart and beautiful daughter she has raised…" thought the businessman, with a slight sadness.

Inessa Mikhailovna, the millionaire's wife, died when the girl was just four years old—the woman, unfortunately, could not cope with the consequences of a severe hereditary disease. A blood disease, dormant in the body of the businessman's wife all these years, suddenly began to progress at a colossal speed, so that doctors simply could not do anything. She "burned out" in just a few months, and the day of her death became one of the "darkest" in the life of Lev Zakharovich...

Since then, he raised Valentina practically alone, occasionally resorting to the services of nannies. Of course, a bit later, when the girl grew up and went to school, the man hired a wonderful governess for her, whose duties included not only watching over little Valya but also helping her with her studies and lessons.

Fortunately, Valya understood from an early age what responsible work her father was doing, and therefore, she almost never caused him any problems regarding her upbringing.

Valya grew up very bright, seriously beyond her years, and developed. After school, which, by the way, she finished with a gold medal—the girl easily got admitted to one of the most prestigious universities in the capital.
Lev Zakharovich earned his fortune through exceptionally honest and hard work. He started from the very bottom, working part-time as a clerk in a bank. Gradually, thanks to perseverance and responsibility, he managed to build his career and became a successful manager of a network of regional branches of a large banking holding.

But his health had severely deteriorated over the years. Understandably, managing such a huge financial giant was always troublesome, and somewhere, even dangerous.

His business competitors were always on alert, just waiting for Lev Zakharovich to make some crude mistake that could open a loophole for them to gain control over all his dealings and capital. Not surprisingly, as he reached his "solid" years, he began to complain more often about poor health: either his heart would "clench," or his blood pressure would spike so much that it was time to call an "Ambulance"...

And then, in her last year at university, his Valentina met Igor—her future fiancé. For Lev Zakharovich, this was a complete surprise, as his beloved daughter had been focused solely on her studies up until recently and hadn't even thought about boys.

And suddenly, as she later told him, at one of the student parties, which she initially didn't even want to go to—Valya met this strange, lanky guy whose dark blue eyes completely captivated the young student...

"Dad, can you imagine? Igor came up to me himself and asked if I love Turgenev?" Valya breathlessly told her father in excitement. "I asked him why he was interested, and he said he noticed the edge of a book of his poetry in my bag. Turgenev is also my favorite writer. God, you can't imagine how nervous I was! Hardly anyone reads classic poetry these days, but Igor..."

And the daughter began to overwhelm him with various facts about this guy—they listen to the same music, their tastes in literature and movies match, and he graduated from the same faculty as Valentina, just a year earlier... In short, there was such an idyll between them that Lev Zakharovich simply couldn't bring himself to say a word against it when Igor came to him to ask for his blessing and his daughter's hand. However, the businessman didn't quite like the groom: there was something about him that troubled Lev Zakharovich. He couldn't explain it, but sometimes it seemed that the young dark-haired man with blue eyes was just sniffing around their house.

However, he couldn't possibly destroy his daughter's happiness with his own hands, could he? With a heavy heart, the father blessed the young couple and took on a large part of the expenses for organizing the wedding.

The pearl-pink limousine smoothly drove down the city's main street, followed by three pristine white "business-class" foreign cars, which together formed an incredibly beautiful wedding procession.

Valentina, dressed in a magnificent white dress with hand embroidery and many sparkling crystals, held the traditional "bride's bouquet" in her hands, trembling with anticipation of the main event of her life.

In just an hour, she and Igor were to go through the ceremony of solemn registration at the registry office, after which they would officially become husband and wife. Valya couldn't wait for the moment when the groom would put the wedding ring on her finger.

After that, the couple, along with all the guests, would head to a restaurant rented for the entire day, where, as her father assured, an unforgettable celebration awaited them, for one hundred and twenty people, and "a sea of first-class fun."

Valya smiled and placed her hand over his— Igor was distracted from his thoughts and looked at his beloved with excitement:

"Everything okay?"

"Yes," the girl replied, then gently squeezed his fingers, "Just wondering... you seem more nervous than me?"

Valya asked without any hidden agenda, as she felt the same way—it was nice to think that they, with her chosen one, matched even in such small details...

"Of course, how could it be otherwise?" Igor replied with a smile. "This day simply must be perfect. It's just a pity that Lev Zakharovich won't be able to attend..."

"Yes, I feel the same," Valya sighed in response to her fiancé, "But I promised him that we would have the most beautiful photo session. I want Dad to enjoy our pictures later on."

Indeed, to Lev Zakharovich's great regret, he had to stay home: the morning before, his heart was in great pain, and his personal doctor recommended avoiding serious stress and alcohol—which would hardly be possible at the celebration of his beloved daughter's wedding.

"Don't worry so much, Valyusha," the businessman told his bride-to-be, "I'll rest a bit now, and I'll be as good as new..." The man smiled weakly, "It's a pity, of course, but at least I ordered you an excellent photographer, so later, I can watch you 'on the big screen.'"

Valentina was immensely upset that her father felt ill and that he would not see his daughter in her wedding dress. However, her father's health was far more important to her...

Unexpectedly, the newlyweds' limousine stopped. Valya didn't immediately understand what had happened, so she lowered the window and stuck her head out to look...
The story continues in the comments.

12/31/2024

I did it myself, I'm waiting for your feedback🙏😊

12/31/2024

Today is my birthday. Made this cake. I am very grateful to her for this. 🙏❤️

12/31/2024

The son was ashamed of his mother, a cleaner, in front of the bride's family, but at his wedding, she made a sensation.

Marina watched her son trying on a new suit. Tall, well-built, dark-haired—tomorrow her boy was getting married, and it was hard to believe.

Ilya carefully studied his reflection in the mirror. He turned around, nodded in satisfaction, noting that the suit fit perfectly.

"Fashionable outfit," the young man turned to his mother. "And the color is good, it looks expensive."

"It is expensive," thought Marina, but aloud she said:

"I'm glad you like it. I'll definitely shed a tear at the wedding as soon as I see you in full dress."

Ilya finally turned away from the mirror:

"Mom, are you going to the wedding or what? We agreed that you wouldn't be there."

"We agreed, son? I thought you were joking."

"What jokes?" The son nervously paced the room. "Did you forget what Vika's parents are like? The wedding will be full of elites. You'll feel like a poor relative there. I'll start worrying about you. Mom, do you want to ruin such an important day for me?"

The son sat down next to Marina on the couch, took her hand, and gently squeezed it:

"Mommy, just imagine how out of place you’ll look among those dolled-up ladies. My heart would break from such humiliation. And think about how you'll feel. We'll come the day after, okay? Have some tea or champagne. You can congratulate us, give us your gift."

Marina's heart clenched with hurt. Her own son was ashamed of her to such an extent that he was prepared to appear at his own wedding like an orphan without kin.

"Why would I look out of place?" the mother retorted. "I have an appointment with a good hairdresser, I'll get my nails done. I'll wear a decent dress."

"What decent dress? That blue old thing!" Ilya snapped and paced the room again.

"So that's it." He stood in front of his mother. "If you don't understand the nice way, I'll tell you straight. I don’t want to see you at the wedding. I may be… but I'm ashamed that my mother is a cleaner. I don't want you to embarrass me in front of Vika's relatives. Is that clear?"

Marina was shocked by her son's confession and could not utter a word. Ilya silently took his backpack, proudly flaunted his suit, and headed for the exit. At the threshold, he stopped:

"I'll say it again, don't come to the ceremony. No one there will be glad to see you."

Ilya had left a few hours ago. Twilight had set in, and Marina just sat on the couch in complete stupor. She was so shocked that she couldn't even cry. Tears came a bit later when the woman turned on the light and pulled an old album with family photos from the dresser.

This album contained her entire unembellished life. Memories crashed down on Marina with such force that it was hard to breathe. An old worn photo. There she was, a two-year-old girl with blue eyes, gazing intently into the lens. Her colorful dress clearly second-hand. Beside her, a thin, strange woman with a vacant look and a foolish smile. Even in the poor photo, it was evident that the woman was in high spirits.

Marina was two and a half when her mother lost parental rights and disappeared from her daughter's life forever. As she grew older, the girl never tried to find her wayward mother. Why bother?

A group photo. Ten-year-old Marina with rebellious golden curls stands in the second row, third from the left. Life in the orphanage was no picnic.

The institution where Marina was raised resembled the troubled shelters from documentary films about the nineties. Cooks were caught stealing food, educators didn't mince words, and the director turned a blind eye to bullying, uninterested in the methods older children used to maintain discipline.

Three attractive girls in waitress uniforms flirtatiously posed for a photographer on the porch of a building with a crooked sign. After school, Marina didn't think too much about choosing a profession and quickly got a job as a waitress at a roadside café called "By the Road." The salary was small, but the tips generously left by customers compensated for this.

Twelve-hour shifts were exhausting, but Marina did not despair. She liked her independent life. Her room in a shared apartment was spacious and bright, and the neighbors, an elderly couple, turned out to be friendly. She had enough money, although not much, and unexpectedly discovered a talent in herself. It turned out that she knew how to dress stylishly on a dime. By buying clothes from second-hands, she remade and altered them into fashionable items.

In a summer meadow in the forest, a happy and laughing Marina sat on the grass with a crown of flowers, embraced by a handsome dark-haired guy wearing a similar crown. Many years have passed, but Marina's heart still skips a beat at the sight of this photo.

She had been working at the café for about a year when she met Maxim. That summer morning, the café was unexpectedly crowded. Marina rushed around the room with a tray, serving impatient customers, and suddenly tripped, spilling tomato juice on a guy by the window. A bright red stain spread across his light shirt.

Marina was lost for words, realizing that the shirt was expensive. Before she could recover, Stas, the café administrator, rushed to the table and began fussing, threatening her with dismissal.

"Why worry so much?" the guy smiled, handing Marina the keys to his car. "Don't worry, I'm going to my parents' country house. There's a clean shirt in the car. Could you bring the backpack from the back seat?"

"I'll bring it, Maxim Nikolaevich," Stas offered helpfully, snatching the keys. "Otherwise, this chicken might break something in your car too."

Left alone with the client, a frightened Marina... The story continues in the comments.

12/30/2024

The stepfather took his sick stepdaughter to the countryside to die and left her with an old caretaker. But when he returned to sell the house, a surprise awaited him.

"Andrey, promise that you won't leave Larisa," his dying wife pleaded. "You know about her health. She needs constant care. I understand it's not easy, but I'm very afraid that she won't manage on her own. You will be her guardian for two more years. Please, do everything properly."

Andrey nodded, but deep down he thought that all this would soon end. When Nina first fell ill and was diagnosed with a terrible disease, he was shocked. He then hoped to cure her, but over time he simply grew tired. Moreover, when there is a constantly sick stepdaughter in the family, who, essentially, is not related to you, it is hard. Larisa lived quietly in her own room.

At some point, it became difficult for him: he wanted a normal woman by his side, not a living skeleton. Thoughts of leaving Nina came, but society would judge him. He couldn't lay down his own life on the altar of another, when he had only one life. But then, when the doctor said that Nina had no more than a year left, he decided to endure.

At stake was a large four-room apartment, which Nina had inherited from her husband. True, there was still Larisa, but she was always like a sickly shadow. Therefore, it would not be hard to get rid of her, without any crime.

Nina's funeral passed quickly. Over the time she was ill, all friends had drifted away.

At the funeral, he was not alone: he met a single woman whom he drove home. It turned out she had argued with her man, and he didn't even give her money for a taxi, so she was catching a ride. Liza, despite her 30 years, took life easily and carelessly. Andrey longed for such lightness and gradually became infatuated.

He didn't notice how Liza occupied all his thoughts. In a month, or even less, he brought Liza to the apartment. And then it started: Larisa behaved provocatively, sat with them for a long time, was rude to Liza. She herself could no longer get off the couch, but still there – she was rude.

One day Liza declared:

"Either you do something, or I will leave."

"I wonder what I could do with her," Andrey thought.

"Are you suggesting we kill her?" Liza looked at him thoughtfully.

"And you couldn't even do that for me?"

Andrey looked at her frightened. Liza smiled:

"Come on, relax, such sacrifices are definitely unnecessary. I remember, you said that your little wife has a house somewhere, you went there once?"

"Well yes, we went a couple of years ago. She got nostalgic then; her grandmother lived there, it seems."

"And what's with that house now?"

"How should I know?"

"Can you find the way there?"

"I can find it. The address is written down. We first thought about selling it, then somehow forgot. I don't understand what you're getting at."

Liza sat on the couch, crossed one leg over the other, and continued:

"You're dumber than I thought."

Andrey was offended:

"Liza, speak if you have something to say."

"Look, everything can be done very successfully: tell all the neighbors that the doctor prescribed country air for Larisa. Well, and you hired a caretaker and took her to the countryside for a few months. And better for no one to know about what kind of village it is and that Larisa will be there alone."

"You want her to be there..."

"What I want, only I know. And what will happen there is up to the powers above. Maybe her mother is waiting, and she's overstayed her welcome here. Well, what's there to think about? I don't understand. You yourself perfectly realize: you can't make a normal person out of her anyway. Just need a little help, and she'll free herself from suffering and free us too."

Andrey looked at Liza and pondered her perceptiveness. After all, it wasn't a crime — everyone would think that he really cared about Larisa. Three days later, everything was ready.

"Larisa, we are going to the countryside," he informed her...
Continuation in the comments...

12/30/2024

MY POOR DAD BROUGHT ME TO PROM IN A WHEELCHAIR & THE NEXT DAY FOUND A $10,000 CHECK IN OUR MAILBOX.
When my parents split and my mom passed, I had no choice but to move in with my dad — the same guy my mom always called a "hopeless loser." Living with him was... well, strange. I'd catch him sneaking out late at night, and honestly, I wasn't sure what was going on.
Meanwhile, prom was around the corner, but I couldn't care less. Being in a wheelchair, with no date, and feeling stuck in every possible way made it hard to get excited. Surgery could change everything, but yeah... no money, no surgery.
I figured prom wasn't in the cards for me. Then out of nowhere, my dad — this "loser" my mom always talked about — tells me he's taking me to prom himself. I wasn't prepared for how that night would turn out. Not only did I go, but everyone loved him. And yep, he even got me out on the dance floor.
But hold up, it gets wilder. The next day, my dad comes home, and there's a package in our mailbox: a $10,000 check and a card that says "Dad of the Year!"
Then he looks at me and whispers, "I think I know who sent this."😳👇

12/30/2024

This grandfather made this Christmas tree for his wife with his own hands. Let's support his efforts and show him how proud we are of him 🙏💕💕💕❤️❤️❤️❤️🌻🌻🌻💕💕💕❤️❤️❤️

12/30/2024

It's my grandson's birthday. I'm raising him on my own. Made a cake. I will be very grateful if you treat me. 🙏❤️

12/30/2024

A RESCUE DOG CAME HOME WITH US — THE NEXT NIGHT, MY 8-YEAR-OLD SON DISAPPEARED
Last weekend, my son and I went to look at dogs. He'd been asking for one for months, and my wife finally agreed—on the condition it was small and "presentable," like a poodle or a Yorkie.
At the shelter, though, he ignored every small, fluffy dog. Instead, he spotted this scrappy-looking mutt: big eyes, shaggy fur, patches of tan and black, and a crooked tail. He looked at me with a grin and said, “She needs us, Dad.” I knew I couldn't say no.
We brought her home, and he named her Daisy. He spent hours settling her in, brushing her fur, and giving her treats. My wife wasn't thrilled, but I figured she'd warm up to Daisy with time.
That night, I tucked our son in, said goodnight, and went to bed. Around 3 a.m., I woke up to an eerie silence. Something felt wrong. I went to his room—empty. His bed was a mess, window slightly open. My heart pounded as I called his name, searched the house, but he was gone.
I ran back to wake my wife, panic rising. When she looked at me, there was something unsettling in her eyes. It was GUILT. ⬇️

12/29/2024

PREGNANT TAXI DRIVER TAKES A HOMELESS MAN TO THE HOSPITAL — NEXT MORNING SHE SEES A MOTORCADE OF SUVS UNDER HER WINDOW.
As a taxi driver, Cleo had seen it all: late-night characters, rushed families, and teens trying to forget their wild nights. But that night, just weeks before her due date, she picked up a passenger who would change her life forever.
It was nearly midnight, and Cleo was eager to get home to her warm bed and fluffy cat, Chester. Then she spotted him. From a distance, he looked rough, disheveled, like a homeless man — someone who'd clearly been through a lot. His clothes were filthy, his hair matted, and he clutched his arm as he limped along, looking like he hadn't eaten or slept in days.
Most would have driven on, especially a heavily pregnant woman. But something about him made her stop; he looked vulnerable against the cold night.
She lowered the window. "You okay?"
The man looked up. "I just need to get somewhere safe."
Without hesitation, Cleo unlocked the door. "Get in. I'll take you to the hospital."
He climbed in, his gratitude evident. "Thank you. Most wouldn't stop."
The drive was quiet. At the hospital, he looked back after getting out, saying, "You didn't have to do this.”
The next morning, Cleo awoke to a strange sound, like low thunder. Pulling back her curtains, she gasped at a motorcade of black SUVs outside her apartment. Had she helped a criminal?
Before she could panic, there was a knock on her door.⬇️

12/29/2024

"You bought a fur coat for your mom as a gift, and for me a ladle and a spatula?" — the wife stood frozen, holding the bag.

"You know what?" Marina clutched the gift bag so tightly that the plastic pitifully crunched. "You… you…"

"Something wrong?" Andrey didn't even lift his eyes from the laptop, where some charts and numbers were flickering.

"Wrong?!" the plastic bag flew onto the couch. "Your mother showed up yesterday in a mink coat worth two hundred thousand—a gift from her beloved son! And for me…" she pulled a spatula out of the bag, "THIS?!"

Outside, heavy January snow was falling. The city was still asleep after the New Year's Eve, with only a few cars slowly crawling through the snowy streets.

"Marin…"

"No," she abruptly raised her hand, "be quiet! Do you think I don't see how your mother will now…" Marina contorted her face, mimicking her mother-in-law's affected voice, "'Ah, my Andryushenka is so caring! He gifted a mink coat! And what did yours give you? A spatula?'" She angrily threw the unfortunate item back into the bag. "You know what? I'm going to Lenka's. Right now."

"In this blizzard?"

"Even if it's a hurricane!" Marina furiously put on her boots. "Because if I stay…" She didn't finish, slamming the door with a bang.

The wind threw a handful of prickly snow in her face. Marina stubbornly tilted her head and marched forward. It was twenty minutes to her friend's place—just enough time to cool down.

Her phone in the pocket vibrated—Andrey. Marina irritably turned off the sound. Enough for today.

Lenka didn't open immediately. On the doorstep stood a disheveled and rumpled version of her usually impeccable friend—apparently, New Year's Eve was a success.

"Why did you come in such weather?" Lenka yawned, letting Marina into the apartment.

"Andrey…"

"What this time?" Her friend habitually reached into the cabinet for tea and cookies. After ten years of friendship, she knew that if Marina ran to her in such a storm, the conversation wouldn't go without sweets.

"He gifted me a ladle! And a spatula!" Marina flopped onto the kitchen sofa. "And to his mother—a mink coat for two hundred thousand!"

"That's it?"

"Isn't that enough?!" Marina banged her fist on the table. "Imagine how I'll look now? His mother already blabbed to everyone about the coat. 'Andryushenka gave it, such a caring son!'" she again contorted her face, parodying her mother-in-law. "And today she'll find out about my gift. And it will start…"

"Maybe there's something else there?" Lenka thoughtfully stirred her tea. "In that ladle?"

"What could there possibly be?" Marina snorted. "A user manual? 'Dear wife, here's a hint—spend more time in the kitchen'?"

"Well, you know…" her friend prolonged. "Sometimes it's not that simple."

"Simple?!" Marina jumped up, pacing around the small kitchen. "How much simpler could it be! We've been married for ten years. Ten! And now this… No, I get it—his mother is alone, needs to be cared for. But two hundred thousand on a fur coat?! We barely make ends meet since he quit his job!"

Lenka silently handed her friend a cup of tea and a packet of tissues—tears were already rolling down Marina's cheeks.

"You know what's the most hurtful?" Marina loudly blew her nose. "I was actually happy when he started that cooking blog. I thought—let him sit at home, cook, make videos… He's always been passionate about it. And now what? All the money goes to that damn coat, and for me…"

"Listen," Lenka interrupted her. "How many subscribers does he have now?"

"I haven't looked in three months," Marina waved dismissively. "I've been swamped at work…"

"Maybe you should have?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, remember that guy from the next building? Who also started with a cooking blog? Now he has his own show on TV."

"What does that have to do with anything?" Marina rubbed her temples tiredly. "You know what? I'll go. Nothing's going to change anyway."

"In this blizzard?" her friend was alarmed. "Maybe you should stay the night?"

"I don't want to. I'd rather go home and smash some dishes…"

The way back seemed endless. The wind seemed to deliberately throw handfuls of biting snow in her face, creeping under her collar, howling in her ears like a hungry dog. Marina stubbornly marched forward, swallowing her tears.

The apartment was dark and unusually quiet. Marina flicked the light switch—no one. On the kitchen table, a cold cup of tea, a laptop with an open window of some site. She glanced at the screen—some numbers, charts, comments in a foreign language.

"Let it be!" she demonstratively walked past the bag with the "gift" thrown on the sofa.

In the bedroom, a garland they had hung together before New Year blinked forlornly. Back then, Andrey had been so caring, attentive... He had found her favorite unicorn baubles—the very ones they bought in their first year of marriage. Marina had been surprised then—she thought they had been lost during a move...

"No!" she shook her head, dispelling the unwelcome thoughts.

The phone vibrated again. Andrey. "I won't answer! I won't!"

She paced around the apartment like a caged tiger. She turned on the TV—then turned it off. She put the kettle on—then forgot about it. She took out her favorite book—then flung it aside.

Her gaze returned again and again to the bag on the sofa.

"What if Lenka is right? What if there is something there?"—the traitorous thought just wouldn't leave...
Continued in the first comment below

My Beauty baby

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